#M Rose is Weird | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nichuuu · 2 months ago

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Paper Houses

Cho Miyeon x M reader

(1st instalment of The View Between Villages)

Word Count: 18k+ Special thanks to @defmaybe for helping to draw out the best version of this fic.

(All the details? Really? Oh wow. Okay…)

(I’m gonna dissociate myself from this so… “you” is gonna appear a lot. Don’t sweat it cupcake—you’re not actually the one in this mess.

It’s just a bad habit of mine, that’s all.)

(You’re lucky. You get the sweet start to it all. For what it’s worth: sweetness is a fucking deceiving concept when you have rose-tinted lenses.)

“You know: out of all the men I’ve dated, you cook the best.”

You raise an eyebrow as you flip the grilled cheese in your skillet. Frankly, there’s nothing to be impressed about over grilled cheese and tomato soup. Cheese sandwiched between two evenly buttered slices of bread, grilled till golden brown and served with a side of hot tomato juice in a bowl. Literally everything has been prepared for you and packed neatly into some package in a grocery store. All you did was heat it up and add a few of your own ingredients.

“Is that a compliment or a flex?” you ask, turning your gaze away from your skillet momentarily to look at Miyeon as she replies. Her face isn’t gonna add value to her answer, but you just like looking at her. She is hot after all.

She scoffs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Jeez… Can’t a woman compliment her boyfriend in peace?”

You’ve had this conversation before, but you like to entertain her.

“This woman can’t,” you tell her, making sure she can see the smirk on your face as you turn back to the sandwich. You wave your spatula in the air as you speak, almost like you’re referring to PowerPoint slides. “She’s too weird about everything. Never take her seriously.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna call me weird and neglect the fact you keep your butter in that?” she exclaims, pointing at the butter bell on top of your fridge. It was a Christmas gift from your mom last year, and even though you did think it was weird at first, you have not gone back to keeping your butter in blocks.

“You keep my fucking butter bell out of this,” you warn, and it’s half joking and half serious.

(No one fucks with your butter bell.)

Miyeon chortles. You don’t need to look at her to know that she’s raising her hands in the air when she says, “jeez man. Didn’t know you guys were tight like that…”

And it’s stupid exchanges like this that make you appreciate her company by bounds. It’s lonely in the apartment when she’s out being famous; really nice to have her around for the holidays, albeit for a short time. It’s been a while since she’s been back. There’s much to catch up on over an 11 am brunch. You don’t know why she’s up so damn early today, cause normally you guys sleep till the late afternoon, then go figure out what to eat for dinner before lazing around in the apartment.

So with cheese falling from the corner of her lip, she gives you the latest developments in her life. Then it’s your turn, and you're glad to say that nothing’s really of interest in either of your updates. That’s usually for the better: sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your lives are pretty bland.

“You know,” she says as she wipes her mouth. “I might just keep dating you for your food,” she tosses her tissue onto the dining table and lets out a sigh. “Fucking delicious.”

You scoff and sip on your coffee. “Bet you told that to all the guys,” you reply wryly. “Probably gets them real excited, huh?”

She grins. It’s cheeky, mischievous, maybe even a little naughty. “Not telling.”

“You don’t tell me a lot of things,” you chuckle, and you’re low-key unsurprised to hear a little bit of unintended bitterness in your voice. “Not that it matters or anything… I just value communication.”

Oh, you’re petty. So fucking petty that it makes your skin crawl a little.

Miyeon’s unfazed.

“Don’t get your tits in a tussle, pretty boy,” she muses. She folds her arms and leans into the table. “You’ll know more when I trust you more. For now: I’ll give you information as I please.”

And you kick yourself because you forget she can be a bit of a handful herself.

“Ugh, what will I ever do with this mysterious woman?” you smirk, resting your elbow against the table as you lean in as well. To be perfectly clear: you’re not mad at her. Her secrecy just bugs you out a little, and she knows it. “Such little knowledge on such a hardened beauty… must be tough to really crack her open and figure her out.”

You love her eyes, and you love to make them roll (in multiple contexts). They kinda gleam as she tilts her head. “Fine… I’ll give you something since you’re so damn desperate,” she drums her fingers against her cheek while her chin nestles itself into her palm. “What I’m about to give you is gonna change your life in so many ways. It’ll probably redefine your whole damn existence.”

You express your interest by leaning in a little more. Miyeon checks her six—like she isn’t in the comfort of her own home—before leaning in. She’s all clandestine. You have no idea what for.

“You ready?” she checks. And you know she isn’t expecting an answer, but you nod nonetheless. She checks her left and right for good measure. You never know: maybe your lamp is listening.

“I’m aching for cock right now.”

And you guys don’t even make it to the couch.

It’s on the floor next to your table where she has your face in her hands, and she’s kissing you aggressively. She’s properly kissing you, and it makes you knock the back of your head against the floor a little, but it’s really not too big of a deal.

She lifts her lips off yours and smirks. “For the record: it’s your fault that we aren’t fucking on the couch.”

“Yeah, and I actually paid rent early for once,” you shoot back sarcastically. “And would you mind helping me clean the yacht I most definitely own on my luxurious salary? Thanks a bunch, honey.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She knows you’re full of shit, but she’s full of the same shit as you. Form a shit pile or something, maybe even a shit mountain if you feel like it. You could really go on for a while about how you two can talk for hours, but that’s not the main event.

The real deal comes when she has her hand beneath the waistband of your pants, slithering down to the very thing she aches for. She has that smile on her face, the one that kinda says “Oh I’m gonna love this” or “you’re gonna love this” or maybe even both. There are ways to distinguish the messages by looking at her eyes, but you’re a little too lazy to go figure it out right now. And before someone calls you a bum, you can’t help it: she has her hand on your cock and a piercing gaze trained on you. How about you try and focus on discerning implicit messages when there's a hot woman touching you in the right places?

“How are you hard already?” she asks, a hint of a giggle in her tone as she presses your shaft against your body. There’s barely any space down there, yet she makes it work so easily. “I didn’t even, like, do anything yet.”

“Well,” you hum, just as she starts to squeeze your member, appling that toe-curling pressure to your tip and smiling as you strain a little. “I can kinda see your tits through your shirt.”

Miyeon raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t even look at her shirt. “Oh?” and she starts to pump. “I didn’t notice that…”

“Totally,” you grunt. “Like how you don’t notice that your shorts are barely shorts?” you continue, but there’s something more bugging you. “And at least pull my pants down if you’re gonna jack me off, would you?”

Miyeon snorts, but compiles nonetheless. She gets your pants and boxers off with ease. It’s one swift motion (it’s practiced grace really), and she gets back to the task at hand before she was so rudely interrupted.

“What does seeing my tits have anything to do with you?” Her motions are languid and fluid, steady and flowing like a stream. She doesn’t need to look. She doesn't need to guess. She knows you like the back of her hand. “Does it turn you on? Excite you?”

You have it in you to roll your eyes before they shut. “Stop asking these fucking ridiculous questions.”

“It's a basic inquiry.” She laughs in this aloof tone that you know is paired with the most devious of smiles. “So you won’t let me compliment you and you won’t let me ask questions? Tsk. Chivalry is dead.”

Miyeon goes a little faster, adds a twist of her wrist. This is just her hand, mind you, and it’s already ruining you in a way that only she is capable of. The tender touch of Cho Miyeon is something no woman you’ve met could ever replicate, and it takes you to places that you can only visit with her. Those fingers are magic, that mouth is magic—hell, everything about her is magic.

“Please,” you manage to quip past the jolts of magic being sent through your system. “We both know that you have the answers to all the questions you just asked.”

She giggles—playfully, you might add. This is all a part of the game you play with her; this is the way Miyeon’s cookie crumbles. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Who cares?”

You care: not a lot, but enough to make this as humorous as you want it to be. You kinda only give two shits because it lets you be kinda petty with her, but not that you externalise it or anything. You just have it pent up in you for the fun of it.

“Anyway,” she muses, halting the strokes of her hand to your cock. “Have I told you about how much I wanted you to fill me while I was filming?”

You take a moment to breathe. “No… But do tell.”

And gets to that, but not before ridding herself of her shirt first. By technicality, it’s your shirt, but it shrunk in the dryer at some point, so it just became hers. She gets into the details, the nitty gritty; tells you exactly what she’s imagining during the filming of her Music Video all while you kind just sit there and ogle at her chest. She takes her time, covers the stuff that you don’t really need to know but it’s kinda hot to know — things like “ugh, I needed you to bend me over the hood of that car and just fuck me at that point…” — because you admittedly get off knowing that she ever thinks about you that way and… God, you’re rambling aren’t you? Still pretty fitting though: it’s the way Miyeon talks when she’s thinking nonsense.

“Ugh. Now I’m wet,” she mutters. She speaks as if it’s your fault that she went on rambling about her fantasies with you. “You know you make me like, really horny right?”

“Oh no… Whatever will I do?” you’re really just rolling with it. Not because you want to, but because you want to get this bit where you tease each other over and done with. It’s kinda like marinating meat in the way it makes the sex a little hotter. Truthfully: you’re aching for her. Really: you want nothing more than to just get her pinned beneath you and writhing on your wooden floor.

And frankly? You could do all of that right now.

So it’s with a bit of grace (and some dexterity) that you flip the positions: now you’re kneeling over her while she is the one that lies on the floor, if that makes any sense. Miyeon isn’t shocked by your sudden movements, more so delighted by the fact that you finally gave in to your carnal urges and just went for it. She smiles, knowing full well that she’s done something that's gonna give her that fuel she needs for the week. You know: sex that’s the opposite of soft; some shit that fulfills some wild thoughts.

“Gotta say, you’re quicker than usual,” she has that cocky smirk on her face. You wanna wipe it right off her face, and you know just how. “Normally you’re all talk, no– Oh…”

You like that it really only takes a finger pressed against her panties to shut her up. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make her shut her eyes and shut up for a moment. The spot you press on is damp, soaked in that sweet slick. Gently, you trace the outline of those swollen folds. “You were saying?”

She has it in her to laugh—a breathy chortle. “Fuck you.”

“I’m working on that,” you fire back. Your cock twitches a little when you see her jolt in response to your touch. Your finger pressed down on that one spot that makes her weak, and it really works wonders: an airy gasp slips past those thin, luscious lips. The number of times you’ve kissed those lips swollen is not a number countable with 10 fingers.

Miyeon sighs, and it’s a mix of pleasure and frustration in her breath that humors you. She relaxes into the floorboards, her hips rock, her cunt rubs against your fingers. She's searching for some friction — sweet release in lewd movements. You let her move for a bit, watch her shake like the bough of a willow tree as she pleases herself against your fingers.

“Enjoying yourself?” you quip.

“Yeah..” she hums. “Passing time while you’re still not taking these shorts off me.”

Of course… How could you be so forgetful?

You stop for a moment to help her wriggle out of her clothing. It isn’t one of her most graceful moments, but it quickly passes. The shorts join your pants on the floor. Her panties are pink — not that subtle shade of pink or even like a darker version of pink. It’s Barbie fucking Pink.

“So we’re feeling loud today, huh?” you ask, letting your finger trail the lacy parts of the fabric. Miyeon smiles.

“Sana gave them to me,” she explains, not the least bit sheepish that her damp spot is visibly darker than the rest of her underwear. “Hope this doesn’t affect you in your work or anything…”

You feel the corner of your lip turn up. “No, no… Of course not,” you assure her, all while you let your hand slip between the fabric and her skin. You can feel her shudder, then you feel the heat of her cunt at the tip of your fingers. “You caught me on the right day actually… Pink’s in my rotation of favourite colours this fine morning.”

“Right,” her voice has a lilt. It’s shuddering a little too. “I knew that… Definitely had that in mind.”

You laugh. Your index fingers slip between her folds. She moans.

You lower yourself, capture a swollen, taut nipple in your mouth. The sweet suction you deliver makes her gasp. Her hand finds itself in your head.

It’s all quite rhythmical, almost like a routine for the two of you. The way your bodies react to each other feels so natural that you think it might just be second nature at this point. You know her body: you’ve memorised the dips and curves and tender spots; the hot spots, the warm parts and the best parts. She knows you—the way you think, the way you talk; the way you play with her and the things you want to do with her. It would be safe to say that you guys practically have PhDs in the subject of each other, but that’s not a fair statement because you’re both a little more complicated than you let on. That keeps the sex exciting; it makes you crave each other a little more than last time.

“One or two?” you whisper, letting your finger dip in and out of her lips and getting it all wet in her slickness. She takes a moment to think, or maybe she’s taking a moment to really soak in the teasing. Either way: she takes some time to reply.

“Two,” she shifts herself a little lower, her clit pressing into the base of your middle finger. It makes her sigh — a low, kinda sonorous escape of air through her lips. “I hope you trimmed your nails this time.”

“That last time was a minor mishap,” you admit. You kinda want to pull your hands out to double-check, but you’re too mired in the moment to assuage your worries. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”

She beams like the damn sun. “Good. I like it when you’ve got the reins.”

And that makes you suck in some air through your teeth.

(God, does she know how to try you on.)

Your digits push themselves inside of her. They’re wrapped in her tight warmth, snug as a bug in a rug or whatever. You love the way her abs kinda flex as your fingers introduce themselves to her insides. It makes the best parts of her pop. Her chest rises a little more than the last time, her breaths becoming a little longer and more drawn out as your fingers explore her like always. The way she jolts when you get to that one spot at the roof of her pussy tells you that she has been primed and ready for this moment, loaded up like a shotgun and the trigger is really just any part of you that makes her cum. It could be your fingers, your tongue, your dick, your thigh—any part of you that can get her to that sweet high. Of course: you’re more than happy to assist. And so your mouth latches itself back onto her breast, tongue licking and swishing and flicking the swollen nipple atop her small yet generously sized breast. You relish the way it feels in your hand as you cup it—not too firmly and not too gently—and give it a squeeze, enjoying how the flesh spills out a little between your fingers but still fits in the palm of your hand.

“How do you only get better at this?” she hisses through her teeth. “I mean, I just saw you last week but… Oh god…”

You remove her nipple from your mouth. “Art is honed. This is art.”

She laughs, then throws her head back to let out a moan. “Well I’ll be damned,” her eyes close as she speaks, resting themselves for a bit so that she can enjoy the feel of your fingers in the best part of her slick. “Paint me like one of your French girls then.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

You can’t track the exact moments where she starts to blue screen on you, but you can guess it's somewhere between you pinching her nipple and when you slide a third finger into her. The pressure, the stretching—it’s, like, everything she wants as of right now. She lets out this choked-up cry that you like to hear, the supple curve of her back growing more defined as she arches just a little more. She doesn't hold back, she never does. When you’re making her feel good, you can bet some good money that she’ll let you know. She’ll find her own way to express herself, be it through sound or action or words—sometimes a combination of all three.

The way she feels around your fingers—delicate squeezing and sweet pressure around your digits as they stretch her to new lengths—is nothing short of enthralling. You can feel her pulse around you, the dull throb of her heartbeat as it beats for the sole purpose of getting all that blood rushing into the right areas. Your hand is kinda messy, fingers coated down to your knuckles in the sweet substance from her heat. Miyeon starts to writhe, squirm. A whine leaves her mouth. It’s followed by another, and another, and another—keeps going till the whiny stream ends with a guttural moan.

Her legs close around your wrist. Her throat bobs.

“Mmph… baby…” her hand flails a bit as she tries to search for you. She catches your shoulder and her nails dig in. “Your mouth… I want your mouth on me.”

You always loved how forthcoming she is.

“Miyeon…” you drawl, and this next bit is really just for the fun of it. “What’s the magic word?”

She laughs softly through the pleasure, lets a smile grace your eyes. She doesn’t fight it; she wants it—wants you. She just wants you in any shape or form. Any version of you will do; she’ll take all the different sides of you in a heartbeat. All she needs is you. “Please.”

You’ve never found so much delight in hearing that word. Kinda makes you want to hear it again.

“I can’t hear you,” your thumb presses down onto her clit. Her thighs start to twitch.

“Please!” she yells that magic word in the form of a shout this time. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you’re beaming.

You retract your fingers. They come up to your mouth so you can taste her off of them. She’s nothing short of delicious, and you can kinda tell that she knows it because she’s smirking as she watches you clean off yourself.

“How are we feeling about the samples?” she has that proud gleam in her eye. “Pineapple’s been in my diet as of late… Just wondering if anything’s different.”

You smack your lips. “Picking up on a little tang here… Can’t be sure though.”

Her hands slide down to her hips, thumbs hooking into the band of her panties and pulling them down her thighs. “No worries. There’s more where it came from.”

The gall of this girl is insane, you’re thinking, smirking as you assist the journey of her underwear down her slim, milky legs. Like all your other clothing, it’s tossed aside.

Miyeon spreads thighs, bends her knees so that her feet are flat on the floor. You get in position, let your palms slide down her body with careful consideration: run your hands over the sensitive parts of the stomach, skim that one portion of her inner thigh that makes her shiver. She watches—waiting and anticipating while failing to keep her excitement off her face.

She is glistening, swollen and plump to your eyes, kinda far ahead considering that you just used your fingers. She’s eager, unashamed and more proud than embarrassed about her arousal. Her legs shift a bit. She looks at you, a fingernail between her teeth as she exhales sharply when your thumb traces the outline of her pussy, careful in its endeavor as you feel the muscles around her slick tense up in response. Oh she’s so damn impatient right now, but she lets you get away with all of this because it gets her off a little harder; the teasing is just part of the show and the climax will probably follow pretty soon, fast and hard

“You’ve been looking forward to this, huh?” you remark, watching as her eyelids flutter when you put a little pressure with the pad of your thumb.

“Mhm…” she replies. It’s a low hum, one that resonates in her throat rather pleasantly. “You have no idea…”

You laugh. Your eyes roll towards the ceiling then set themselves back on her. “Please… We both know I have some idea,” you stop your thumb on her clit, and you begin to draw small circles around it. “You did tell me” —and you have to pause for a bit to use your other hand to press down on her pelvic area, stopping her from jolting her hips up to get that sweet sensation of your thumb rubbing her swollen nub. She whines a little, a soft plea following suit— “about all the things you wanted to do with me.”

She desperately tries to shift herself, press herself a little more against you. The smooth wooden floor hinders her, the lack of friction failing to aid her. Her brows furrow. She’s frustrated. “Yeah, well, if you know what I want so much, why aren’t you fucking getting to it?”

You wink. “Relax. I’m just letting the meat tenderise.”

“Oh shut it you fucking— Mmmph!”

And the way you part her with your tongue, it’s like she’s butter and you’re a hot knife slicing her open. You're slow with it, and you don’t stop when Miyeon’s thigh stiffens against your palm, or when she squirms a little and almost got your tongue derailed from its track. You know what makes her tick, what makes her hit the octave and gets her nice and messy for you. If anything gets Miyeon going more than actually fucking—it’s definitely gotta be when you get your tongue on her folds.

“You’re never gonna let me finish my sentences, are you?” she laughs breathily. You watch her abdomen as it rises and falls together with the quick breaths she takes.

“Dunno…” you nuzzle your face in her folds for a little, giving her time to say whatever she wants for a bit. “You did say that chivalry is dead.”

From your bottom up view of her, you can tell that she just rolled her eyes. “No comment. You won’t let my finish it any— oh my fucking god.”

Now it’s the flat of your tongue against her clit that stops her dead in her tracks. Her juices have begun to lather your tongue in their addictive taste, drawing you into her just a little more with each lap of your tongue. You suck on one of her folds, then your tongue is inside her, and she moans, her hand finding a spot on the back of your head that she can grip on to. She calls you crazy, calls you baby, runs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue dips in, circles, laps; your nose brushes against all the right spots of her skin and it draws out these almost sob-like, quiet sounds from her chest and she’s… Fuck, she’s amazing.

“I might take a while,” she whispers to you. You call malarkey, but play along nonetheless.

“Fuck yes,” your tongue swipes the entirety of her in a long, broad stroke. “Please, by all means princess. Take your time,” you don’t think you could ever sound as enthusiastic as you did right now. She pushes you down a little harder onto her slit, and you delight in how she squirms when you push your tongue a little deeper between her folds.

Her nails start to dig into your scalp a bit, and she starts pushing you down onto her cunt a little more.

“You know,” she speaks with this half-whisper-half-gasp, the type of tone that tells you that she’s fighting to stay in control of her own body. “I— mmph… Sometimes I lock myself in the changing room and just get off to the thought of you eating me.”

You suck on the other fold that you neglected earlier. “Oh yeah?” and you get a finger inside of her. She cries out, abdomen flexing deliciously as she turns pliant under the pressure of your finger getting a hold of that sweet spot. You can feel the heat—it feels like your skin is gonna melt. “Bet you get off real hard to it, maybe even harder than you will in like, two minutes.”

“Two?” she tries to sound a little defiant, but her voice is cracking and it’s really not working out in her favour. Your finger is barely pushing up by the way, yet it seems like she’s got thousands of pascals of pleasure weighing down on every part of her being. “Don’t put yourself on a fucking pedestal… I am nowhere close.”

You hum in reply, saving your energy to suck on her clit. And it’s almost like she’s spring-loaded in the way her thighs clamp around your ears immediately after. Her fingers eat into your scalp, a light, searing pain growing across your head as you kiss her right fold, then her left. You can tell that there’s liquid burning heat running through her body, spilling all over her. Miyeon tries to hold on, tries to prolong this for a little more by getting her nails deep in your scalp. But she’s falling apart, coming undone with each second.

“Baby.”

“One minute left,” you put your lips back around her clit. Her head thumps against the floorboards.

“I—can’t.”

“Ugh. Hate it when you lie.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just fucking cum.”

And she ruins herself. She loses sense of the world for a bit—convulsing and twitching on the floor while you continue to lick her. No cry leaves her mouth; a strained, choked up phonic gets caught in her throat and refuses to dislodge. Her back arches, her thighs flex. Her world fades for a bit.

Give or take: she takes a minute or so. When she gasps for air, you know she’s come back down to earth. You welcome her with a kiss to her abdomen as you rise up. Her cheeks are rubicund—flushed and making her glow as she smiles at you. She softly captures your cheeks in her hands.

“Okay,” she huffs, taking deep breaths as she strokes your face with her thumb. “Out of all the men I’ve dated: you can cook and eat the best.”

“Twenty dollars says that you’ve said that to at least four guys,” you muse. “Maybe five if I’m generous.”

She closes her eyes for a moment. Inhales. Exhales.

“Hand on my heart,” she uses one hand to push some hair out of her face. “I’ve only said this to you.”

Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance.

You willfully let yourself be blissful because you can.

(Then fast forward a little. Maybe like, three hours? Or however long it takes for you to have a nap and a shower to get ready to go out.)

“Are you seriously going out in that?”

And you have to stop at the door. You know that tone all too well.

“What is it this time?” you grumble, turning around to face the bed so that she can get a full biopsy of your outfit. It isn’t a bad outfit in your honest opinion, and you’re no stranger to horrible (unintentional) attempts at making fashion statements. Colour-blindness is a hereditary curse; it’s not your fault that you can’t tell that this shade of blue doesn’t work with that shade of grey and whatnot. “I swear I wore this a week ago and you said nothing.”

Miyeon slips out from under the covers. In your T-shirt, she saunters with purpose and urgency as she makes her way over. She stops in front of you and takes your tie into her hands. “It’s either you lose this tie or do something else to this already god-forsaken outfit.”

You consider the options for a hot minute. You’re kinda proud of this outfit—it took a lot of time and vetting through Miyeon to get it planned out and everything. The tie was kind of a staple piece—as important as the shirt or trousers. To hear that (in essence) you looked like shit admittedly dealt a blow to your ego, but why be petty when you can be cavalier?

“Whatever,” you reply, making no effort to stop her from trailing a nail up your shirt. “I couldn’t really care less about how this woman perceives me tonight. Not even into her anyway.”

Miyeon chuckles. The finger on your chest wraps itself around the top of your tie. “That’s an option as well,” she adjusts the knot, though it doesn’t look like she’s doing it to make you look better. “But can I give you one more alternative?”

“By all means, princess.”

She tugs on your tie, pulls you close. Your lips are just centimetres away from hers. You get a whiff of her scent. She’s using the shampoo you bought her.

“Stay home,” she makes sure that her voice is kinda breathy, tickles your face as she lets the phonics dissipate into warm air. “Skip the date. You have a smoking hot girlfriend to fuck anyway.”

Oh and it takes you just about everything to stop you from grabbing her by the face and just kissing her. It's so easy: reach forward, get her face (or waist) in your hands and just smash her lips against yours. You know she’s thinking the same thing; but she’s waiting on you, anticipating what you’re going to do next. It’s a sick little game the two of you play, but it’s fun as hell and really doesn’t get boring in the near future.

“You know what my mom would say…” you begin, and you know she’s gonna stop you.

“Say you're sick”—bingo motherfuckers. She owes you five bucks—“tell her that you got the cold and so you can’t show up.”

“Expended on that one… And the work emergency one too,” you regretfully inform her. “And no: I will not be telling them that we’re actually a thing—“

“Cause you want to protect me and blah blah…” she interjects yet again, her fingers moving up and down, closing against her thumb in mimicry of a mouth moving. It’s petty, kinda frustrating—but it’s Miyeon. She’s a handful to deal with at times, but at least she’s your handful to deal with. “Been running the same jig for a little too long, tiger. I know your game.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’m a one-trick Pony and my carrot is you. What’s new?”

She chortles at that, and you take that moment to really get a good look at her because by god is she beautiful. Head-turner, eye-widener, heart-racer — not to be a bore, but again: it’s Miyeon. There’s a lot more about her that you could synthesize into words, but you won’t (not because you don’t want to or anything; but it’s more about the fact that you probably don’t have enough time to get someone to understand her.)

Cause here’s the thing (about her, you and both of you): she’s just as human as anyone, and that means she’s just about as complicated as anyone. You’ve got a story, she’s got her’s, and the two cross somewhere to form a midpoint before they start running parallel to each other before meeting again and running together and… You get it, don’t you?

No? Fuck.

Okay. She may or may not be able to hold down a relationship; and you may or may not have been able to secure a relationship. You kinda get drunk with her over this revelation one night and you may or may not have joked over the fact that maybe you should get together. And then you may or may not have had the hottest sex you’ve had in years before you may or may not have realised that she’s the best thing to happen to you. It’s all kinda hypothetical to you cause you’re still processing the fact that this is all real. Still wondering if it’s a fling cause it’s only been about 3 months since this started.

(Calm down cupcake, no one likes a party pooper who prods on details in the midst of a story. It’s just… Ugh. The story behind how the two of you know each other is so boring and complicated—full of unnecessary exposition like this whole bit really. It hurts to retell it, so here’s a summary: she used to date your roommate, roommate moved out after they broke up, she stayed and hanged around you, here you are now. Fuck the details, there’s no room for it really. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.)

“Save the charisma,” she tells you, really putting on some breath behind her words. “I prefer it when you use it in bed.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

The kiss kinda blurs the line between passionate and sweet (if there even was a line to begin with). It’s quite aggressive, a little tender but also a wee bit emotional. It makes you a little bitter, but don’t get it twisted: you love this girl with all your heart and you’d do anything to stay with her. It’s just that you’d love—more than anything—to lose the shirt and pants you’re wearing to make out with her, and then let things flow as they do. Unfortunately, your parents really want you to meet this girl, and you have to get going or you’ll probably get cut from the will or something.

She tries again. “Stay…”

“Miyeon—”

“I fucking need you… Please.”

It’s just so fucking tempting…. But there are only so many lines you can cross before you find yourself in trouble with border patrol. And if there's anything you hate more than lectures, it’s lectures from your mother.

Her lips graze yours, hovering just millimeters away. She wants to kiss you—bite your lower lip and pull you into an undoubtedly sloppy lip lock. That will end with your hand somewhere on her body that gets the ball rolling (and we all know where that ball goes). She has it in her to do it; she has the right, the means and the fucking autonomy (and audacity). She’s just waiting on you, seeing what happens when she plants the seed of an idea in your head and waters it a little.

Unfortunately for her, you’re too damn terrified of your parents to let that seed grow.

“I‘ll see you later,” you whisper, albeit a little reluctantly. “Call me if anything comes up.”

She understands that she’s lost. Doesn’t stop her from giving you that kiss though. “Don’t keep me waiting tonight… I love you.”

Ugh. She’s one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

So get this: this woman that your mother found for you is possibly the most boring person you’ll ever meet. She’s beautiful and all, but she has the personality that has just about the same amount of flavour as food in the west before spices.

She spends the meal talking about her job, and you kinda just fix her with a hundred yard stare and tune out. You couldn’t give a shit about computer security really—never was and never will be into that shit. It doesn’t help that your phone is kinda blowing up at the moment. It’s buzzing all over your thigh in your pocket. Pretty trippy, kinda makes you wonder if Miyeon had just slipped one of her vibrators into your pocket.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom at some point. You’re not sure how long she’s been yapping your ear off for, but it kinda doesn’t matter. All you’ve gotten from this meal is really just a handful of nonsense and a migraine.

Anyway: it’s in the confines of the bathroom store that you check on the ruckus in your pocket. The screen lights up and you find that the spasming of your phone was caused by a combination of posts from a news outlet and from Miyeon. She takes precedence over the news.

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I swear to you I have no idea what’s going on

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I’m getting this at the same time as you

Miyeon//8:02 pm: I don’t know what’s happening. Please come home.

And the way you open your news app almost instantly makes you feel like you’re all too familiar with this. It’s not a headline, but it might as well be from the way it makes your eyes widen and your breath stop for a second.

You blink. You blink again.

The words don’t change.

Suddenly, you have a valid reason to get out of this dinner.

(How you get home is a little fuzzy, but that’s not really the important part.

What? The headline? Oh you know it, don’t you cupcake? It was literally the only thing on people’s minds for some reason, as if an idol dating an actor is something unheard of.)

“What the fuck?” you ask when you step through your apartment door.

She sighs as you remove your coat and hang it behind your door. “Look… I’m just as confused as you are—”

“An actor?” you interject. You��ll admit that it’s a little rude, but you’re really just trying to make sense of this as fast as possible. “How long have you known this guy?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t,” she huffs. “I swear to you, hand on my heart and the other on the bible, I am not in love with that man.” She says. “I barely even know the fucker, never talked to him in my life.”

It’s a little hard to look at her right now. You have lots of things to say; lots of feelings and lots of thoughts. If you’re really gonna be honest with yourself: you’re scared, hurt and a little confused. Miyeon’s good at lying—a little too good for your liking. Pair that knowledge with your insecurities, and congrats: you’ve just given birth to multiple insecurities. They’re like little demons running amok in your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

You can’t do this with her now. Not when all this is all so fresh and new.

But she catches your arm as you try to walk past her. Her grip is firm, pleading.

“Please,” she utters, letting her hand slide down your arm to let her fingers wrap around your hand. “Trust me on this.”

You want to. You really want to. And so it hurts you to ask, “Am I just another fling?”

You can see it in her eyes when she realises the motivation behind the question. She doesn’t take long to come to the epiphany—just a little less than a second before her eyes soften and her lips part a little. Her expression scares you. You want to run from this all together and leave it to another day, but God knows that you won’t be getting any sleep with this weight in your head. It’s comical, almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that it’s your relationship with her on the line.

You like to think that she can’t express her answer into words, so she kisses you instead. You’ll never know why she chose to kiss you, but it's sweet and so powerful that you can kinda live with that gap in your knowledge. You may or may not have teared a little, and you may or may not have melted into her lips a little too quickly. What you can say for certain: when you find yourself back in those eyes, panting with your face between her hands—the words ‘I love you’ escape your mouth faster than you can think. You don’t say it for the sake of it; you say it cause you mean it. You want her to know that you’ll fight for this relationship, that you’ll fight for her.

And it makes her smile.

“I’m like, in love with your goofy ass,” she mutters, thumb tracing a path along your cheek. “So don’t you ever think that I’d drop you for some slick-back fuck face.”

That’s more than enough for you. Her smile is contagious as you hold her waist. “Crude. I love you, Miyeon.”

“Yeah. I heard you the first tim—”

Of course: you don’t wait for a finished reply to kiss her. It’s a practice, almost a common tongue at this point.

Miyeon lets her hands fall, gets her arms around your neck while you reacquaint your lips with hers. She’s lovely, fucking divine and maybe even a little addictive—straight up dangerous if you’re to sum it up. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being manipulated, and it’s really only for a second because she’s got her teeth in your bottom lip and she’s dragging them towards her. She wants more—more of you and less of this need to prove her love. She touches your chest, palm flat against your flesh as she deepens the kiss. Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance. Kissing her deepens that ignorance, makes you all the more blissful.

“I need you,” you breathe, unashamed by your blatant desire to have her right now. Really: you can’t get enough of her smell right now. “Please Miyeon… Let me be the only one.”

She smiles softly. She runs her fingers through your hair. “Baby, you already are.”

You press your forehead against hers. “I know. But can we just…”

You can’t really verbalise what you want out of this. You want Miyeon, but you don’t just want the idea and concept of her. You long for that connection with her, that union and that closure, not just some fleeting, superficial feelings. This woman is quite literally one of your dreams. It’s selfish to say this, but you want that security—something tangible to know that you’re really hers and she’s really yours, a piece of her that you can hold on to that helps rid your heart of those little demons. You hope she can understand this through your closed eyes.

And something about the way she fixes your hair tells you that she does.

“It’s okay,” she assures you, her other hand finding that one spot on your chest. It feels like it’s touching your heart directly, calming it. “I get it,” her fingers wrap around the knot of your tie, loosening it till it unravels completely. “You’re hurt and scared. Frankly, so am I.”

Miyeon wraps the tie up neatly in her fist. Her hands cross over each other as she reaches down to grab the hems of her shirt. It slips off her, a layer peeled away. Then the tie rolls down from her hand.

“I want you to know”—she drapes the tie around her shoulders, the thin portion ever so slightly shorter than the broader portion as they hang on either side of those perky mounds—“I will do everything I can to protect you and us.”

She tosses the smaller end across her body, cloth flying over her left shoulder and dangling behind her arm. The broader end is wrapped around her neck—once, twice.

Miyeon steps closer and takes your hand. The broad end of the tie gets slotted into your palm.

“And even though I might have to be seen with him,” she coos, and she’s a little clumsy as she reaches for the thin end behind her, but she gets it on her second or third try. “Even though I might have to hold his hand in public,” she slips it between her skin and the loop she’s made, ties it off. “You should know: I am yours.”

She shocks you into silence as always. You know what she’s insinuating. You know that she knows what she’s insinuating. Your eyes search her for consent, and you find that it’s the only thing you can make out behind the veneer of a tender gaze. She checks the makeshift leash she’s made. It’s not coming off anytime soon.

You wrap some of the tie around your hand. Your fingers close around the silky fabric.

(Just so we’re clear: the tie may look horrible on you, but she looks amazing in it.)

You pull.

And it’s just that.

Clothes come off, lips meet, sighs fly through the room. Her hands explore you, grab you, pump you; your kisses find the best parts of her, the parts you love the most and the parts she loves attention at. The tie never leaves your hand, and you give it a tug or two when you get your digits in her on the couch. You’ll never forget the way she looks when her head is forced up just after it whips back, the glassy look in her eye as she begs for you, keens for you. Never in your life has anything this debauched been so intimate. You’ve never heard sighs out of you and her so luscious.

“Princess,” you quite literally growl as you address her. It’s not necessary, but the squelching of your fingers in her slick brings out something in you—a part of you that’s wild and somewhat untamed. “I fucking love the way you moan.”

Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah? She husks, her eyes going half-lidded in pleasure when you get your fingers in the same, soft, tender spot on the roof of her pussy. “It’s all for you. Ngh— A-All yours…”

And you don’t know how you can not believe her at this point.

You pull at the tie. She almost straightens completely. You kiss her. Her moans send pleasant vibrations down your windpipe.

It’s all so perfect. And it somehow gets even more perfect when she cums—waves of heat burning through her system; eyes shut and mouth agape; hands around your neck and your name spilling from her lips in a mix of curses (that mostly contain the word ‘fuck’); body convulsing and twitching in ways that make a low grunt emerge from the depths of your chest as you watch her. She’s beautiful—your beautiful princess.

When it’s over, you let the tie go slack. She crashes against the couch, forcing air back into her lungs with deep breaths. There’s sweat on her face, her body. Your hand finds its place on her tummy as you place small kisses on the corner of her lip, her jaw. Her skin is moist and sticky.

“Have me,” and it’s more so of a demand than a request. “Take me. However you want, wherever you want,” she runs her hands through your hair, “You’re the only one I want.”

You let out a low hum. It lightly vibrates at the base of your throat as you catch her earlobe between your lips.

“Has anyone told you how fucking beautiful you are?” you can’t help but ask. She searches your face or a minute, then she chortles.

“About half the world,” she replies. “But it means the most coming from you.”

(Oh… That line really means the fucking world to you.)

You kiss her, hard. It’s messy, sloppy, and at some point you guys are scrambling to get on top of each other. She wins at one point, and so she rides you—dropping and rising hard and fast on your cock like a lewd merry-go-round carriage. She’s relentless, letting your cock fill her while she blanks out and just lets herself cry and moan like you don’t have thin walls in your apartment. You let her please herself, throw herself down onto your cock again and again till you decide that it’s your turn to have some fun. The tie is your friend, and you use it to pull her real close to not too kindly hiss your instructions into her ear.

You’d kill to see the look in her eyes again.

And so you have her against the nearest wall in less than a minute, her back flushed against it and one of her legs bent in the crook of your arm. She reaches between your bodies, grabs your throbbing shaft and rubs your tip against her slit. You feel the heat of her pussy—the desire and depravity that burn in her core. You can’t believe she’s yours.

“I’m gonna put this in me,” she narrates her course of action, all breathy and silky. “It’s gonna fill me, fuck me… Maybe even cum in me.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here,” you whisper, your hand wrapping itself back in the fabric of the tie. “That last part? I dunno… Seems a little optimistic, don’t you think?”

She pushes your head in between her folds—not all the way, but enough to part them. “And why is that?”

You pop your hips, push yourself in a little more. She inhales sharply.

“I only cum inside good girls.”

The smile that creeps its way onto her face is wicked.

“Trust me,” her hand finds purchase on your shoulder, pads of her fingers digging into the muscle. “I’ll be the best you ever get.”

She puts her weight onto the leg in your arm. You slide into her.

And you both take a moment to enjoy the unity—the feeling of the two of you being joined as one; your out of sync heartbeats that feel like pattering raindrops around your shaft. You want to say something witty, a quip that will get a nice chuckle out of her.

All you can really manage is, “Fuck.”

And in response: “Talk less. Fuck more.”

You draw back, push in. There’s the sopping sound of your shaft going in and out of her, wet pushing into warm flesh. You groan. She sighs.

Tight, hot, wet, divine.

And it goes without saying: when you pick up the pace, she lets you know that she loves the feeling—the stretching, the filling, the push and pull. It comes to you in the form of pure filth: words that have very little consideration for propriety and no room for decency, something along the lines of “I can’t believe you feel this good. I can’t believe this cock is mine” or “That’s it. Keep filling me. Keep fucking— Oh” or maybe even a mix of both. You can’t be certain, because between you and her, you both know that the undulating of your cock into her tight, creamy heat and the almost torturous pressure around your dick is taking you under by the second. It’s not hard to lose yourself in her when she’s basically a little piece of you.

Like always, she let her pleasure be known through desperate noises and choked up words. “Keep going, please, fuck—don't stop,” and it sounds like it hurts but you know it’s the other way around. Her pleasure coated tongue makes the lust in her words undeniable, her half-lidded eyes ruining the argument that she’s in any pain whatsoever. You yank on her tie, her body curves closer. You need a better look at that face.

(Trust me, it’s a face you don’t want to forget.

For lack of a better word: it’s porny as fuck.)

It's a blissful dance – the rhythmic, almost metronomical give of her thighs as you slide yourself home again and again steadily and firmly. The smacking of sweaty and sticky skins colliding is almost evenly paced, sighs and grunts filling the spaces between slaps. She follows your lead, rocks her hips accordingly, angles herself and adjusts so that she can feel you in the deepest parts of her cunt. You lift her leg a little higher, spear yourself a little deeper. You listen to your body, she listens to hers. You give in to your desires.

You don’t mean to blurt it. You don’t mean to make the sex more complicated than it already is. But it happens—it fucking happens and you can’t stop it.

“I love you,” your voice is nothing more than a rasp. She feels so fucking good around you — squeezing, pulsing and doing every little thing that makes your jaw tighten and you legs tense. “I fucking love you, Miyeon.”

She holds your gaze, then smiles, then nods. She nods vigorously, enthusiastically. “I know… It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Your hand on the tie releases it from your grasp. You catch a bouncing breast in your hand, squeeze the tight and taut nipple with your fingers. The tie shakes violently like a snake writhing, bouncing and swaying with each firm impact against Miyeon’s skin. She mewls, pulls you in, kisses you. She lets herself come undone with her chest flushed against you and your hearts aligned as she lets the cries transfer from your mouth to hers. You pump yourself faster, harder, faster, harder. Your finger digs into the flash near her knee. Your blood is boiling, molten metal spilling over and washing over you—gold rush, acid flux, saturating you in this bliss that numbs you out. You can’t tell where your thrusts start and end. They’re blurred by the heat washing over your eyes. You can’t get enough. The way you fuck her—it feels relentless, merciless, a fire that only burns brighter and can’t be put out, fuelled by the heat of Cho Miyeon flushed against you and the sublime squeeze of her slick heat. Everything about this is hot; everything about her is hot.

“Don’t you ever let me go,” she hisses. “Fuck— don’t ever leave. This cock is mine. You are mine.”

“Princess, I’d never,” you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck, pepper her nicely with kisses. “You. Only you.”

“Yeah,” and her breath is hot on the nape of your neck. “Cause I can’t ever fucking imagine anyone else filling me this fucking good. No one has ever filled me this good.”

And her fricatives feel like acid: Aqua Regia—melting straight through solid gold just to get to you. It makes you burn a little hotter, fuck her a little harder. Your heart burns at the thought of her; your brain melts at the sight of her—glassy-eyed and mouth agape while cock pumps her full of pleasure and want. She finds a spot on your shoulder, whispers her proclamation of love— “I love you I love you I love you— Fuck—”—before she buries her face into your shoulder blade. Her love is an animal call, cutting through the darkness and bouncing off the walls, reaching a soft spot in your heart that you hold for her. Nothing in this world is gonna stop you from turning her into a messy little fucktoy.

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. She’s become your world, the only thing you ever want to think about. Anything that isn’t her tight little pussy is irrelevant; what isn’t her thin lips pressed against your shoulder is invalid; no pair of eyes will ever match the glassy, lust-fogged ones that Cho Miyeon possesses. Your pulse is rushing, your head is reeling, your face is flushing. You want her—all of her. You suck hard on the milky skin you’ve caught between your lips, marking her, claiming her. She has no qualms nor worries; she tilts her neck to give you better access to that lovely patch of skin that becomes your canvas. She mewls, presses her forehead harder into your body, grounding herself in the sensation of her skin on yours.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you, Miyeon,” you drawl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy and make a mess out of you,”

“Yeah, yes,” she’s barely holding it together at this point. “Please. Oh god please.”

Your hips move on their own now, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you pump yourself into Miyeon with the sole goal of piping her full of your hot seed. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into her in a mindless, fervent fashion, giving in to your desires and your depravity and fucking her like she’s a doll. You relish the feel of her skin in your palms; the feel of her hands pressed against your chest; the sheer, strained phonetic atrocities that rise from the depths of her throat. Your shaft glistens in the light of the room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her hot cunt, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weaker by the second. Miyeon cups your cheek, moans your name. You bury your nose deep in those silky locks of jet black hair. You need every last part of her to be close to you.

She's whimpering, eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; she’s a coiled up spring, a bundle of nerves waiting to be released. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, her throat bobs. She's coming undone, breaking a little more with each thrust of your cock. You know that she’s cumming before she announces it, and when you fuck her over the point of no return, it’s bliss.

Miyeon melts, head whips back and thumps against the wall, positively combusts on the spot and ceases to hold on to the last bits of herself. She lets herself fall through the pleasure, orgasm almost ripping through her system as she shakes in your grasp. She’s such a precious thing, yet she can look like lust itself when she’s busy cumming all over your cock and whining like her life depends on it. She’s tighter, wetter, even better to fuck.

She really is the best you’ll ever have.

“Miyeon–”

“Just fucking cum.”

Your line; same effect. You fill her, make a creamy mess of her cunt because you can. You fuck her through it, push your load deeper with each thrust. Your cock pulses, spasms, shoots load after load after load into her pussy till you can’t take it anymore and jitter to a halt, and there’s nothing left but a filthy mess flowing out at the base of your cock where her lips are splayed the widest. It’s a sight for sure.

(And there really isn’t a word for the moment that the two of you share in that wrinkle in time, that moment where it’s just all warm and fuzzy and you have your forehead pressed against hers.)

You cradle her in your arms, kiss her chest, her jaw, her lips. It’s tender, it’s gentle.

“We’ll figure this out,” she pants through closed eyes. “I promise you: you and me, we’re gonna figure this all out.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt it.

(Still here? Great. We’re getting to the good part. Get your special sock out or something.)

So the newest rage of the K-pop scene is the photo of Miyeon kissing him in a car.

It's a publicity stunt—the whole damn relationship. They are supposed to appear in love according to Miyeon, and it was his idea to kiss her. She never consented and he just did it. It’s a pretty lewd photo: up close and personal and all. You can see his lips on hers, his hand on her breast and they’re like, clearly getting it on in three. Pretty steamy if you do say so yourself,

(...)

Oh fucking hell. Who are you kidding describing this photo like you’re just viewing an artwork. It makes your blood boil, and speaking to her after seeing this photo feels like dancing to alarm bells when you feign ignorance and just talk with her like it’s a normal Wednesday. You’re gonna hurt yourself at this rate, but she really means too much.

She told you that he forced his lips on hers, you believe her to the best of your ability. You kiss her, tell her it’s okay, that she’s doing what she has to do to protect the two of you. She says she’s sorry, that she feels like she’s failed you. You kiss her again—albeit a little half-hearted—and assure her once more that it’s okay. You want to nurse her pain, but you also have your own problems to deal with.

And as if this fucking actor hasn’t interfered enough with your relationship, he has the audacity to call during the make up sex.

Her phone starts to ring when she’s on her hands and knees on your bed, and you’re fucking her into the mattress like she’s some pliant plaything. There's a rage inside you that hasn’t been quenched, and you don’t realise that it’s bringing out that dark side of you till you spank her ass a little harder than you intended to. It doesn’t help that you kinda twitch when you hear her yelp, and it really doesn’t help when she tightens after the second spank. The phone only continues to vibrate next to her head.

“Baby,” she rasps. “My phone…”

“Pick it up,” you hiss. “Pick it up and let whoever the fuck it is hear how you’re being fucked like a slut.”

Degradation has never really been a kink of yours, but you know she’s kinda into it. Even so, you’re not calling her a slut because you consciously want to. You feel like an asshole for being angry, kinda hate yourself a little for not being able to accept that she’s doing what she needs to do. And then you kinda hate her for making you hate yourself and— Ugh. It just gets more complicated the more you try and rationalise it. You can’t stop the hot blood from coursing through your system, fuelling your firm strokes into her tight heat like you’re trying to inject all the hate in your body into her.

Her hand that was once clawing at the sheets now reaches for her phone. You keep thrusting as she flips it over, keep thrusting as she shows you the caller ID, keep thrusting as she looks back at you with a gaze that says “are you sure?”. You hope she isn’t met by that dark look you often see when you look at yourself in the mirror after a new headline about them hits your screen. It’s funny how one person can flip the idea of make-up sex on its head—turn it from something so tender and beautiful to a spite-fuelled fuck fest that’s gonna make things more complicated. She hasn’t even picked up the fucking phone, but you can hear his sick voice in your head as you drive yourself deeper into her cunt, fuck her harder and faster than you knew you could. She’s in no state to answer the phone, yet her finger taps on the ‘accept call’ button.

(She would’ve rejected it if she could, but she got into some deep shit the last time that happened. Must’ve been threatened or something for her to pick up the phone while she’s getting fucked.)

“Hello?” she does her best to steady her voice, and she’s doing pretty well considering how loud the smacking of skin against skin is. She presses the phone a little tighter against her left ear. You don’t intend on stopping. Let him hear her being owned by you for all you care. “T-This is a bad… a bad time.”

Damn straight it is.

Your hand caresses the curve of her ass. You spank her again, making sure that it’s loud and it leaves a red patch on her smooth, creamy skin. She contacts around you, gasps a little as you bend down and pin her down with your weight on her back.

“W-What?”—and it feels like she’s talking to both of you. You hiss into her other ear. “I’m going to fuck you like this,” your voice is actually a snarl, a dark one. Your body is energized by the promise of taking and ravaging the helpless, prone woman beneath you, your words dripping with loathing and your thrusts brimming with spite. “I’m going to fuck you hard and rough, and you’re gonna keep him on the fucking line so he can hear it.”—“No I’m… Jogging.”

She’s terrible at lying. You let her know through each thrust—hard and deep, uncaring for her pleasure or her comfort or anything other than your need to bury yourself again and again inside her body. There’s the need to dominate her, the need to make her yours. You hope this guy can act like he doesn’t care that his supposed girlfriend is being prone-boned by another guy, act like he isn’t totally aware of the fact that Cho Miyeon’s body is never gonna belong to him at any point as long as you’re alive.

(Keep this between us: but with the way you're going down on her, it feels like the message is being transferred to her and not him.)

You hear indistinct chatter. Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, undoubtedly holding back the stream of cries and sighs and lyrical monstrosities that threaten to burst forth. With her eyes she begs, challenges you to do more. You could be reading her wrong by like, a hundred percent. Doesn't matter, not when you can take every liberty with her body because you couldn’t give more of a shit. There’s more indistinct chatter on the other end of the phone; Miyeon says something along the lines of “no. Don’t buy the choker for me”. You give her a choker—raise yourself up and reach around her to wrap your fingers around her throat. Her whole body tenses when you apply pressure around her windpipe. In no universe does this guy not know what’s going on right now.

Cause she’s there—right there, all choked up and struggling to breathe while the fucker keeps yap-yap-yapping away like he’s some fucking guard dog. It irritates the hell out of you. At some point, he kinda has to hear a squelch or smack or two, maybe even a moan or a cry as well. But he stays on the phone, and not once does Miyeon ever have to address the question of whether she’s being fucked on the other end of the call or not. You thought you were ignorant, but this guy is a whole new fucking level of blissfully ignorant. It feels like his sole purpose is to drive a wedge between the two of you, to make you hate her because you hate him. Again: it’s kinda complicated to say exactly what it feels like to be in this situation.

And you can imagine the moans she wants to let out. They’ll tumble out of her lips like water down a waterfall, and they’ll mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you lean back down to kiss her neck, stopping at one spot that you know will be good to mark her and sucking hard. It feels like getting back at her—doing all the things you want to do while she can't speak her mind freely (and you know how tortuous it is for her when she can’t moan while she’s being railed like this). You’re not sure why you would ever need to get back at her when she’s done nothing wrong, but I guess it helps to synthesise and dumb down the emotions you’re feeling at the moment.

“Tonight?” she asks. Then she buries her head into the sheets because she can’t hold back this moan that almost explodes from her chest. You’re not squeezing really hard around her throat, mind you—only enough to make her a little uncomfortable, like a tie has been wrapped around her neck. She's getting off on it though: her walls squeeze you a little tighter; her breaths become more ragged and short. Honestly, she's taking your cock so well, and you communicate this to her with a growl. It makes her shudder a hell lot.

Her other hand clutches the sheets, spasms. She’s pliant, she always is, but it feels like you can wrack her tiny body with so much more pleasure as you keep a hand around her throat and keep your dick pumping in and out of her. You wish you had a mirror to see that pretty face warping under the heat of her lust. You kinda forget that she’s still calling him when she speaks again, cause she follows up with, “I can’t— I can’t believe…”

And if that damn phone call wasn’t happening, she’d be saying something along the lines of “I can’t believe that you’re fucking me this good”.

“Sorry. I got cut off,” she pants. “Yeah… It’s harder to hear me when I’m running.”

Now she's talking to you. The reply is to him, but she’s addressing you. You take her up on it, and the slapping and squelching start to ricochet off the walls and ceiling. What you’re doing should be considered as a whole sin in itself. Technically, it’s adultery, but you’re not too sure if you can even classify this as something that simple. This is jealousy, hate and love mashed into one—a mix of things that kinda shouldn’t go together when you have a woman who’s quite literally like putty beneath you. It doesn’t help that she's this hot, this tight, this wet. She’s straining her moans, and it’s so cute that you want to choke her a little harder. You don’t do it (just clarifying some doubts here), but you almost do.

“R-Really?”—you’re almost certain that what comes next is gonna be addressed to you. You can imagine her signing your name off on it—”wow… That must be so fucking good.”

Bingo. Gotta say: she’s kinda smooth with it.

“I’m fine. Out… Out of breath” you don’t know how she manages to keep her voice steady. “Y-yeah… I’m gonna come… Don’t worry.”

You hope that she can hold on.

You don’t know how long more you fuck her for while she’s on the phone. It’s a blur; you kinda only see red and you’re still choking her out even after she hangs up. It’s only when she goes, “Oh, fuck, daddy—!” with this breathless, perverse, pleading tone and a voice that’s so loud; her body unable to do anything other than gasp and moan and urge you to really give it to her, and when she says “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” like you’re not doing just that (and only that) at the moment that she’s hung up on him. Now she has every facility available to focus on the rock hard meat she’s receiving. You feel filthy, like you’re doing something wrong.

But hey: the sex is hot and Miyeon’s kinda into it, so you keep going. You keep fucking her into the bed—the same way you would if you were fucking her against the wall or in the shower or against any flat surface, really. It’s twisted, it’s dark, it’s hot; the angle her body is at lets you drive yourself deeper and faster and harder into her wet, tight and hot pussy like you never have before. You’re experiencing a novelty, a new chapter.

(Caveat: is it kinda messed up that you call her a cocksleeve? Not really? Huh.)

“God Miyeon…” you feel like the voice that comes from your throat is not your own. “You’re such a good fucking cocksleeve for me,” and you may or may not be tightening the grip around her throat as you speak. “So tight and wet for me. You’re such a good fuck.”

“Oh daddy, fuck you’re so big and deep in me,” she gasps. She has lots to say, even though air is like a fucking luxury for her. She rarely calls you Daddy, yet she’s using her precious air to do so now. “Fuck, fuck me as hard as you can, daddy! Do whatever you want with me! Own me! Take me!”

You barely recognise the woman she’s become: depraved, sordid and one hell of a hot mess. You love it. It’s fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

And she falls apart under you not long after, writhing and moaning and twitching as this beautiful mess of a woman you’ve made out of her. You want to cum in her, really own her; but your thoughts are fueled too much by the hate in your heart that they're wilder than anything she can ever imagine.

You pull out of Miyeon, your shaft glistening in the dim light. You get off the bed, pull her away with you. Her mouth opens to say something. You kiss her—shut her up. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention.

“You’ve gotten enough loads inside your pussy,” you husk. “Get on your knees. I want your mouth.”

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You push down firmly on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Miyeon on her knees with her pretty little princess face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you paint her face in a messy spray of cum.

And you know what? You’ll do just that.

Of course, Miyeon perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth, grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other. The pace she launches into is hard and fast; blurring her chocolate hair and your vision—taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with rapid urgency while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, the seal sublime; and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. She’s gorgeous, even more so when she’s got cock in her mouth.

Your hand finds a clump of her black, sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. You push her head down onto your cock, pop your hips and start thrusting with firm, slow strokes. She exceeds every expectation you ever had, adapting to you, changing to please you. Your eyes shut involuntarily. Your brain blocks out all sensations that aren’t the wet, hot cavern of Miyeon’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. The backstroke is somehow even better, that pretty little mouth endeavoring to suck you right back in when you draw yourself back out. It feels like time stands still, but Miyeon’s still in motion, and she’s the one making you feel like all the natural laws in the world are being defied.

A small part of you knows that you have to see it happening in order to truly believe it’s all real, so you force your eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Smoky eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you, watering, projecting perverse pleasure with a gaze; hollow cheeks and a seemingly unhinged jaw to accommodate your length; spit leaking from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“Fuck I—” is all you manage to say (or maybe ‘grunt’ is a better word) before your orgasm takes the reins to your body. It overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as you pull Miyeon off your dick just in time. Thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Miyeon’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her smoky features with pearlescent, warm ropes. You paint her face with your hot white seed, and it’s far from an elegant piece of art. She doesn’t look anything like one of the French girls she wanted to be painted like, but the look of utter lust on her needy features is still breathtaking—mouth open, tongue out, eyes closed in delight and bliss.

Ugh, she's one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

And when it’s all over, she takes your cock in her hand and licks off the drops that she’d been deprived of.

“If you ever do that again.” you love the raspy touch to her voice. The lilt in it is doing wonders too. “I’m gonna make sure that you’ll be calling your mom the next time I blow you.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “Whatever you say, princess…”

The hate seems to fade. Your heartbeat slows.

Maybe this relationship is salvageable. Maybe you guys can last.

You talk to her about it afterwards and apologise sincerely. She says that she didn’t think much of it when it was happening. Then you guys are at peace again.

(What do you think? How long does the honeymoon last? A month more?

Two?

Generous.

Try one. Fucking. Week.)

“Okay. Hands down: this is the best Jjamppong I’ve eaten.”

The growing pile of clam shells beside her bowl tells you that you did something right. It’s the first time you've made this dish, and there’s always that lingering worry that you fucked up somewhere along the way when you eat it for the first time. The soup seasoning is a little off in some places (you don’t know where exactly), but it’s nothing a dash of fish sauce and some chilli flakes can’t fix.

“I mean,” Miyeon continues, speaking between small yet generous mouthfuls of noodles. “You only get better and better at cooking. I don't know how you do it.”

You give a half-hearted smile. Your noodles have kinda gone cold by now: you’ve been stirring them around with your chopsticks for the past five minutes or so. Appetite has become a luxury for you these days, and it’s one of those days where a new article about him and her comes out, one of those days where you both agreed to put a pin on it and just enjoy life. “Well… It’s a lot of love and care, I guess.”

“You can say that again,” she smiles. “Thank you for making dinner. No one cooks like you.”

“Thank you for cutting scallions,” you say. “No one cuts them like you do.”

She laughs and waves it off, then takes another slurp of her noodles. “I honestly don’t know if I like your tomato soup over this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My tomato soups have always been the peak of my cooking prowess.”

“I really don’t know!” she tells you, grabbing another clam from the centre of the table. “This stuff is all smoky and tasty… It just feels like home and I—”

You drop your chopsticks into your bowl. Soup splashes onto the table.

“How do I keep living like this, Miyeon?” you ask. There are only so many pins in your possession and you feel like you’ve used all of them. “I’d love to sit here and talk to you about how I made this meal like everything’s okay, and this is just Thursday and maybe we’ll get ice cream later… But it’s not like that right now.”

Miyeon takes your hand in hers.

“I can’t pretend like things are the same when everything’s… different,” you close your eyes, take a breath. “I love you, Miyeon. You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and… I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You can hear her take a breath to start speaking. You really want to let her, but there’s too much on your chest.

“I know you’re doing what you have to, for me, for us,” you want—oh so badly––to just bury your face in your hands right now. But once you do that, the tears will inevitably come and your ability to speak your mind will disappear faster than you can regain yourself. “But it hurts. It hurts to see you holding his hand, walking around and… and kissing him.”

Your heart stings when you see the tears welling in her eyes when you find it in you to look at her. The last thing you want is to see her in pain. This next bit hurts you even more to say, but you know that it’s better to tell her how you feel.

“I feel like I’m an open wound… and you're just pouring salt on me,” and you start to choke up a little. “I’m sorry to put it that way but—”

“No,” she interjects. “No. I get it… I-I understand.”

And for a moment, it feels like everything's okay for a bit.

Then she comes around the table to kiss you, and hell’s bells start ringing all over again. It hurts to kiss her, but it feels so right.

Miyeon leans into you. She kisses you. She pulls you close. She lets you run your hands across her body, down her back. You stand. Your tongue pokes into her mouth. One of you says I need you and you don’t know who it is.

And like when things were okay: you guys don’t make it to the couch.

You get naked. She gets naked. The sex isn’t about pleasure or thrill. It’s the aching within the both of you that drives your shaft into her cunt, rocks her hips as you fuck her. You quite literally make love with her, your strokes passionate and fervent; her cries are earnest and wanton, full of longing. For long moments when her chest is against yours, your hearts are aligned. You wish that you could fuse them together, take away the pain by making the two of you one singular person there on the floor. It feels possible when your dick is throbbing inside of her, pumping her slick with rock hard meat again and again and again.

But the thing that sucks the most is that you can’t do that. You’re two separate people with two separate problems that kinda overlap at the same point.

You have her bent over the counter, propped up on the kitchen sink—anywhere you could reach was a surface for you and her. And normally you’d be a bit of a party pooper about fucking on these surfaces, but today you really can’t give more of a shit. You want to feel like everything’s okay again, like you’re not fighting for your life to hold on to this relationship that’s being torn apart day by day, night by night.

And you may have pieces of each other deep within your souls, but they don’t seem to fit anymore.

When it’s all over and you’re panting against the dishwasher, reality hasn’t changed and you’re still torn. You have a wound that only you can heal through acceptance, yet you can’t find it in you to accept that this is the life you have to lead. You want to love her. You want it so bad. But you can’t find the will in you to love her when there’s another man in the picture, albeit that her love for him isn’t even minimally a concept. You can’t nurse her injuries either, and it hurts to know that as her delicate hands cradle your cheeks. Her touch is perfect, her breaths are soft on your skin. The two of you have tried so hard to make it work, yet you’ve only come so far. The solution to this problem is like thousands of hot fire pokers stabbing you simultaneously, and it only hurts because it’s the only way forward for the both of you.

“Miyeon,” you can’t quite believe what you’re about to say. The tears streaming down your cheeks aren’t making anything easier. “Let’s break up.”

(And this isn’t for pity: but you cry yourself to sleep after she leaves that night. Ain’t it fun being heartbroken? You would know how it feels, right cupcake?)

Three months, two weeks and one day (about 105 days if you really want to be fully accurate. Go write that down somewhere) pass uneventfully—and by that you mean, you never picked up any of the 138 calls that came from Miyeon. It would have been 140 calls if you hadn’t picked up two of them when you were drunk. But hey, she was drunk too. So it kinda cancels out… at least you like to think that it does. It does, doesn't it? Two negatives make a positive?

(No?)

Ah well. Anyway,

(Okay, caveat, again: you’re thankful that she hadn’t showed up to the apartment once throughout this period. You’ve been stuck between your anger and a blame that you can’t face because you don’t know if you blame yourself or her or him. Drinking doesn’t help to lighten the ache in your chest, so you tried exercising: running, swimming, even pilates; you tried to pick up music—bought a guitar and everything. Your fingers still hurt when you play chords, and you’re considering giving up at some point; you tried to learn how to make those pain in the ass French desserts, and now you have a fire extinguisher permanently installed in your kitchen because you somehow managed to set fire to macarons; and you tried to write. That didn’t go well. 5 Wattpad users politely asked you to kill yourself. Not fun.

One way or another, your thoughts would end up drifting back to Miyeon, and you’d have to sit in place and kinda stare into the distance for a little. And yes, you did question your choice to end things with her many times if anyone is asking. You kinda hate yourself a little for not trying to make things work, and you also kinda hate her for not insisting on staying to make things work.

It took two of the three months for you to realise that you were both kinda in the wrong. But it’s already too late by then.

You couldn’t get a grip of yourself and fight off your internal demons; she couldn’t stop doing what she thought was right to protect the two of you. Net-net: it’s a loss for the both of you in the business of love. Now you have to look for a way forward through this grey-area mess that you’ve made, learn to live with the fact that maybe you guys just weren't meant to be in the grand scheme of things.

The updates on Miyeon’s relationship with that damned actor kept coming, but it stopped as of late. But for a while, they were all the rage for gossip blogs. Every now and then, a shitty title like “Cho Miyeon stuns with her visuals on her date” would pop up, and you have to swipe away quickly before you accidentally tap on the notification and see her holding hands with him. You’ll admit that you opened some of the articles just to get a look at her face, then smile to yourself for a bit before you fight the urge to punch the spot next to her where Squid Game wannabe is smiling. You’ve succeeded so far.

You kept away from Jjampong and tomato soup with grilled cheese too. It’s hard to take your butter bell down from the fridge without tearing a little, and the fish sauce and chilli flake panacea for food doesn't apply to a broken heart by the way (it’s just really salty and spicy. You don’t know what you were thinking. Probably drunk. 0/10, please, please, please do not try). The two dishes are too homely; their tastes remind you of her.

Okay. Let’s ‘anyway’ for real this time.)

Yeah, so uh, remember how you said that sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your loves are pretty bland? Yep… Sad to say that the same confirmed hypothesis still stands, even when you guys are on day 106 of your break up.

This time the news comes in another headline—and you mean like front page, breaking news headline—on Tuesday night. Wonderwall isn’t treating you too well. You’re pretty sure that your finger tips might be turning purple. Your phone buzzes next to you like crazy, just like it did that night, and it’s like having an iPhone seizure. You don’t think too much when you put down the guitar and pick up your device.

And you only read the first six words to give yourself a valid reason to reset your miscall streak with Miyeon.

Idol Cho Miyeon Slapped In Public…

(The title was a lot longer than that. You should know it since you’re here in the first place.)

It’s in moments like this when you kinda wish that speed dial was still a thing. (I mean there's siri and all, but do you really have time for that right now?) In a blur of great clumsiness, you open your contacts and experience no difficulty in locating her number again. She’s on the top of your miscall list, so it really takes no wizard to figure this out.

You hate that she’s letting it ring for so long. Every brr brr makes you tremble a little more in your seat. If your mum could see you now, you’d probably get an earful for your bad habit of biting your nails.

She finally picks up the phone. It’s good to hear her voice. “Hey…”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Now you realise that in your hurry to check on her, you’ve yet to rehearse what to say to her. The debate between your head and gut almost tears you in two.

“You okay?” you finally manage to blurt after some struggle. “I saw the news… Just wanted to check if, you know, you’re still up and kicking…”

You hear that familiar scoff from the other side of the phone. “Please. You know that it takes more than that to take me down.”

If your ears don't deceive you, you can hear a bit of a strain in her voice. She hates it when you jump to conclusions though, so you leave it as it is for now. “That’s… That’s great.”

And it’s silent again. If you were in the business of losing her interest, you’d be making crazy profits right now. Okay, better end this fast.

“Well uh,” you begin, stopping for a second to swallow some saliva to soothe your semi parched throat. “I guess—”

“Can I come over?”

Like she always does, she shocks you into silence. Your throat dries up. Your mouth is the Sahara.

“I… I miss you… if my miss-calls weren't clear enough about that,” she chuckles. You swear you hear a sniffle. “I’d like to see you again,” and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, “for closure of course… and maybe tomato soup?”

Your heart joins the debate between your head and gut. It wins.

Minutes later, your butter bell is open, a knife scraping out the last bits of creamy butter out of it so that it can be used to evenly butter the other side of your bread. You’re moving on instinct, with glee and excitement. You’re not sure why you’re happy. You’re just happy—happy that you’re gonna see her; happy that you can prepare this dish again without the knowledge that you’re not gonna see her when you turn. It isn’t till the doorbell rings that the joy fades, and in its place comes that familiar tension of a two tonne weight wrapped around your chest.

You aren’t sure why she rings the door when you haven’t changed the passcode to the lock. If she’s trying to be polite? You appreciate it. If she just forgot the pin? Well… you wouldn’t put that past her either, really. Your gut, head and heart agree you that it’s most likely the latter, and you kinda have to remind yourself as you open the door that she's just as forgetful as anyone else.

“Hi,” you catch yourself staring at her. You don’t mean to look at her dress first, but it’s the first thing your eyes are drawn to; it's been a while since you’ve seen her in anything other than a t-shirt and shorts. The white dress she’s wearing is bedazzled out, the light that’s reflected off of it catching you and making you a deer in headlights for a bit. Then you snap out of it. Your gaze travels up to her face and… “You look… Fucking terrible.”

You love her eyes and you love to watch them roll. “Thanks. You look not bad yourself. Gained some weight?”

You try not to stare. You fail—horribly you might add.

But in your defence, it’s hard not to look at the purple spot on her milky skin.

Miyeon covers her cheek. She looks down at your feet like there's something really interesting about them. “Are you, you know, letting me in? Or are we just gonna keep standing here?”

You blink. “R-Right.”

And soon she’s settled into her usual seat, nibbling on some grilled cheese while you ladle out her tomato soup into a bowl. It feels like nothing has changed, but you know that’s not true. Both of you know that everything’s different, that you can’t just give her tomato soup and peck her on the cheek.

“So you play guitar now?” she catches you off guard as the bowl makes a small thunk against the table. It’s in the same spot she always places it, and you know because a woodring has formed in that area. You follow her gaze and see that she’s spotted your Fender on the couch.

“Sort of?” you reply, a little uncertain in how to rate your abilities. “Just basic stuff, you know?”

She smirks and picks up her spoon, starts chipping away at her soup “So you’re finally digging up the singer-songwriter in you… Good on you, man.”

Again, you find yourself staring at the bruise. It’s a deep shade of purple, splotchy and a sight for sore eyes. From the looks of it, he hit her hard. There’s a burning in your chest—a mix of grief, pity and anger as you watch her eat her food. You wish that you could’ve been there to stop it. You wished that you could’ve just dated her under different circumstances so that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve gotten that ending you wanted. You don’t know how she’s ever gonna cover that up when—

“If you’re gonna get something for this thing, go do it,” she mutters. “Chivalry hasn’t died completely, right?”

You nod and scuttle off. It’s easy to lose track of how long you’ve been staring when you’re lost in your thoughts. Is it scary how this feels like just another conversation between you two?

The ice pack from when she bought that ice cream cake was still in the freezer, and it’s chilly in your hands as you grab it and return to the table. She has finished her soup—not a single scrap left inside the bowl. She must be starving.

Her grilled cheese is half eaten in her hand; she stares into the distance as she chews.

(And she’s as beautiful as she can ever be, by the way. A lot of people haven’t seen her the way you see her, and you’re kinda glad that you get to witness that tender part of her that she rarely shows to cameras. It’s… It’s hard to describe what it means to know that someone like her finds it this easy to be herself around you, but you know it’s an honour and a blessing.

But when you're looking at her with your rose-tinted lenses stripped away from you, the notions you hold towards vulnerability become contradictory, because on one hand you know that she’ll never hurt you the way she did, but on the other you know that she’s not the same person when she’s not around you. So at the end of the day, you’re just kinda left figuring out which side of her is the real her. Do you believe what the Cho Miyeon you know tells you? Or do you believe what the Cho Miyeon the world knows? It gets confusing, makes you wonder why she ever has to put up two fronts in the first place.

Then again, it’s not exactly her fault: she does what she has to so she can stay afloat. No industry is free from dirt. Some are just filthier than others.

I guess what I’m getting at is that… she’s this contradiction in my mind. I want to believe her, but I can’t, yet I still love her like she’s just a regular human and our lives are just a little messy. I know there's this whole argument about the fact that idols are humans too and all, but I guess it’s kinda… undermined? Yeah—undermined by the fact that they can’t exactly lead ‘normal’ lives once they’re famous. Look at me, using these big words.

So I guess… I guess dating her was like the worst of all blessings and the best of all curses. Does that make sense?

…

Ugh. I’m blabbering.

Sorry cupcake, I’ll get back to it.)

And maybe you forget that she isn’t your girlfriend anymore, or maybe you just kinda blank out in the moment, or maybe you just wanted to do it. For whatever reason: you call her name, and when she turns, the ice pack in your hand is gently applied against her face. You don’t think much of it for like, three or four seconds. But when her wide eyes finally register in your head, there’s a moment where your breath is caught in your throat.

This is important, so you should know: the silence is fucking deafening.

She swallows the bit of sandwich in her mouth. “I refused to sleep with him, and he hit me like a girl. Fucking embarrassing on his part,” and there’s that smile on her face as she speaks, the same one that she loves to flash your way when she told you that she loved you. “Barely felt it. Light work.”

You can’t resist—your other hand cradles her unblemished cheek. “Miyeon…”

She closes her eyes. She knows that tone you’re using, the one that’s like ‘don’t lie to me’ or ‘it’s okay, you can tell me’. “Look: when the man that loved you the way no one else loved you breaks up with you, nothing can be more painful than that,” she whispers. Her throat bobs a little. She furrows her brows as her eyes squeezed themselves shut themselves a little tighter. “And that man is you by the way…” her voice cracks, her eyes open, “don’t know if I was clear enough.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now. She always is.

The familiarity of her lips against yours almost makes you melt. The ice pack drops from your hand, your palm taking its place on her face. You kiss her like you used to. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her because you want nothing else but her. She’s home – Jjamppong and Grilled Cheese with Tomato soup — and you don’t ever want her to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, and you wipe the tear trailing down her cheek. “I should have never… We should have never—”

You shush her with your lips. She lets herself melt into you, her hands running through your hair the way she would sometimes when she called you crazy or baby. You don’t realise how much you’ve missed her touch till now.

“We were both wrong,” you tell her once you break away (rather reluctantly). “So how about we just call it a truce?”

She nods, and she does it enthusiastically. “If it’s cool with you…”

You scoff. “Why would it not be?” and your thumb gently caresses her bruise gently. You want to kill him, but you’ll save that for another time. “I’m the one who suggested it… Guess Chivalry is not all dead, huh?”

And it’s good to hear her laugh again.

“Come here you big idiot,” she giggles, and she kisses you again.

Then you dive down to her collarbone when you can’t take it anymore. And the rest is history repeating itself.

You know: it feels like you’ve been picked up from the ground. Miyeon has come to get you… she's come to get you.

Maybe everything’s okay after all.

(And uh… The media covers the rest. What was it? Like, two weeks later?

Ah whatever. You know what happens, don’t you? It’s pretty crazy, made headlines and all.

CUBE has some really good lawyers… And liars. Almost the same thing.)

“So that’s the story?”

Nursing your third bottle of cider, you chuckle. You’d thought by fleshing out whole smuts in verbal form would have chased her away by now, yet here she is. Then again: she is an old friend of yours, so you guessed that she’d be rather adjusted to your bullshit. “Are you sure you’re an investigative journalist?” you question her, “I thought you’d ask something more along the lines of ‘what happens after?’.”

From across the booth seat, Chou Tzuyu shoots you a smirk.

“The news covered it. Why should I pour salt into old wounds?” she admits. Her glass of wine swirls, manipulated expertly by her delicate fingers. “Anyway, I think I got… The main gist of it. Unless you have more information regarding the restraining order filed against you by CUBE, I have no further questions.”

You roll your eyes. No, you do not have any new information about why CUBE decided that you were a danger to Cho Miyeon, and you’ll never know if Miyeon knows either. She was out of town when it happened, and all she knows is what the news reported: you’re allegedly a stalker and hence a threat. You only know that she called and texted you frantically after, but…

You know what? Maybe you’ll think about this another time.

“You do know that, like, you're kinda bad at this right?” and you set your cider bottle aside, letting it join the almost empty whiskey bottle you bought yourself. You fold your hands and lean into the table. The world spins a little. “I don’t know why you’re prying, but I’m guessing that you heard something from the grapevine that you were itching to hear more about. Either that or you’re just… Could it be that you’re desperate to get something fresh, Miss Chou?”

She sips on her wine, leaves the question hanging in the air for a little as she swallows.

“Keep this between us: I can’t trust Shuhua sometimes,” she muses. “If I’m gonna write about this, I’m gonna have to make sure that all the information I’ve gotten from her can be corroborated,” she pushes a wisp of hair behind her ear. “And for the record: I am not bad. I do my research as thoroughly as anyone else would—enough to know that you are someone who tells the truth.”

“So you’re saying that you trust me as a source?” you can’t help but scoff. “Me, the very guy that got fucked over by CUBE? I could be bigoted and biased for all you know. Or even worse: I’m lying.”

She smiles knowingly. “Respectfully, you have too much… personal voice in this recount that I might as well write an autobiography on your behalf.”

And she stuns you into silence. It occurs to you that you're a little drunk, and you’re pretty sure that you called this woman ‘cupcake’ multiple times. You’re not too sure; you don’t even have half a mind to know what you’re doing or saying.

Tzuyu gulps down the rest of her wine before she rises from her seat.

“I best be going,” she opens her purse and fishes something out of it. She hands you a card, an address and a phone number handwritten onto it in what looks like a felt pen. “If you want your story to be heard, give me a call… Or a text. Whatever strikes your fancy. I’ll need a version of this that doesn’t include all the fucking and your drunk blabbering,” she shoulders her purse and smiles. “Can’t promise that I’ll buy you a drink to make you talk again, but I can treat you to some really good Chinese dumplings. Maybe we can catch up a little too. It’s been a while.”

You stare at the card, tracing the hooks and curves that form numbers and letters. Your eyes fix back on her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs, and it’s not a “I dunno” type of shrug, but more like a “the proof’s in the pudding, open your fucking eyes” type of shrug.

“I want to report the truth, and I know you well enough to know that you want that too.”

That's right. Another series. I know I'm doing everything but finishing up Beats Me, and you can go cry a river in my asks if you want. Just kidding, I love all of you, but I want to write what I want to write. Let me have my fun, would you? Also, for the record: I did not finish this 5 days after Beats Me 7. Beats Me 7 was finished before I vanished from tumblr for a bit. This has been brewing since December. You can thank long drives and Noah Kahnan for this.

Anyway, another big thank you to @defmaybe for being such a great sport and reading through the 39 page document that showed up in their discord DMs one fine day. This fic would have been full of typos and horrible grammatical errors if it weren't for them.

Stay safe, Nichu

#smut #kpop #fanfic #cho miyeon #miyeon #gidle miyeon #miyeon smut #gidle smut #kpop smut

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oneforthemunny · 8 months ago

Text

november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.

contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3

You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it.

“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys.

“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.”

Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-”

“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand.

Eddie was still wearing his wedding band.

Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now.

“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier.

“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed.

“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing.

“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings.

“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.”

“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away.

“Stop.”

“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”

“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory.

“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?”

“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.”

“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?”

You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.”

Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him.

Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.”

“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body. “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-”

“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ.

“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house.

Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside.

“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.”

“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy.

“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement.

Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby.

“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter.

“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day.

“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?”

“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?”

Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern.

“I got it!” Jude called back.

Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare.

“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that.

“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.”

Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.”

“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism.

“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face.

“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick.

“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.”

“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight.

Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.”

“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves.

Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better.

That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth.

“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!”

His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie.

“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass.

The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time.

“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.”

“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?”

“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now.

“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet.

“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did.

“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.”

“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you.

“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart.

“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen.

“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason.

“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?”

Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew.

“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.”

“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door.

The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been.

The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth.

Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other?

The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night.

Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister.

“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world.

“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?”

“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?”

“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again.

“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.”

You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted.

Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead.

“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?”

“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?”

You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.”

“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool.

“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer.

“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-”

“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.”

Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile.

“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away.

“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?”

“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”

You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?”

“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.”

“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?”

“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours.

Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer.

“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.”

You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.”

Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?”

You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”

Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?”

You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges.

“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?”

Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything.

“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever.

You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up.

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.”

“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.”

His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him.

He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit.

“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him.

Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service.

You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please.

Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered.

Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you.

“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch.

Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.”

It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years.

Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure.

“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier.

Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you.

“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him.

A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other.

A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy.

“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.”

“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.”

Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you.

“Eddie-”

“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.”

“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.”

“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-”

“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this.

“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.”

You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time.

But you couldn’t.

For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other?

“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest.

Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.”

Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.”

Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.”

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest.

For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be.

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kaisentine · 1 month ago

Text

𝒲HAT IS THAT MELODY?

turn that shit up ! what popular song do bllk boys remind me of?

feat. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, mikage reo, itoshi rin, oliver aiku

note : YES… i did do research on what the songs’ meanings are and i understand some of them don’t fit as well but i’m also basing this off of certain lyrics as well so #don’tdiscriminate… also this has opened up my multi-character works 😁 expect more in the future LMFAO. also is this the right time to say i did not proofread

💿 MICHAEL KAISER is now playing… back to the basics by lana del rey (unreleased)

cw : uhm coercion (i think), implied toxic relationship (I LOVE KAISER DONT GET ME WRONG… but he’s still poopy anyway #keepingitreal☹️) + if you count that in, then there’s angst if you squint, thoughts of killing (JUST ONCE and it’s not serious, promise!)

“everybody’s saying that you’re no good for me”

it’s not hard to decipher you’re definitely in love with the star soccer player—michael kaiser. however, even with your rose-tinted glasses, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still an asshole. so now it honestly feels like it’s you and him (probably ness too) v.s your friends. they just don’t understand the euphoria hidden behind all his lies. but God was it hard to handle him now that he’s a hotshot within the athletic world—it’s like when you try to speak to him, he starts spewing nonsense and even more lies to you.

“c’mon, hase.” his plea sounds more like demanding no matter how hard he tried to sound convincing. it’s weird seeing a man like him on his knees begging so you avert your gaze with your arms crossed. you know you’re doomed to give into him and his sweet-talk again—like you always do—kaiser knows that, he just needs to find which button to press to make you give in faster.

this time you’re taking longer than you normally do. he’s starting to get impatient by your little game of trying to get rid of him. “kaiser… we can’t keep doing this anymore.” you finally say, something kaiser didn’t expect you to say. “last name basis already, huh?” he gets up from his (very awkward) position to tower over you—to intimidate you.

you try to stand your ground but with the way he’s looking at you, is it too late to run away?

“i know what you’re trying to do. my friends keep telling me.” you’re stubborn, aren’t you? you’re annoying when you’re like this, he hates it. “and you’re really listening to your friends over your boyfriend?” he keeps trying to talk but you cut him off, “ex-boyfriend. please, don’t do this.” you’re the one begging now and he really wishes he could relish in this sight forever.

SLAM

holy shit, did you just slam the door on him? i’m going to die—you think. kaiser chuckles on your porch after being met with your front-door i’m going to kill you—he thinks.

the next few weeks are bombarded by countless messages from ness. who you are quite acquainted with him because of kaiser. all of them are along the lines of ‘trust me, he’s changed’ they’re all full of bullshit that you can smell it and scrunch your nose up in disgust. but as fate would have it, it wasn’t on your side!

“took ‘ya long enough, hase.” the sickly sweet nickname rolls off his tongue like second nature. it’s a very familiar scene, he’s on your doorstep again. he’s towering over you and your eyes are glossed over with admiration and guilt. “‘m really sorry.” you try not to sniffle to keep it cool. you really despise the way kaiser can’t keep his stupid grin off of his face at your weak attempt not to cry. “aw, it’s okay. but it’s gonna take a lot for me to forgive you.” he says in faux concern before pulling you into a hug—his cologne filling up your senses and making it hard to breathe.

the urge to punch him in the stomach is futile by the way he basically crushes your bones in the hug. oh you hate the way you can never get rid of him, oh you hate the way you give into him, oh you hate the way he’s the one wanting the apology when it’s actually you who deserves such privilege.

‘i hate you but i really just hate the way i love you too much to let go.’

because eventually, you know you’ll always fall into his traps no matter how far you run away. however, the only thing on your mind is how you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends.

💿 ITOSHI SAE is now playing… no one noticed by the marias

cw : angst, hurt/little to no comfort (guys… please don’t burn me), OK but open-ending, uh sae might be a really super big asshole here, i also realized at the end that 7 weeks and 3 days by yungatita would’ve been better but YOLO

“come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe.”

as much as you’d like to make him stay, you know he wouldn’t. he wanted to be as free as a bird in the sky with no restraints—including a relationship. even after promising one day he’d come back, reassuring you that you’ll always be his answer, he then left without a trace. now you’re just starting to realize letting go is easier than it seems until the problem arises once again.

you know he already told you that he’d come back but why only now does he decide to show up? a lover of yours to whom you vowed to never love another before his return. it’s just been so long that you doubt he evens remembers the promise.

“didn’t think you’d actually turn up.” you spit out, he isn’t even phased by the malice in your tone. “i told you i would, didn’t i?” he responds. “yeah but that was like ten fucking years ago?” you emphasize the ten fucking years because seriously, ten years radio silence and he thinks he can just slide back into you life like that? he must be a crazed man.

for the first three years of those ten, you were content with waiting for him. the fourth and fifth, you began growing impatient. sixth, you felt like you didn’t care anymore. from the seventh to ninth year, you swore you hated him with a dagger aimed to your heart. lastly, on the tenth year (on which he decided to show up), you finally accepted he did not give a shit and that you shouldn’t either.

“i needed to prioritize my career before i could support any of my relationships.” he now sounds confused by the way you’re so upset at this situation.

he used the ten years you took to realize that dwelling on some dumb red-head wasn’t worth it to work on his soccer career? “you could’ve texted.” you retorted. “didn’t have the time to.” your jaw actually wants to drop by how ignorant his response is. he’s talking to the person he ghosted for a decade like this?

you’d like to joke around and say ‘damn sae, you’re just like an ex who slides back into your life’ but it isn’t a joke—not with him, at least. “didn’t have time to? it would’ve been better if you never had the time to. just let us go, itoshi.” the way you say his last name is deadly. he’s already been bitten by a snake once before so he knows he can survive your bite.

does he even know how much you sacrificed? did he put two and two together to realize how much he made an impact to you? so much so that at one point, anything would’ve reminded you of him.

“you’re being emotional, talk to me when you aren’t.” he says as if he wasn’t the one who started the conversation—the nerve!

“my number is the same but change the last digit to 8.” and off he goes, removing himself from your life like always.

the way you’re quietly dialing the phone that night completely destroys everything you worked for—like you’re crumbling down just for the thought that he might pick up.

💿 MIKAGE REO is now playing… show me how by men i trust

cw : guys it’s getting too angsty for me i might cry, still a lil angst and neglect but it’s not that bad 😭, i acc wrote this one last bc i didn’t know which song to use for him (my first option was shameless by avenoir), when i was writing this… i was thinking abt melania and trump’s relationship (WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE.), reader eats meat… anyway… so this is significantly worse than everyone elses so uhm, cliff hanger who!

“show me how you care.”

everyone keeps commenting on how lucky you are that you managed to bag a billionaire’s son and you say thanks! because that’s how you should respond. but dear God, does he even know anything about you anymore? being in a chokehold relationship with mikage corp’s heir isn’t too hard until you start questioning reo’s love for you. yeah he’s shown you how he loves you but you need more words instead of actions and a credit card.

“reo, can we talk?” you ask the purple-haired male while he’s hard at work at his desk. “i’m a bit busy right now. we can talk later, yeah? go out and use my card as an apology.” he hums before returning his vision back to whatever he was doing. it’s the typical response you were expecting but you didn’t want to use his money—you wanted to talk.

you’ve already exited the room to go to the mall anyway. you’re left eating alone at some restaurant with shopping bags being used as your excuse for some company. the steak you ordered is bland like the way reo hugs you. his touches feel empty now, every time you go to hold his hand, he doesn’t flat out reject it but he doesn’t squeeze your hand the same way you do—the same way he used to.

one thing about reo is that it seems like he hates communication and in his world, the only way he knows how to say sorry is his credit card.

he doesn’t care, does he?

when you get back to his place, he acts like he doesn’t remember the way you said that you wanted to talk. he keeps trying to put off that talk for as long as he can. it’s gotten to the point you have that stupid look on your face—cheeks being slightly puffed out with your eyebrows furrowed. reo hates the look on your face so he approaches you with caution.

“you good?” he asks but you don’t respond. “need a hug?” he just keeps talking to the point you feel like something is boiling in your head. you shake your head to say no because you’ve started to dislike his emotionless hugs—feels like you’re hugging a log with brittle twigs. how would he feel like if you gave him the same treatment he’s given you? although, it is a bit more serious because you aren’t speaking to him at all.

his time will come where you grace him with your voice one again but that’s only when he actually asks you to talk to him! in his invisible diary, he write ‘it’s been 3 days since they’ve spoken to me, i can’t see through my right eye…’ sure he’s being more than overdramatic but he can’t figure out why you’re giving him the silent treatment.

oh but little did you know, he remembers that you did want to speak with him…

“can you just speak to me, please?” the way he says please is intoxicating to you. you’re waiting.

“fine. let’s have that talk.”

💿 ITOSHI RIN is now playing… lovers rock by tv girl

cw : unrequited love, angst, reader should go to r/aita 😭, uh kissing, this one is longer but rin isn’t even in my favs 😭

“because love can burn like a cigarette”

and it only hurts because you know you can’t have him. you’d love to kiss him right now but you understand that if you do then your whole life would probably blow up into a million pieces. it hurts so much that even if your life blows up, it wouldn’t matter. can it hurt that much to just kiss him? yes.

“oh he totally likes you!” you giggle at your friend’s flushed face after an encounter with her longterm crush—itoshi rin. she tries to shut you up in a joking manner but manages to only do so after she confesses something. “didn’t i tell you?” she asks which makes you raise an eyebrow. “tell me what?”

“…he does like me.”

wow, an arrow straight to the heart much? your expression of gloom is soon masked by raw surprise. “really?! when did that happen?” you force out a smile—to your credit, you were genuinely surprised by such because never once had she mentioned it before. “last week.” she sounds guilty, the type of guilty you’d only show your friends if you forgot to mention that you got married.

little did she know, you also had your eyes on the raven-haired man for quite some time now too. “ooh girl i’m hurt,” you start with it off with faking a shot to the heart and she laughs. “should’ve told me earlier!’ you almost fall to the ground for the effects (and also because your knees feel weak in sorrow) but refrain from doing so. “sorry, sorry! come to my house this saturday, i’ll introduce you!” she says before quickly running off to wherever.

“sure.” you whisper. walking to the nearby bathroom feels more like you’re dragging yourself to it. you can’t bring yourself to muster up the tears to cry over heartbreak because she really didn’t know you also liked rin. but the way you couldn’t even cry because now you’d feel like the asshole? you hated her.

you dreaded going to her house that saturday.

sadly, time stops for no one and now you’re here sitting in your friend’s room with rin all alone because she needed to help her mom with dinner. it wasn’t a crime to yearn for someone you couldn’t have but being with the someone you couldn’t have? someone bring you to jail already.

it’s quite awkward in the room due to the silence and both of you choosing to not speak. but being a chatterbox such as yourself, you’d soon come to regret it. “so… whats up?” you ask with caution. “nothing much. i only agreed to come because my soccer training was canceled.” he answers. you nod at his words—he looks really peaceful right now.

his black hair draping down his face, striking eyes bringing emphasis to his bottom lashes… his nonchalant expression. it’s just too much for you.

across the room.

you’re across the room from him and you hate the distance. all you know is that they both like each-other—nothing more—no labels—no launches. would doing something now really hurt more than how you’re hurting right now?

it’s quick. you were quick on your feet to get over to him, you were quick to bend down to where he was resting his back on your friend’s bed, you were quick to close the space, you were quick to move away.

rin is bewildered by your actions with no words to say. “sorry!” you apologize as fast as you dash out of the room—leaving him sitting there to question his thoughts, bringing a finger up to his lips—did his mu’s bestfriend just steal his first kiss?

“where are you going?” your friend’s mom asks aloud when she sees you dashing to the front-door. “my mom called! emergency! say that i said sorry!” those were the words you spoke before booking it out the front door.

later, when your friend comes out of the bathroom to question her mom what the commotion was all about, she just says that you had an emergency—she frowns because she really wanted you to try her cooking. after dinner, she brings rin back up to her room. just like you did hours before, she advances her moves to hover her face right above his—to give him a kiss, just like you, albeit, it’s longer and more drawn-out unlike yours.

“you’re my first kiss.” he mutters out.

💿 OLIVER AIKU is now playing… why’d you only ever call me when you’re high? by artic monkeys

cw : SITUATIONSHIP (bleuhhh), somewhat suggestive..? (idk but be wary cause idk how to write him w/o making it smth like that), angst, aiku is an asshole (BRO everyone is an asshole here i’m crying), mention of drugs

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?”

your lame situationship loves calling you late at night after getting with another girl and now you’ve grown to hate when he calls you but you just can’t stop picking up his calls.

you’re jolted up awake once you hear that fuck-ass ringtone coming from behind your pillow. the screen is bright so you have to squint really hard to see what was going on, you’re on your way to decline the call when you see his name pop up but your hand slips (!) and you swipe the call. “oliver, it’s three in the morning.” you groggily complain only to be met with heavy breathing on the other end.

“oh don’t even. call me when you’re done.” you gasp, then end the call. you throw your phone to the end of your bed and slam yourself back down onto your mattress. does that man ever catch a break? why do you even like him. it’s not like you guys are really anything else so is it really worth it to hang on and only hope for something you know you won’t get in return?

you probably get a good two hour nap before you’re awoken by another phone call. “you done?” you ask, more awake now since it’s 5AM already. “hi. yeah.” his voice reverberates along his bathroom walls—he’s gross, isn’t he? “you’re gonna make me pick up another phone call just to say that?” you sound irritated, and you are because it’s such a hassle to keep up with him like this.

“dunno, just wanted to hear your voice.” he replies in a wobbly voice. is he high again? “…are you high?” you ask in concern as if this wasn’t his 54th time calling after smoking something. “maybe.” he says. “you’re hopeless. you should go to rehab, you know?” you snake your way into his mind but it’s stupid to think he can even comprehend what you’re telling him right now.

“nah, i got better things to do, ‘ya know?” he chuckles at your pitiful attempt to help him get better. he knows you know that he isn’t keen on doing such—not anymore, at least. he’s content with his life as it is. “can i…” you breathe, “can i ask you something?” you finish. “what’s up?” he’s being as attentive as he can be through this state, he trying his best.

you hate the way how out of it he sounds, yet he’s still trying to hear you out. “do you still want this?” it’s like you had something get lifted off your chest only for it to get dropped on your head instead. “want what?” great, he doesn’t understand your question. not wanting to give this opportunity up, you rephrase it. “i meant, do you still want me?”

the other line is silent for a while. “sure, i still want you.” he responds. “so stop calling me when you’re high or you’re with another girl.” you winced at your own words. he’s really taking advantage of the way you understand that you guys aren’t anything more than a “oh, it’s complicated” type of relationship and that you guys are technically still allowed to see other people—but he’s the only one actually using it.

“let me ask you this. do you still want us?”

you loathe him but you can’t help but reply with i do.

“so don’t complain about my calls.”

thank you for reading this far :)

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago

Note

currently thinking ab loving on sevika she deserves the world :((( im tired and cold n i just wanna cuddle w her n have sleepy soft sex aughhh i need her so bad my wifeee

ROSE <33333 i love this i'm gonna combine it with this other ask i got because i want to pamper our wife

Hey Angel!!

Not sure if you've done this before, or are at all interested in this lol.

But I'm thinking butch or stud reader seeing how much sevika is overworking herself (possibly council member sevika?) but they dress up, get her flowers, make her dinner. Or it doesn't have to be anything fancy, maybe running her a bath and giving her a massage. Just sevika having someone to look after her, and however much she protests she's secretly loving it.

I love the idea of reader turning up at her door with a bunch of flowers, a bit nervous

Might be a bit weird lol, totally ignore this if ya want. Hope you had a wonderful new years and Christmas if you celebrate!!

-🌱

men and minors dni

your girlfriend's been busy lately. endlessly busy.

when you started dating sevika, she was an overworked, underpaid grunt for silco. now she's still overworked, though the pay is much better as the ambassador of fucking zaun.

where you used to catch sevika for a few hours at a time at the last drop between her important meetings, now, you're doing the same thing in the fucking council building in piltover. sevika's office is the size of your childhood home. both of you get headaches from the constant stream of sunlight leaking through the giant windows.

you're used to sevika's erratic, unpredictable schedule. but, you're both still adjusting to the bone deep tiredness and anxiety that come with her new responsibilities.

so when you get to her apartment for your weekly dinner date and she doesn't answer; you figure she's running late at work.

you use your spare key to let yourself in, slipping off your fancy dress shoes and finding a vase to display the flowers you brought her in.

you flit around her kitchen, collecting old coffee cups and cereal bowls and loading them in the dishwasher-- just trying to help her straighten up a bit. you know it gets away from her when works rough.

you lose yourself in your tidying, forgetting about your dinner reservations, mindlessly cleaning and fantasizing about your girl.

someday soon you won't have to come over to sevika's place to clean it for her, because you'll be living together. for the time being, sevika needs to live up in piltover as a requirement for her first year as ambassador, but you've been counting down the months until your co-habitation together. on sevika's rare free weekends you've even gone house shopping up on the promenade-- zaun's side of the river, but less of a trek up to the council.

a loud snore breaks you out of your haze, and you giggle as you tiptoe toward your girlfriend's bedroom.

and there she is: not at work but here, fast asleep on top of her covers, her fancy work clothes getting wrinkled as she curls in on her side.

poor thing. sevika doesn't nap willingly, and she clearly didn't mean to fall asleep before your date-- she's just exhausted. you pout a little, pushing her hair out of her face as she snores.

well, fuck it. if sevika needs to spend your date night sleeping, you're not gonna make her do it alone. you carefully pull off your suit jacket and slide out of your trousers, grabbing a throw blanket and being careful not to disturb her too much as you crawl into bed beside her. you over the pair of you up and drape an arm across sevika's waist, settling in for sleep.

two or three hours later, you're awaken to gentle kisses being pressed to your forehead. you're smiling before your eyes can fully open. "g'morning." you mumble. sevika chuckles.

"'s almost ten." she says. you shrug.

"good nap?" you ask. sevika pouts, and you reach up to scratch at her scalp.

"it was needed. 'm just sorry i slept through our date."

"don't worry about it, sevi-bear." you whisper. "we can order delivery pizza and watch a horror flick on the couch."

sevika hums happily, cuddling closer to you. "sounds amazing. just ten more minutes, 'kay?" she asks.

you laugh and shake your head. "no, baby, don't go back to sleep, y'know you won't wake up until morning if you do. and you need to eat something. i doubt you ate lunch..."

sevika pouts. "but 'm so tired." she whines.

you giggle and dart forward, nibbling at her earlobe. sevika gasps, her hands coming out to clutch your hips and drag you closer to her. "i know a fun way to wake you up." you tease. sevika giggles, intertwining her legs with yours to grind against your boxer-clad thigh. you chuckle, slipping your hands down to fondle her ass through her pants and ducking your lips down to suck on her neck.

"fuck." sevika sighs. "b-baby." she stutters. "kiss me." you groan at her request, pulling away from the hickey you were sucking in her neck to smash your lips against hers. sevika whimpers in your mouth, her arms pulling you so tight you struggle to breathe. eventually, she pulls away with a gasp. "y-you take such good care'a me." sevika whispers.

you groan and shove her onto her back, pawing at her pants to get them open. "it's my favorite thing to do in the whole world."

sevika growls and starts shoving at her waist band, desperate to get naked. you scramble between her legs, licking your lips at the promise of what's to come. (haha. cum.)

she's so warm, her body so cozy from the nap and cuddles, and when you finally get between her bare thighs you have to take a moment to breathe in the scent and sight of her. she smells like arousal and a days' worth of sweat and sleep and sevika. she looks fucking desperate. the dark curls of her cunt are soaked and clinging to her skin, and her clit's poking out sweetly, twitching and begging for attention.

"fuck, i could drown in you." you whisper.

sevika growls and makes your wish come true with a harsh tug to the back of your head.

you bury your face against her, letting her grind her clit against your nose while you lap up her leaking cunt, groaning at the taste of her. you reach up to claw at her hips, keeping her pinned to your face while you do your best to devour her.

sevika's shaky and sweet; still waking up, still too tired to care about how she sounds. and she sounds adorable-- soft little squeaks and surprised gasps escaping her, noises she'd usually bite her lip to muffle.

"y-you feel so good." sevika whines. you hum against her, closing your eyes for just a moment at the praise. sevika grunts. "no, no look at me-- fuck!" she whines when you open your eyes, blinking up at her while you shove a hand down your boxers to relieve the ache between your own thighs.

she's so perfect. she tastes like heaven, and she's desperately trying to keep her eyes open through her pleasure so she can keep looking at you.

"baby, fuck, i'm gonna cum." sevika groans. you nod against her, pulling away to gasp for air before diving back down, sucking her clit in your mouth. sevika squeals, and her thighs clamp around your head.

you cum at the feeling of her strong thighs squeezing your head. she cums at the broken, muffled moans you let out against her clit. when she finally lets you up for air, your face is soaking wet.

sevika bursts into laughter at the sight of you. "shit-- did i waterboard you?" she asks through giggles.

you giggle, wiping your face off on her shirt. "almost. i'm getting really good at holding my breath, though, thanks to you."

sevika pulls you on top of her, clinging to you as she cackles. "fantastic date night." she declares. you laugh.

"we haven't even gotten out of bed yet!"

"i'm just saying, we're off to a great start!"

"you go call for delivery, i'm gonna draw you a nice bath." you say, kissing her cheek as you get up. sevika groans and pouts.

"don't leave yet!"

"baby, if i stay any longer we'll both fall asleep." you point out.

she huffs then rolls her eyes. "fine. but will you at least get in the bath with me?" she asks. you grin.

"of course. who else is gonna give you a shoulder massage?"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

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#🌱 anon #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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thebluester2020 · 5 months ago

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[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

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eek-a-tron · 6 months ago

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Good thing they never addressed the frost giant stuff cuz this is cold @lokiinmediasideblog pff pff

#loki #odin #frigga #ha ha but seriously #m*rvel’s weird reticence to let ships sail came back to bite them #like half an entire generation rose up as one to say ''nah f that; we will pair loki with EVERYONE''#p.s. really digging odin just being absolutely savaged in every meme I see lately #every meme is another slap to the raven patriarchy and I love that for us all (except ravens)

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mochinomnoms · 5 months ago

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The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 6: I'm feeling blessed by a curse

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 6 preview:

“Well, I mean it’s not like you share your signature spells with everyone, I mean yours is basically mind control…” Jamil bristled at your comment, making you shrink in. “...I just mean it’s not that different from you.” “I’d say it’s very different.” Azul replied, which was met with murmurs of agreement from Idia and Jamil. “No offense meant to you Prefect, but we have a right to keep our personal thoughts to ourselves, and using our signature spells on others have led to consequences. Yours does not, and I think we all deserve to know about that.” You shrank further into yourself, making yourself smaller against the couch. Clenching Riddle’s train in your hands, you tucked your feet under your legs, feeling like a child being discussed at a parent-teacher meeting.

[wc} - 15,034

[notes] - wow took a hot sec to get this out. also this is the longest chapter yet and i still feel like it didn't come out great but im sure yall will enjoy what i have so far! also sorry for the lack of jade but i promise there's a reason lmao bare with me

Edits: thanks yuri for the tidbit about counselors I need finish chapter 6 in game lmao

[tag list] - @ghousus; @nasty-rat-goblin; @obeythehuman; @malleus-draconias-rose; @prussianengel

back to chapter list

Chapter 6: I'm feeling blessed by a curse

The unmistakable sound of the Magic Mirror as you entered another vision.

You felt heavy, fighting to open your eyelids from the sweet embrace of sleep.

The light filtering through the lavender drapes stung your eyes as you grumbled, turning around as the surrounding arms tightened and brought you closer to him.

You felt a grumble vibrate through his chest as you dug your face into the spot above his heart. The soft beating was soothing as you finally looked up, reaching to tuck a dark strand of hair behind his left ear.

A gold eye opened, sleepy and sweet as it looked at you full of fondness.

A tender, “Good morning, my love,” was accompanied by the sound of you leaving the mirror.

A loud thud and a pain against the side of your head abruptly awoke you from your sleep, the cool wood flooring of the room providing little comfort to the dull pain against your forehead.

You needed to sweep and mop, the floor was covered in Grim’s fur and dirt.

“What the fuck?” Ace was mumbling as he bolted up from the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Deuce also woke up, much more abruptly and panicked, pushing the sleeping bag off around him and throwing his fists up and as he blearily looked around.

“Wa happen? Who’s here, I can fight!” Deuce grunted as Ace threw a pillow at his face.

“Nothing happened, (name) fell off the bed.” Ace yawned, crawling over to peer at you over the edge of the mattress as you pushed yourself off the floor. “You had a bad dream again? Ha, baby.”

Ace always had a big mouth, but he meant well. You wanna talk about it? He just had trouble vocalizing it.

You sighed, crawling back up the bed and curled into the body pillow between you and Ace. Grim was still peacefully sleeping on top of it as he made a small ‘murrrph?’ sound from being ruffled.

“Wait, did you and Grim have a nightmare again?” Deuce’s voice was filled with urgency as he crawled over to you three, settling at the end of the bed. He stretched his legs out, tangling with yours and Ace’s, as he looked at Grim with confusion.

“He’s still sleeping though…you okay (name)?”

A sigh left your mouth as you nodded. “Yeah, I’m…it’s just a weird dream, freaked me out.”

Another, longer sigh made the two share a glance as your dark-haired friend leaned in closer.

“Was it like, you turned into a chicken and hatched from an egg but were like a weird half chicken and half human thing and got bullied by your chicken siblings?” Deuce looked so earnest as he continued. “I’ve had one of those before.”

You and Ace stared at Deuce for nearly a full, silent minute, as said man shifted uncomfortably.

“Dude, I don’t know what all that means, but I think you should talk to, like, a dream therapist or something.” Ace let out a disgruntled grunt as Deuce grabbed his own pillow and started smacking him with it.

“Shut. Up. Ace. (name). Had. A. Bad. Dream!” With each word, Deuce smacked the pillow harder and harder against Ace until he finally covered Ace’s entire body with his own, the unruly shuffling pushing against the bed and pillows until Grim finally woke up with a startle.

“Hey! What’s the deal!” Grim whined, moving into your arms and settling in like a cat with its owner. “I was having such a good dream too!”

“Oh? Maybe you two weren’t sharing one this time? (name) had a bad dream.” Ace mumbled, the pillow muffling his speech until he managed to shove his head out between Deuce’s hands and the fabric.

“Finally,! Can barely breathe. Anyways!” Ace chirped, managing to kick Deuce with his free leg. “What got you all scared? Couldn’t have been too bad, right?”

You didn’t scream this time, either. Neither of you.

You winced, Ace’s frowning as he murmured a soft sorry. Deuce looked between you two confused, but gestured for you to speak.

“It’s okay, you can tell us.”

“It wasn’t bad…just weird?” You scratched Grim’s head as you continued. “I think it was another premonition, I could hear and feel myself going through the mirror again, but it’s been a while since I had one of those.”

The back of Grim’s neck was rumbling as he sleepily stretched into your hands. “It was like I was in the vision itself, ‘stead of watching it like a movie.”

A flash of gold flashed through your mind as you felt your cheeks warm.

No! No, it’s fine!

“It’s fine, I was just surprised! Nothing to worry about!”

Ace and Deuce shared a look, before looking back at you worryingly.

“You sure? You know what time of year it is, right?” We all do.

Deuce’s mind flashed with visions of Riddle and Leona, covered in black, inky slop and towering, monstrous beings feeding on their misery and rage.

Are you sure you’re okay?

“You haven’t had a vision since…you know.” Ace thinned his lips, eyes darting between you and Grim. “Since you and Grim…”

“I’m fine! It wasn’t scary or anything, I promise. I’m fine.” You waved your hands exasperatedly, tossing Grim into Ace’s arms as you kicked Ace’s sheets off and stretched.

The cold wooden floor shocked some sleep from your bones as you felt your spine pop rather satisfyingly.

“Grim was even having a pleasant dream, weren’t you?”

Grim perked up, letting out a squeal that sounded a bit like a purr.

“Yeah! I was eating this real nice plate of tuna, really expensive too! I think one of the look-a-like brothers was serving it to me.”

You nodded absentmindedly, walking over to your dresser and grabbing yours and Grim’s dorm uniform, tossing the clothes at the bed. Heading to the bathroom, you left the door slightly ajar to listen to Ace and Deuce as they spoke quietly amongst themselves.

Grim had taken to the snack drawer in your dresser, where he’d begged you to save some of his favorite tuna, which you easily gave in. But Ace and Deuce stayed on the bed, murmuring. You tried to focus between their thoughts and the words coming out of their mouths, but all you could really make out was a general sense of worry.

It didn’t help that most of the student body and faculty also had a general feeling of dread and anxiety. The freshman weren’t privy to it, but everyone else was steering clear of, or carefully treading around Riddle as of late. You even heard from Jack that Ruggie had been texting Leona nonstop as the anniversary came up, but got short responses.

You know why they were worried, you were one of the people at the forefront of both overblots. Intricately involved back then, and it’s like you still are that small, magicless human in a foreign world.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You winced, soap getting in your eye while washing your face. “Damn it!”

“Yoo! Prefect! You okay?” Ace’s casual voice had a slight twinge at the end, like he was actively hiding his worry. “Need my help?”

No dying on my watch, and not in the bathroom. You can die somewhere more dignified.

“I’m not dying! God, I just got soap in my eye!” You snatched the hand towel off the rack, dark blue like Deuce’s hair when the sun shone just right. “I’m not a baby! Don’t baby me!”

Stomping out of the bathroom and snatching your clothes, you winced at the barrage of concerned thoughts and worry coming from your friends.

“Aw come on, I was joking, you know me!” It’s not my fault that it’s that time of year.

We just worry about you, magic or not, you’re still our same old (name). You know?

Deuce gave you a reassuring smile, faltering as you huffed, gesturing for them to turn around as you changed. It was hard to stay angry, your mind was flooded with their memories of you bruised and covered in cuts from thorns.

“I can take care of myself, you know?” You turned back around, clipping your cape around your shoulders and adjusting the clasps. “It’s not like I was the only one that got hurt those days, you guys did too.”

Yeah, but… “You had a real bad reaction after all the overblots, like you were allergic or something.” Ace shivered as you saw a memory flash through his mind.

A few of them, actually.

One your back covered in hives and Azul’s sucker marks. Another of you choking and sneezing from Leona’s dust. Red and burning scratches from Riddle and his thorns . An awful rash and blisters from Vil’s poisons that covered your face for weeks. Jamil’s snakes and their bites giving you an itchy, swelling bump on your legs that took four rounds of medication and potions to go away. They weren’t around for the reactions you got from Idia, something they were still angry at you for, but Deuce’s imagination ran wild with the stories of you wheezing and heaving to breathe.

And that’s not even to mention the effects that Malleus’s blot had on you.

“I don’t know man, I think it’s natural that we’re all a bit on edge this time of year.” Ace shrugged, grabbing Grim by his scruff and tossing him over to you mid-chewing. “Anyways, you should go head out, you still need to take your potion and head to the nurse.”

You caught Grim as he yelped, growling at Ace, who responded by sticking out his tongue.

“Watch it! You almost ruffled my bow!” Grim whined with pout and still full mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you still need to put your own uniform on too.” You held Grim against your hip as you reached for Grim’s own vest and cape. The little direbeast excitedly snatched the clothes out of your grasp, attempting to slip it on with the elegance of a toddler.

Eh? Why is this so hard without thumbs!

You giggled, watching Grim struggle to pull the buttons closed as you leaned down to fold the hem of your pants. Looking up, you noticed Deuce helping a struggling Ace with painting on his heart. Ace’s eyes were shut as his face got redder, while Deuce grabbed his chin to steady his face. Deuce was more focused on keeping a steady hand than he was with Ace’s reddening blush, his tongue sticking out almost cutely.

Mmm?

Deuce finally backed away, sighing in self-satisfaction as he turned back around to put the makeup away. Ace relaxed, watching Deuce for a bit before making eye contact with you.

He froze, refusing to blink, as if blinking would set you off.

“…Since when have you struggled with painting your heart? You’d never let me paint it for you, and I always ask!” You whined, poking at his forehead.

Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!!

“Oh! Ace has been struggling to paint his heart on for a while, he got carpal tunnel from basketball practice over the summer.” Deuce helpfully piped up, grabbing his own black makeup paint and heading to the bathroom.

“He’s been having me do it for him, since I got steady hands and everything from working on my blastcyle!”

“I didn’t even know you could get carpal tunnel from playing basketball…can you even?”

I swear to the fucking Red Queen if you don’t shut up…

“Oi! I thought I told you, you’re running late! You still need to take your potion too! Go! I’m not having Riddle blame me for making you late!” Ace got up to chase you and Grim out, the latter finally clipping his cap around his shoulders.

“Aha! Wait, eek!” Grim yelped as he bolted on all fours, Ace stomping behind him as he grabbed your magic pen and arm to shove you out.

“Off you go! Brats.” Text us after your check-up….Brat.

“Hey! Who are you calling a brat? You’re the brat!” you laughed despite Ace’s words, waving as he flipped you off and closed the door.

The hallway was empty, the entirety of the dorm downstairs from the sounds in the kitchen and lounge. And from the raised voices, you were willing to bet that someone had said the wrong thing to the wrong person.

Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound of pots, pans, and glass that made you dart down the stairs with Grim close to your heels.

“Ah! What are they doing to our dorm!” Grim squeezed through the bannister gaps to jump off the stairs and on his feet like a cat, rushing into the kitchen as you finally made your way down.

“Hey! What did I tell you about touching my cooking!” Yaqub’s voice was very irritated, borderline squawking.

You’d only heard stories about his irritable nature, mostly from Jamil and a particularly distraught Kalim. Honestly, you thought they might have been exaggerating, since he was always mild mannered around you.

“It’s too red! I’m making sure that it won’t be too spicy for the dorm, not everyone can handle—”

“That’s tomato sauce you idiot! Damnit Wynfred!”

Granted, Wynfred tended to get under people’s skin with a particularly nonchalant, blissful unawareness.

You whipped into the kitchen to the sight of Yaqub towering over Wynfred with a wooden spoon ready to swat. The latter was looking into the pan with a bag of sugar in his hands like he’d just dropped an ounce, instead of half the bag into the sauce.

“Oh, well, I’m sure you can just start over, I’ll help!”

Yaqub puffed up, the top feathers of his head perking straight up along with a lump in his shoulders. Just how feathery is he?

“If I’d wanted your help in the first place, I would've asked! I should beat you—”

Yaqub froze as he darted his eyes at you, making Wynfred turn and brighten with a pink flush. Until Yaqub elbowed him, making him hide the sugar behind his back and straighten. Both of them gave you polite smiles and leaned in close, like they were close friends and hadn’t just been arguing a moment ago.

“Hello Housewarden, how are you? We were just preparing breakfast for everyone, and just happened to run into a hiccup.” Yaqub always spoke to you in a soft, polite voice, which seemed off from his stature.

“And I was helping! Like a great vice-housewarden!” Wynfred chirped, yelping at a foot stomping on his right. “I mean! I was just being nice.”

Pendejo…

Ow, my big toe…

You blinked at the two, as Grim ruffled up in offense.

“Hey! You got a vice-housewarden right here! I’ve told you don’t go thinking you can replace me, yer startin’ to annoy me!”

Yaqub snorted as Grim padded closer to Wynfred to further chastise, as much as the little guy could, while the redhead looked off to the side with mild annoyance.

“Housewarden (name), here.” Yaqub had managed to sneak next to you, making you jump in surprise as he smirked in amusement.

“Housewarden Jamil told me that you needed a drink every morning for your, uh, condition?”

Cringing, you smiled and took the mug from his hands, noting the same smell of coffee that you’d had with Kalim sometimes.

“...Is this from Scarabia’s kitchen? It smells like the fancy stuff that Kalim drinks sometimes.”

“Mmmm, maybe?” Yaqub gave you a wry grin and gestured to a smaller cup on the counter. “I was just told to help ya out, so might as well take advantage of Kalim’s surplus.”

Not like the spoiled brat will notice.

You smiled shakily and reached into your pocket for your last, lavender colored vial. Pouring a few drops into your cup and doing the same to Grim’s, you tenderly sipped the sweetened, smooth liquid.

“Grim, drink.” Stopping mid-stomp, Grim turned and noticed his cup, sighing and hopping up the counter.

Ugh, remember I want to choose the flavor today.

You smiled and leaned against the counter to sip on your drink, waiting for Riddle to come by for you. It was close to the time he agreed to pick you up, and knowing him he would be at your door 5 minutes early.

“Enjoy my dear Housewarden!” Wynfred chirped, waving as he walked past to the lounge area, where a group of voices steadily grew in volume. “Don’t worry, I’ll quiet them down, and will also watch over the dorm! I am an excellent leader after all!”

And an excellent date! “Also, I’m still waiting on your response regarding our outing—”

“Wow, I think I hear Silas eating another bug, better go check that!” Yaqub promptly shoved Wynfred out of the kitchen, though you could make out mutterings of “stupid!” and “don’t stress them out!”

It had been a trend lately to walk eggshells around you. The new students in Ramshackle were still keeping you busy, but with the dates of Riddle and Leona’s overblots looming over the student body’s head, you were fairly certain they were all told to be careful around you.

Wynfred, maybe a mix of trying to be genuinely helpful and trying to gain your favor, had taken over most of your duties, albeit to your mild irritation.

It wasn’t that you disliked the help, and to be honest, most of your work was delegating the tasks that Crowley had given to you and Grim the year before, and spreading it amongst the freshmen. Wynfred just stepped on your toes when he did.

Still, these past two weeks had been the most stress-free since starting the year, to the point that you were even able to spend a night with Ace and Deuce. Normally they’d come to your place…but someone had been spreading rumors about you three being closer than your average friends.

These sorts of rumors were around last year as well, pushed to the background with the more drastic events that occurred, but you never minded. At least, not until you heard some unpleasant thoughts from a certain someone.

You sighed, thinking about your interactions as of late. Jade had been rather…clingy? Attached? Hovering? You suppose that’s the best way to put it, though he hardly ever touched you.

No, he was always respectful in that regard, which you did appreciate. But he was always hovering over you when he had an excuse to. Even outside of class and dorm meetings between you and Azul, Jade found a way to be around, even if it was just a fleeting glance and hello.

To no surprise to you, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to tell when Wynfred was alone with you, interrupting him mid-conversation to ask for your assistance with the Octavinelle students in your care. Which, considering they were extremely organized and easy to work with (mostly), was unnecessary.

Though, you think that had more to do with Wynfred not being able to read a room and talking on and on with just about everyone he meets. And with him being in the same club as Jade, he was just an overflowing well, full of information for Jade to pick at.

Like his schedule, his attempts to speak to confirm your ‘date’, or the times the dorm is left under Grim’s ‘care’ while you did your club duties.

All of your freshmen were aware that your club would meet on Sundays in the afternoon to study the ruins and gargoyles on campus. Suddenly, the Mountain Lovers Club was also meeting on Sunday afternoons. And they just happened to be in the same ruins as you, which was strange considering that the ruins weren’t in the mountain range around NRC.

He’d also taken to “mysteriously” showing up every time Wynfred was getting ready to ask you out again. It had happened at least 3 times since the incident at the lake, each time Wynfred would attempt ‘asking for your hand’, in his own words. Jade would suddenly appear and either ask Wynfred if he’d completed his club tasks, which the latter complained about often, or whisk you away to meet with Azul about your Halloween agreement.

Based on Azul’s thoughts, he was getting annoyed at Jade’s sudden appointments, but he never let it show and seemed to like planning the carnival themed food stalls with you, at least the money it’d make anyway.

If you didn’t realize how much of a blabbermouth Wynfred was, and the prominence of gossiping amongst Pomefiore students, you’d suspect that Jade could also read minds.

There were some times that his ‘attentiveness’ was actually quite nice.

Like how you almost always forgot to grab breakfast in the morning, opting for something to drink. Suddenly, you’d mysteriously find a breakfast pastry with an unsigned note in familiar handwriting at your desk in the homeroom.

If you found yourself studying extra long in the library, you would leave your table for the restroom and come back to an open book with a note pointing to a section related to your current class module.

You had to admit, though, your favorite thing he’d been doing for you was asking for your ‘help’ in potions. Jade didn’t really need help, not with Riddle and Yev in your group, but it was nice being the one he’d always ask first.

Even for simple things, like what notes he missed, could you help him with measuring the herbs, and even just asking for you to explain the instructions Yev liked to spitfire.

He didn’t need your help, not really. He was more than capable of asking Crewel for missed notes, or checking the instructions for measuring certain herbs, or having Yev repeat himself. You could hear him think that too, but…it was almost flattering how much he just loved hearing your voice. Jade liked having you help him, and you liked to pretend that you were actually useful for once.

Could be worse, I suppose.

You heard a knock at the front door, listening as one of your students opened the door and greeted the new arrival.

“Prefect?” You leaned over to look past the doorway to see Riddle standing at the entry, dressed in all his queenly glamor. “Housewarden Riddle is here for you.”

“Hey Riddle! Let me finish my coffee real quick!”

“Alright, quickly then.” He nodded and gave you a pleasant smile. We wouldn’t want to be late.

Gesturing for Grim to finish his drink, you took big gulps, ever so slightly burning the inside your mouth. Huffing the hot air out of your mouth and waving Grim along, you jogged over to the front door and waved out to the lounge.

“Bye everyone, I will be back from the meeting later. Please don’t set the place on fire!”

You heard an echo of ‘okays’ and ‘yessirs’, with a singular ‘no promises’ with a loud smack and yelp making you stifle a snort.

Riddle was patiently waiting by the stairs, watching the sky until he heard you close the door, turning to you with a smile.

“Still on time, good. I was worried that the two would give you trouble.”

You clicked your tongue waving your wave dismissively. “Nah, they’ve been super helpful, you should give them more credit.

Riddle gave you a doubtful look as you too made your way to the castle.

“I mean it!”

“Of course, whatever you say.”

Pushing Riddle with your shoulder, you giggled as Grim jumped on your back and took his place on your shoulder.

“Oh shush! Should we start heading to the infirmary? Goethel called everyone in for something important, right?”

Riddle nodded leading the way as he hummed to himself.

Walking with Riddle was always nice. He was quiet, both physically and mentally, which was an odd thing to say now that you really thought about it. But it was nice, as being with him meant that his thoughts were more…organized?

Hmm, is that the best way to explain it?

You noticed that being around some of your friends was less mentally taxing on your telepathy. Riddle, unlike Kalim for example, was always straight to the point and clear. His thoughts rarely, if ever, jumped around from what he’d been focusing on. Jamil and Jack were the same, so being around them was actually quite soothing. Even Jade tended to have a one track mind, even when focusing on you.

However, being around Kalim, Floyd, even Sebek and Epel at times, caused you to grow a headache. There were too many sounds, too many different topics jumping around. Even being around Deuce sometimes caused a migraine. It got worse when you were in a crowd too.

But being around J—Riddle! Being around Riddle isn’t like that! He’s nice, calm, and quiet. Most of the time anyways.

You shook your head, flapping your hands like you were trying to shake something off as you sped up after Riddle. Thankfully, with most of the student body in bed still, the walk was peaceful and short. You just really hated all the stairs, all three stories of them, to get to the infirmary.

It was surprisingly empty in the room when you entered, only Ortho cleaning up his equipment with a sanitizing spray. Your friend brightened as you waved, cheerfully zooming over with an urgency.

“Prefect! Hi!” Ortho scooped you up underneath your arms, bringing you into a spine crushing hug before setting you back down, the whirl of his fans betraying his excitement.

“I missed you during your last check in! I tried reading your files to make sure nothing new happened, but Ms. Goethel got mad at me for snooping.”

You really liked Ortho, he was like a cute little brother. Which, seeing how Idia programmed him in the first place, was expected. What was a bit surprising was how he almost spoke to himself internally.

How am I meant to help if I can’t stay updated with everyone’s medical condition—

—cause not everyone wants to have their private information shared! Duh! What are you a dummy—

—No! I’m just concerned! Idia might not be friends with all of them, but I like them! Especially the Prefect and Vil!

That doesn’t mean you can be in their business, remember what happened when we snooped in the headmage’s files?

You watched Ortho’s hair and lights briefly flash red and him shuddering, as much as a technomantic could anyway. Instead, he turned to Riddle and gestured to him to follow.

“Come on Riddle! I’ll do you first, the others are waiting in Ms. Goethel’s office!” Ortho floated towards a bed with a privacy curtain covering it. “Prefect, I’ll do you after! Please take a seat, it won’t take long!”

You hummed in response, sitting in the waiting area of the infirmary with Grim hopping into your lap. He curled into you, wrapping his tail so tightly that he looked like a little ball.

Mmm, I don’t like Ortho doing these. Reminds me of that stupid isle…

You sighed, scratching behind his ears as you felt him purr and relax.

“It’s okay, I’ll go first and you can watch, ‘kay?”

Grim made a small ‘okay’ noise as he nodded, pressing his head against your hand. Rubbing your thumb over his forehead in a circular motion, you felt him relax and dig his front paws into your thighs as he gently kneaded into you.

He’d had nightmares after his time at the Isle of Woe for weeks, though they’d become less common, Grim would still get them from time to time.

I want something fancy for dinner tonight! To make up for gettin’ all poked and pinched!

Grim’s ears perked as he jumped up and pawed at your chest.

“Ask Hornton to take us to the Mostro Lounge! I want to eat crab and that fancy cav-eee-ar thing that people always talk about!”

You snorted, “Do you mean caviar?”

“Whatever it is, ask Hornton to buy it for us!” Grim huffed and started drooling as you made out his little daydreams of fancy caviar on crackers and shrimp cocktails.

“Okaaay, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” You laughed, patting his head again as you started scrolling through Magicam.

Hmm, Cater posted another pic of himself at a cafe…Ruggie and Epel in their club…oh, Azul posted a sneak peak of the new menu, nice.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at a familiar logo and pair in the campus’s woods.

“As the Mountain Lovers Club, we do much more than hiking! Our club members sometimes cook their findings as well! Look at how delicious these foraged plants look!”

Wynfred’s red curls and dark green eyes were just barely visible in the corner of the selfie as in the background, Jade tended to what looked like some mushrooms and spring onions on a campfire grill gate.

A smile grew on your features at the scene. It seemed that this was the work that Jade had put him to that he’d been complaining about. Social media seemed to come natural to him though, maybe you should connect him with Cater?

“Prefect? Riddle is done, you can come over now.”

You looked up and saw Riddle and Ortho pop out from behind the privacy curtain, Riddle looking rather relieved.

Nothing out of the ordinary. No additional stress with the normal day to day things…No blot, no blot. No blot this time…

Riddle looked up at you and gave you a nod. “I’ll be heading to the office now, I’ll let the others know that you’ll be there shortly.”

“Okay, thanks.” you nodded back, gathering Grim up in your arms and heading to Ortho, who was hovering patiently.

“I’ll be quick! Let me do a quick physical and then I just need to measure your stress levels and magic accumulation!”

Grim’s claws dug into your skin at that, an unpleasant rumbling vibrating through his chest. You patted his head again to calm your friend.

You placed Grim next to you on the bed, patting his head as you let Ortho take your basic measurements: weight, height, heart rate, blood pressure. Rather normal things that you’d experienced back home. But Ortho’s yellow eyes going white and presumably scanning your body was not, neither was him offering his hand out for you to place your wand in.

“Here.” Sighing, you watched as a blue light glowed from his hand, scanning down your wand before focusing in on the light violet gemstone.

“You should get a housewarden staff, I tried getting Idia to use the Ignihyde one, but he thought it made him look geeky.” You and Ortho shared a giggle as he went silent while uploading the results of your physical to presumably your medical file.

You stayed silent as he did, fidgeting with the skin around your nails.

“Hmm, based on the data I acquired from your stone, you have an unusually high rate of blot accumulation. Normally it would pile up, but it seems it’s being reduced by your daily potion.”

Ortho handed back your wand with his brows furrowed.

“Still, it’s at a much higher rate than the others. Maybe due to your body not being originally suited to magic? I’ll let Nurse Goethel know.”

A tugging on the back of your vest caught your attention as you looked back at Grim, who was holding onto you with droopy ears.

“Is that bad?”

You smiled reassuringly and scratched the top of his head.

“It’s not ideal, but I’m sure if it was really bad, Ortho would get the nurse, right?”

Looking at Ortho for reassurance, your friend nodded and gave you a perky thumbs up.

“Right! Besides Grim, you should be a lot more worried about yourself! Your blot accumulation has still been super unpredictable, speaking of which.”

Ortho turned to look at Grim and cheerfully continued

“Nurse Goethel says that she will do your exam, so you can wait here.” Ortho produced a star shaped sticker from his chest panel and stuck it to your forehead with glee. “Prefect! You can go to the office with the others.”

Yay! Finally got someone!

Grim stiffened and scrunched up his lips.

Huh? No! I don’t wanna be alone! “My henchhuman needs to be with me at all times! They’re my servant!”

Grim stood on the bed and puffed up his chest, though you could feel the anxiety radiating off him.

“It’s okay Grim, I’ll just be down the hall if you need me.” You patted his head again, which Grim relaxed into and plopped back down on the bed. “Okay? Just have Ortho come get me.”

Hmph! “I’m the Great Grim! I don’t need anyone!” You better mean that…

Grim sat back down the bed and curled his tail inward towards him, hugging it to himself as he huffed and turned his head away from you.

You gave Ortho an apologetic smile and made your way out of the main infirmary and to the hallway.

It was empty, this branch of the castle usually was on the weekends due to it mostly containing the professors’ offices and general administrative wings. Still, it was a nice change of pace to the usually busy halls and bouncing thoughts of the student body.

Though, you didn’t have to walk far as Nurse Goethel’s office was right next to the infirmary. The closer you got to the door, you could make out Riddle’s voice talking to the others in the room.

Ah, I wonder if he’s telling them about everything that’s been happening this year. That sounds nice, wonder what he’s talking about, maybe my new dorm members? Oh, maybe about Halloween, they’re allowed to come visit during the fair right?

You smiled at the thought of showing off Ramshackle to Malleus, all decked out in amusement park and clown themed decorations.

Yeah, I bet he’s telling them that I’ve been doing a great job as a housewarden!

A smile still on your face, you opened the door to the office to see everyone attentively listening to Riddle.

“I am worried about how they’re dealing with it, psychics as a whole are rare, and their telepathy seems to be a source of distress. So I’m hoping that one of us has a family history of psychics that we can refer to—OW!”

Riddle yelped as you, with rather impressive accuracy mind you, threw a decorative stress ball that was on the shelf near you, right at his head.

It was the shock that got Riddle rather than actually being hurt, but he still clutched his head at the spot you hit.

“Prefect! What is wrong with—”

“How dare you!”

You cherished your friendship with Riddle, maybe as much as you did with Ace and Deuce. He was the first person overblot and did disparage you at first, yes. But he was also one of the first people to take you under his wing. He treated you more like another housewarden and student, rather than just Grim’s babysitter or the magicless human.

He was aware that you were more fragile to magic compared to the other students, but he never coddled you before. He was there when you cried about missing home, about feeling inadequate in the foreign school system, about your frustration with Grim at times.

You were never sure why Riddle took such a liking to you. Perhaps it was because he liked having a friend that would attentively listen to him list all 810 of the Queen of Heart’s rules. Or that you would distract Floyd long enough for him to escape, and then meet again later and giggle about it.

Or maybe it was because you didn’t really know about him and his reputation as a tyrant, only your very brief brush with it. To you, he was just Riddle, the redheaded guy with a bit of a temper, a friend.

Riddle was a very good friend, one you could credit to your ability to skip a potionology grade. A wonderful friend, Riddle was.

But right now, Riddle was pissing you off.

The two of you stared each other down as the other 6 in the room watched on in various levels of amusement and concern.

You thought you’d been doing a swell job, especially regarding your telepathy. Sure, you had some problems here or there, and certain people caused certain issues, but overall you were having a grand time learning your magic on your own time.

You thought he did too, seeing as he didn’t mention anything about the telepathy after finding out. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge it, not like how Ace, Deuce, and Grim would.

They’d speak through their thoughts, or think silly things to make you laugh in class, or they (Grim, usually) would beg you to give them a hint on the in-class assignments.

But Riddle didn’t do any of that, he just kept going on like nothing had changed. Even his thoughts remained the same, though they were never anything strange or out of character for him. You thought that he had confidence in you and your new ability. And that was a nice sentiment, or it was.

So yes, you were quite pissed off at him for implying that you weren’t able handle your magic yourself.

“Riddle! What the heck” You hissed, rushing over to him and sputtering as you hovered your fists over him, deciding whether or not you should just shake the jitters out, or start lightly hitting him.

“Now, Child of Man, there’s no need to get violent.”

Your darling horned friend decided for you, a sudden influx of amusement filling you as Malleus came from behind you. He tenderly grabbed at your hands and pulled you to sit back between him and Riddle in the love seat nestled in the corner of the nurse’s office.

Malleus chuckled, beaming as you shoved yourself into his side to put as much space between you and Riddle as possible. You’d managed to curl yourself into a little ball into Malleus’s side as you stuck your tongue out at Riddle.

Ah, amusing. Malleus hummed, briefly pausing before resuming his pats on the top of your head, chuckling as you moved his arm to hug you like a shield against Riddle. Riddle looked less than amused at the situation, crossing his arms as he stared back at your angry face.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Prefect.” Riddle huffed, though for some reason you could just feel the guilt radiating from him. That outburst was completely unnecessary.

“Ugh!” You let out a scoff, bring the hood of your cape up and over your head, tugging down to cover your face.

“You’re the one sharing my business with others, you know I haven’t told anyone else!” Voice muffled, you felt your face burning in frustration. “What gives you the right? You didn’t even ask!”

That weird feeling of guilt was growing as Malleus pulled your hood back, so that your face was visible once again. Everyone was staring at you now, making you shift uncomfortably.

Aw. They look like they want to cry…

I guess they didn’t want that shared?

Riddle looked as upset as you were, maybe even guiltier than you felt…or was that you feeling that?

Why am I feeling guilty?

Ah, I’m sorry, Prefect…

Malleus gave you another reassuring pat on your head, a new sense of calm enveloping your body

Is that…Malleus’s..?

“I’m sure Rosehearts had good intentions, you’re still getting used to your magic after all.” Malleus chuckled as you pouted, a new sense of amusement now warming your body.

Oh, he finds this funny. Hmph.

Slipping under his arms to slide off the small couch and onto the floor, you sighed and crossed your arms. An image of you looking like a petulant child crossed your mind and you snapped your head up to dart between the others in the room.

Vil and Idia took the chairs in front of the nurse’s desk, though the former had turned it to face everyone, presumably to speak face-to-face. Idia was curled into his chair, which he hadn’t bothered to turn, but sat in it sideways so he could look at everyone from the corner of his eyes. Azul was sitting on an upholstered bench on the wall next to Idia, legs crossed and hands politely crossed over the top of his staff.

Jamil was leaning in the corner of the room near Vil and Leona, who was sitting with his eyes closed on the windowsill. Jamil was fidgeting with the snake staff in his hand, watching you with a neutral expression.

Heh, they kinda look like Najima as a kid.

“Precisely!” Riddle chimed back in, leaning down to pull at your cheek as you grumbled. “Reading another’s mind is mentally and magically taxing, you’re not used to magic like us.”

“Are you for reals? Like not just psychic but actual, full on mind reading? What the hell?!” Idia screeched, horrified at the idea. Though, seeing how he was a self-proclaimed otaku, and the sort of shows he might be into, you weren’t surprised that he didn’t like the idea.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it! Don’t think about the weird incest reincarnation subplot It’s not my fault the manga started going weird! I just thought it was a cute idol story!

Idia curled into the seat again and practically demanded, “How long have they had it?!”

Blinking slowly, you could feel your face going warm in embarrassment, matching Idia’s own reddening cheeks. In fact…in your cheeks as well…and your hair felt hot, like it was on fire.

“If you’re wondering if I could hear you during your breakdown last year, no, I couldn’t. Happened a bit after I got magic.” You sighed while Idia relaxed, and you felt yourself do the same.

Thank Hades! I do not want—wait a fucking second.

Idia darted his head back at you and glared, wrapping his arms around his head protectively. “You’re doing it right now, aren’t you! Get out of my head, you FREAK!”

“Idia! Don’t you chastise them like that” Riddle started yelling at Idia, before you interrupted him with a snarky reply.

“Freak? Says the guy with fire hair, that’s freaky even for here!” You had a sudden burst of energy as you crawled over to Idia to start poking at him as you continued. “I’m an alien, I have an excuse, what’s yours?”

Are you serious—ugh nevermind, you two just go at it.

“Alien does not mean from another dimension.” Idia said, giving you a blank stare. “You’re not from another planet, you’re from a whole other universe.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not!” Idia scoffed. He was much more comfortable with you and the others by now, though it might be due to how much you all liked to prod at him over the summer.

“Ya-huh.”

“Nuh-huh!”

“Ya-huh!”

The two of you continued to bicker, Riddle, Vil, Jamil, and Azul watching in a mix of disapproval and mild amusement. Malleus, just darted his gaze between the two of you, much like watching a game of tennis. He was thoroughly entertained as he leaned over to Riddle.

“Is this how humans normally interact with their friends?” Malleus asked, Riddle jumping slightly as if he forgot Malleus was even there. “My Child of Man never interacts with me like that.”

Riddle sighed as he shrugged. “It depends, they’ve always been very adaptable with everyone around them. I think the Prefect just likes to press Idia’s buttons, ever since he took us and Grim to S.T.Y.X.”

“Hey!” Idia yelled, immediately shrinking down as he realized just how loud he was being. “I mean…it wasn’t me who sent the Charon bots after you…I just ended up taking over for a bit.”

Suddenly, a wave of annoyance with a touch of amusement filled your body.

“And then you immediately overblotted.” Leona finally spoke up, his tail swishing quickly as he shifted in his seat, eyes still closed. “Now both of you shut it. Been tryin’ to take a nap.”

Too damn loud, go back to being a shut in Radish Sprout. Leona frowned, his tail stilling as he opened an eye to look at you. “I can tell you’re listening. Stop it.”

You jumped, as did the others, minus Malleus. Sharing a look of confusion with Riddle as your eyes met, you turned back to question Leona.

“You can tell? How?”

“I am also wondering.” Riddle stated in kind, scooting forward in his seat. “I could only tell because of Ace’s big mouth, and from little slips of the tongue with the Prefect.”

Malleus hummed, crossing his arms and holding his finger to his chin as he tapped.

“It feels…a bit like when someone’s eyes are on you, but you’re unsure from where. Much like the feeling of Hunt’s eyes on me.” Vil pinched his nose at that as Malleus continued. “Kingscholar, what is it like for you?”

Leona’s ear flicked, tail swishing faster, much like Lucius when he got annoyed from Idia’s pestering.

“It’s like a certain someone being annoying, poking and prodding at you with their pencil.” Leona smirked as you gasped. He put his hand out as you crawled over to him, holding out by your forehead as you swatted at him playfully, suddenly giddy.

“I’m not annoying!” You growled, though you started giggling as Leona’s tail swiped at your neck, tickling you. “Gah! Stop! That tickles!!”

Good. You could practically hear his chuckle.

“Too bad, now stop. Tryin’ to nap before Nurse Goethel comes in.” Leona gave you a final shove, making you fall on your behind as he sighed against the window.

“Oof! Fine, fine!” You laid on the ground, spreading your limbs and staring at the ceiling.

Your emotions felt like they were bouncing all over the place. At one moment, you were flooded with anxiety, another with embarrassment. Next it was amusement, then annoyance, and now you suddenly felt exhausted, like your hair was being tugged in a million different directions.

“Can you really tell?” you tilted your head up to flit your gaze between Malleus and Leona. “No one else has said anything.”

Malleus nodded while Leona hummed in an affirmative sound.

Perhaps the others can too? Malleus’s voice echoed through your mind the same time as Leona’s, the latter almost shoving in.

You should freak out the Octopunk, he looks like he’s gonna puke.

You looked back at Leona, noticing a small smirk at the end of his lips, and decided to take a peek at Azul leaning against the desk next to Idia. True to his word, Azul was wide-eyed and biting on his lip, his thoughts running a mile per minute.

Oh Neptune, they’ve heard everything. But it’s recent, right? So nothing embarrassing…but still.

Azul furrowed his brow, glancing at you as he froze at making eye contact with you. Your heart froze in what you think was panic.

“...Azul.”

“Prefect.” He replied bluntly, refusing to break your gaze with him.

“You, uh, sounding a little concerned?”

The others looked over at his direction, Leona looking particularly amused.

“Oh? Does the Octopunk got secrets still? I thought I got them all out of you last year, maybe I need to bring up that old picture—”

“No you don’t!” Azul raised his voice, nearly going shrill, as he cleared his throat and looked away bashfully. His face was tinted a lilac shade. “I am just concerned about the privacy of my customers, many of my surviving contracts are rather private, you know.”

You don’t get to know about any more of my personal business… Azul’s eyes lit up. That sudden feeling of panic quickly morphed into smugness.

Prefect~ You two made eye contact again, the others’ teasing questions about Azul’s thoughts becoming background noise. If you mention anything about what you just heard, then Jade might just happen to hear about your little…invasion of privacy.

Now you were positive that feeling of panic was genuinely your own.

“Come on Prefect, what’s got the shady asshole all tight-lipped.” Jamil was smirking as he noticed you pale. “Oh? Did he say something? Don’t be shy, share with the group. Sharing is caring, you know?”

You shook your head and got up to stretch, facing Riddle and Malleus as you did, both looking amused. Riddle had an inkling of what Azul might have suggested, as the image of Jade popped up briefly.

Malleus was a bit more confused, though he was musing about what Azul could have on you that would keep you tight-lipped.

Perhaps an embarrassing picture? But my human is never embarrassed, they’re quite delightful. What is it, my friend? Do you want me to stop him? I will if you ask.

You shook your head and answered, “No Hornton, you don’t gotta do anything to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do what?” Azul asked panickedly, a similar sense of foreign panic filling you as well, looking between you and Malleus with concern.

Ah he’s scared…I guess that’s to be expected with Mal.

You forgot that Malleus was technically someone to be feared. It was hard to fear someone who you watched cry over a brain freeze after eating ice cream too fast at 3am on a Tuesday evening outside Ramshackle.

“Tch, why are you scared of the damn lizard.” Leona grumbled as snuck up behind you, crossing his arms over your head and leaning his entire weight against you. “Doing that’s only going to make his ego bigger.”

“Are you really one to talk, Leona?” Vil chuckled, frowning as he noticed you buckling. “I think you’re a bit heavy for them.”

Leona’s chest vibrated as he made a rumbling sound, lifting a bit of his weight off you to sit back down, letting you rest lean against him.

Whatever, you don’t mind, do you herbivore? You can say something if you do.

You remained silent as each person separated into a mini-group, conversing amongst each other. Vil and Jamil were quietly conversing as Jamil looked in the cupboard Nurse Goethel kept her medicinal herbs in.

Azul was quietly observing Idia play a game on his phone, the latter turning it slightly towards Azul. Riddle was catching up with Leona as you struggled to stay upright, updating him with how the Spelldrive team was doing.

Though he pretended not to care, you could hear his thoughts. He was pleased, though, he smacked his tail against your leg each time you listened in too closely.

Malleus was the only one that kept to himself, humming a lullaby that he taught you not too long ago. He seemed content.

You turned your attention to one of the potted herbs hanging on the windowsill you and Leona were next to. It was swaying from the breeze entering the cracks of the window, you hadn’t even noticed that Leona had the window opened.

The pot was carrying Rosarian lavender, similar to one of the varieties on Earth. Divus and Goethel had both praised lavender as a versatile herb for both nonmagical and magical uses.

Not only was it used for cooking, in cocktails, and as a tea, but as a core ingredient for nearly every magical protection and antiblot potion, but was both soothing and healing as a medicinal. Even Vil was particularly fond of using skin products that included lavender as a core ingredient.

You thought the smell was pleasant. It was very floral, earthy, but it was light and sweet. It reminded you of Jade, as you could always smell something green and earthy on him every time he leaned in too close during class. You also thought about the light purple magic stone on his pen, and the scarf against his skin. The lighting of the lounge against his cheeks ever since you’d been coming to Octavinelle more often to organize the details for your dorms’ Halloween collaboration.

Hmm?

You also thought about the way it tasted in the drinks you’ve had over the last few months. How it made your coffee sweet, but your hot chocolate earthy. How much Grim whined about the taste every morning you took the potion with him. You pretend to dislike the taste, so he wouldn’t feel silly about it.

The soft knock from the office door drew everyone’s attention, as it cracked open for a tall, pale woman to step in and close it behind her.

It was no mistake, based on the dark red and gold nurse’s army dress and the black scrubs under the skirt, along with a name tag.

A. Goethel, N.P.M., Nurse Practitioner Mage

Nurse Amara Goethel herself.

“You know I could hear you all raising your voices earlier, I am meant to be completing an examination, not checking in on you.”

Goethel was a beautiful woman, her long dark brown curls tied back into a low ponytail, though she had a thick strand of white curls on her bangs. Despite this, she had a beautiful, narrow face with high cheekbones and hooked nose, so beautiful that it rivaled even the most ethereal models you’ve seen with Vil. Her face didn’t make her narrow eyes and strict gaze any less intimidating, though.

You felt yourself shiver at the sudden combination of fear, delight, and worry that enveloped your body.

“Prince Leona Kingscholar,” You felt the man freeze at the growl in her voice. “You get off them right this second. Straighten up, I know you can be a proper gentleman.”

You made an ‘oof’ sound, stumbling as Leona quickly and smoothly stood up. From the corner of your eye, you could see the others do the same, even Idia took off his hood and went upright in his seat.

“Yes ma’am,” Leona replied, albeit gruffly and with a disgruntled tone. He reminded you of a chastised toddler. He shifted on the windowsill again, sitting straight this time though. You decided to sit between Malleus and Riddle again, curling in and fidgeting with the train on Riddle’s dorm uniform.

His eyes darted to you briefly. Don’t wrinkle it. You nodded.

Goethel clicked her tongue, making her way over to Vil. “I know every single student of mine has the ability to be a gentleman, yet you all drive me insane helping you get to that point.”

She reached out for a polite hug, the two of them sharing a greeting kiss on each cheek.

“Hello Vil, my darling! It’s been too long!” Goethel had an almost musical sound to her voice as she chirped. “Later, you’ll just have to catch me up on how you’ve been doing at your internship.”

“Of course, Nurse Goethel.” Vil hummed, smiling fondly. “Anything for you.”

Nurse Goethel let Vil go and moved to shuffling through her desk, smoothing out her clothes as she did.

“Now, I know that you’re taking valuable time out of your duties as interns and housewardens, especially with the Spelldrive Tournament coming up, so I appreciate you taking the time to come and meet me.”

“Well, you mentioned it was important, something about our blot preventative potions, yes?” Azul spoke up.

Goethel nodded, reaching for a small stack of files from her drawer. Each had your names written on the tab, along with the words ‘BLOT RISK’ next to them.

“Yes. As we found over the summer, you all are at higher risk for rapid blot accumulation due to your previous overblots and trauma. Along with the particularly…stressful year you had, we’ve been looking for more ways to decrease your risk of overblotting again.”

If only we had properly funded counselors, Crowley. You could just hear the hiss in her thoughts as she shuffled through the paperwork. She paused at yours and Grim’s files for a moment, tapping at it with fingertips. Poor things…especially you two.

“The headmage made the research project official in September. And we’ve had some interest from a few different parties and companies.”

Idia snorted and mumbled, “Like S.T.Y.X.”

“Well, officially Jupiter Enterprises, but yes.” Goethel picked up another manilla folder as she continued. “But one was of surprising interest: Empress Apothecaries.”

You noticed Vil perk up, furrowing his eyebrows. Isn’t that Yev’s…wait. Vil suddenly glared at you, snapping his fingers in your direction.

“Stop that! Having you poke around feels strange…”

Before he continued, Vil closed his mouth as Goethel looked over to him and raised her brow. She studied him for a moment, before looking towards you.

“My love, leave dear Riddle’s clothing alone. Fidgeting is unbecoming.” She spoke softly to you, a gentle smile on her face.

A nervous chuckle left your throat. “Sorry, nervous habit.”

Tch, totally not fair that Ms. Goethel has her favorites. You could just imagine the annoyed look on his face, but Idia was looking at his hands, which were also fidgeting with his sweater. If I bounce my leg or pick at my hands, it’s “unbecoming” and “yOu’Re oF a hIGh StAtUS fAAAmIlY, Idia Shroud”. But if youuuu do it, it’s “my loooove~” and—HEY. STOP THAT PREFECT!

The flames on his head briefly turned brighter as he frowned, rubbing at his temples.

“That does feel weird…” he mumbled, loud enough that Goethel turned her attention to him. She studied Idia for a moment, making the poor man freeze in fear.

“Relax, Idia.” She murmured, resting her chin on her folded hands. “What feels weird, was something missed on the exam?”

Idia’s face slowly started turning red and he shook his head, briefly glancing at you before looking down at his hands.

Goethel’s gaze remained on him, before flitting over to you. Her brown eyes

“Darling, explain.”

You bowed your head, looking up at Goethel with a guilty expression.

“You know how after graduation last year, I talked to Crowley and you about my ‘condition’?”

Goethel raised her brows, still watching you like a cat with a mouse.

“The one he requested you keep to yourself? You told them?”

“Well, I told Ace and Deuce…” You pouted, gesturing your head to Riddle. “Riddle noticed, and he told the others.”

Wait, Prefect you were supposed to keep it secret? Riddle sighed, rubbing his forehead in a frustration you could just see and feel radiating off him. Are you kidding me?

“Ah, I see.” Clicking her tongue, Goethel shook her head in exasperation, but smiled. “Well, considering the nature of your magic, it’s probably for the best that the people in this room are aware.”

Goethel reached into her pocket, pulling out a vibrating phone and tapping it. Looking at it, she remained quiet as she stood back up, slipping all but Grim’s files back in her cabinet. You heard a click of a lock as she tapped it with the end of her wand.

“Grim is almost done with the rest of his check in, I need to go back and make sure everything is okay.” She slipped pass Idia and Azul, briefly patting the former’s head as she did. “Ortho’s been very through as a student nurse, you should be proud Idia.”

You could feel something soft and soothing fill your head and Idia’s thoughts, a pleasant warmth growing until you felt warmth wrapping around you like a warm blanket coming out of a dryer.

“I’ll be back and we will discuss, now please behave yourselves.”

With a click of her heels and the shutting of the door, your group remained silent, like they were waiting to be sure she was gone before speaking.

“...So do all the faculty know?” You shifted uncomfortably as Jamil started speaking, the red feather in his hair following his movements. “It’s not surprising the headmage told you to keep it secret, psychics are rare and highly sought after by governments and royals.”

He tapped a finger to his chin, huffing as he continued. “I’ve heard stories about children being taken by soldiers once they showed signs of premonition, but Crowley probably cares less about that and more about using you for himself.”

You cringed at that, making a face at Jamil. “Well, I’m not super good at the premonition parts anyway, my dreams are more jumbled than anything.”

“That’s true,” Vil let out a soft chuckle as he nodded in agreement. “I remember when you tried to explain the dreams to Rook and I last spring, it sounded more like you were retelling a fairy tale than giving warnings of dark times.”

A memory of you, waving your hands around and using Epel like a prop in a play flashed through your mind, along with a sense of fond amusement.

“Personally,” Jamil interrupted, looking (and feeling, you think) rather apprehensive. “I don’t like the idea that someone can listen into my head. Something as invasive as that should have been shared.”

“I’d say it’s very different.” Azul replied, which was met with murmurs of agreement from Idia and Jamil. “No offense meant to you Prefect, but we have a right to keep our personal thoughts to ourselves, and using our signature spells on others have led to consequences. Yours does not, and I think we all deserve to know about that.”

You shrank further into yourself, making yourself smaller against the couch. Clenching Riddle’s train in your hands, you tucked your feet under your legs, feeling like a child being discussed at a parent-teacher meeting.

Leona snorted at the others, stifling a laugh. “Are you so insecure that you’re afraid of the lil’ Herbivore of all people? You know, the one that you three,” he waved a finger at Azul, Jamil, and Riddle as he continued, “are supposed to look after?”

Pathetic, they couldn’t even harm a fly. Not a backbone in that entire body.

A small offended noise made its way out of your throat as you started to fidget again with Riddle’s train.

He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but it just reminded you how most of the students viewed you: the helpless Prefect with the trouble making direbeast.

Someone who needed to be cared for, to be watched over, to be tended to like a child that knows no better.

I get that they worry…that they feel bad…but I can take care of myself.

You felt Riddle’s hand cover your own, clenching his train tightly in your grasp. He gave you a squeeze as he narrowed his eyes at Leona.

Yeah, yeah! Riddle knows it! He’s known me longer than anyone else in this room, he knows!

“I care for the Prefect immensely, as such I’ve done my duty to my friend and more, before anyone else here, I helped them!” Riddle spoke with a firmness that made your heart sink.

“They’ve done well and have had nothing to worry about with my guidance, I’ve taken responsibility for my actions.” He wrinkled his nose as he snarked, “Unlike some of us.”

Irresponsible! An irresponsible shirk!

Leona stood abruptly, his foot stomping and tail whipping. His ears were pinned to his head as he growled, “You want to say something, Rosehearts? Then say it.”

Self-righteous little prick!

Riddle stood as Leona did, his hand ripping out of your grasp as he raised his head at the other man.

“All I’m saying is that some of us have taken effort and time to actually care for our friend, unlike some of us who dropped them the moment they could—”

“They ain’t a baby and I’m not a babysitter!” You uptight brat! “Besides, just because I don’t coddle them doesn’t mean I don’t do my part. I’m only doing what’s required, nothing more!”

Vil scoffed and shushed the two as their voices rose. “Can you two please quiet down? I refuse to be scolded because you can’t behave yourselves. And don’t lump me in with him, Riddle. I do my part.”

Someone here has to make sure they actually know how to take care of themselves—

Idia let out a snort, causing Vil to glare at him as his flames burned brighter in embarrassment.

“What? What in the world could you possibly have to say? You’re here as well, after all that talk about working with Jupiter Enterprises, and yet you got stuck here due to what your magic did to them. And you don’t even do anything to make up for it!”

“Eh? Says the guy sending makeup and fancy skin lotions! How’s that supposed to help?”

Make them too pretty to cry? Ridiculous!

A pain shot up the side of your head as different voices started to pile up in your mind and ears. The overlapping sounds felt like pins being driven against your temples and between your eyes, like they were begging to burst from your skin and bleed out for space.

“It’s self-care! Not just making them pretty!” N͈̉oT̐͞ t̜̽H͎A̋ͨt͒ ȳ̛̚Ö́u ẁ͎́ơ̧̓UlD͉͢ K̽n̮̙ͮOW̛̼!ͤͤ́

Fuck! My head!!

The saliva in your mouth turned hot and the back of your throat feeling uneasy, like something was trying to slither out of your stomach.

“I do have to say, getting the Pr͎̀͞ë͇́̋f̰̒̐ẹcṭ’s͈ a̋b̵͆iͮͨlḭ̙͈t̆̓ïȩ̫s͎ͤ under control is more co_̷̶n̲̋c͗er̟̜͒n̒͊̌iͧn͕̦̮g͔ than—”

Shut up! I gotta—T̤Ḣ͎̥͌e̼̩̩͎̋͞ͅ p̴̡̯͙OͯͮU͓͑́́̚nD̨ͫ̉ͫ͟I͔̓̕͡ͅŃ̮̿g̷̹͇̙̔̔! IT WON’T STOP!

The thrumming against your head grew harsher and harsher, that putrid taste of bile growing along with the sounds. With the pressure—what was that pressure growing in the room?

O̳͚̽h͕̝͎̞̓̌ͮ p̋l̲̻͒ẹ̭̻ͬ͌̉͢a͙͎̜ͪ͋ͅse̫̔̑.̱̫͈͌͒ “Under control? Maybe under your thumb—”

Child of man?

_ M̠ͦal̘? ṀÅ͜L̵̬͋L̺̞E͈̮͗U͕͖̲S̰̱ͥ!͙ M̸͐̒A̶ͤK͆E I̮̅͜T͑ S̶̸̶̝̦ͯ̃ͯ͌̏͞Ţ̧͖͇ͧͧͧO̝̯P̢̡̝̖͒̓ͮ͠

“Don’t impͩͅl̊y̢͍ t́hin̺̒g̱s̵ͤ,̢ͪ Jamil, and you’re one to tal_̈k̨̩͡,̳ͮ͘ especially with your s̨̓i͛g͐̐n̑ͤa̓tṵré̪ s̴̨̬͍̜̳͖̃̀̕p̑̈ͯ͡_eļ̼̯ͣ͊̐ͮ͑̅̈́l.”

Are you a͒̀l̈r͡ig͆̔̽h̵̀t̰̄̃?

IͨT͓ H̖͓Ṳ̀ͮR͕̈́ͥT͗́̕S̮͑ M̠̔Y̘̗͊ H̫EAͬͪ͞D̯̂ I̛͇T̈͛ H̡̚U̗RṰ͐S̩͈̽ AG̬A̧̟I͉̺N̍̏!͈͋

“Look who’s talking now! I should c̱hop͛ yoͬ̈u up into a s̵̐̈́e̲a̔̕fó̷̘o̡̓ḑ͡—”̄

I̓ͬ́ CA͔Ñ͕ Fͦ E̜ E̡̢̙ L͔̊_ Ȅ̪ V E͓̓̃ R Y T H̗̲ͮ I͉ͤ̇ N̪̝ͣ G

“̈ȘͮH̎ͅŰ͢͜T͂̅̾ U̵͜P!̞”͊ͫ̐

A piercing, high pitched sound rang through all your ears, like someone rang a whistle straight into them, as everyone cringed in pain. As you clutched your head and collapsed on the ground, an inky, black liquid leaving your mouth along with the bile you puked out.

“(NAME)!” You think you heard Malleus yelling your name, but it merged with a bombarge of thoughts and cries from everyone else. Frankly, you couldn’t tell what was in your head and what was actually being spoken.

Two hands moved your hair out of your face, holding it back as someone else used a cold, wet cloth to wipe your mouth clean. As you blinked your eyes open (when did I close them?), a purple light was radiating from your left, you think it was Vil’s magic.

“Is that blot with their puke? I thought the potion was supposed to reduce blot?”

“It is, it is for me anyways.”

You’re pretty sure it was Riddle who was holding the cloth to your face while Malleus was holding your hair back and hovering a protective arm around your midsection.

“No matter, they feel feverish, we should help them cool down.”

“Should I call Goethel over?”

A loud, resounding “NO!” made you flinch again, another hand reaching over to cast a cooling spell to soothe you.

“Ahem.” The bickering immediately quieted, an unamused Goethel at the doorway, with Grim and Othro peeking behind her, looked at the panicked group over you. “Are you all quite done?”

Stutting over as a force to be reckoned with, each man quickly backed away to give her space, all except for Malleus who remained holding you.

“Draconia, lift their head for me.” You felt a slender hand gently push your chin up as Goethel pressed the tip of her wand against your forehead.

It was warm. Like the sun itself was covering you in a blanket.

“Take deep breaths.” That’s it my dear. “Hear my voice.” Focus on my thoughts.

Memories flashed through your head. Two little girls, one with black hair and the other with golden. A tall woman covered in intricate tattoos and piercings warmly smiling. One of a younger VIl with longer, braided hair eagerly watching as Goethel stirred a cauldron and spoke in soft, sweet tones.

That’s it, it’s safe. You’re safe. “Let’s get some water in you. Gentlemen, could one of you grab the water bottle in my bag? It’s under my desk.”

You heard some shuffling around, Malleus helping you back up onto the couch behind you. Finally opening your eyes, you saw Riddle holding a water bottle up to you, hands hovering as you took it and chugged down as much cold water as you could in one go.

“S-slow down! You’ll choke.”

Ignoring your friend, you continued drinking as much as you could, water spilling from the corners of your mouth, until you could crush the plastic between your hands.

Finally taking a breath and feeling clear air in your lungs, you opened your arms for a teary-eyed Grim, who’d been inching closer and closer to your feet.

(Name)...

He obliged, hopping into your arms and pressed the top of his head against your chin.

“I noticed something was wrong when Grim suddenly started coughing blot. Now what in the world did you seven do to them?”’

An immediate cry amongst the group made you flinch, voices overlapping once again.

“Quiet.”

Like soldiers hearing a command from their superior, everyone immediately shut their mouths, watching Goethel and holding their breaths as if she’d be set off.

“Now, one at a time, Vil.” She nodded at the blonde who nodded back. “What happened?”

“We were all having a bit of a…’friendly’ argument when the Prefect suddenly dropped and started throwing up…blot of all things.”

Riddle spoke up next to you, though he spoke softly, like you would spook like one of his hedgehogs.

“It seemed that the more, ah, aggressive our conversation got, the more sick the Prefect became. I’m not sure what exactly—”

“The other’s magic fluctuated as their emotions grew, it had an adverse effect on them.”

The others looked at Malleus in surprise and a bit in awe, you think you heard Jamil whisper to Azul, “he can sense that?” Though Leona snorted.

“Obviously, no surprise the rest of you couldn’t sense it.”

You finally looked up at the group, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“What are you…”

“A mage’s magic is connected to their emotions and mental state.” Goethel sighed as she patted your head, walking to sit at her desk. “Your magic is especially sensitive to other’s emotional state, hyper-empathetic if you will. Bring these seven in, and you have even more for your magic to source.”

You’re just permanently stuck being interconnected to them.

Lacing her hands together and resting her chin on top, Goethel gave all of you a weary look.

“As we’ve seen it, the current blot preventative is just that, a preventative. Most of you have had minimal blot production, but you also produce far more than safe when stressed, especially compared to the average mage.”

Far more? But we’ve been doing so well!

“W-what do you mean far more? I thought we were doing well?” Idia looked sick at the thought of overblotting again, though the others didn’t look too hot either.

Goethel looked off to the side with a sad look as she explained. “You do, for the most part. But the trauma of the events has left a permanent scar on your brain. Combined with the fact that the overblots practically happened one after the other, the PTSD keeps you all at a constant state of fight or flight.”

You felt both of your friends next to you tense, a sense of overwhelming dread, not your own, filling your senses.

“You either produce little blot, or far too much of it. The issue with the current potion is that it only removes excess blot for everyday use. Say that something happens that requires significantly more magic and energy, you’d be at an increased risk of a much more deadly overblot.”

Silence. All of you looked down to the ground, Goethel’s words leaving a bleak feeling in the air. As your group processed her words, Goethel took the opportunity to bring her files back up from the cabinet and filter through her papers.

“With this in mind, we may have a solution to not just reduce your overall blot at the end of the day, but also gradually reduce the amount you produce.”

Goethel gestured for Ortho to come forward, offering him a small stack of papers. As she continued speaking, Ortho handed a sheet to each of you.

“Something to help bring the hormones in your brain back to balance. And something to help (Name) manage the massive influx of magic they receive through the day.”

Perking up, you eagerly took the paper from Ortho and moved Grim higher in your arms to read the large font at the top of the page:

EMPRESS APOTHECARIES MEMO: Night Raven College Blot Preventative Project TOPIC: Arcanoexcreta Regulator PROJECT LEAD: Yev Quispe

“Huh, I didn’t know Yev was—”

“Oh no, absolutely NOT!” You jumped, both from the sudden urgency in your veins and from Vil’s raised voice.

“I must protest, I was Yev’s housewarden for a single year and the sheer lack of care and foresight of his ‘experiments’ that one year—it could only bode danger for us, especially for the Prefect!”

Vil’s memories of a younger Yev leaving an alchemy room on fire, an explosion in one, Yev covered in hot pink sludge in another, and a last one of Yev giving some random Pomefiore student a pink, unlabeled vial. Vil’s dread filled your own body as the student screamed in pain as their bones and skin snapped and conformed until they were turned into a...llama? Yev only shrugged until Vil came up to him and smacked his forehead.

Goethel sighed, getting up and waving her wand to bring forth a cauldron at the corner of the office, her cabinets opening and pouring different ingredients in. You recognized them for the materials needed for your usual preventative potion.

“Yev also has made significant progress in the project, and as heir of Empress Apothecaries, he’s made the most donations towards research.”

No doubt to have the most say in how the project goes. Still…

“As experimental as Mr. Quispe is, I’ve taken a look at what he’s been playing with, and it has promise. I really suggest that you all just have faith. What do you say my dear (Name)?”

Surprised filled your features as you looked at her expectant face, waiting for your answer.

Yev’s a bit of a jerk, but he’s pretty talented in potionology….

“I think it might be worth a try, I’m not opposed to it—”

Riddle scoffed, “Of course you do. Prefect, I care for you but you have no sense of danger.” He flinched at the glare Malleus turned to give him.

Still, he gave Malleus a defiant look and continued.

“Am I wrong? They’ve had barely a full year of magical education, and during that year they’ve simply gone with what others have said. Can’t blame them for that, but still.”

What did Cater say once, you ‘go with the flow’.

Riddle wasn’t wrong, you tend to go with whatever others told you to do. It comes with the territory of not being from this world.

The others were fully aware of this fact. At least, they were now. Riddle and Malleus were the only ones that you had explicitly told of the fact. The others had inklings, but never had confirmations until later on.

You suppose that’s why they tended to take the lead on things regarding you and anything magic related. Even now, when you were a proven mage, they spoke on your behalf.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“I agree with Riddle. Are you positive this is a good idea? Not that I’m doubting your decisions, Nurse Goethel!”

Jamil rapidly backtracked at the look Goethel gave him as he questioned her.

“It’s just that, well it’s really experimental, and we’ve all been doing fine on the current blot preventive potion…I don’t see a need to change it.”

The others nodded in agreement, each of them sitting in their respective seats as they waited for Goethel to finish making the latest batch of potion. The lavender buds on the window sill matched the purple color and floral scent of the potion.

“Besides that, Yev’s potion is for a class project, is it not?” Vil piped up, moving over to assist Goethel, like it came naturally to him. “Leave it at that, then. We’ve been doing just fine with the current preventative, it’s already highly experimental as it is…”

The room jumped as Goethel flicked her wrist, making the cupboard slam harsher than usual, turning to narrow her gaze at the 8 of you.

The rest of you curled into yourselves, Leona especially avoided her gaze, images of his sister-in-law with a similar look floating in his head. Except for Idia, who decided that focusing on his phone and earbuds in hand was ideal.

He also went with the flow like you, though that was more so he wouldn’t be bothered.

“Are you doubting my abilities, Mr. Viper? Mr. Rosehearts? Mr. Schoenheit?” Goethel hissed through gritted teeth. She’d always been stricter on the others than you.

“Did I not take you under my wing since your first year? Did I not mentor you? Did I not give you access to my stock of poisons and herbs? And yet, you are doubting my abilities? My insight? My medical expertise?”

Vil shook his head and smiled politely. “Of course not, Nurse Goethel, it was a slip of the tongue. I completely trust you and your expertise, I just meant that these types of potions aren’t necessarily something I’d trust a student with making.”

Goethel relaxed, gesturing for Vil to help her at the cauldron. He followed, quickly and easily following in her steps with no words exchanged.

“While it’s true that he is using it as part of the potionology project that dear Riddle and (Name) are in, I think having the two of them observe and report back to me would counter any concerns that I’d normally have.”

It was fluid, hypnotic, almost dance-like as the two worked around each other. Hands exchanging vials, the wave of a maroon-stoned wand, the soft mutterings of a spell. Even a soft glowing aura was leaving their hands as they worked.

A reminder of just how much more powerful, adept, they were compared to you.

“I understand, but do you really think I’d give you any potion without checking it myself? What a ridiculous notion.”

The rest of you relaxed again as she preoccupied herself with her potion making. She had a box full of empty vials labeled with each of your names floating from her closet to the table, though Malleus and Idia had bigger vials than the rest of you.

“What have you guys been taking with yours?” You’d taken to sitting criss-cross on the floor, Grim settled on your lap while Malleus remained behind you on the couch..

“Tea, a herbal one before I go to bed.” Riddle answered first, settling back into his seat. “The flavor matches best.”

“Water, myself.” Vil went second, handing Goethel different times as she made her batch. Jamil nodded along Vil and made a comment.

“Same, it’s best to take medications with water anyways.”

“Sure, sure, but have you had it with a charged lemonade? I could chug those forever” Idia sighed, his thoughts filled with the image of some cafe’s large pink lemonade. “I can’t believe they’re discontinuing it…”

“Didn’t 3 people die because of how high the caffeine content is in those?” Leona replied, ear flicking in your group’s direction as he watched the few students walking around outside.

“Ya, but it’s not my problem that they’re too dumb to realize that their stats just can’t handle the lemonade. There’s a label on it for a reason. Besides, they had like 5 in one sitting, I only had three!”

“How do you not have a heart condition, Idia?” Jamil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Instead, he decided to turn to you instead and ask, “What about you, Prefect? Malleus? What do you two take.”

Malleus grew a small, soft smile, gesturing to you. “My Child of Man comes up with different combinations, and we try them together to see what is best. We’ve been doing mostly espresso-based drinks as of late, I have to say though it’s not my favorite…”

The others looked a mix of surprise and mild amusement. Each of them certainly had their own opinions.

How sweet, I never imagined Malleus having such a soft spot for the Prefect.

Aw, that’s quite cute, I understand what Rook was saying about you two being a sweet match.

Ew, with the lizard? Seriously? I know you’re listening. Herbivore: get better standards.

Damn. I thought he’d be lonely forever, just like meeee…F-M-L…

I’m surprised that Malleus never came after us for how we treated you Prefect, did you sugarcoat the fact that I launched you to your death in the desert? I don’t know if I should be thankful or concerned.

However, Azul’s thoughts were preoccupied with other concerns. You thought it would be about a certain eel, you were expecting it, actually. Instead, a pink-haired, lanky boy popped into your head.

Ugh, now that I’m really thinking about it… Dammit Aspen! Do you even realize the trouble you’re probably bringing to yourself? Are you lying to me when you say everything is fine at Ramshackle? You must be, there’s no way the Prefect isn’t upset, I know how you are! I know what you think! How am I supposed to protect my little brother if he’s too stubborn to tell me anything!?

You could just feel the anxiety radiating off him as different scenarios of Aspen getting bullied and picked on by the other student in Ramshackle ran through his head like a train wreck.

Suddenly, like he’d been poked by a hot metal stick, Azul snapped up to glare at you.

ACK! Stop it! You’re making my brain itch, how do you even—just stop listening!

You made a popping sound with your lips, looking back down at Grim to scratch at his forehead.

“Mmm, can we still get that cav-ee-ar later with Hornton?”

Malleus looked at you in curiosity as you leaned over to murmur to him.

“Grim wants me to ask you to buy us fancy food from the Mostro Lounge. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Malleus smiled and gave a soft caress to the back of your head.

“Is that what you’d like?”

Shrugging, you opened your mouth to reply when Goethel suddenly cleared her throat. Looking at her, she’d already separated the potion into the various vials, now all floating above her head.

“It’s done. You’ll return in one month once again for your next batch. Hopefully by then, we can choose a select few of you to test the new potion. Once you’ve checked that you’ve received all 30 doses, you can leave.”

The group of you all eagerly grabbed your vials, some like Leona and Idia just taking them and leaving, while Riddle, Vil, and Jamil all double-checked to ensure they had the correct amount.

Azul, surprisingly, also left without checking the count. You saw an image of Jade, looking fondly at some sort of flower in a makeshift greenhouse, flash through your mind as he bolted out of the room at surprising speed.

Child of Man. “Here.” Malleus grabbed your attention by holding your share of the potions in his left hand, gesturing for you to take them.

“I already counted for you. Now I believe you were wanting to eat at Ashengrotto’s establishment, correct?”

Getting up with an eager Grim squirming in your arms, now chattering about fancy fish and drinks, you smiled and shrugged.

“Yes they do! Henchhuman wants fancy food, right? Right?!”

Cav-ee-ar! Sashimi! Crab and lobster! Gimme all of it!

“Ah, if you don’t mind Hornton, I’m happy with whatever.”

Malleus tilted his head at you and smirked, chuckling to himself as he offered an arm for you to grab.

“Then we shall get lunch, if not to at least sate your beastie’s appetite.”

Grim cheered as he pranced out of the office, not unlike a kitten. You and Malleus followed in a comfortable silence as you made your way to the Hall of Mirrors.

You sighed leaning against Malleus’s side as you two walked. It was now midday, so most students were in their rooms relaxing and eating lunch, leaving you three to take a private walk.

“Are you alright, my Child of Man?” Malleus murmured, titling his head as his eyes wandered over your form. “You seem tired, are you sure you’re dealing with your magic adequately?”

Nodding, you looped your arm around his left, swinging it back and forth. He let you, his arms going slack as he chuckled to himself.

Silly human.

“You like that I’m silly, it’s why you keep me around~” You teased, giggling as he suddenly moved you to twirl in front of him. “Besides, I’m handling everything just fine.”

Even just now? A memory from just a moment ago of you hunched over on the ground as Malleus watched in horror as puke mixed with blot made you sick. You think you could feel Malleus’s panic from the memory as well.

“Ugh, can you think of something else? The memory makes me feel sick…did you feel sick when I did that?”

Malleus frowned, looking away guiltily at Grim, who was far enough ahead of you guys happily prancing down the path that he couldn’t hear you two.

I apologize. “You’ve always been particularly empathetic, I forget that translated rather harshly into your magic.”

You wrinkled your nose at that. “Yeah, it’s weird feeling feelings that aren’t my own. Only happens when all of you are with me though.”

Hmm, that’s something I suppose. “Better than having you get overwhelmed everyday. Are the three young ones good at being mentors to you? You seem rather close to Rosehearts.”

“Yeah!” You smiled, giggling as you saw Grim tapping his food impatiently at the Octavinelle mirror. “He’s a bit overbearing sometimes, but overall he means well.”

Good, as long as they are taking care of you. It’s the least they can do.

“Horns…” You clicked your tongue, finally entering the mirror and into the dorm’s waters. The bubble was larger than usual, accommodating Malleus’s tall stature. “I’m not a child you know…you would sneak away from Silver and Sebek all the time so I don’t know why you also think I need to be taken care of like one!”

“Nyah! Yeah! My henchhuman only needs me!” Grim proudly puffed up his chest jumping back onto his usual spot on your shoulder.

“Of course, that’s not what we really mean, my Child of Man.” Malleus pouted, following you to the entrance of the lounge where a random Octavinelle student was working at host.

Your friend seemed oblivious to the other student’s awe and fear on his face as they rapidly gathered two menus.

“I just want to feel secure that we all do our part to ensure your success in our world.” To repent…

You opened your mouth to retort, but you were interrupted by a familiar clearing of the throat.

“Prefect! Grim! Malleus! How wonderful for me that you all decided to drop by!” Azul had a big smile on his face, though you could tell it seemed strained.

He took the menus from the worker’s hands, waving them away which they were more than happy to do.

“I was just going to call for you, my dear (Name). Shall I have Floyd take the other two to your table while you and I go to my office to discuss certain, personal matters?”

Grim bristled on your shoulder, sticking a tongue out at Azul, then yelping as Floyd suddenly popped out from behind Azul with a grin.

EEP!

“Heya Baby Seal! Let’s take you and Sea Slug to a real nice table, the boss gotta talk to Shrimpy for a bit.” Floyd giggled as he took the menus from Azul’s hand, strutting over with his signature lazy grin.

Malleus hummed, narrowing his eyes at the other two as Grim did his best to hide behind you.

“I’d rather spend my short amount of time here with my friend, perhaps we can join you?”

Is it something that can wait, Child of Man?

“I’d rather meet with them one-on-one, it’s about a particularly…personal matter. Wouldn’t you say, Little Pearl?”

An image of Jade once again popped into your mind as Azul gave you a polite smile.

“Well? I’m sure you understand, it won’t take long at all.”

Huffing, you gestured for Malleus to go as you handed him a whiny Grim, who’d taken to digging his claws into your cape.

“It’s fine Hornton, I’ll try to be quick, just get me some water.”

Alright. He nodded, as Grim cried out.

“Noooooo! Don’t let them anemone you like me! Stay strong henchhuman!”

You felt bad hearing Grim’s cries, but focused on following Azul, who remained rather quiet, only audibly though.

Now that I know for sure you can hear me, please be calm. I’d rather not have a rampaging dragon in my restaurant due to a misconstructed reaction.

Huffing once again, you crossed your arms as Azul opened the door to his office and gestured for you to enter with a flourish of his arm.

You took your usual seat on the right side couch, closest to the desk as Azul took his own seat. Taking his overcoat off and gently folding it over the chair, along with his scarf and hat on his desk, Azul heavily sighed.

Crossing his fingers together and resting his chin on top, Azul finally spoke.

“Now, (Name), let us talk about our mutual friend, yes?”

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst jade #jade leech x yuu #mochi fic #the private thoughts (not) of a moray #ptm #twst jade x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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eringobragh420 · 1 month ago

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♣️ Pairing — Roman Reigns ♥︎ f!Reader (no use of y/n), cuck!Cody Rhodes ♥︎ f!Reader ♣️ Summary — Roman takes Cody’s girlfriend on a date. Cody is their chauffeur. 1 | 2 ♣️ Word Count — 5.7k 🛑 Warnings — Handjob, oral (m receiving), semi-public, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, Daddy kink, Tribal Chief kink, degradation, name-calling, hair-pulling, cuckolding, cum 18+ ♣️ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! ♣️ MASTERLIST

One of the many things you loved about Cody Rhodes was that he enjoyed a handjob just as much as he appreciated a blowjob. Smiling at this well-known fact, you leaned over, spitting on the head of his aching cock before spreading it down the shaft, continuing with your slow, purposeful strokes. Cody’s insistent hand on the back of your neck brought your lips to his in a searing, earth-shattering kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, as if you were the one getting manual stimulation, but you’d refused when he’d offered, telling him tonight was all about him, though you suspected he would disregard this and have his way with you—not that you’d complain or turn him down. But Cody was such a giver, always so concerned with your pleasure, and sometimes you just wanted to return the favor.

“I know you wanna do it again,” he suddenly mumbled against your swollen lips. Your eyes opened slowly, hand losing its momentum on Cody’s dick as you considered what he’d said. Suddenly the air around you was thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket over the both of you. “With Reigns,” he clarified, but of course you knew exactly what and who he was referring to.

“Cody … ” you whispered.

“I think about it all the time,” he sighed, his warm, recognizable hand closing around yours on his length, pumping just a little faster, and his thumb moved yours over the weeping head. He groaned when you took control, leaving his hand atop yours as it rose up and down, squeezing every now and again. “I can’t … do that to you, but …”

“You like watching someone else do it to me,” you finished for him, the flood gates in your cunt busting wide open, and you plastered sloppy kisses all over his cheek and neck, nibbling and licking at the red, white and blue tattoo. Your heart pounded from the confession, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, too. Or touched yourself while thinking about it. And it wasn’t just Roman who occupied your mind. Your boyfriend watching you get railed by someone he truly disliked had done something to the chemicals in your brain.

Cody nodded, eyes closed. “Faster,” he breathed, and you’d never heard or seen anything more endearing than Cody Rhodes’ lisp. The corners of your mouth quirked into a smile as you did as requested, and once he removed his hand from yours, you switched your grip, and Cody crushed his wet lips to yours once more for a stalwart kiss that had you leaning forward, matching his energy, your mouths smacking together lewdly and with a practiced precision for several moments. “I can’t be tied up again,” he said, shaking his head, and you nodded, agreeing. “But I can’t—fuck—I can’t be able to get to you, though. The ways I imagined killing Reigns last time …”

“It’s fine,” you said. “We’ll figure something out.” Cody was moaning, head lulling back, and your hand squelched quickly up and down his shaft. “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll put on a good show for you.”

“Fuck!” Cody shouted, launching ropes of cum into the air, which inevitably landed on your hand, his cock and his thighs. Once he was able to think clearly, he looked at you. “This isn’t weird?” he asked.

You smiled, squeezing his chin with your clean hand, pressing your lips to his. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I loved you watching me get treated like a whore … and then looking down to see how fucking hard you were. And this might be bad, but I … I liked how angry it made you.”

Cody smirked, rolling his eyes. “That’s probably the least bad thing about all this.”

After making all the arrangements, never once feeling nervous, you were furious at the butterflies in your stomach as you got ready. You’d even done this before and your nerves were still frayed. You spun around in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting your dress this way and that to be sure there was no slack and it clung to your body everywhere it was supposed to. Your hair was in its signature style, as was your makeup and the jewelry adorning your ears, neck, and wrists, and you knew your boyfriend would forget his own name once he saw you, but you had to wonder about Roman.

The Tribal Chief was the last thing on your mind, however, when you turned the corner into the living room and nearly ran into Cody as he was attaching the golden chain to his vest. He’d chosen the maroon suit for tonight, the one with the long coat, and he was so fucking beautiful, your chest ached and your pussy wept. His big hands were on your shoulders, and you hated that it was so easy for him to see how anxious you were, but you adored him for taking the time to acknowledge it and make an effort to help you feel better. Instead of words, his lips touched yours, the muscles moving together with practiced ease, and as your hands slid up his chest, bound for the back of his neck, the doorbell rang.

“Don’t forget who you actually belong to,” Cody reminded you.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again. “We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you said, caressing Cody’s cheek before heading for the door.

Roman’s suit was black on black, shoes shiny, hair pulled back in a sleek bun. He smiled as you invited him inside, leaning down to place a hot kiss to your cheek, and your skin burned from your neck to your cheekbones. The Tribal Chief’s aura was almost too much to bear, and thankfully Cody made himself known, slowly shaking Roman’s hand, and you imagined they were in a silent battle over who could squeeze the hardest.

“So are we good?” Roman asked, nonchalant to the point of aggravation. “Same plan we talked about?” You and Cody both nodded, Cody slipping an arm around your waist possessively. “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” Roman smiled. “I’m starvin’.” He patted his flat abs to emphasize his declaration before he turned and started toward the vehicle you and Cody had chosen for the evening: the sleek black Lexus.

Cody exhaled heavily through his nostrils as you and he stepped out of the house, you waiting with your boyfriend while he locked the door. “This may not be enough to stop me,” he remarked, hand sliding around your waist again, fingers playing at the swell of your ass.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Pull over if you have to,” you reminded him.

Roman had already folded himself into the backseat of the Lexus by the time Cody opened the front passenger door for you. You climbed inside and your senses were suddenly full of Roman Reigns’ scent, his hulking presence directly behind you, and your waxed pussy clenched.

“You look good, baby girl,” Roman growled. Your heart thrummed, breath hitched, eyes watching Cody round the front of the car, bound for the driver’s seat. “You ready for our date?”

You gulped. “Yes, Daddy,” you whispered just as Cody opened his door and settled behind the steering wheel.

The ride to the restaurant was suffocating. The handsome man beside you was desperately in love with you, so much so that he was allowing you to seek satisfaction from another man. The alpha male behind you had no feelings toward you either way—his only true intentions being to ruin you, use you, and send you back home to that boyfriend who loved you so dearly. And you couldn’t deny how much the entire situation just turned you the fuck on.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, Cody pulled up front and smoothly put the car in park. You turned to him, and he painted on a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He liked the part about watching you and Roman together, but he was less thrilled about the two of you going on a date without him. But it had been Roman’s stipulation, and he’d promised he had no ulterior motives—just a propensity for fooling around in public. And the thing about WWE superstars? They were incredibly popular, but were hardly, if ever (and for reasons unknown), followed by paparazzi.

Roman slapped Cody on the shoulder before exiting the backseat, slamming the door behind him. Cody’s crystal eyes winced, and you reached over to cradle his face.

“I love you,” you said, pressing your lips to his.

Cody sighed, warm air rushing across your face. “I love you, too. If you need me—”

“I know.” One final kiss, and you rubbed the residual lipstick off his mouth before you opened your door. Roman’s hand was suddenly there, and you glanced at Cody while slipping your hand into Roman’s and stepping out of the Lexus. Roman slammed the door with his free hand, slapping the hand that had been holding yours onto your ass cheek where it stayed as the two of you made your way inside. You fought the urge to again glimpse your boyfriend over your shoulder, the pang in your chest becoming more noticeable, an image of him eating alone down the street haunting your thoughts.

You and Roman were seated in a round booth in a fairly private corner of the dining room. Your soft, bare leg gently touched Roman’s meaty thigh as he eliminated the space between you. His aroma enveloped you, overwhelmed you, and you were suddenly slightly dizzy, overdosing on Roman Reigns before you even actually got started. But that’s the effect he had on you, on most people, you were sure. He threw off a lot of heat, and so you couldn’t be sure if you were blushing or just physically being lit on fire. You still didn’t know the answer as he laid an arm across the booth behind you, so smooth, so apathetic, as he ordered an expensive bottle of wine from the nervous waiter.

“So,” Roman broke the silence first, eyes surveying the other patrons of the restaurant, “did you follow the rules?” His inky eyes eventually landed on you, your thighs twitching, squeezing. “Made sure to wear panties?”

You swallowed what felt like sand. “Yes, Daddy,” you confirmed. You gasped, back straightening and bumping into the cushions behind you, as Roman reached over and casually lifted the bottom of your dress. You had one leg crossed over the other, so there wasn’t much to see, but just enough to prove you’d obeyed his instructions.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his full lips kissing you delicately on the temple. And so enchanted were you by Roman’s odd gentleness, you didn’t notice as he took hold of your hand, sliding it over his brawny thigh, settling it atop the lump between his legs. “Nice and slow,” he said, winking. “We got all night.”

You set to work massaging him, squeezing, rubbing, even pinching the fat head of his cock, which caused Roman to jump just the slightest bit in his seat. Fear swept through you, but the Tribal Chief merely grinned, shook his head, and took a sip from his glass of red wine. He quickly hardened under your touch, straining against the zipper of his expensive slacks, and pride swelled in your chest at how easy it was for you to bring Roman Reigns’ monster cock to life. Though you were quickly deflated at how indifferent he was about it. Aside from the tiny jump, and the fact that he was hard as fuck, he gave no other indication that he enjoyed your ministrations. No more smiles, hardly any glances in your direction, and he certainly wasn’t touching you despite his arm still lounging on the booth behind you. This is what you asked for, you supposed—Roman hadn’t signed up for the boyfriend package.

“Take it out,” Roman said. Biting your lip, and as stealthily as possible, you used both your hands to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. Once those were out of your way, you revealed the Tribal Chief’s impressive shaft, sighing as you wrapped your tiny-in-comparison hand around his length. The size, the weight, the warmth … your panties were soaked already. “Good,” he praised. “Now spit on it.”

Your heart sped up, but your mouth watered, making your task that much easier. After glancing around to be sure no one was paying either of you any mind, you bent over, and dropped a perfectly formed glob of saliva on the fleshy head of Roman’s cock. Your fingers smeared it around, sliding it down his cock, and it made your strokes much more enjoyable for him. You were even able to hear a faint moan emanate from his chest, and it was about this time your waiter decided to check in on you a short while after he’d served your entrees.

“I’m good,” Roman smoothly replied, and then you looked at you. “You good, babe?”

Your hand was frozen on his cock, but with the angle of your arm, it was clear your hand was in Roman’s lap. The waiter’s eyes dropped briefly to see if he could get a peek of whatever was going on, coming back to your face almost immediately when he realized he wasn’t able to see anything. “I—I’m good,” you stuttered. The waiter excused himself, glancing over his shoulder briefly before disappearing around the corner.

“Keep jerkin’ me,” Roman commanded, and you hadn’t realized you’d stopped at all. Before you could get a full stroke in, Roman leaned until his lips grazed your ear, growling, “You’re gon’ get a spankin’ for that. You don’t stop until Daddy tells you to stop.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whispered. With your free hand, you grabbed your own glass of wine and quickly swallowed three mouthfuls, never once pausing your manual stimulation. Neither of you had touched much of your expensive food.

“Now tell me why, if Rhodes loves you so much, he won’t give you what you want?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, or why the answer was important, but your response was quick. “Because he’s a good guy.”

Roman looked at you. “Does that make me the bad guy?”

You flicked your thumb over the head, and Roman licked and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Aren’t you?” you breathed, brow arched.

Roman’s eyes narrowed briefly, and then he smirked, shrugged. “Why don’t you kiss Daddy’s cock?” Knowing better than to waste time by making sure no one was looking, you leaned over and touched your lips to the head of Roman’s cock, and you straight away tasted that familiar salty flavor of precum, of the Tribal Chief. You were licking the head and tonguing the slit as if you had permission to do so, as if you weren’t in public, and Roman had the honor of reminding you which of the two of you were actually in charge. He fisted your perfect hair, bringing his fingers as closely to your head as he could, so he was able to pull and cause pain without actually moving you and thus drawing attention, and he slowly lifted you back into your original position. Somehow, you managed to continue stroking him. “Did I say you could lick me?” he fumed. You shook your head, tears springing in your eyes from the stinging in your scalp. “That’s gon’ get you another spankin’.”

You nodded, slowly, barely. “Yes, Daddy.”

Roman also nodded, gazing down his nose at you, and it was like a downburst in the middle of the restaurant—all the tension, both sexual and nervous, the attraction you had for one another, the arousal, the spark—it all came crashing down onto your shoulders, sucking the breath from your lungs. You knew better than to touch him if you weren’t told to do so, so you settled for placing your free hand on your thigh, which was grinding into its twin without abandon. Roman’s sinful eyes descended just there, watching a moment as your fingers dug into your muscle to keep from reaching out for him.

“Why don’t you call your boyfriend?” he suggested, your eyes locked on his plump lips. “Think I’m ready to have his girlfriend.”

You struggled to extract your phone from your purse with just one hand—you heard Roman snort softly—but you were triumphant moments later, tapping your way to a phone call with Cody.

His tone was tight when he answered after only one ring. “Hey.”

Roman’s long fingers slipped under your chin, gently tugging until you looked at him, phone to your ear. His brows rose, head tilted down—a silent reminder.

Your hand still stroking his cock, eyes captivated by Roman’s wicked chocolate pools, you said to your boyfriend, “Daddy and I are ready to go.”

Roman waggled the fingers that had just been on your chin, and your heart skipped several beats as you slowly handed him your phone. “Get the lead out, Rhodes. Your girl’s got me hard as fuck.” Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the call, grinning like a fool as he returned it to your possession.

You and Roman weren’t waiting long outside the restaurant before the Lexus came speeding up, squealing to a fluid halt. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to gauge Cody’s mood early. Roman opened the back door, and you anxiously licked your lips as you crawled inside. Sliding to the middle of the seat, you caught Cody’s crystal eyes in the rear view mirror—two stone sapphires, revealing nothing of what was going on behind the scenes. It was difficult to not reach out and touch him, hug him, kiss him, but you hadn’t been given permission to do so, and you already had two spanks coming your way. Roman’s hulking frame followed you, closing the door behind him, and he was roughly the same distance from you now as he was in the restaurant, but in the enclosed space of the vehicle, you suddenly felt claustrophobic as his presence surrounded you.

“Alright, let’s get these off,” Roman said, pulling at the bottom of your dress. You lifted your hips, and his hands disappeared under your dress so he could slip your panties down your legs—you carefully maneuvered your heels out of the material so as not to rip it. He examined them, and it was almost like he was examining you, but the wild grin on his face made you feel better about his actions. Suddenly, he tossed the garment at Cody, the black lace hitting him delicately in the neck, and you heard Cody sigh heavily through his nostrils. “Just give those a smell, Nightmare.”

Your eyes rounded as you watched your boyfriend lift your panties from his shoulder, holding them up, and the wet spot you’d created was unmistakable, glistening in the gentle light of the car. You gasped, Cody bringing your panties to his nose, and his inhaling was the loudest thing you’d ever heard, but fuck it all if you weren’t simply becoming wetter and wetter.

“That’s just from jerkin’ me off,” Roman pointed out, “and the little kisses and licks on my cock.” He snatched your face, much rougher than he had just a few moments ago, and you focused your attention on the Samoan god. “That reminds me,” he growled, “you got two spanks comin’ your way, don’t you?”

A car honked from behind the Lexus, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The two men were calm, however, and Cody used the hand holding your panties to put the car in drive so he could pull out of the restaurant parking lot. As your boyfriend chauffeured you and Roman back to your house, the Tribal Chief ordered you on your knees and to once again pull his now semi-hard cock out of his pants.

“Now, your boyfriend can’t see you, so make sure he can hear you,” Roman advised, now with the freedom to shove your face into his crotch, your mouth opening just in time to accept his hot length, and the man was big enough to make you gag without even being completely hard. “That a girl, but I know you can do better.”

As Roman pulled your dress up, you impaled your throat on his cock, choking, coating the shaft in spit and drool, which allowed your hand to slide easily up and down, covering the area of his dick your mouth wasn’t able to reach. Roman’s coarse, capable hand barely grazed the soft, sensitive skin of your ass, and your heart drummed as you awaited your punishment. The smack came, hard, jarring your body, and you grunted around Roman’s cock, forcing it down your throat as far as you could as, what, a thank you? Penance?

“What do you say, slut?” Roman roared.

Your mouth popped wetly off his dick. “Thank you, Daddy,” you answered breathlessly, and he thrust his cock back in your mouth before you even got daddy all the way out. In and out, deeper with each pump of his hips, coughing, gagging, tears streaking your otherwise perfectly made up cheeks. The second spank came out of nowhere, jolting you once more, and you held his cock deep in your throat until you absolutely had to breathe. Pulling off, you sputtered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Goddamn shame your own man can’t take care of you the way you deserve,” Roman said, holding your face close to his eyes, admiring the mess of your mouth and chin. “But don’t you worry your pretty, little head … Daddy’s gon’ take care of you. Fuck you like a real man. Fuck you like the slut inside you deserves.” You grinned up at him, suddenly lethargic, enraptured by Roman’s beauty, reveling in his undivided attention. “So turn around and sit on my cock. I want you to be able to look at your little boyfriend.”

The two of you worked together as he slid to the middle of the backseat, and you turned your back to him, your thighs on either side of his, grabbing hold of those sinewy muscles before sinking down slowly onto Roman’s fat cock.

“Fuck,” you mewled, head falling back, eyes fluttering, fingers squeezing closer to Roman’s knees. Two hot vices gripped your hips, squeezing into the tender flesh, and you were encouraged to lean forward until your elbows were propped on the armrest between the two front seats. Then you were told to bounce.

So willing and more than able to obey your Tribal Chief, you squeezed your thighs against his and did just as instructed—you bounced. Roman released your hips briefly so he could lower your dress and release your breasts, which were without the hindrance of a bra, and then he returned them to your already-bruised skin. So as you bounced, so did your tits. You felt Cody’s eyes burning into your every now and again, as he had to watch the road, but your gazes finally connected, and the explosion of his pupils were like two tiny volcanoes erupting, spewing ash all across the land. You knew that look, you knew those eyes, and you gasped, jaw dropped, pussy clenching around Roman’s thick dick as your hips continued rising and falling, your ass undulating every time your bodies came together.

“Tell him how bad you needed the Tribal Chief in your pussy,” Roman said.

Looking up at your boyfriend, who was now attempting to focus on the road, you panted, “I need the Tribal Chief in my pussy so fucking bad. I feel so fucking empty when he’s not inside me.” Cody reached down to adjust himself, and your attention fell to the incredible bulge threatening to stretch out Cody’s tailored pants, and you’d known he’d be turned on, but it was still a welcomed sight—validation.

“And tell him how much of a fucking slut you really are.”

You couldn’t help the diabolical grin that spread your lips, teeth slowly sinking into your bottom lip. “I’m such a slut, baby,” you told Cody, almost blissfully. “I can’t help it. I fucking love this shit.” The drool from the face-fuck earlier was sliding down your neck, making its way to the valley between your jiggling breasts. “I love fucking the Tribal Chief in front of you. I love when he fucks my face and spanks my ass. I love calling him Daddy.”

Roman guffawed, yanking your head back by your hair. “Listen to that mouth!” he hollered. “Never had a slut like this before. Riding me in front of your boyfriend? Slutty as fuck.”

“Fuck yes, my Tribal Chief,” you moaned. Cody squirmed in the driver’s seat, loosening his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Such a fucking slut for you.”

“Turn the fuck around,” Roman suddenly demanded. “Put this cock back in that filthy mouth.” Eyes on Cody, you lifted your hips, slowly allowing Roman’s massive cock to fall out of your dripping cunt, and then you turned, knees on the seat as you bent over. He snatched your head and stabbed his drenched cock straight into your throat, wrestling that strangled choking sound from you that he seemed to love so much. You tasted a hint of his salty precum, but mostly you tasted your own luscious essence, which thickly coated Roman’s dick from root to tip, and as soon as you were able to quickly catch your breath, you went straight back down for more, stuffing his cock as far as it would go. Roman’s hand was on the back of your neck, lithe fingers curved around the column so he could feel the bulge in your throat with each pump of his steel cock. “Mmm, listen to that sound, Rhodes!” Roman exclaimed. “You like it when I choke your slutty little girlfriend with my cock? Hmm?” He abruptly yanked your head back, your scalp screaming, pussy throbbing, and he forced you to look at him. “Give your boyfriend a kiss,” he spoke quietly. “I want him to taste my cock in your mouth.”

As Cody changed lanes, you maneuvered your way back between the front seats. Cody’s cheeks were a dusty rose, his sapphire eyes bulging, and he had one hand controlling the Lexus, the other massaging his cock that appeared to be mere seconds from launching itself through his slacks and smacking against the steering wheel. This specific moment hadn’t been discussed beforehand or between you and Cody at all, so you weren’t quite sure which avenue to take. If you didn’t obey your Tribal Chief, you’d probably be in for another spanking, unless he thought of a more creative way to punish you. And if you did follow his instructions, how would Cody react? He liked watching and listening, that much was incredibly clear, but how involved did he want to be?

You settled for a compromise—you planted sloppy, sticky kisses to Cody’s cheek, the corner of his mouth the furthest you were willing to take it without the okay from your boyfriend. Cody’s tongue snaked out of his mouth, gathering the residue left behind, and his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Come here,” Roman ordered, “get back on this dick.”

He had you face him this time, straddling his hips, lowering yourself onto his still-rock hard cock. Gripping his shoulders, you set your hips in a moderate rhythm, feeling him nudge each and every corner of your cunt, tapping your cervix, and you cried out.

“So fucking wet,” Roman gushed, licking one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth, giving your other breast the same attention. “I’ll remember that for next time. That all I gotta do is take you to a fancy restaurant, give you a little taste of my cock, and I get to fuck you stupid in front of your boyfriend.” He grinned like a damn fool, brandishing his sparkling teeth, and all you could was keep grinding on him, panting into his mouth, too afraid to go in for a kiss. “And I could just roll this window down and show the whole city what a real whore looks like.” Whimpering, you dropped your perspiring forehead onto Roman’s, thankful he allowed you to remain there, however short-lived it was. “What do you say, slut? If Daddy wanted to roll the window down …”

You gulped, immediately thinking of Cody, but you knew better than to turn and check on him, and the way Roman was fucking you would have made it impossible for you to move anyway. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, hips rocking to meet his, drawing him deeper inside you. “I want the whole fucking city to see how much of a slut I am for you.”

Roman’s brows knitted together, and he sucked and licked and nibbled at your breasts. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Please, Daddy?” you gasped. “Your dick isn’t enough for my slutty pussy. I need your cum, too. I need your cum all the fucking time.” Roman touched his damp, fleshy lips to your ear, whispering, and you sighed as his scorching breath ghosted along your neck and shoulder. You licked your own lips before following his orders, glancing over your shoulder, and asking, “Can Daddy please come inside me? I need it more than anything.”

Cody inhaled through his nostrils, cobalt eyes lifting to the mirror. “Yes,” he rasped, “he can cum inside you.”

You turned back to Roman, fully prepared to ride him for all it was worth, reaping the benefits of his load inside you, but you were disappointed when he whispered more filthy things for you to repeat. “Baby,” you gained Cody’s attention again, “tell me you wanna fuck me with the Tribal Chief’s cum inside me.”

“Fuck you, Reigns,” Cody erupted.

Roman howled. “Come on, you know you want to,” he taunted Cody. “Imagine how fuckin’ messy her cunt’s gonna be when I’m done with it. Goddamn slip-and-slide.” You collapsed against Roman’s chest, head on his shoulder, his cock scratching that itch deep inside your pussy. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, “still tight as fuck.”

“God, I’m gonna cum,” you groaned.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Roman warned. “That little blonde boy doesn’t tell me how bad he wants to fuck you—”

“Baby, please,” you whined, near tears, squealing as Roman pinched and pulled at your nipples just because he fucking felt like it. “Please … I need to cum.”

“Come on, Nightmare,” Roman sing-songed, out of breath. “You really gon’ let your girl get fucked, and not let her cum?”

“Fuck, goddamn it, I want it,” Cody babbled. “I wanna see your fucking cum dripping out of her cunt before I shove my cock inside her.”

“Let me get that cum, baby girl,” Roman said to you, and your spine arched as you screamed, throwing your head back. Your pussy clenched around Roman’s cock, your entire body wracked with shudders. “Come on, you whore … milk this fuckin’ dick so the American Nightmare can get it up for you.”

Roman unloaded inside you just as Cody pulled the Lexus into the garage of your home. He thrust into you so many times afterward, you thought he was trying to get off again, but he was simply making sure he’d deposited every last drop of his cum inside you. Without warning, he lifted you slowly off his lap, your cunt pulsing as it mourned the loss of fullness, and laid you in the seat beside him. He grinned at you as he tucked himself away, adjusted and smoothed his suit, and opened the door, stepping out, where he came face-to-face with Cody. You watched, heart pounding, having no idea where this was headed, but you could feel the furious tension that was laced with arousal in the air. You gaped as Roman extended his hand, shit-eating grin on his face. Cody, massive bulge on full display as he doffed his jacket, shook Roman’s hand, and you could see their skin turn white from the amount of pressure being applied.

“Better get in there before my nut leaks out,” Roman advised, slapping Cody on the shoulder before strolling out of the garage, bound for his own vehicle parked on the street.

“Cody, baby, please,” you begged your boyfriend, who stared after Roman, fists clenched. “I need you.”

That seemed to break the Roman spell, and Cody looked at you. You jumped at the opportunity to slide your hand across your breasts, tweaking a nipple, as you scooted closer to the door. You spread your legs, Cody’s cerulean irises instantly drawn to what was probably an incredibly wrecked pussy. You felt Roman’s cum begin to seep from your used hole, and Cody suddenly reached out for your knees, holding them open, pushing them closer to your chest.

“My god, I’ve never seen anything so fucking sexy,” Cody admitted, leering at your entire body, but mostly your swollen, weeping pussy. He made swift work of his belt and pants, his long, slightly curved cock popping out. The head was red and seeping precum, and you licked your lips as your mouth watered, as it did every single time you looked at Cody’s dick. He adjusted your hips to the correct angle and height so that he could comfortably—for him, anyway—slip his cock deep within your cunt. He groaned, eyes closing briefly before opening again so he could watch as he leisurely pulled out, his cock coated in not only your cum, but also Roman’s cum.

“Oh, my fucking god …” you sobbed, your boyfriend squelching his way in and out of your flooded pussy. “Baby … I’m gonna cum again …”

“Do it, baby,” Cody encouraged, and your body contorted with the extra strength of this orgasm. “Because I’m about to …”

“Yes,” you mewled, body bouncing as Cody fucked you. “Please cum in my pussy. Please, please, please …”

“Fuck!” Cody cried out, hips slamming into you one final time before he paused, his muscular body, hidden behind slacks, a shirt, and a vest quivering much the same way yours had. After a moment, he chuckled, “You’re overflowing right now.”

You nodded dreamily, relaxing against the seat as Cody delicately pulled out, and you watched him as he watched all the thick cream he spoke of ooze out of your cunt. “I love you,” you said.

Cody smiled, shaking his head, still focused on the mess that was you. “I love you more,” he replied.

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