#News like this can really bear down on you...please seek help and support if you need & stay strong

[akhaste]

Since the news last night, I've been mostly awake till now with this strange sense that this world is very alien to me.

I am thinking of him, of his family, of his friends. Everything he was put through, what they must be going through. I wish them peace and calm and the privacy and space to grieve their loss as much as they need to.

I am grappling to take in the news still. The cruelty of it all.

It all feels so unreal. I wish it was not real. I can only wish him peaceful rest without pain.

삼가 고인의 명복을 빕니다

[flhoarder]

Absolutely hilarious how you're literally just here minding your business on this blog, enjoying what you're enjoying and not harming anyone (as far as I know?), and someone had the nerve to pop onto anon to send hate and call YOU toxic. Lol. Lmfao.

Sending anonymous hate mail to an actual real-like human person sounds far more toxic than enjoying a fictional character.

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Anyway tho—you're allowed to enjoy whoever and whatever you enjoy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise! Please have a nice day.

Hey thanks!

To be honest I don’t take those too seriously. Mainly because it’s nothing new to take a stray bullet on social media. Especially when preferences in something people are passionate about are involved. I do think it’s a shame that there are people out there who played DE and learnt nothing from the stories that the game was trying to tell though. A theme of struggle and trauma and redemption in everyone, it was always there.

I get where some of those views are from. People who think Harry dug himself out and so that decision of his had to be universally celebrated. People who cared must be supportive because it did Harry some good.

But it’s not that simple, is it.

Decisions have consequences. Some people have to bear those consequences for decisions not made by themselves, things that are entirely out of their control but suddenly have the potential to leave a massive crater in their life that maybe they can’t even afford to repair. Things they have to accept just because they woke up one day to a new reality.

Harry made his decision for himself. It’s easier for some characters to come to terms with it because they never knew Harry intimately as he was before, they never had Harry in their life so much to feel the impact. Jean did, and he needs what he needs to deal with this sudden change of current, when the old one was one that he still was trying to navigate. The change disrupted his entire assessment of a big part of his life, and a relationship he thought was entirely doomed but at least he understood.

As the audience, it’s easy to get confused and misunderstand this, but it’s not a ‘misery loves company’ situation. If you really look, you can see a mishmash of emotions from him. It’s uncertainty. It’s fear. (And oh, so much fear.) It’s hope. It’s helplessness. He can’t afford to be optimistic because even though he hasn’t dealt with anything like it, he was let down many many times. Hope is a dangerous thing to have, and this whole current change in Jean’s life is both too irrevocable and uncertain for him to have it.

But it’s clear that he wants to believe and to hope, however desperate. He‘s actively seeking out ways to let himself be persuaded into picking choices to look out for Harry. It’s confirmation bias: He exclusively takes people who care about Harry, people who can help Harry with him. Every time he tries to cut off ties, he looks for the tiniest voice of objection to push him back to Harry. At the end of the confrontation, he goes back to what he really wants out of it, not a final decider, that’s already done- but something he needs to gingerly anchor his hope onto: any final affirmation or confirmation from someone who’s been in his shoes for a minute with the new Harry. If a partner of this new Harry can work things out, he’s willing to try.

And there’s something to be said about that. I hope I’ve said my piece clearly enough that at least it’s out there for people who care to read.

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.109 - The Rileys - Part 1

Previous Chapter - Masterlist 1; Masterlist 2 - Next Chapter

First of the three-part leg of Simon and Kiera's honeymoon!

Author's Note: Again, I'm so sorry for such a late update. My life has been... a rollercoaster. Since my last update, it's unfortunate to say that things did not go as planned. After my final drop off in Colorado, I was desperate to get back to Montana so when I left northern Colorado, my truck broke down close to the Wyoming border with my horse in the trailer as well as my two dogs with me being stranded in the isolated part of northern Colorado. Luckily, I was able to get in touch with my USRider insurance, which covers a tow for both my truck and trailer as well as getting me and my horse somewhere safe until I could get back on the road. The closest shop that could see my truck was in Parker, Colorado, which is south of Denver, so it put me out of my way by three hours. I spent two days in a Super 8 and when I got the call that my truck was fixed, I had to dive into my savings to get it fixed and back on the road. With no new hauls coming back to Montana, I used the rest of my money for fuel to just get home. It took me nearly four days to get home due to a massive storm that came through Kansas and into Colorado the same day I left. To add more fuel to the fire, during my time on the road, I had completely forgotten that my power bill was linked to my debit card - the same debit card that I had to use to get fuel prior to my big trip, so in short my power had been off since July 18th. So not only did I come home to no power in a massive heatwave, I came home to everything in my fridge completely rotten, including a freezer full of beef I had processed last year from my farm. I don't want to ask for help because I'm stubborn and this is my problem I've gotten myself into, but I've contemplated on opening up my tips box on Tumblr as even a dollar helps me out, but to me, having a consistent reader base and constant support goes further than any dollar will, so I'm just grateful that you all love this story as much as I do. Long story put very short, I'm having to start all over again - literally. I really enjoy writing and I think about this story every day and adding to it, but please bear with me if things look sloppy. I know you guys are eager for my updates and I want to give my audience what they want, but it's just been hard these last few weeks and I'm just trying to get back on my feet and on track. 

I love you all. Thank you very much for reading. I hope to keep updating as soon as I possibly can! - A <3

Las Vegas, Nevada

"Love, I'm not joking: when we get out of this cab, I want you by my side at all times." 

"Aw, come on, babe. I won't go far," She giggled, her eyes glued to the massive structures that lined the Strip. "It'll be fun to get lost in a place like this." 

"I'm not having a runaway bride," He arched his brow. "Especially in a town like this."

"Will there be a punishment for an intense game of hide n' seek?" 

"Oh yes there will." He arched his brow.

"Hm, sounds like a rule I'd like to break..."

"Love, if I wanted to babysit, I would've brought Johnny." 

She laughed, "Bringing Johnny on our honeymoon? Having some extra thoughts there?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Mhm... I think you are." 

"Those drinks on the plane have been teasing at you, yeah? Sounds like you're the one with additional thoughts that I should be worried about."

"No," She scoffed. "I love Johnny, but like a brother or a pet fish. I'd cry if I had to flush him down the toilet, but I definitely don't want to kiss him!" 

Simon couldn't help but laugh as he gazed out the window, seeing the hotel he had booked for two nights before their flight to Birmingham. "I'll take your word for it. We're here." 

"Where exactly are we going?" She giggled. 

"The hotel, love." 

"I know, but which one? There's thirty million in my eyesight." She exaggerated. 

"You said you wanted to go to Paris, right?" 

"I can't recall," She shrugged playfully before looking towards the Paris Las Vegas hotel. "Is that where we're going?" 

"I figured it was better than some cheap motel with complementary bed bugs and moth balls," He replied sarcastically, smirking when she playfully slapped his bicep, her eyes fixated on the many bright lights that made the Las Vegas Strip. "Besides, this place is better than Paris, France. Trust me." 

She laughed in agreement, "Oh, I know, babe. Paris in France isn't what it's cracked up to be. This is ten times better." 

"I'm glad I picked right, then," He nodded, exiting the cab once the driver had stopped at the front of the hotel, Simon offering his hand to her to help her exit the vehicle before he made his way to the trunk to grab the three duffel bags himself to keep Kiera from doing it. "Let's go check in while I still have you in my sight." 

"You should know I'm not going anywhere... yet," She giggled, swinging her purse over her shoulder. "Let me get one of those, Simon-"

"I got it." He replied sternly, letting her walk in front of him before the bellhop met him with a cart in the lobby, generously helping him set the bags down to help ease the strain from his shoulders. That lass is notorious for packing everything that can fit in this bloody thing, he huffed to himself. She's the reason I pack my own bag. He nodded graciously at the bellhop before making his way to the receptionist, keeping his new wife in his peripheral vision to reassure himself that her curiosity wasn't leading her down a path away from him, although a part of him knew she would easily become distracted. "Good evening, sir. Checking in for the evening?" 

"Yes, I made a reservation last week," He replied, pulling out his phone to show the receptionist his proof of reserve for two nights in his email's inbox. "Riley." 

She nodded, typing on her computer before the confirmation pulled up on her desktop, "Ah! There you are! Give me just one second and I'll print out this form for you to sign and your keycards. Do you have your I.D.?" 

As much as he hated showing strangers his identification card, he did it anyway after taking a long exhale to rid his mind of anxious thoughts, handing it to the receptionist and closely watching her as she keyed in his information for their records. "Alright, just sign this line here. Will you need just one or two keycards for your stay?" 

"Probably two. She'll lose it if we just have one." He said, nodding towards Kiera when she finally made her way to stand next to him at the counter after looking at the many decorations that filled the lobby. 

"I understand!" The receptionist giggled, retrieving the form he had just signed and putting it away in the file folder for their current check-ins and registering the keycards for their room. "You're all set for your stay! Just take the elevator down this hall to floor eighteen and take a right." 

"Thank you." Simon nodded, retrieving the keycards from her hand. 

"You're very welcome! Enjoy your stay! The bellhop is already in route to your room to deliver your bags!" 

He nodded, hating the fact that someone else that possession of his and Kiera's things, but he forced himself to not overreact as it was simply just a person doing their job and not someone with cruel intentions to sabotage his honeymoon. 

Simon was still going to check and be sure. 

Kiera wrapped her arm around his as he escorted them to their home-away-from home for the next two days, the pair looking around at the luxurious decorations and marble floors as they made their way to the elevator. "We're definitely a long way from home." She commented. 

"That we are, love." 

"You don't see stuff like this in Wyoming." 

"No, but Wyoming does have the Grand Tetons," He chuckled. "Which by the way, are named after big tits." 

"What? No they're not." She laughed. 

"I can assure you, that's what it means. When I was in France, I remember hearing locals talking about it - how they laughed at how many tourists travel far and wide to see The Big Tits of the U.S." 

"I can't tell if you're being serious or sarcastic," She giggled, pulling out her phone. "But I am going to look it up." 

"You do that, love," He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple after escorting her into the elevator. "You know, if this elevator didn't have so many cameras, I'd have you pinned to this wall." 

She blushed, "I'm surprised that's what's stopping you." 

"It is because I don't want one of those old men looking at the cameras gawking at something that's all mine. I'm selfish." He explained, wrapping his free arm around the small of her back, pinching her rear discreetly as they stood against the back wall of the elevator, smirking at how she shrieked at his gesture. 

She couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks at his possessiveness, a warm sensation flooding between her legs as his hand continued to press protectively against the small of her back as they walked along the hallway towards their room. 

Opening the door for her, they both were amazed at the room before them. 360 square feet of pure luxury - elegant carpet, a flat-screen television hanging on the wall adjacent to the lavish king-sized bed, a marble floor to decorate the bathroom with a shower big enough for three people, a separate bathtub and an immaculate view of the Eifel Tower that stood out from the rest of the attraction markings of the Las Vegas Strip. "Oh... My God," She gasped, hesitant to take curious steps forward to look into the room. "This is amazing, Simon."

"Look around, love," He chuckled as he reached for the bags the bellhop had left on the table for them, opening up each one to ensure nothing was missing. I just don't trust anyone. "Where do you want to go first?" 

He watched as she exited the bathroom, turning off the light as she walked towards the bed, running her fingers along the sheets. "I'm fine with staying here for a while. I'm sure this was a lot of money to dish out-"

"Don't worry about the money, love," He cut her off, assuring her that he didn't want her to worry about anything financially. "You tell me what you want to do." 

She hummed, "I mean, can we hang out here for a while? It's only three o'clock." 

"I'm fine with that," He assured her with a grin. "When it gets dark, we can walk around if you'd like." 

"I'd love that, babe," She smiled, slowly approaching him and slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips while his hands instinctively rested on her hips. "Thank you for this." 

"You deserve it," He murmured. "This is only the first of many surprises." 

"Strange that you're the one throwing surprises when you don't like getting surprises," She giggled. "You're going to have to let me pay for something at least." 

"Not a chance." He shook his head, accepting another kiss from her as his hand couldn't help but slide down to grasp at her rear. 

"Come on, at least something!" 

He shrugged, "I mean, I'm willing to take another method of payment..." 

"Is that right?" She giggled. "Well, I can arrange that." 

"I was hoping so, because I'd hate to turn it over to collections." He poked, kissing her jaw as her arms wrapped around his neck, giggling at his banter. 

"Oh, I definitely don't want that!" She laughed, melting into his touch as he began to guide her back towards the bed, easing her against the mattress as he rest between her legs, caging her between his arms while his lips caged against hers. 

"We can work on a payment plan, love." He smirked against her lips. 

"Did you sneak one of your allies on the plane with you?" She asked, her hips jolting at the faint sensation of a vibration against her thigh, immediately assuming it was that small vibrator she kept in her nightstand. 

"No, I won't need that," He chuckled against her lips, using his left hand to fish his phone out of his pocket, grumbling to himself that it had been ringing in the first place. "It's that son of ours. Wonder what he's gotten himself into." 

"Are you going to answer it?" She giggled, watching him stare blankly at the screen as if he were waiting for Baler's caller I.D. to disappear. 

He shot her a quick side glance, a playful glare before his thumb slide right against the screen before pressing the phone against his ear, "Yeah?" 

"So, uh... I have a question." Baler spoke from the other end of the phone, mischief lacing his voice. 

Simon knew he was up to something.

And he didn't like it. Especially with he and Kiera being distant miles apart. 

He sighed, "What?" 

"Well, technically Soap has a question, but he was too scared to ask you-"

"Spit it out, lad." 

"So you know how Jacob has a full head of hair?" 

"You mean beautiful, thick blonde hair for a one-year-old?" He scoffed. "What about it?" 

"Well," Baler sighed. "Uncle Johnny thought it would be funny to make Jacob look like him-"

"Uncle Johnny is going to be looking like ground lamb if you're not joking," He scoffed, his mood quickly souring at Baler's words. "Send me a picture. Now." 

"What happened, babe?" Kiera asked, her brows furrowing. 

He sighed as he put the phone on speaker, "Repeat what you just said to me." 

"Hey momma," Baler chuckled out of nervousness. "Uncle Johnny gave Jacob a haircut." 

"Baler, sweetheart, you're lying through your teeth, and you know it. Johnny knows better-"

"No, he doesn't, love." Simon reminded her, arching his brow. 

"Baler, do you promise you're calling to tell us our precious baby boy received an unwanted haircut?" 

A few moments of silence pass by. 

"That's what I thought," She commented, reassuringly rubbing Simon's arm while they heard two sets of laughter on the other end of the phone. "He's just messing with you, babe." 

"He better fucking be." 

"Hey!" Baler chimed. "Mom said no cussing!"

Simon huffed in defeat, "Take the phone, please. That lad is going to make my blood pressure go up." 

"You forgot to mute me, dad!" Baler snickered. 

"Did he fall for it?" Soap chimed in from the background. 

Kiera giggled while she took the phone from Simon's hand, rolling over onto her stomach while he stood to his feet to walk across the room to pick up the room service menu, playfully tapping Kiera's rear when he sat back down on the edge of the bed, grasping her ankles and putting her feet on his lap, removing her shoes for her while his thumb gently massaged the arches of her feet while his other hand clasped the service menu. 

"Thanks for raising Simon's blood pressure, you two." Kiera giggled. 

"You two haven't been gone for an entire day and I've been itching to piss dad off," Baler snickered. "Johnny put me up to it." 

"Oh, I don't doubt he did. Jacob still has his full head of hair, right?"

"Yes, momma," Baler confirmed. "I can't say the same about Evie though..." 

Simon's head snapped towards the phone at the mention of Evie's name, "He better be bloody joking!" 

Baler and Johnny both laughed through the phone, "Perfect head of hair still, mate, we're just toying!" 

"You two don't need to be spending too much time together," Kiera giggled. "Nothing but trouble!" 

"Well, I didn't want to call with some boring conversation, momma," Baler chuckled. "Nana hasn't let them out of her sight." 

"I'm glad she hasn't." Simon commented, a breath of relief leaving his lips. 

"What've you been up to?"

"I just got home from school and am about to go take care of barn chores before I do my homework." 

"Good," She smiled. "How are Kimber and Church?" 

"Kimber is annoying. Church doesn't care about anything going on. He likes having the house to himself. Nana has been letting me stay with her so she can take me to school and so I can help her with the twins."

"I'm proud of you, baby," She smiled. "You make sure you keep up with your homework, okay?" 

"I will, momma. I miss you guys." 

"We miss you too. I'm already homesick." 

"Don't be. We've got the fort grounded here. Uncle Johnny is ready to fill in dad's shoes." 

"He has big shoes to fill." Simon commented. 

"I know. I told him that but he says he'd rather fill slippers than clown shoes." 

"Hang up on him." He replied sternly, although both Kiera and Baler both knew that he was being sarcastic. 

"Anyway, I just wanted to call and check in and make sure you two got to Vegas safe. I tried calling your phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

"Awe, thank you. You should know I'm always safe. I'm sorry, my phone died on the plane." 

"Okay, well I'm going to jump off here and finish the barn chores. I'll tell Nana to call you later."

"Okay, baby. Let me know how Sailor is!" She reminded, referring to her horse. 

"I can already tell you how he is: still a prick."

Baler's answer made Simon chuckle, "He's not wrong, love." 

She scoffed, "Whatever you say." 

"I'll talk to you guys later. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." 

"I love you, dad!" He chimed, knowing Simon loved him, but he genuinely enjoyed getting under his father's skin. 

"Love you too." 

[cannoliramblings]

Professor Locryn Phineas Penhale | The Diffident Professor

Image from here.

Tag: #Diffident Professor

In game accounts: non-seeking and seeking

Age: 31 years old

Height: 5' 7"

Weight: 140 lbs

Pronouns: They/them

Gender: Non-binary (agender)

Sexuality: Gay (they're into guys)

Open to RP: Yes

Open to shipping: Maybe, depends on the vibes. They will like you if you're nice to them.

Their voice is a hesitant tenor, quiet and gentle.

Affiliation: Revolutionaries, The Great Game, eventually they will seek.

Occupation: Mycology and paleomycology professor and researcher at Benthic College

Backstory: Locryn didn't have a very good life on the surface. They don't remember a lot about their early childhood - probably for the better - and they left home and changed their name at 10 or so years old. Locryn was always an outcast, even on the surface. They never really had support or friends, and they were taken advantage of a few times by various criminal groups and groups of urchins who they had to join to survive. Every time it looked like they had a place to go or people who seemed to care about them, things would go wrong, and they'd be hurt or betrayed or worse. Locryn's fungal research served as their escape from the chaos of life. Socially, they relied on themselves, pushing down any loneliness that was brewing.

Locryn only made their way down to the Neath about 2 months ago, and have been gradually trying to get their bearings. Their sanity was never great on the surface (they probably had at least one stint in a surface mental hospital), but it’s been much more fragile than usual since they’ve arrived in London. Even in their first two months here, they’ve already had bad experiences with some of the factions (namely the mycologene poets and the Somerset College scholars), but somehow they were able to get a job teaching and researching at Benthic College, and Astrid was able to help them get a room with Juno.

Relationships:

Astrid is Locryn's friend who they've kind of latched onto. They really appreciate her companionship.

Juno's their landlady and ve scares them a little bit. They don't trust ver, but they always try to be friendly.

May/The Merry Gentlemen is Locryn's love interest, they are mutually attracted to each other and do not have the healthiest relationship. They have been intimate.

Personality: Locryn can be very innocent and cautious, especially in new situations, but opens up quickly if they trust they won’t be rejected. They're friendly but struggle a lot with social skills and actually making friends. They withdraw quickly from situations where they sense they’ll be rejected or laughed at. Locryn is someone who will only resort to violence if needed, and they’re not a very strong fighter. Locryn is very intelligent and they have more book smarts than street smarts. They always keep their word, and they’re an honest and steadfast person. They can be stubborn at times, and once they’ve embarked on an endeavor, academic or otherwise, it’s hard to get them to stop. They sometimes struggle to accept help from others, but honestly need it more than they let on, but they worry about being too dependent and having that drive people away. Quite honestly, if you want to be Locryn’s friend, you just need to be nice to them and care about them, and they will accept it. Locryn wears their heart on their sleeve - they are so unbelievably bad at hiding their emotions.

They usually live with Astrid and Juno in a house between Veilgarden and Spite, but they're at the Royal Beth more often than anyone should be.

If you want other random snippets about Locryn please let me know lol. They can answer questions, or I can on their behalf.

[pocketramblr]

5+ ask game: Endeavor is a good dad and a decent human being, please?

Edit: yes this is the thing that made me go :3 last night when I figured it out

..... I'll try, for you, I'll try, darling

1- because Enji is a decent human being, he does not think that eugenics and forcing a child to be an extension of him against a one sided rival is a good idea and does not seek out a quirk marriage, instead looking into support tech and other strategies to get stronger. He even tries some enhancing drugs a while, but knows they won't help long term and stops.

2- focusing on tech instead, Enji visits i-Island. Contrary to what some might think, his eventual working with David Shield was not an attempt to take something away from All Might. In fact he didn't even really want to work with Dave at all, not going with an All Might partner, copying and trailing behind him again- but Dave saw him trying to avoid him and said "no", gleam in his eye, and he is the best there. Enji knows it's technically his best chance, and honestly Dave is much less annoying to work with than All Might. (Enji is happy All Might is so strong! It's a good thing he can save so many people! He knows his jealousy is an ugly thing under his competitive driving him to save others too, but he won't deny that he just doesn't get along personally with him, and really wants to just win.)

3- Dave is even nice to work with. Very nice, you could say- ok I'll cut the act. Melissa has her father's blue eyes- Enji's blue eyes. But not his quirk.

Enji, decent person though, doesn't care. He's honestly happy when she wants to be like David- Heroics is noble, sure, but it's both dangerous and it brings him unhappiness even with contentment. He won't be happy losing to All Might, he won't be happy quitting, he knows it's lose lose. He hopes that avoiding heroics means Melissa avoids that unhappiness he couldn't.

He's a good dad- but his eye still twitches every time he hears his daughter call his rival "Uncle Might" which is precisely why David taught her to do it.

4- Meanwhile, the Himura's sold Rei off to a wealthy buisnessman with a strong quirk. She bears two sets of twins, and then one more boy, before he's satisfied that this one- the youngest with one grey eye and one green, black splotches around the later that tell him he's got an heir with his quirk, with his father's quirk. If he were smart, he'd realize the half white and half orange hair meant that he'd have just as much as ice quirk as a stress quirk.

5- years later, Endeavor's house almost gets broken by a blast of ice as two desperate teens, the younger he knows must barely be older than his Melissa, break in. He's solved more incidents than All Might, surely he'll believe and help them- and he listens as they tell about their mother trapped in a mental hospital that neglects her, each of their twins- the stronger of each set- competing violently for their father's approval as second place to the heir- the little brother they tried so hard to rescue, but wouldn't have made it out of Deika with. Endeavor calms Fuyumi and Natsuo down, promising to help rescue their mother and brothers Touya, Geten, and Shoto from their father and the MLA.

And then I guess he adopts them too and Melissa gets 3-5 new siblings?

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[221bshrlocked]

masked in desperation

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6044

Warnings: Verbal Degradation. Physical Humiliation involving Din making reader wet herself. Dirty Talk. Penetrative, Non-Protective Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong por favor). Rough then Soft Din. Don't worry, this is consensual and there is aftercare involved.

No summary because I don't even know what to call this? All you guys need to know is that this fic is based on/inspired by the following asks [x] [x] [x] [x]

A/N: Uhhh this is new for me so I'm sorry if I didn't get the dynamic involved with a humiliation kink right. Please let me know how I could correct anything should there be something off. This was supposed to be rougher...but I turned soft midway because nervous Din makes me warm. I hope you like it nonetheless though. Comments are hella appreciated. And you can add yourself to the taglist here. Enjoy and please don't @ me once you finish this fic. And I apologize that it took long, this semester was hell.

It was an act of crazed desire concealed beneath irritation and anger, irritation with you for managing to claw yourself into his heart and anger at himself for allowing you to do so freely. He couldn't deny his feelings anymore, not if he wanted to retain whatever sanity he had left around you. What started out as nothing but stress relief and a way to help with the pain left behind by Grogu leaving turned into Din wishing he could stake his claim on you every moment of every day so you wouldn't seek anyone else out. Not that he genuinely believed you would. Still...

And it wasn't like this was any different from what the two of you usually do. At least that's what he says to excuse his twisted behavior, to not dwell too much on his sick, possessive fantasies.

It was driving him mad. He wanted to mark you up, always did during those passionate nights, loved watching as you tried, and failed, to cover up his love bites and handprints from the guild members. But he also craved to feel the same way. He wanted to bear traces of you on him so people knew how much he cared for you, perhaps even recognized the hold you have on him. The only problem was, no one would ever see the angry nail scratches and bite marks you left every night on his skin because of his beskar. So this, this would do the trick, even if it was barely noticeable, even if it would be gone when he washed his beskar, even if the two of you would be the only ones who knew what happened behind closed doors.

The weird thing was, he doesn't even know how he got to this point. Well, that's not true. He can actually trace his way to this moment, but he feels ashamed to do so? Reluctant maybe. It didn't matter what he was feeling at this point. All he knew was that he needed to watch you as you humiliated yourself in front of him, and had no power to do anything about it. Perhaps it was because, deep down, he wanted to show you that he'd accept you no matter what. He wanted to prove to you that he may just be worthy of having you in his arms. He wanted to assure you that he would be committed to you until his dying breath. And this, in some way, was the solution.

Before he can reevaluate and dwell too much on his decision, he fills a cup with water and heads towards you, ignoring the Marshal's glances as he approaches you and taps on your shoulders.

"Yeah?" You turn around, and Din forces himself to stand his ground when he sees your smile growing wider as you take the water from his hand. "Oh aren't you sweet. Careful, or else they'll think you're growing soft." You tease him as you down the cup of water and hand it back to him before returning to fixing the ship. He says nothing as he walks back towards the cantina, and resumes his quiet meditation.

And that's how it goes for the next couple of hours. He brings you a cup of water every so often, murmuring something or other about how he doesn't have time to take care of you if you suffered from a heat stroke before leaving immediately. Din quietly thanks the maker for your discomfort with public refreshers, because this plan wouldn't have worked if you decided to go to the cantina or elsewhere to relieve yourself. He's locked his ship's refresher and made sure to not be anywhere in sight when you sought him out to ask about the issue with the door.

He feels himself grow harder when he notices you squirming as you work on the ship, softly palming himself through his pants when you halt your movements every couple of minutes to either cross your legs or push your hand between your thighs to attempt and alleviate some of that pain. A part of him feels horrible for putting you through this, but something tells him it will be worth it in the end. Din Djarin isn't a man of prayer, but he pleads to whatever higher power that created you that this wouldn't backfire and make you leave him.

As the twin suns slowly set beneath the sky, Din moves away from where he's been hiding and heads towards the ship, making sure he is in your line of sight as he walks up the ramp and towards his armory. He quickly takes out the durasteel cuffs from where he's set them, hiding them behind his back as he pretends to head towards the cockpit.

However, he stops when he sees you rushing past him and setting all of your tools aside. You're mumbling angrily beneath your breath when things begin to fall over, growling when you try to fix them a couple of more times, and they continue to fall.

"Motherfucking shit," Din hears you swear as you carelessly try to set the box again and it falls over. Shaking your head, you turn around and sprint past him again towards the refresher. His eyes never leave your shaking form as you push on the refresher button numerous times and nothing happens.

"Pfassk! Din, how angry would you be if I broke this fucking door right now?" You try to grab the gun on his holster but he is quicker than you, slamming his hand on your own to prevent you from taking it.

"Extremely." His answer is short and straight to the point, mostly because he can't trust himself to respond to you without giving himself away.

"God please I- I need..." You hesitate and try to remove your hand from him, only to feel his hold tighten around your wrist. He thought you'd break and confess what you needed to do due to your desperation, but you don't, holding your tongue and looking up at him quizzically when he removes your wrist and clasps one side of the cuff on them.

"Din, what- what're you doing?" You look down and watch as he clasps the cuffs on your other wrist and ensures that they aren't too tight around your wrists before he locks them. Before you can ask him again, Din drags you across the ship and into the cockpit, ignoring your annoyed murmurs as he sits down and pulls you onto his lap.

You squirm around and try to get up but Din’s hold on your waist tightens and he slides you against his beskar until you fall into his chest. He says nothing as you push away and try to maneuver yourself so your legs aren’t wide open. He chuckles lowly when he sees how much you’re struggling, finally allowing you to put some space between the two of you. You rest your back against the controls board and take a few deep breaths before you stare at him.

“Can you please let me go?” You ask patiently, and hope he sees how genuine and serious you’re being. When he sits back but keeps his hold on you, you know he isn’t going to make this easy.

“Why?”

“Because I- I need to take care of something,” you look away when you respond and Din feels his cock twitch in his pants at the sudden shyness taking over.

“How about you let me take care of you?” He takes his gloves off and throws them aside, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver as he moves his hands up and down your body. You watch him like a hawk and you feel yourself growing wet for a moment, but you realize this reaction is the last thing you want to experience in his presence right now.

“Wait Din- just...it’s not like that.” You bite your lower lip and stifle a moan when he cups your tits and softly flicks at your hardened nipples.

“No? And yet here you are melting at my touch...your body knows me mesh’la, it’s blooming for me and I’ve barely touched you. Sweet girl, don’t you want me to make you feel good? I’ve been thinking about you all day long, about kissing you until you’re breathless...and biting you until you have my mark everywhere. Don’t you want me to show you just how much I’ve missed you?” Din knows he’s not being fair but the way your eyes are glowing with lust is enough to ground him so he could carry out his plan.

“I- I do...fuck, Din- I really do. I barely think of anything else...but I really need to-” You shut your eyes and groan as soon as you feel Din’s hand descend down your chest and rest on your lower stomach. He supports your back as he slowly begins to push against your navel, watching with fascination as your face contorts from pain and pleasure the harder he pushes on your muscles. You’re not sure what’s happening for a few seconds until you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His visor prevents you from seeing what he’s thinking but none of it matters when you feel him shift underneath you before he eases up. You sigh in relief but Din repeats his actions, only this time, he’s becoming a little more aggressive with his touches.

"N-no wait please I-"

"What's the matter mesh'la? You're usually fucking me like a loth-cat in heat by now, begging for me to have my way with you...take what I want until you feel properly fucked and filled with my cum." Din leans forward, never once easing up as he begins to move you over his beskar-clad thigh. There’s not much you can do due to the cuffs and how much advantage Din has over you in terms of muscle and size so you do the only thing that’s left.

You beg.

"Please, please Din I- I just...I need to-" It takes every ounce of control not to let go of your body’s function and you realize you’re not making much sense when Din cuts you off again and asks you what you want.

"Need to what? Go on sweet girl, tell me. What do you need?" His motions become more rough as he alternates between shoving his hand against your bladder and moving your clothed heat across his thigh. Din wants nothing more than to push you to the floor and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but him, but he tries his best to keep himself in check until he gets what he wants.

"I'll do anything Din just...need the- the refresher. I'm so- so...maker, please wait-" The controls dig into your back the more you lay on them but you can’t find it in yourself to care because a different kind of pain shoots down your spine when Din brings you closer to him and hikes your shirt up. His palms are warm against your skin and you hate how good they feel because this was not how you saw the day going with him.

"You know the safeword. Say it if you want me to let you go and I will." His tone shifts and you throw all caution aside as you confess to him why you need to leave.

"Din please...I really need to pee. I- I'll come back right away but I- oh it's too much, t-too much." You think he’s going to apologize and let you go when you tell him but all your admission does is cause him to momentarily stop before he wraps his arms around you and stands up. He’s pushing you up against the wall, not caring for what you just said to him or how rough he’s being as he nudges his leg in between your thighs and resumes his antics from before.

"I know."

The curt response washes over you like ice and your eyes begin to water as soon as Din takes off his helmet and you see him smiling down at you. You don’t know that you’re shaking in his arms but he leans down and nuzzles into the crook of your neck to commit the moment to memory. He loves the effect he’s having on you and although a small part of him feels bad, he doesn’t bother or care to hold back as he brings himself flush against you, the action causing his beskar to push deeper against your navel and have his desired effect.

"Din?" He thinks your whimpers might make him cum right then and there but he takes a deep breath before he pulls away and looks down at you. He’s sure that his eyes don’t convey an ounce of guilt at the moment, the opposite actually, and it only brightens his smile as he pulls down your tank top strap far enough to give him access to the top of your breasts. Din moves closer to you and lays lazy kisses across your heated skin, all the while attempting to grab your attention so he could tell you what he wanted.

"Why do you think I kept handing you water all day ner ka'rta?"

"W-wha-?" Your sniffles pull at his heart but he knows that you’re not in any physical danger and that all you need to do is whisper your safeword and he’d let you go. When a tear drop trails down your chin and hits his forehead, Din has to pull away to take a better look at you. He hates how much he loves the way you’re looking at him right now, like he’s simultaneously a villain and a savior to your predicament.

"And who do you think locked the refresher? Sweet girl… I thought you were smarter than that." Your surprised gasp adds more to the innocence he’s seeing in you and it’s the last straw before he holds onto your waist and begins to move you across his thigh again.

"You what?"

“Go on pretty, I know how much you’re trying to hold it in. ‘m not letting you go any time soon,” Din talks down at you and if you weren’t trying to prevent yourself from embarrassing yourself in front of him, you’d think it was the sexiest tone he’s had with you yet. But it’s getting more difficult to control your bladder and even though you get the sense that he will probably win in the end, you still try to hold off as much as possible.

“Look at you trying so hard...prettiest fucking sight in the galaxy. And do you know what makes it even better? I can smell how much you want me...this tight, wet cunt is begging for my cock. You can have me sweetheart, you can have me right now if you want. But you know what you have to do.” You’re shaking in his arms and plead pathetically when he applies more pressure on your navel. You try to ask him why again but you can’t find the words and resume moaning his name as he uses you.

And that’s what he’s doing. He’s using you. Like he owns you. Like he has the right to control every muscle in your body. You’re not sure what it is that made him act like this all of a sudden and you know it ultimately doesn’t matter because like he said, he won’t be stopping any time soon. It’s just strange that he wants this. He wants you to embarrass yourself. He’s practically helping your body let loose so you could wet yourself. You try to convince yourself that nothing about this should be turning you on, but the way his eyes are hazed with lust and desperation makes you reevaluate your thoughts and you manage to look up at him as he begins to speak again.

“It’s okay mesh’la, you can let go. Let go, now! Make a mess sweetheart. Make a mess of me, I won’t fuck you till you ruin my beskar and make this ship dirty. Go on. Or do you want me to help you again?” Din isn’t sure what’s come over him but he doesn’t hold back anymore, slipping his hand underneath your pants and pushing hard on your bladder until he feels your thighs squeeze around him.

“D-din fuck...oh- my...maker I- I can’t-” You throw your head back as you fist your hands into his cowl, holding on to that last bit of self control before you’re no longer able to. As he lifts his hand and pushes again, the thread breaks and tears slowly roll down your cheeks as you frown up at Din when your bladder gives out. Din looks into your eyes one last time before his attention moves south and his jaw clenches tightly when he notices the material of your pants grow darker the more you relieve yourself.

He doesn’t bother to stop, continuing to apply pressure on your lower stomach as a day’s worth of water floods down your legs and onto his beskar. He watches with fascination as his pants grow wet as well before he hears the faint sound of droplets falling onto his ship. You follow his line of sight and whimper in embarrassment when you notice just how big of a mess you made. There’s a small puddle forming where the two of you are standing and your nervousness only grows when you see how wet Din’s pants are.

When there’s nothing left and your shaking subsides a little, Din removes his hand from you and returns it to your waist, squeezing the skin he has access to so he wouldn’t strip you and fuck you in the middle of your mess. Every time he moves his foot, he can hear the soft splashing sound of the puddle underneath him and it only makes him harder. When he finally looks at you, he’s met with the most vulnerable expression he’s ever seen on you and although he wants nothing more than to kiss you and apologize, he allows himself to go just a little further until he sees you’re no longer able to put up with him.

“D-din...you- you made me, I-”

“Oh sweet girl, I made you do nothing.” The look of shock on your face is worth the hassle and he watches as you pout your lower lip before more tears leave your gorgeous eyes.

“You’re just a filthy girl, wetting yourself in the middle of my ship and not caring how dirty you’ve become...you really couldn’t hold it in cyar’ika? Look at this, look at the mess you made of my armor. You know how valuable beskar is and yet you pissed all over it. And my ship!? Didn’t we just clean this ship pretty?” Din could feel you melting into him with every word that passes through his lips and when you look away from him, his smile falls and he quickly grabs your neck, turning it straightforward so he could look into your eyes.

“No, you don’t get to look away from me when you’ve just pissed all over yourself and me. Maybe I should change your name, call you ad’ika from now on.” He has to hold back from smiling when he sees the moment you recognize the word. He’s only ever used that word whenever he talked with Grogu and you knew exactly why he was bringing it up now. “You’re my little girl aren’t you? My filthy, pretty little ad’ika who can’t fucking control herself and marked me up like she has the right...like she owns me.” Din watches as your expression softens a bit at his last admission and he trails his gaze down your nose until he is only focusing on your lips.

You can’t help but also stare at his lips and Din uses the brief moment of distraction to unbutton your pants and slip his hand into your panties, humming in approval when he feels the wet fabric scratch deliciously at his knuckles. You gasp when you feel his fingers softly rubbing your slit and as you look into his dark brown eyes, Din slips two fingers into your wet cunt and stops.

“Fuck, you’re so wet ad’ika, so warm and wet and ready for me.” He nudges his fingers deeper into he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You know immediately what he wants to do and reach for his arms as he grows closer to you. When they begin to get in the way, Din takes hold of the cuffs and raises them high above your head until the cuffs are glued to the wall. He can’t stop from smiling down at you, all stretched out and ready to be thoroughly fucked. But he doesn’t give in just yet.

“Din it’s...you’ll get dirty. I- I don’t want you to-”

“I don’t fucking care,” he growls as he leans down and bites shoulder again, moaning against your skin when he feels your cunt clench around him. “That’s it, open up for me...let me make you feel good. I- I want you to scream my name sweetheart, scream my name as you make a mess of me. Please...I need it, need- maker...need you to drench me again.” His words twist something inside of you and you lean back as he moves his thick fingers in and out of you until you feel that familiar pressure all over again.

“Oh Din...your fingers f-feel so- so good.”

“That’s right ad’ika, only I get to touch you. Only I get to watch you come undone...only I get to wear your scent, your beautiful fucking wet scent. I- I won’t wash this armor sweet girl, not when you’ve marked it...marked me, this much. Go on, be a good girl and make a mess of me. Let me walk around with the smell of you etched on my fucking beskar.” You whimper at the filthy whispers Din breathes against you and just as you’re about to come, Din grabs your pants along with your damp panties and pushes them as far down as he could. You bite into your lower lip as he tries to push his digits deeper into you, and when you finally manage to turn and look at him, you hold your breath as you see the way he’s looking at you, into you.

“Cum for me. Now.”

The quiet order, along with the pace of his touches, breaks you and you force yourself to not shut your eyes as your pussy throbs around his fingers, a wave of euphoria washing over you so swiftly you think you’ll faint. Din momentarily turns his attention to your heat once again and he hisses when he feels you coming on his hand just as you squirt on his beskar and the floor of the ship. You’re unable to form a coherent sentence as Din refuses to slow down and your eyes water again when the hold he has on your waist becomes more painful than before.

“Maker...you’re perfect.” Din kisses your neck as he finally decides to slow down but the way he continues to rub your clit with his palm does little to calm your nerves and you don’t realize how much you’re shaking until everything quiets down and all that you can hear is the sound of Din’s heavy breathing and your own heaving and sniffling. You wince when he fully removes his hand from you and helps you out of your pants and shoes. He takes a step back and groans when he sees how spent and ruined you look as you stand on your tiptoes and try to calm down.

As you try to catch your breath, Din unlocks both cuffs and throws them aside, reaching down and grabbing your ass so he could support your weight against him. You jump on instinct and moan when you feel the cold beskar against your skin as Din grinds into your soaked heat. He doesn’t waste another moment, diving in and claiming your lips until he could feel your teeth nipping at his tongue. He makes sure he has a good grip on you before he moves to the refresher and as soon as the two of you are standing in front of it, he pushes a code into the pad and unlocks the door. You pull away for a moment to look into his eyes, the silence of your gaze knocking the breath out of him as you hide into his neck. It takes but a second for Din to realize that he shouldn’t try to push your limits any further for the night.

His touches grow softer as he carefully sets you down on the floor of the refresher. Din can see you’re shivering from the cold room and makes quick work of his clothes and armor, choosing to leave his boxer briefs on so you wouldn’t think of anything else. He leans down and taps twice on your shoulders so you could raise them above your head. As you do, you look everywhere else but him and the gesture is a little too raw for Din because as he strips you down to nothing, he’s leaning down and kissing your forehead until he feels you relax in his arms.

When he’s satisfied with your slowing heart rate, he stands up and turns on the water, making sure to stand in front of you and block you from the cold water until it turns warm. Even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy it, he turns the hot water just a little further, knowing how much you preferred it when it struck your skin.

Grabbing the bar of soap you bought from the last hunt, Din sits down and rests his back against the cold metal of the wall before pulling you towards him.

“Come to me mesh’la.” His voice is much more controlled and mellow than minutes before and you melt back into him as soon as his skin comes into contact with yours. You rest your back against his shoulder and sigh heavily when his hands begin to massage your arms. The scent of flowers hits your nostrils in seconds, making you relax even more as the soap washes away any trace of what you and Din had just done.

Din kisses your shoulder and neck as he rubs the soap on your chest and stomach, keeping his touches as appropriate as possible to distract himself from the hardening issue he was struggling with. Although he prefers you all sweaty and dirty, he makes sure to wash every inch of you, knowing that you probably needed to feel clean after...after what he’s done.

He pushes your back until you’re leaning forward far enough for him to wash your back as well. His breath hitches when he sees evidence of his touches on your skin from previous nights. Some of them have turned a light blue color while others were still purple.

Fuck. He didn’t know his grip was this harsh. He was a little guilty for bruising your skin, your lovely, beautiful, gorgeous skin. But the more he saw as he rubbed the soap over your back, the more pride he felt in his chest at the knowledge that he was the only one allowed to mark you.

“D-din…” You moan his name when he pulls you back into his chest and you feel his hands descend lower to wash your thighs. You think that he’s going to touch you where you ache for him but when he focuses on your thighs, you realize that he wasn’t going to go anywhere near your throbbing cunt.

“I’m here sweet girl, let me take care of you.” His whispers are laced with promises and affection and you’re not sure what to make of it. He’s never been this intense, this touch-starved, even this controlling. There’s something about the events of the night that tug at your heart and you wish you could ask him what has changed all of a sudden. But you don’t, instead repeating his words from earlier over and over again as he continues to wash you.

He told you, although indirectly, that you had the right to...to mark him, to own him. He begged you to drench him so everyone would know that he’s yours. That you’re his.

“Din please,” overcome with emotions, you slap the bar of soap away from him and use his surprise to your advantage, quickly turning around and holding onto his broad shoulders as you straddled his thighs.

“Ner ka'rta, we don’t have t-” Din keeps his hands to himself as he feels you rub yourself on his clothed cock. You instantly cut him off, molding your lips with his in a bruising kiss until his arms wrapped around your back. When you knew you had him, you pulled away and laid kisses across his handsome features. He was a moaning mess in no time and when you took hold of his chin and pushed it back, Din felt like he was travelling through the stars, the rough nips you were leaving across the jugular of his neck making him notice just how needy you were.

The hot water cascaded down your back as you assaulted Din’s skin and when you felt him grab your waist and begin to move you across of him, you knew he wasn’t going to deny you from what you wanted. Needed. Craved.

“I need you...now, please Din. I need to feel you inside me.”

“But-”

“Please? Oh maker, I- you said...you said you’d give me your cock if I wanted. And I do. I want you, I want your cock. I- you promised. I- I’ll do anything.” The sound of your desperate pleas sends a shiver down his spine and Din nods frantically just before you pull him out of his briefs.

“You- you’ve done enough for me cyar’ika. So so much. And I- I...oh-” Din throws his head back and shuts his eyes as soon as you lower yourself on his hard cock. He thinks he’s going to cum right then and there, but then you’re moving on top of him and squeezing him so tightly and he realizes that he needed to feel more of you. You cry out his name over and over again as he twitches against your tight walls, and when his eyes snap wide open and look at you, you can’t help but lean forward and bite into his shoulder to keep some semblance of control.

“S-sweet girl...lovely girl, tell me you’re mine.”

The short request causes you to falter in your pace but Din decides to take over again, wrapping his arms around you as he begins to move you on top of him.

“I- I’m yours Din, I’m yours. No one else can fuck me like you, n-no one can kiss me and touch me and take care of me like you...gods, you’re amazing. And you’re mine,” Din groans when he hears the last of your words and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you continue to whisper sweet things to him.

“You hear that Din...you’re mine. You- you belong to me, you touch only me...you, oh maker, you fuck only me. This cunt is yours baby and your cock was made for it. Made for me. You l-love only me. Right Din? P-please I’m...already so close. Tell me Din because you know...know that I love you. I love you. No one else. J-just you-”

Din is sure he might be suffocating you with how hard he’s hugging you right now but he doesn’t seem to notice because all he can hear is your declarations of love and commitment. Neither of you have ever come close to being this intimate but his earlier actions apparently unlocked something in the two of you.

You loved him. Even though he could be kinder, and was definitely too broken. You still loved him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. P-pfassk...I love you mesh’la. Only you...always you.” Din comes with a cry when he feels your nails digging into his back and he growls as his cock throbs inside you until he’s filled you with his cum. But he doesn’t stop, instead maintaining his pace just to see you fall apart one last time. It’s all too much and not enough, and he’s already oversensitive from coming but he has only himself to blame considering how much he edged himself the entire day. When he hears your gasps turn quieter, he knows you’re close and slithers his hand between your bodies to flick your clit. You moan into his shoulder as you quickly peak one last time, the touch of his fingers reminding you of what he’s done earlier and in a matter of seconds, you’re clenching around him so hard to the point where you’re not sure if you’re experiencing pain or pleasure.

Neither of you say anything as you slowly return to yourselves. When Din moves to try and turn the water off, you accidentally dig your nails deeper into his shoulder and make him hiss.

“S-sorry.” The small apology does something to Din and he decides that he needs to do this now and not when the two of you are in his cot. Twisting his hand into your hair, Din pulls it back until you’re forced to look at him. You stare at each other for what feels like hours before you lean forward and kiss him. It’s much slower and kinder than the earlier kisses and you smile when Din unintentionally thrusts into you. He pulls away and returns your expression when he sees how genuine it is.

“I think I should be the one apologizing ad’ika.”

You know what he’s referring to and you think that perhaps he’s beginning to feel more guilt at what he’s done but you brush it aside with a joke so he knew there was nothing of concern.

“Not sure what you’re talking about Din,” you leave a quick peck on his nose as you rest your cheek on his chest and hug him tightly. He recognizes what you’re doing right away and decides to not fight you, instead maneuvering you off of him to shut the water off. You try to stand but your legs give out immediately. Forutrantly for you, Din is there to catch you and he ignores your complaints as he carries you out of the refresher and into his room. You watch as he brings two towels and proceeds to dry you off, handing you the other one to dry your hair. You giggle when he almost stubs his toe as he comes back with a set of new clothes.

Din ignores your comments when you ask him why he was handing you one of his long sleeve shirts instead of your own, quickly putting on a pair of boxers before throwing the towels back into the refresher. When he comes back, you’re already comfortable and warm in his bed, the sight of you sniffing his pillows causing him to think of a multitude of thoughts. He brushes them all aside when you make room for him and ask him to come to you.

As he slithers underneath the covers, you waste no time and move closer to him until you’re sure you’re touching every inch of his skin.

“Are you okay mesh’la?” Although you know what he’s referring to by that question, you don’t bring up the topic, instead nuzzling into his chest. The sigh of content you hear tells you that he’s not overthinking what happened too much, and it signals for you to do the same because even though you never expected the day’s events, you can’t help but admit to yourself that one thing which you know Din will bring up when the two of you have properly rested.

As strange and sudden as it was, Din’s treatment of you turned you on.

Translations:

Mesh'la - beautiful

Cyar'ika - beloved

Ad'ika - little one

Ner ka'rta - my heart or my soul

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

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Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @marsplsstop @ezrasbirdie @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @lamelyssher @giselatropicana @pescopadral @blackmarketmummy @laviipopii @ew-erin @fan-of-encouragement @melody13522 @clydesducktape @planetariumx @sambucky21 @thirddeadlysin @leannawithacapitala @fangirl-316 @thou-creature-of-the-deep

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson @mrs-ghuleh @caitlynmarty

[just-come-baek]

body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au 

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

Warnings: a moderate amount of fluff | Johnny flirting with everybody in plain sight | Johnny stalks people out on social media | cursing | Doyoung being a huge dick | Doyoung flexing his hips | reader has inappropriate thoughts about Taeil | Taeyong being very demanding dance teacher | stressfull situations | drinking | reader is kind of bratty and Taeyong finds it really frustrating | frustrated/angry making out | as per smut | oral!female receiving | unprotected sex (never try it at home or else Imma tell your parents) | they kinda fuck in the open and kinda check our their refection in the mirror |

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well… last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

 ***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

 ***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.��

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

 ***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

“We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

 ***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

 ***

 On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

 ***

 The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor.  The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

 ***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 09 |  Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…”  Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat.  You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him.  “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later… Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”  

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. “...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp  near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound.  “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders.  “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

[inuyashaha]

Yashahime Episode 15

I think so many of my feelings and observations have been stated by others at this point, but here go my rambling thoughts anyway.

First the negative:  It was an oddly structured episode.  The introduction threw us straight into the past, very, very briefly framed by Riku as the narrator.  Did Riku break the fourth wall or were we to assume a listener we did not see?  I’m still not sure.  So much information was thrown at the audience that it did not feel like there was enough times to savor the emotions of the moments ...  very very important moments that showed us Inuyasha and Kagome’s home and married dynamic, pregnant Kagome, RIN HAVING HER BABIES with Kaede, Sango and Kagome being there (I LOVED that), Sesshomaru taking his babies...I’m willing to wait and assume this rushed narrative is on purpose, but it was a little jarring.

Now the good:

Rin is the mommy!  I knew that.  I was convinced on August 1st during the livestream, but it was a sweet (if all too brief) moment.  Mamiko Noto’s voice as Rin was so perfect.  It was sweet, but it was subdued.  It was the voice of a someone who had just birthed twins and knows something awful is about to go down.  To hear her name the babies was a beautiful moment, and how sweet were baby Towa and Setsuna.  Towa looked a little grumpy/sleepy, but baby Setsuna was already smiling :).  I do think they will show that Setsuna, deep down, is a smiling sweet girl like her mother and that circumstances made her like she is.  It also makes me think that we have only seen one side of Towa -- we haven’t really seen what she has inherited from Sesshomaru -- yet.

I loved that all of Rin’s friends surrounded her and helped her have her babies.  The twins hurrying to get Kaede, Sango going for Kagome...it was a community event!  But seriously, to know that if only for a short while, Rin got to be surrounded by love and peace with her babies by her side makes the bitterness of Sesshomaru taking the babies so quickly afterwards a little easier to bear.  Just a little.  Sango the experienced mom.  Kaede the midwife.  Rin the new mom.  Kagome the expectant mom.  Imagine the conversations and bonding.  Their kids should have grown up together :(. 

And I am going to speculate, until the show proves me wrong, that Rin probably had her own hut and continued to live in the village after she married Sesshomaru, or at least after she got pregnant.  The fact that the twins came to get Kaede at night makes me think that she was not in Kaede’s hut.  Wouldn’t Kaede be at her own place at night? 

Like Inuyasha and Kagome, I think Rin and Sesshomaru had their own place:

This looks different from Kaede’s hut.  I don’t remember the little pathway on the left, but it’s impossible to tell if they are next to the gate here.  Again, I’m choosing to believe they had their own place.

So, this makes me consider how much Sesshomaru really did settle down for Rin.  He gave up his titles.  He did not take her to a castle in the air.  He let her stay among her friends and start a family WITH HIM but still within the village.  He gave her the best of both worlds.  He MARRIED her.  How many times was she called his wife or bride?  She’s no concubine or human piece on the side.  He MARRIED her.  Since he had not seen his mother in a while, I’m assuming he married her in her village, letting everyone know she wasn’t just some poor village girl taken advantage of by the powerful yokai. And it clearly wasn’t just a human marriage.  All the big bad demons called Rin Sesshomaru’s wife. What honor, respect and love he showed to her, a mere human peasant (though of course we all know she is so much more than that, especially to Sesshomaru).

Was he like many lords and installed her in her own home, visiting and staying with her when he did not have business to attend to?  Or did he tell Inuyasha that he better get used to having another demon hanging out in his forest by the village?  Like...for all intents and purpose, Sesshomaru may have been living in the same village as Inuyasha, both intending to raise their families together.  I love that.  Please Yashahime, don’t dissuade me of this.

Poor Sesshomaru...sigh...I know it doesn’t look great for him right now...but that will change.  The story is not going to make him the villain.  It’s just not.  But yes, poor Sesshomaru.  He got to be happy about his babies being born for all of about two seconds before Zero interrupted him.  Look at his little smile while he listens to his daughters’ first cries:

He had his worried face on, and then he smiled.  He’s a dad in the waiting room.  And the TONE of Jaken’s voice when he declared that they had been born.  The WARMTH, the LOVE.  Grandpa Jaken I love you so much.

This bitch, though, I don’t love at all:

Does she have some kind of magic yokai ultrasound that lets her know Sesshomaru had twin daughters and predicted Kagome would have a daughter?  I look forward to seeing how this all unravels, but the fact that she showed up IMMEDIATELY after the girls were born is frightening, and maybe that was why Sesshomaru was at the outskirts of the village instead of closer by?  Clearly, they were expecting some kind of attack, but dang...that happened fast.

Who is this lady anyway?  I’ve seen it speculated that it may be Riku’s mother...and yes?  I could see that.  Did she have a hanyou she was not allowed to keep,  poor Riku tossed overboard, and now she seeks revenge? Or was she rejected by Toga? Those tears of hers.  Who was she crying for?

As many others noticed, this was a little odd:

What about Sesshomaru’s mother?  He hasn’t seen her in years (such a bad son), and when they go to her castle, she’s missing.  Was she just off doing flying dog stuff in the sky?  Was she shopping for expensive jewelry and designer silks?  I’m assuming she was not at Sesshomaru’s wedding.  Or did Zero do something to her and Sesshomaru just wasn’t aware?  I’m dying to see more of Sesshomaru’s mom.  I want her to meet the twins and just throw out her arms all, “Come to Grandma!  Let me buy you things and tell you stories about your dad.”  But that remains to be seen.

Speaking of grandparents, can I say yet again that I love the honorary grandparents Kaede and Jaken, both trying to protect Rin in their own way.  Kaede doesn’t hold back and calls Sesshomaru a fool (imagine what she was like when Sesshomaru was truly courting Rin) while Jaken comforts Rin when her babies are taken away.  Again, the voice acting by Jaken’s VA is EVERYTHING in this episode.  The LOVE he conveys.  He’s perfect.  I love him.  I do.

And Rin knew the plan. She knew what was going to happen, but poor thing...I wish it could have been different for her.  Look how much she loves and trusts Sesshomaru.  That expression clearly says “Look what I made! Look what WE made!”  I wish we could have seen them react to the babies together. 

Also, look at how Sango is about THISCLOSE to putting on her slayer clothes and kicking Sesshomaru’s ass when he scooped up those babies and turned away:

The rest of the episode was such a jumble of events.  Sesshomaru AND Jaken were with Inuyasha and Kagome when the comet arrived, which was after the twins’ birth but before Moroha’s.  Even if they are hanyo, I don’t think Jaken and Sesshomaru would have left newborn babies alone.  Rin was with them.  Jaken even said he was bringing Rin to them (I assume after she recovered from birthing twins).  Further supporting this would be the dream gazing spell business --  Like others have said, I’m pretty sure Rin sacrificed herself to keep her remaining daughter safe after Towa was pulled into the future.

Miscellaneous observations:

1. What the hell is going on with the comet? Every 500 years?  So, the Higurashis might be in for a surprise pretty soon?  Comet remnants are still in the sky though...

2. Why in the hell did Inuyasha bring his pregnant wife along for the comet destruction? Why exactly was she there?  Unless he was too worried about her safety to leave her behind?

3. Riku is one shady fellow.  HE found the compact?  How did he know where to look? I know, I know.  Don’t be hasty, but c’mon.  We don’t have that many episodes left.

4.  I like how they portrayed a pregnant Kagome.  I like this little side view where you can see she’s chunky, but it’s not an exaggerated thing:

5. Sesshomaru and Rin had babies before Inuyasha and Kagome! On one level, it is very sweet.  Of anyone, Rin and Sesshomaru are very aware of the fragility of life and how fleeting time is.  Look at the names of their daughters.  It makes sense that they wanted a family quickly.  On the other hand, I cannot shake the idea that the brothers did get competitive with each other.  I can imagine Inuyasha knocking up Kagome as quickly as possible after finding out that Rin was pregnant.  Then Sesshomaru has TWO daughters to Inuyasha’s one.  I am longing for some brotherly interactions.  Let Inuyasha call him a hypocrite at least once.  Let Sesshomaru gloat that he has TWO super awesome daughters. Let the daughters watch their ridiculous fathers fist fight while their mothers pour water on them and tell them to SIT.  Please.

6. Besides emphasizing the fact that Rin is Sesshomaru’s WIFE, the episode also emphasized the fact that Rin actually birthed the girls. Rin is in labor, it will be soon, you did well, Rin, Rin resting in bed with her daugthers, her voice weak and tired, the tub used to wash the babies in the background.  There was no magic switcheroo.  The twins were not found beneath a tree.  Sesshomaru did not sprout them from a forgotten limb. They came out of Rin’s body.  She’s the mom. She made them with her husband. End of.

6. Finally, this is the best part of the episode.

You sure did, Rin. 

Now where are A-Un and Shippo?

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium VII

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader   Word count: 2.7k

Genre & Warning: SMUT, fingering, Explicit content, mafia gang, possessive, toxic, yandere like personality, humiliation, multiple orgasms, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, praise, teasing, sex, Chastity belt: locking item of clothing designed to prevent sexual intercourse or masturbation

a/n: HELLO IT’S BEEN A WHILE. This is pretty heavy i think as well.

prev | next

Day 4 - 6am

“Get off my bed,” you growl, pushing his body stiffly.                                  

“Baby it’s my bed.” He mumbles quietly, his eyes casted away from yours.

“Fine, I’ll go sleep on the couch. You can stay here.” You snap back, grabbing a pillow and the only blanket off the bed.

“Y/N..” he sighs, “I’m sorry okay? I didn't mean to be so harsh.”

Ignoring his attempt of an apology, you gather the blanket and throw it over your shoulder while bringing the pillow under your arm. “Yeah, well you should’ve thought that through earlier.”

“Can’t you just stay with me for a bit? I have to go to work later and I won’t get to see you all day.” He pleads.

With your back turned to him sitting at the edge of the bed, you stop and sigh. It’s 6am in the morning and he’d probably leave by 8am at the latest. Your heart drops a little as you think about spending the day alone again without him. Maybe I should stay.

Taeyong watches as you drag yourself back onto the bed, burying yourself under the blanket; trying to seem like you were still angry.

“Are you still mad?” He asks, forcing back the smile that’s creeping up on his lips.

You don’t bother moving under the sheets, instead, you feel the mattress bounce as Taeyong shuffles around. In a quick movement, the cover’s removed from your face and your met with his face right in front of yours – a plastered smirk on it.

He pushes your body down against the sheet when you attempt to push him off, placing his hands on your shoulder and then sliding his hands to the back of your hair, bringing his lips to the sides of yours; gently kissing.

“Tae-”

“Later please? I just really need you right now.”

Without a chance to respond, his lips crash onto yours violently, muffling your cry of surprise. To your shock, his lips move with bruising force, his tongue darting into your mouth. Your eyes flicker open quickly and you catch the glimpse of the lust and longing in his eyes, sparkling with a glint of terror.

“Fucking hell.” He groans, his quick to remove the sheet covering your naked body, throwing it onto the floor in a hurry before his hands slide to your breasts cupping them, squeezing and kneading them repeatedly forcing them up into hard, round balls of flesh. His lust seems to overpower all his reasoning and he forgets the reality as you whimper when he grabs too hard. He moves down, beginning to lick and suck on each breast, growling as he slobbers over them desperately.

His hands and mouth work feverishly on your breasts, squeezing, pinching, sucking, biting and licking the two round fleshes until they’re sore and aching. His hard cock lays between your bellies, squeezed and rolled between them as his mouth seeks and finds yours and his hands grope your breasts and pussy. He grinds his body down against you, bringing his tongue into your mouth once more as he crushes your breasts in a painful vice-like grip. His hands slide over your breasts, then down between your legs, cupping, squeezing, and fingering your sex, pinching your pussy lips and gliding over the moisture at your entrance.

“You like that baby?” he asks, “Look at me.”

You can only sob out a cry in response, unable to control your voice as you pant with pleasure and arousal.

He twists you over, slapping a hard hand onto your round ass, squeezing it with delight as he presses himself into you, then he rolls over, taking you on top, his hands squeezing and mauling your smooth ass cheeks as he now shoves his tongue into your mouth. He reaches down and grips his thick cock, pressing it against your slit, rubbing it around the moist area as you shiver and moan.  

You whimper with new strength, but your legs are still too close and prove difficult for him to fit his cock into you. Cursing, he rises to his knees and grips your thighs, “baby open your legs up a little more for me,” he hums, nudging them slowly, exposing your slit to his eyes.

He presses a finger against it, punching it through your pussy lips and down your hole.

You scream in pain and whimper even louder at the roughness as you feel him enter a second finger, moving in a scissoring motion to widen you.

“Y/N you remember our safe word?” Taeyong asks, pausing only a second to let you respond.

“Traffic lights?” you whisper, just barely audible.

“That’s right,” he hums stroking the side of your face with his palm, “use it if you need to okay?”

You give a gentle nod and he takes that as his cue to continue. You watch as he spits onto his hand using it as a further form of lubrication for himself before he presses his spit-wet cock head against your pussy, rubbing it up and down your slit. He peels your cunt lips wide, drawing a sharp cry of pain from you.

You lay there whimpering, and sometimes gasping and crying out in pain as he brings himself deeper and deeper into you; the feeling of his cock still unfamiliar. He begins driving his cock head into you, stretching and straining it as he works the front part of you open again. He can feel your heart racing against his.

You clench your eyes and teeth, forcing yourself to bear the momentary pain as you shudder under his body. Taeyong seems to notice the amount of hissing and whimpering amounts to more than your usual and he stops for a moment. He props himself onto his elbows on either side of your head, trying to stay still as his cock pulses inside your walls, still deeply buried in you.

Slowly you begin answering him, bringing your hands up and around his neck, relaxing. He draws himself back before thrusting himself forward again desperately and you hiss in pain.

“I know baby,” he says into your ear, his breathing ragged, “It’s going to hurt.” You yelp and nod as he moves again, watching your face. The pain won’t last long, it’s because we haven’t did this in a while. You think, attempting to ease your mind.

He supports himself onto his arm and pumps into you now, holding back with much slower strokes, trying not to hurt you as much. As his movements become more steady and unrushed, you moan, feeling him hit your exact spot and you spread yourself under him, giving him an even deeper angle, your knees coming up. His cock sinks to the hilt in your trembling belly as he grinds himself into you. He runs a hand through your hair as he grins at you, “Tell me you love me baby.” He groans, keeping his pace, “Say it baby.”

“I-I love you.” You whimper, your body bouncing as you try and form the words. Saying them aloud made you feel indifferent, you weren’t totally against saying it and it did seem somewhat true honestly. But you couldn't tell if it was love or if it was the caring nature you had been offered for the first time.

He beams down at you as he rolls his hips from side to side, grinding himself into your soft underbelly, “Tell me you want me.” He snarls, sucking against your weak spots on your neck.

“I-I want you,” you whine, “Fuck Taeyong,” You pant in discomfort, gasping for breath as the world reels around you. You scream as he jerks his cock back and punches it back into you with a savage stroke. Your head smashes back against the mattress and your body shakes in pleasure as his pecks turn into bites - a little harsher at the side of your throat.

His body begins to rise and fall as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, straining pussy lips. Your feet jerk, twitch, and flop as he drives his huge pole down into your body. You feel his cock inside your belly, feel it stroking against the walls of your pussy, jabbing against the very bottom, the base of your tunnel, perhaps your womb.

He growls like an animal as his body rubs and grinds against yours, and his hands continue to roam, stroking roughly up and down your body. They jam underneath you and cup your round buttocks, yanking you upwards to meet his strokes, increasing the state of his frenzy and the force of his piercing thrusts. He begins fucking you harder and harder, pushing in faster and faster. His breathing becomes harsher and more ragged as his hands yank you against him with the remaining amount of energy he has left. With a final push, he lets out a long low grunt of pleasure, feeling your body tremble under his as you scream just before him.

***

“We should get up.” You hint, playing with his fingers around your waist

“Now?”

“You have to go soon.”

“I can be a little late.” He assures, nestling his face into the crook of your neck as you laugh.

“Your boss won’t mind?” you hum, a little surprised.

“Baby,” Taeyong lets out a chuckle before he speaks; his breath against your skin, “I am the boss.”

It doesn't completely shock you that he is the boss. While you are unaware of his exact occupation you do recall how you first met him. Jaehyun had bought you to Taeyong and it seemed he had a higher power of authority.

“W-What do you guys do?” you weakly murmur, afraid that the question might trigger something.

Taeyong remains unphased, “Just a bit of stuff here and there.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, let’s get up now.” he says, changing the topic before you’re able to ask anymore questions.

Taeyong holds a hand out to you, helping you ease off the bed. Feeling slightly self-conscious standing fully naked, you attempt to cover yourself discreetly. He doesn't seem to notice as he walks over to the wardrobe, pulling out what looks like a belt.

“Baby can you try this on for me?”

“What is it?” you ask, trying to see the item behind his back.

“It’s like a belt, I just wanted to see if it would fit.”

“Now? I’m still dirty and I don't have any pants on.” You tell him, confused.

“I just want to see the rough measurements, it’ll be quick.” He comments, helping you in to the leg holes.

Without looking at it too closely you quickly pull the flap between your legs and fasten it to the belt. It’s still somewhat embarrassing to stand so openly naked in front of him, your nerves gnawing away at the way his eyes seem to be focused at your lower region, devouring your pussy.

When the sides clip into place it makes an ominous click sound and you panic. You pull at it confirming the worst, it’s locked in place. You glance at him and his expression seems to say it all. You follow his gaze, watching it flicker between the pants which lock you in and the key between his hands.

"Consider it as a lesson.” He says with a devilish grin, swirling the key around in his fingers.

You take a step towards him, moving awkwardly when you start to feel something rub against your clit. "Taeyong.” You warn, your heart dropping with the familiar nervous feelings, “What is this?”

Taking another step towards him, intending to grab the key, you’re bought to an abrupt halt. You feel something poking at your entrance, slowly beginning to move and enter you. "What the hell?" you whimper, moving to lean against the wall as your face screws up in the strange discomfort.

"It’s a chastity belt, it has a built in vibrator." He chuckles, “better behave baby.”

"C-Can you take it off?” you whine, slowly falling to your knees on the floor as you clench down and attempt to push at the probe. "OH!" you yelp.

With every movement, you feel the rubber finger massage against your clit, sending waves of sensations through your body. The vibrator seems to slip inside a long way into your walls, adding to the torment. Your back falls flat on the wall as you lean against it, supporting your weight as the toy sensitises your pussy. You watch him press a button on what looks like a TV remote and the instant shiver that runs down your spine lets him know it works.

"Setting two." He states, watching the scene unfold. Satisfied with its effect he presses another button and you began to wriggle, feeling the vibrator buzz to life as he pushes another level up.

"Fuck,” You gasp, not daring to move. Squirming around on the vibrator moved the rubber thing over your clit so you choose to stay still. To relieve the pressure between your legs you part both feet and thighs.

"Baby you should put something on, the delivery I ordered for breakfast will be here in 15."

"I can't move." you tell him, irritated that he was only telling you this now.

"It's up to you. This thing has ten settings and you're only on three. I have to go take a business call now so you can answer the door naked or dressed." It’s an agony of pleasure taking a few steps and the thought of walking out the room to open the door was so very daunting.

You watched him flabbergasted as he approached you, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a pat on your ass before he exited the room and presumably into his study. You scrabble at the lock but it’s useless. The stimulation was building up and the pleasure would soon be a curse if you had to hold this for any longer. The vibration was becoming more and more intense and you were almost so close to cumming.  

The time passed agonisingly slowly. You begin breathing heavily and desperate for an orgasm. It doesn't seem to matter with who or how many or how you did it but you needed a release. With much effort, you cling onto the sides of the wall, crawling to Taeyong’s study.

Sure enough, he’s seated casually against his chair, speaking into the phone at his ear.

“Give me a second,” he says into the phone before muting it. “Did you need something baby?” he hums the knowing satisfaction hidden behind his innocent expression.

“T-Taeyong can you please, take this off.” You whimper.

“I will after you let me finish my call.” He tells you.

“Please.” You whine, gripping at the sides

Taeyong puts a finger to his mouth, telling you to keep quiet as he unmutes himself, “Sorry, yes you were saying?”

You groan quietly and fall against the wall, focusing on the pulsing that only stimulated you but never let you reach your high. Taeyong watches you as well, struggling to stay focused on the topic with his client as your body trembles.

“Fuck me,” You curse, feeling the vibrator heighten yet again. “Fuck me.”

Taeyong whips his eyes to your parting mouth, staring as you form the words and that seems to break the little amount of will power he has left.

“Sorry Johnny, I’ll have to call you back later something urgent just came up.” You look over to Taeyong, watching him push his chair back and striding over to you. “Baby I swear to hell.” He starts.

“I really need to.” You gasp, biting on your tongue as you feel the tip of the vibrator moving in and out of your entrance. “If y-you don't get th-this off me,” you moan, “I’ll go f-find the m-man from next door.” You threaten, obviously not seriously meaning it but saying it in a tone that Taeyong finds believable.

“Don't you dare.”

The doorbell rings and you make a small motion, attempting to stand straight. When he grabs your jaw harshly, turning you to stare right back at him, you realise it was probably a button you pushed too soon. His eyes narrow, rigid, cold and harsh. You draw in a deep breath, the burning stare that would last as long as it takes for him to think of the most brutal pleasurably painful thing he could break you down with.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He growls, “I’ll get it.”

_____

a/n: I warned you :)

[blueberrysets]

Alright so I may or may not ha e just seen your navigation post and diOaksnsks ma'am you now have yourself a top fan soaowisis anyways, may I request headcanons for Yaku, Kenma, Akaashi, and Sugawara with a same year as them s/o who's part of the music club and the younger members look up to said s/o like a big sister? I wonder how they'd react...

From: The one and only BucketofForks

To: You :DD

okay, this request is sO CUTE!! AHH!! thank you for being my first request and I hope you enjoy it! :) 

their musical s/o that acts like a big sibling  to the younger members

sugawara 

suga met you after school when he just so happened to walk by the music room on the way to practice.

his ears picking up such a beautiful sound flowing from the cracked open door that his body just seemed to move by itself over there.

through the small window, he could see that someone was obviously practicing the violin. their eyes closed with a pleasant look on their face.

he was mesmerized, his eyes following along with the way their body would sway along to the music and their foot-tapping to keep the rhythm

he couldn’t help himself to push further into the room and clap after they were finished, a bright red blush spreading across your face as you realized someone was watching you

“that was amazing,” suga exclaims, his bright smile livening up the room

“really?” you ask, “I’ve only had the piece a couple of days, but we have a show coming up soon so I want to get it down.”

“well I think you definitely have it down alright, can you play me another?”

yes, he was late to practice that day, but BOOM romance erupted from there.

the first time the boys met you, it was when you walked into the gym to give suga some notes for one of his classes. of course, you walked right into the fifth kageyama and hinata argument of the day.

of course, all of the other boys are tense and not sure how to stop them from bickering but DUN DUN DUN suga’s s/o to the rescue.

“alright, it seems like you two need to sit down and have someone guide this conversation,” you blurted out, everyone’s head snapping towards the unfamiliar voice.

“hey sugar,” suga voiced as he jogs his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you before placing an obnoxious kiss on your cheek, “don’t worry about them, they do this all the time.”

“is that so? well, it seems like they’re holding everyone else up, I’ll sort them out.”

coach ukai is just like please, I’m begging you.

so kageyama and hinata are dragged over to the bleachers where they are scolded by their upperclassman and lead through a very thoughtful and successful conversation

even made them hug it out, which was great blackmail for tsukishima later on.

the boys knew that if you could calm down kageyama and hinata, then you definitely need to stick around.

and you did, in fact becoming very close with them.

you’re seen at every one of their volleyball games, cheering so loudly for the boys (well, mostly suga.)

you probably yell embarrassing things like “SUGA YOUR BUTT LOOKS GREAT.” “HINATA SWEETIE, PULL UP YOUR PANTS.”

the boys are in the front row for every performance you have, asahi has definitely cried once when you had a solo

you’re one of the few people that can pick on tsukishima, and him not having a comeback for it

you walk around and make sure that the boys are eating properly at lunch

you help yachi with breathing exercises when she gets too overwhelmed

you always make sure that they all get big hugs after the games

you tease nishinoya and tanaka by telling them that someone was going to ask kiyoko out today, just to see their reactions

but most importantly, you give them all emotional support when the boys need it the most.

overall, suga’s s/o would be just as chaotic as him. but loves to give them bear hugs, a good scolding, and sneaks them some snacks throughout the day to make sure they have enough energy.

akaashi

akaashi met you during one of fukurodani’s talent shows, hosted by the music club!

you signed up to perform, deciding to play your guitar and sing as well.

akaashi couldn’t take his eyes off of you, his heart fluttering with every note that you would sing.

he loves the way you let yourself get lost in the music even though you’re performing in front of hundreds of people right now.

he had to talk to you, and he gathered up the courage to after the show.

“hey,” he stutters slightly as he approaches you, you’re even more stunning up close, “you did amazing up there.”

“oh gosh,” you laugh slightly covering your red cheeks, since you’ve always had a crush on the observant setter of fukurodani, “you’re too kind, but thank you.”

“would you teach me how to um, play the guitar maybe?” he blushes

you couldn’t believe it, THE akaashi keiji is asking YOU to help him learn how to play guitar? you obviously agreed to it, anything to get close to him

the weekly guitar lessons, turned into weekly dates, that turned into finally becoming significant others. 

the first person you meet is bokuto, naturally. he forgot his lunch at home that day and didn’t want to spend money to get something to eat. his hair all frumpy as he goes into emo bokuto.

but lucky for him, you always pack an extra lunch in case one of your friends forget theirs. so you offer it to him, and bokuto looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky. bokuto happily eats your food, complimenting it with every bite. then invites you to come to their practice.

akaashi was nervous to have you come to practice, what if he messes up? what if you think volleyball is lame? what if the boys hate you?

yet when you stepped into the gym, you seemed to fit right in.

you help them set everything up, you get along with yukie and kaori, you compliment bokuto when he seeks your praise, you help toss to konoha, and sneak in little kisses for akaashi

since that day, the team seems to stick to you like glue

they always ask you for help when it comes to studying

you give them little performances during their breaks in practice

you give them head pats and words of encouragement before every game

you even invite them to every single one of your performances, knowing exactly where they in the crowd from bokuto’s prominent voice.

basically, you become the teams' second mom behind akaashi. you support them with motherly love and they support you back by being your number one fan.

kenma

you were a mystery to kenma at first

every day after school, kenma would hear the most beautiful voice singing in the stairwell of the school. yet, he could never see who it was since they left before he reached the bottom.

but one day, he was determined. it was like figuring out who the mysterious voice was that was guiding him in a video game, so he left earlier to wait at the bottom of the stairs. lo and behold, here comes you singing to your heart's content as you descend the stairs. 

stopping in the middle of a long note as your eyes land on kenma, sitting on the bottom step looking up at you with a slight smile on his face.

“you have a nice voice,” his soft voice states as your cheeks become redder by the second

“oh, thank you, I don’t really sing in front of others,” you state bashfully

“you should join the music club,” he casually states as he picks up his volleyball bag, “they would accept you right away.” then he walks off, gaming on his phone.

the next week you come racing towards him, a bright smile on your face as you explain to him that you got into the music club. 

“but,” you explain as your smile drops, “I still can’t get over the nervousness of singing in front of others.”

“you can start by singing in front of me, if you’d like,” kenma states, his eyes lowered in shyness, “then maybe once you’re comfortable around me, you can work your way up.”

“oh! like leveling up in a video game,” you exclaim.

kenma swears his heart stops for a second at that statement, his cheeks a bright red.

“yeah, exactly like that.”

so every day, either before or after school (depending on his practices) you would sing in front of kenma. while either walking to school or from, eventually kenma couldn’t hold his feelings in any longer and finally asked you on a date. and then you became love birds.

you met the boys by kenma’s idea actually

“you’re comfortable around me, what about we move up to my team?”

you agreed, reluctantly of course. but here you are, in the gym about to sing to a group of boys. 

but you put your big kid pants on, and you did it. you ended up making lev cry from how beautiful your voice was, you had to console him with hugs and head pats.

the boys were in awe of not only your talent but the way you just casually hugged lev. soon enough, all of the boys wanted hugs. then they became your little clingy cats.

you had Yamamoto hissing at people in the hallway when they looked at you as if kenma did already do that.

you sang the periodic table song per kuroo’s request

you always listened to lev excitedly explain something and explain something to him if he didn’t understand

when it came to your first ever performance on a stage, the boys sat in the front row so you had familiar faces to look at.

it was at that moment that you would’ve never been where you are without kenma.

yaku

the boys were curious, why has yaku been showing up to practice at the last minute every day?

he would run in, out of breath, with a sappy look on his face. 

so, they followed him (as sneakily as lev and Yamamoto would let them) and see what he did after school every day.

that's when they found you and him in the music room, you were playing the piano while GASP, YAKU WAS SINGING?

the boys were astonished, not only because he had this talent and he never told them. but because he has the voice of an angel??

his voice is what made you approach him in the first place, you heard him singing loudly with his headphones in his ears while he walked home from school one day. you just so happened to need a voice to test out the new song you just wrote.

so you asked, well more like begged him. but you were too cute to say no to. you would meet every day after school, he even helped you fix some things for the song. eventually, you two would start hanging together at lunch and even after school. leading you two to start dating.

but now here we are, with all of the nekoma men's volleyball team in too much shock to move as they find their libero singing beautifully in front of them.

oh but don’t worry, lev will say something.

“yaku, you sound like an angel!” he exclaims as he steps into the room.

“LEV?”

“Actually we’re all here.”

“WHAT?”

cue yaku running around the music room to hit each and every single one of them for a. stalking him and b. finding out his secret.

which leads to you introducing yourself, and having another shock to the team as yaku actually has a significant other?

“whaattt?? yaku got someone before me?” kuroo whines as he pouts with his arms crossed. leading you to karate chop him on top of the head, because no one disrespects your mans >:(

that small action would make the team realize that they now had two mothers to yell at them.

and oh boy would you.

you had to scold lev if he would say something mean to other teams (without realizing, he's a precious boy he doesn’t mean any harm) 

you drag Yamamoto by the ear when he over girls for too long

you take kenma’s gaming devices so that he eats during lunch

you also scold kuroo every time he hits lev with a ball

but they wouldn’t have it any other way, because they adore you (and you keep yaku calm)

when it finally came to performance time for your song and for yaku’s big singing debut, you wouldn’t want any other team to be in the front row.

[nanagoswife]

Please, Don't Go. - Chapter 7

Summary: Qui-Gon speaks with Obi-Wan but sees the horror his padawan has at his own actions, you comfort him in his time of need.

W/C: 1.7k

Warnings: mention of choking (violent intentions), mention of injury, angst, FEELS, fluff (if that's even a warning?)

- - -

“What in the Maker’s name were you thinking?”

Qui-Gon’s furious tone rang through Obi-Wan. Apparently, he had seen a lot of it. Qui-Gon was watching ever since they were forcing him to watch you be cut and strangled. The image pained him, but he couldn’t help feeling impressed with how you hardly made a sound as the knife had dug into you.

Obi-Wan was staring at the floor in shame. He was so close to facing the trials and this is how he acts. It was a disgrace.

“Does this have anything to do with that vision you told me six months ago?”

“I don’t think so, Master.” He felt so dejected. He should know how to control himself by now. Even if he did care for you, he made a promise to you that he wouldn’t seek revenge. His actions didn’t only contradict The Code, it broke the promise he made to you.

Qui-Gon studied his padawan for a moment. He could sense the inner conflict the young man was having.

“Alright,” Qui-Gon said gently. There was no further need to be hard on him. After all, he looked horrified at what he had done. This was just a small lapse. Mistakes were there to learn from, and this definitely would act as that. “Just be wary when it comes to how close you are with the princess. You need to learn how to control your emotions so that this doesn’t happen again. There’s bound to be many injuries. Look at the way we met her.”

Qui-Gon chuckled and, to his relief, Obi-Wan did too.

“I understand, Master. I will meditate on this.”

“Good man. If it will make you feel better, check in with Y/N. If it will interfere with your control, don’t.”

“Yes, Master.” With a light bow of respect, he made his way out of the cockpit. Obi-Wan didn’t know how you were doing. He was sent straight to the cockpit to wait as Qui-Gon patched you up. He hadn’t allowed his padawan to see you right after the dark act.

Obi-Wan wanted so badly to see you, but he was so conflicted. Qui-Gon said that if it hindered his control of his emotions, that he shouldn’t. That was where he was conflicted. He couldn’t tell whether he acted out because of what had happened to you or if it was something else.

No, he wasn’t going to see you. Not yet. That was until he rounded the corner to the rooms and he was met by the sight of you standing outside of your door.

When he fully rounded the corner, he paused. All he could do was breathe a sigh of relief that caused you to look up.

His heart warmed and shattered at the same time. He was happy to see your warm smile, but he could tell you were still in pain. The anger that he had earlier tried to creep in as he looked at the bandage on your arm and the slight bruising on your neck, but he pushed it away. This darkness was exactly what Qui-Gon had witnessed. It was a darkness that terrified and mortified Obi-Wan.

“Obi,” you said softly. That broke his composure. Quickly he took a few strides to you and you wrapped your arms around him. “Come in?”

Pulling away, he met your eyes. He knew he should say no, say that he needed to meditate. When he looked into your eyes, there was no way he could say no. Maybe, if he told you everything, you would be able to knock some sense into him. In the end, that’s what won. He needed your comfort.

Nodding, you quickly pulled him in. After the door was locked, you couldn’t hold back. You crashed your lips to his, enjoying the comfort of it as he easily kissed you back. There was a part of you that thought about how this may have not been happening had things gone differently earlier.

“Y/N,” he tried to pull away but you pulled him back just for a few more moments. “Y/N, I need to tell you what happened.” He finally got this out in between multiple kisses from you. Obi-Wan would have been annoyed had he not needed the sweet sensation to remind him that you were still here and you were alright.

“What do you mean?”

“I had a bit of a… moment,” he replied, looking down, almost like he was ashamed. What could he mean?

So, you nod and lead him to sit beside you on your bed. You were confused with what could have gone wrong when all you knew was that he did something that kept you alive.

When you looked into his eyes, you saw great distress. Like he had done for you so many times over these six months, you placed a hand on his knee and rubbed it to send him comfort. He gave a grateful smirk, but it didn’t last long.

“What’s wrong?” You did your best to sound gentle. He clearly needed it, but it was also a way of you showing that you will support him no matter what. You wanted to help him, if that’s what he wants.

“I… When you had been…” Obi-Wan was struggling to put together the words. He didn’t know whether he needed to explain more or to just keep it short. “I went to a dark place,” he finally just said.

At first, you were shocked. It wasn’t like him to lose his control of his light. You were shocked because you didn’t really remember what happened. As soon as the knife had pierced your skin, everything became a blur. You thought you had passed out from the pain.

“Tell me,” you say in response. Not only do you need to know, but you know it will make Obi-Wan feel better.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. You could tell he was trying to find the best way to explain everything. He was finding the best way to tell you that he broke a promise, in a way.

“They forced me to watch as that karking bastard was strangling you and digging that knife into you. It was like…”

“Like the fire. Like the day your dreams replaced that man with me.”

All he could do was nod. Shame filled him in having these thoughts when he promised he wouldn’t, “And I lashed out. I almost force choked the man until Qui-Gon made me snap out of it. I was horrified. Not only by my actions, but I was horrified at the fact that I had actually enjoyed it.”

You saw as the shame filled his eyes, “Hey,” and you didn’t hesitate cupping his face in your hands and making him look into your eyes, his watery. “There’s no reason to be ashamed.”

“But I did exactly what I shouldn’t have done. I went against The Code. I went against you.” His tears started to fall but he didn’t dare look away. You were the only thing that truly made him feel like everything was going to be alright.

“I know,” you said in a soft tone, wiping away the fallen tears and continuing to trace circles into his cheeks with your thumbs. “But I want to help you work through it. I want to know that you take this as a lesson and make sure you become the best Jedi you could be; the best man you can be.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he let it all out. Tears streamed down his face as you pulled him into you, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

This was a moment that you honestly never expected to see. You thought that Obi-Wan would never crack like this and show how vulnerable he actually can be. Not in this way. So, you pulled him as close as you could and whispered comforting words to him until he calmed down.

“Please,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “never leave me.”

His words were only slightly surprising, but this was something you had addressed so many months ago.

“I would never. Even when I pass. You know why?”

He pulled back just enough so that his watery eyes met yours. Afraid of what his voice would sound like, he shook his head.

You brought a hand to his cheek and smiled. “Because I love you, Obi.”

His eyes went wide and the sadness was wiped away as a grin snaked its way over his lips. He sniffled, “Really?”

Obi-Wan didn’t wait for an answer and instead pressed his lips to yours while pulling you close again. There was something new in the kiss, one you enjoyed a lot more.

“I love you too,” he mumbled into your lips as he couldn’t bear separating from your soft ones. You smiled into the kiss as he playfully pulled you closer by the waist. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved his way to your jaw.

Finally, he pulled back to look you in the eyes.

“Obi-Wan, I want you to make another promise.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Please, don’t go. Not to the dark. If anything were to happen, let me be the reason you solidify your place in the light if anything.” Tears were now threatening your eyes as you say this. You so badly wanted him to continue being a Jedi, the only life he’s known. You didn’t want to be the reason he would give that away for any reason.

Even though you didn’t speak that part, he understood. He knew you would never ask him to leave, no matter how much it may hurt in the future. Even if you did ask, he was almost sure that he would leave to be with you, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him to be what he is. You want him to be what he loves.

“I promise.”

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @generousrunawaydonut

[pixelpoppers]

Framing device plot tumors

So there's a pattern in fiction that I haven't seen discussed or found a name for. It is, in short, when a framing device becomes a plot tumor.

There's a specific kind of framing device I have in mind - more than the simple in medias res of, say, a tale told in flashback, this is when the frame story has an unusual premise which exists to enable and string together certain kinds of inner stories. For example, the Assassin's Creed games (at least the first several - I fell off the franchise after Ezio and maybe this has changed since then) are technically near-future sci-fi where technology enables people to relive their ancestors' memories and secret societies use this to hunt down powerful artifacts from a precursor civilization. This allows each individual game to focus mainly on adventures taking place centuries in the past, connected by the common thread of the present-day hidden power struggle over the artifacts.

I think there's a conflict with this sort of setup that is really hard to escape. There's a very real sense in which the frame story only exists for the benefit of the inner stories - yet the stakes of the frame story are almost always going to be higher and more unusual than those of the inner stories. For the storyteller (and for some portion of the audience) this can cause the frame story to be more intriguing, which can easily create a trend where early installments have just enough frame story to carry the inner story and later installments spend more and more time and focus on the frame story.

I have one example I want to talk about which is not a game and which you probably haven't heard of, so please bear with me and we'll be back to famous game franchises shortly.

There's a Canadian TV show called Being Erica. It's about a young woman (Erica) who regrets many of her life choices who meets a mysterious "therapist" (Dr. Tom) who grants her the ability to return the moment of each regret and change her decision. At first, the way this setup is used is... well, I'm just going to quote the Wikipedia description of the show's premise, because it sums it up really well:

Each time she faces a problem in the present, Dr. Tom sends her back to revisit a related regret. The situation is rarely as simple as it first appears: in nearly every case, the event she was seeking to avoid by acting differently still occurs, and she must instead seek out new information to uncover the event's real meaning, which gives her new insight into how to handle her problem in the present. It quickly becomes apparent the therapy's true purpose is not to let Erica erase her regrets, but to help her improve her future by learning from past mistakes and making different decisions in the present.

The first episodes each deal with one current problem and associated regret and carry a clear lesson or moral. They present no explanation for Dr. Tom's nature or abilities, and the mechanics of the time travel are kept vague and ambiguous - which feels to me like the clearly correct storytelling choice, because those things don't matter. The point of the show is the series of life lessons; Dr. Tom's time travel therapy is just what enables those lessons.

But then things change. Later episodes spend less time with Erica revisiting her own past to learn life lessons. Two other things start getting more attention: one is the supporting cast of Erica's coworkers and family, which started as a source of present-day challenges that triggered the need for the time travel lessons but increasingly just become a standard character-driven drama. The other is the mechanics of the time travel therapy setup. Dr. Tom's nature and history come into focus along with other "therapists" and patients - but these turn out to be a very poor source of worldbuilding. They were only created to enable the stuff that actually mattered, and the closer you look at them the less sense they make, on top of distracting from what the show had originally been good at.

Presumably the show's creators found these aspects of the frame story interesting, given the choice to spend more and more time on them, and I assume a significant chunk of the audience enjoyed them as well given that the show lasted four seasons and was never cancelled. To me, it felt like a really degenerate example of the "framing device plot tumor" pattern - a show with an interesting, well-executed hook essentially traded it for two half-hooks, one of which was not interesting and the other of which was not well-executed.

There are other franchises where the pattern makes more sense to follow, even if it frustrates me personally. One of those is Kingdom Hearts. (I told you we'd be back to famous game franchises before long!) The way I remember it, the first Kingdom Hearts was a lighthearted romp through a series of Disney worlds with a sprinkling of Final Fantasy and a narrative about "heartless" and darkness and light tying everything together. The original characters and story were simple and archetypal, which feels to me like the clearly correct storytelling choice, because those things don't matter. The point of the game is the greatest-hits tour through Disney properties.

I also remember seeing the secret special cinematic you get if you 100% the game and which teases the sequel. As I recall, it features two mysterious figures in cloaks whose identity is unclear (but who are definitely Kingdom Hearts characters rather than Disney or Final Fantasy ones) having a cryptic conversation about darkness and light and so on (definitely Kingdom Hearts plot elements rather than Disney or Final Fantasy ones).

My friend who'd enjoyed the game as much as I had was excited by this teaser and eager to see where followups would go. I was not. I found it to be an off-putting warning that the franchise was going to be too in love with its own lore and OCs, which were not what I was there for. And that is 100% what happened - when I played Kingdom Hearts II, there was still a lot of Disney but the light/dark/heartless/nobody/Organization XIII story had grown in focus and complexity and all the following side games promised to spend even more time digging into increasingly deep non-Disney lore, so I didn't bother with any of them. For me, the thing that I'd shown up for had been swallowed by the frame story that enabled it. But I have to acknowledge that this is pretty clearly a case of me just not being in the audience for later Kingdom Hearts games rather than them not having an audience. I can't get into the Kingdom Hearts lore, but a lot of people can. It's hard to argue that the franchise's change in emphasis was a mistake, even if it became something I didn't like.

What has me thinking about this pattern is that I've seen it again, this time with the To the Moon series.

The premise of To the Moon has commonalities with both Assassin's Creed and Being Erica. It's near-future sci-fi where technology can rewrite the memories of the dying, letting them die happy because they believe they've fulfilled their life's greatest wish. This setup enables games where you play as technicians using the memory machine to learn about a client's life and regrets in order to grant them a satisfying catharsis and resolution. The memory machine is essential in that without it the games' stories couldn't happen at all, but the part of the story that matters is what that frame enables - the mysteries of each client's life and their deeply human tales of friendship and love and yearning and failure and success. That's the part that brought me to tears while playing and which rattled around my skull for days afterward and sometimes changed how I approached parts of my own life.

At least, that's how it was for the first two major installments, To the Moon and Finding Paradise. And to me, that's how it should have stayed. But an increasing amount of focus has been paid to the frame story - the details of the lives of the technicians and aspects of the memory technology - and to me, the third major installment Imposter Syndrome is where the balance has shifted too far and the frame has taken over.

You do still spend a lot of the game learning about a character's life, their conflicting desires, their choices and their regrets. But while that was the heart of the game in TtM and FP, here it feels almost perfunctory. Here it's a barely-interactive sequence with so little exploration that it could have just been a movie - all the parts of the game with exploration and interactivity are outside of this in the frame story. And learning about this person's life is made even more of a slog by the fact that it doesn't feed into the burning questions you have at this point - in previous games, the narrative focused your attention on mysteries about the client and in this one, well, I can't be specific without spoilers but the main questions you are likely to have do not center on the person whose life you are witnessing.

In other words - in the previous games, everything that happened in the inner story or the frame story was part of advancing the inner story. In this one, everything that happens in the inner story or the frame story is part of advancing the frame story.

I think this is the biggest single reason that unlike the previous games, I found that Impostor Factory's story didn't coalesce into a clear focus. It never shocked me. It never brought me to tears. It rattles around my skull after playing it, but mostly because I'm trying to figure out why I didn't like it as much as the previous ones. (And also because I'm trying to untangle some of the game's side questions, but unlike previous games where the answers were details of the characters and their lives, here the answers are bits of frame story lore or are explicitly pure coincidence.)

It seems like Kan Gao may have intended Impostor Factory to be a sort of side entry in the series - hence him calling it "Episode X" instead of "Episode 3". I'm hoping this is the case and the next game will be more similar to To the Moon and leave the spotlight on the inner story. If not, I might be done with this series.

[kpopfanfictrash]

hi Shanna!! as a consistent content creator, how do you motivate yourself to keep writing fics? are you ever nervous about posting a new story/idea/outline? do you ever think like ‘ah this is overdone so i just shouldn’t’? (i have a mean inner voice i admit)

i’m playing around with the idea of creating more of an online presence but it’s so nerve-wracking! and the motivation to do it consistently is really hard too. i’m also really nervous about the privacy aspect of it all. ik you don’t post a lot about your personal life, but how do you know where to draw the line? do you have any advice for someone who wants to be seen but is afraid of opening up? :’)

Hello, anon! I'm going to do my best to answer all your questions, so bear with me -- breaking them all down below the cut :)

1. How do I motivate myself to keep writing fics?

I think this has changed over the course of my blog's journey. When I first started writing and didn't have many followers (it took me about nine months - 1 year to reach 5K), I kept myself motivated by taking requests, utilizing writing prompts and joining networks to participate in network events. Honestly, the best advice I can give a new blog is: post frequently and on a clear schedule. At the start of my blog, I posted every four days (smaller chapters than what I write now), and gradually grew my base. Now though, my motivation tends to come from taking on new challenges and trying to better my content. I want to continue improving and providing fun material for readers, so that's usually what motivates me as I plan a new fic. Positive responses and interactions from readers are also key.

2. Am I ever nervous about positing a new story/idea/outline?

Yes. Always LOL. It never gets easier, to be honest. In my experience, my worries about writing have changed, but not disappeared. I tend to write a broad array of genres and styles, so it's always a risk that the new thing I write won't resonate with my readers. When I first began posting, my main worry was that no one would read. Now, it's that people will read, and they'll hate it. LOL I've just kind of reconciled myself to this fact.

3. Do I ever think "ah this is overdone, so I just shouldn't'?

Mmm I have had this thought, but it usually isn't one of my main worries. Honestly, you can break down pretty much any story into predictable pieces. That doesn't mean you shouldn't write it. No one has ever written that trope, or that AU with your voice before, and that's what you have to keep reminding yourself.

4. How do I draw the line with my personal life?

OOF. This is something which took me awhile to figure out. I used to be much more open on my blog, but I've gradually had to create some hard limits. To be blunt, I now view this blog as a place where I post fanfiction, and not my personal space. I occasionally share personal info (books I read, photos of my dog, responding to things friends tag me in), but for the most part, I only share what's relevant to my writing. Limits on your blog should be whatever's comfortable for you. I know other blogs are comfortable being viewed as a personality/writer, but that's not really something which appeals to me. Of course, I'm glad when people like me (duh, I'm human), but I prefer to keep my personal life separate. I don't talk about my job, employer, location, background, or people in my real life who don't have a Tumblr. I think the best way to figure these limits out for yourself is by trial and error! Based on your questions, if sounds as though you may benefit from harder lines, but then again, you might find you enjoy interacting on a more personal level. My best advice is to go slow and pull back if you need it. You are only one person and you can't do it all. Prioritize what's most important to you, and cut out the rest.

5. Am I ever scared of being misunderstood or misinterpreted in my online presence? If so, how do I deal with that?

Absolutely. I deal with this by keeping my personal life separate as much as possible. Even this can backfire though, since I've heard people call me absent or aloof. Ultimately, you can't please everyone. You're going to eventually do or say something which will be taken the wrong way, or someone won't agree with, and that's okay. We're all human and we all make mistakes. All you can do is try to keep a level head, examine the issue raised and decide for yourself if it's something you need to change. Be as kind as possible to other people, but don't forget to stand up for yourself. Ultimately, everything online should be taken with a grain of salt; your readers can't really know you based on a few posts. Sharing anything with the public always comes with risk, but it's a brave thing to do and can bring great rewards. Most people on this site are lovely, kind and supportive. Your interactions with these people will far outweigh the negative.

6. Advice for someone who wants to be seen, but is afraid of opening up.

I hope some of what I shared above was helpful! I'm right there with you, anon. I'm an introvert who gets overwhelmed by a lot of social interaction, but I do love sharing my writing with people. It took me almost six months after creating my blog to post my first fic, but sometimes you just need to do it. Being scared is normal, but if you don't take risks, you'll never reach the reward. Whether that's sharing your writing, or making new friends, or whatever you seek to gain from your online presence -- sometimes you just have to do it! Best of luck in your journey, babe :)

[amateurwriter89]

DREAM

Second part of STAY

Rated M RojasCorp Fic

She was in the midpoint between consciousness and deep sleep. The heaviness of her eyelids was the most evident signal but she refused to fall asleep even though her exhausted and sore muscles begged her to.

No, Andrea was not ready to close her eyes and put an end to that night; she wanted to stay awake so she could treasure every detail of the woman who decided to share her bed with, even for just one night; she wanted to memorize everything, the rhythm of her breath, the scent of her hair, the feel of her skin against hers.

Andrea laid on her right side, left arm wrapped around Lena’s waist, bringing her body closer to hers, burying her face into silky black hair. She inhaled deeply, the aroma was a mixture of coconut and something exotic, something sweet and alluring. It was an evocative smell because it was what she remembered, the same smell she breathed when they used to share the small bed back in boarding school, the same scent with which she felt intoxicated that New Years night when they shyly explored their bodies for the first time without clothes in between.

The latina lost track of time, she was immersed in her memories until Lena snuggled into Andrea and that unconscious movement caused her to shudder. There was no space between them, it was an intimate contact and Andrea was very aware of every inch of Lena’s bare body.

That night took a course that neither of them imagined. They were supposed to talk while drinking a couple of drinks, after all, what they wanted was to fix their friendship. Nevertheless, something in that dynamic ended up awakening a buried need, it was like a yearning to get back what they used to have that perhaps was enhanced by their loneliness. Andrea knew very well that Lena hadn’t been with anyone since she broke up with James and the same happened with the brunette and her ex. Or maybe, the mere idea of sharing that night with her friend, with her former lover, was simply inviting and impossible to denied.

Andrea felt curious. Ten years had passed since their last encounter and, of course, a lot of things had changed. Their bodies were different, they had matured; now they knew more clearly what they liked and weren’t shy about showing their passion. The brunette had to close her eyes when images of Lena in thrones of passion played in her mind. 

Gone was the shy girl who felt unsure of her physical attributes, the one who, at the beginning of her sexual awakening, asked to turn off the lights and hide under the sheets. Young Andrea never denied her anything, she respected her wishes, even though she assured her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, but this Lena was totally different. She wasn’t ashamed to kiss, touch or chase pleasure. She was an attentive lover to the needs of her partner.

That night would remain in Andrea Roja’s mind for a  very long time and, though she couldn’t speak for Lena, she tried to leave her caresses on Lena’s skin. She dug her fingers into alabaster skin with a little more force, she left hickeys on he neck and thighs that might’ve made her deserve a scolding when Lena saw them in the mirror but it would be worthy because Andrea was so lucky to witness the wonder of how Lena lost herself, on more that one occasion, in the ecstasy of sex; shel felt her clenched around her fingers, tasted her in her mouth, trembled over her.

Just thinking about what happened minutes before caused a silly smile to appear on Andrea's face and, of course, her arousal awakened once more. She become addicted to Lena’s taste, to the mix of their perfumes, to her subtly caresses.

Blue eyes looked at the dark mane of her lover. She felt restless, she felt a thirst that could only be soothed by Lena.

—Can’t sleep?

Lena’s voice sounded deeper and raspier due to her brief sleep and Andrea found it extremely seductive.

—No.

For a moment, Andrea thought that her friend fell asleep again.

—If you need to rest, I can call my driver.

Those words sounded so causal.

—It’s not that.

—Want to talk about it?

Andrea was not a shy woman at all but quite the opposite. She was direct, assertive, trained to get what she wanted and what she wanted at that moment was within her total reach.

—No, not really…

Andrea supported her weight on her right arm, so she could look down at Lena while with her left hand she invited her lover to turn her face towards her. The position was awkward but allowed them to look into each other’s eyes with intensity. Andrea took the opportunity to draw the outline of the other woman’s lips with her thumb; they were still swollen from their previous activities and that made them look even more inviting.

—Can I kiss you? —Andrea asked almost politely even though she knew she might as well steal a kiss from Lena.

Andrea expected a cunning answer, perhaps a flirty smile but Lena was known for being unpredictable and Andrea was pleasantly surprised when Lena brought her hand to her lips and kissed her palm before she wrapped her lips around her index and middle fingers, circled them with her tongue. Andrea closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of that wet tongue playing with her own fingers.

—Lena —Andrea whimpered pathetically while her hips started to move against Lena’s rear, following the exact rhythm of that gifted tongue and searching for the right angle that could help her to release the nice tension in her belly. She could feel her wetness coated her lover’s skin and, judging by the chocked groan that came from her throat, Andrea knew that Lena was enjoying the fast paced of her humping.

—Do you still want to kiss me? —Lena asked once she released the brunette’s fingers and Andrea could only respond with a furious kiss. Her mind went blank, her reactions were influenced by her primal instincts. 

The movement of her hips were limited due to the tight nearness between them and the perfect kiss that neither of them wanted to brake. Their tongues slipped and slid against each other, they danced, licked without qualms. It was erotic how their quite moans died in each others mouths.

Andrea’s skin began to sweat, she could feel her expensive Egyptian cotton sheets stuck on her body, making her feel too hot. Pushing the sheet as far as she could, she revealed the nakedness of both of them and the brunette took the opportunity to slide her hand up the soft skin of Lena’s thigh, the curve of her waist, feeling the space between her ribs with her fingertips and palming possessively her breast, just to slid down again, following back the same path.

Andrea panted against Lena’s lips as her hand worked its way between her legs, gripping her inner thigh and pushing it up.

—Touch yourself for me. —Andrea asked.

Lena let out a new groan and, with the desire to please her lover, she did what was requested of her and, although Andrea could not see Lena’s movements, she could feel them thanks to the swaying of her hips, so in sync with those playful fingers.

The muscles in Andrea’s right arm began to burn from the weight she was bearing. However, she didn’t allow herself to fall, she wanted to see the exact moment when Lena surrendered to the pleasure she gave herself, she wanted to witness the moment when every wall she built around herself collapsed, revealing the sweet vulnerability that only could come from the irrepressible lust.

The brunette’s lips pecked Lena’s shoulder and those little kisses soon became small bites while her hips kept attacking the backside of her lover without missing a beat.

—You’re so wet. —Lena mumbled, turning her face a little towards Andrea, who could see blown green eyes, overshadowed by her own arousal. 

—Only for you… always for you.

And it was true. Andrea had had several lovers, lovers who were considerate, passionate but none of them like Lena. 

For a while, Andrea supposed that the idea of her first love, the one with whom she lived new experiences in the four walls of a room, was unconsciously romanticized by herself, placing it on a pedestal, and maybe that was the reason she missed it, why she missed Lena so much and why she tried so hard to push back the fantasies she had where Lena was something more than a friend to her. Nevertheless, that night Andrea noticed that there was still an unquestionable chemistry between Lena and her; there was still a trust that let them break orthodoxies and express desire with their entire bodies.

Andrea could feel how Lena trembled, her movements  were more erratic and the brunette knew that Lena’s orgasm was closer and closer, torturing herself because it was evidente that Lena was seeking to reach the end with Andrea.

—Are you close? —Asked Andrea and the only answer she received was a furious nod.

Andrea growled with pleasure, for it was not common for Lena Luthor, always the eloquent, to have been left speechless and that was a moment that she always treasured because she was the reason for that inability, she was the woman who was stealing the most sensual moans, who was leading the black-haired woman to a new orgasm.

The beautiful latina bit her lip, she was also near to the edge, she could feel the tension in her navel, her breath was rough and the expectation of what would soon be unleashed gave Andrea goosebumps. It was at that moment her movements lacked grace and rhythm, a primal need had taken control of Andrea but something separated her from the vibrant ending.

—Andrea… I…

Lena’s voice was a trigger that tensed her entire body. Her fingers dug into her lover’s flesh and her hand was so close to her core that she could feel the heat that radiated from her and, without thinking too much, Andrea laid Lena on her back and suddenly she was over her. Her legs were entwined in an intimate embrace and, for a moment, they stayed still, absorbed in a sea of sensations that were both familiar and new.

Andrea’s eyes were captivated by the image of the woman beneath her. Lena’s cheeks were flushed and rebel locks of black hair clung to snowy skin due to sweat. Andrea was free to touch and she did it; her caress was soft, her fingertips brushed warm skin as if it was the most delicate thing in the entire world.

—You’re so beautiful. —Andrea whispered just before kissing Lena’s lips painfully slow, savoring every twist of their tongues, while the bed rocked swiftly as a result of firms thrusts.

The position was perfect for their centers to meet and melt; the oxygen was not enough and the kiss became a endless series of pants against each others’ mouths.

—Please… —Lena begged with her eyes tightly closed and raising her knees so Andrea could have better access to her most intimate parts. Her nails scratched the brunette’s back, causing a pleasant pain that would surely leave traces of that hot night on her skin—. Andrea…

Lena’s moans made Andrea’s ears tingled, they were like a symphony that reached her heart.

Andrea raised her upper body a little to have a glimpse of what was happening between her and her lover, to admire Lena’s face at the down of ecstasy, to get lost in the hypnotic sway of her breasts and palming one of them possessively, only to look down where their bodies joined.

All this felt like a dream, like everything was possible, like she could have Lena back to her life once again as something more than a friend. 

A hand climbed up Andrea’s arm, running over her shoulder and clinging at the nape of her head.

—Look at me —Lena asked and Andrea obeyed—. Make me cum, darling.

Andrea was not sure what triggered their shared orgasm, maybe it was the intense look in their eyes or the last frantic movements of their bodies, perhaps the perfect merge of both factors, either way, the sensation was blinding and she could feel how every nerve in her body vibrated with satisfaction.

The brunette hid her face in the crook of Lena’s neck, noticing that her perfume was more intense. Her heart was racing and she could feel Lena trying to catch her breath while her hands caressed her back up and down, soothing her, lulling her.

—Tired?

Lena murmured against Andrea’s temple just to plant a kiss who just nodded lazily.

Andrea still had too many doubts about what would happen the next morning but she was so sleepy that she didn’t think of the possible consequences, all she wanted was to fall asleep in Lena’s arms and keep dreaming about Lena.