#and the thing is that to me! twinkle melon IS that good

[whenthegoldrays]

it’s also like. sometimes you watch something and get obsessed with it and have this idea of its themes and implications and the truths you can see in it and then you find that other people don’t love it so much or at least don’t love it for the more detailed reasons you do and you stop and ask yourself whether it was actually that good or whether all that good stuff is just what YOU saw in it and then the conclusions you drew and headcanons you added onto it afterwards

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley)(Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 14

The sound of seagulls floods the open, unpolluted air of Pelican Town. Summer has finally arrived, which means I have to grow this season's crops. A trip to Pierre's shop is in dire need since I also need to replenish my food supply.

The jingle above the door announces my arrival, causing Pierre to look up from his counter and give me a greeting nod. I shoot back a casual wave and disappear into the aisles.

"I knew you'd be here, farmer." Haley gave me a sly smile. She was apparently waiting for my arrival.

"Well hello there pretty lady, how'd you know I'd be here?" I throw my hands in my pockets and broaden my shoulders. She blushes at my little comment.

"Well, last season we ran into each other here around this time when you needed seeds. I may have waited around today to see if you'd show. I want to know what kind of crops you are growing this season," she responds.

"Uh huh...?" I give her a look of suspicion, unsure if she is telling the truth.

"No really! I don't want anything else I promise...," I watch her look me up and down quickly, "scouts honor!" she puts two fingers together in the air instead of the three.

I cover my mouth quickly to stop me from laughing out, but I don't do a good job because I end up letting out a few chuckles.

"I think your fingers are saying otherwise," I say.

A look of confusion crosses her face.

"Not that three fingers is too many or anything..." That finally makes her clue in to what I was laughing about and throws her hand back to her side. Her face has gone beat red now.

She turns to face the shelf of seeds and proceeds to change the subject, "what seeds are we starting with. Oh, how 'bout some melons." She takes a few packs of melon seeds off the shelf and places them into my basket.

As she continues to pick out the seeds for me, I cross my arms and lean against the shelf. She has been chit-chatting away to me as she places things into my basket, not noticing I haven't said a word. She hasn't even noticed the look of adoration I have been giving her this entire time.

"-summer is usually best for sunflowers, which are like my favorite thing ever, but they also grow in fall too," she rambles on. However, that sentence makes me perk up.

"Oh yeah? You really like sunflowers?"

She nods her head aggressively.

"Hm," is all I respond with. She didn't put any sunflower seeds into my basket. Instead she moved on to the blueberries and tossed those in.

We start moving down the aisles of Pierre's store, her rambling on about whatever she can think of with me trailing right behind her like a little puppy dog. She has filled my basket to the brim with everything she has decided I should get. I haven't stopped her from putting even one thing in.

She suddenly stops in her tracks, almost causing me to bump into her. She abruptly spins around to face me. "Why do you call me 'pretty lady'?"

"Can I not call you that?"

"No no no it's not that. I'm just wondering why. Do you think I am pretty?" her eyes are twinkling up at me while she waits for her response.

"I think you're beautiful," I responded genuinely, looking down at her captivating, blue eyes.

Her mouth opens slighting to say something, but then she closes it. She keeps repeating the same process as she thinks of the right words she wants to say.

"Why have you been so nice to me since you have gotten here? I have been nothing but mean to you and you don't deserve any of it. I'm so sorry," she wipes a tear from her eye.

"You aren't being mean to me now, are you?"

"No but-"

"Unless you are going to walk out on me again without explaining why?" I try teasing. I reach my hand up and brush away another stray tear from her cheek.

"Maybe," she chuckles sadly.

"Alright I'll make way." Chuckling along with her, I move to stand off the side, going along with the bit.

"I'm sorry again for doing all of that and constantly walking out on you when we are together. It's just... I have been feeling... weird?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we never going to talk about the day at the spa?" she blurts out.

My breath catches in my throat and I start choking on air, breaking into a fit of coughs. "You remember that?" I managed to get out.

"Surprisingly,  considering I drank that whole bottle. There are some bits I don't remember, but I remember enough."

"Is this why you wanted to catch me at the store today?"

"I had promised you there was nothing more to me being here. I just happened to bring it up now."

We stand there awkwardly, none of us knowing what to say.

"I'm really sorry I put you in that situation. I'm also sorry you had to see me like that. I had just gone there to clear my head with all my confusing thoughts and then you happened to show up and..." she trails off.

"And then you were telling me you and Alex go there to screw around, taking your top off, giving me a massage and hitting on me," I finished for her. She winces and her shoes suddenly became very interesting to her. I tilt my head and wait to see what she has to say.

"Sorry..." she whispers.

"That happened a lot to me in my high school years. Girls would get plastered, think they are into girls, then try to hit on me or even try to kiss me when they are in that state. I say 'think' because all of them I've seen on social media are with a dude now. Who knows, maybe they ARE into girls and just continue to suppress it. I hope they are all happy with their choices." I give a little shrug like it's no big deal.

Haley has a look of horror on her face. She brings her hand on top of her head, smooths back her hair and puts her other hand on her hip.

"I can't believe I acted like that, oh my Yoba." she puts her face into her hands and takes a deep breath.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Alex. I know you guys aren't together right now, but just in case you guys get back together or anything..." I give her a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

She raises her face from her hands and gives me the most judgmental, but sympathetic look and starts chuckling. "Respectfully...you are really dumb, Danny."

[ghostclefable]

when the party's over

Tags: Post-war fluff. No beta read. Depictions of anxiety, depression, and ptsd. Comfort. Izuku is bad at feelings. Bkdk if you squint.

Summary: Izuku struggles with reality at Aoyama's going away party.

Izuku stood at the top of the first floor landing of the Class 2-A dorm, mentally steeling himself for the night ahead. He was already late, having wasted a few hours laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He inhaled deeply and descended into the communal area.

Though Yuga said he wanted a small, private going away party, their communal area had been transformed into an elegant visage. The humble light that once hung above their space had been replaced with a stunning chandelier dripping with shimmering gemstones. Sparkly streamers adorned the walls, as well as glitter filled balloons. The tables were pushed against the wall, covered in an array of hors d'oeuvres: deviled eggs, an impressive selection of cheeses, multiple types of crackers, a fondue fountain, a spread of fancy meats, grapes, melons, and many more. The open floor space was split into two sections, one for mingling and one for dancing. At the end of the dancing side sat two large speakers on stands, hooked up to someone’s (probably Kyoka’s) phone. 

Izuku expected nothing less from the boy whose hero name begged you to admire his dazzling quirk. He would miss Yuga’s penchant for extravagance. 

Most of 2-A had already arrived, along with a few of the teachers and Mr. and Mrs. Aoyama. A few of the students – namely Ochaco, Tenya, and Momo – headed the charge for setting up the party. Izuku was a part of the handful of students that were still in recovery from the war, and others had stepped up to help.

Izuku was greeted by a chorus of “hey”s as he walked towards the food tables. Izuku waved at his friends, then descended upon the delicious-looking foods. After he filled his small plate – consciously avoiding the cheese – and grabbed a plastic flute of sparkling grape juice, he made his way to Yuga.

Yuga’s light blouse draped over his shoulders, while his purple sequined pants twinkled under the dimmed party lights. There was a twinkle in his eyes once he saw Izuku approaching.

“Bienvenue et bonne nuit, mon ami!” Yuga said, striking a pose. “I’m so glad to see you, my dear Midoriya. I was just thinking about you.”

“Thinking only good things, I hope, Aoyama,” Izuku said sheepishly. “I’m happy to be here, but sad to see you go, you know?”

“Oui, but that is fate. So I want to go out in a bang with the ones who allowed me to shine the brightest!” Izuku could swear that the air around Yuga sparkled as he spoke.

“Right! Let’s make the best of it tonight!” Izuku raised his glass to Yuga, and the guest of honor clinked his glass to Izuku’s.

Izuku and Yuga chatted for a few minutes – how he’s been doing, what he was planning to do after UA – before a change in music inspired Yuga to shout “This is my song!” and bid Izuku adieu. The green haired boy watched as Yuga shimmied his way towards the dance floor, soon joined by Mina, Toru, Hanta, and Denki.

Izuku made his way to an unoccupied wall and indulged in his tray of goodies, observing his friends. Eijiro was emphatically explaining something to Mezo and Mashirao. Izuku spotted Rikido and Minoru in the kitchen, apparently still decorating a cake. (Izuku was confused why the cake was being made so late until he spotted a patch of uncleaned frosting on the floor. Perhaps a party foul claimed the first attempt.) Tsuyu, Tenya, Ochaco, Kyoka, and Momo were hovering between the precipice of the dance floor and the mingling area. Koji and Fumikage were enjoying each other’s company as far away from the speakers as they could be. Katsuki and Shoto were notably absent.

As Izuku sipped his sparkling white grape juice, he felt his mind slip away from the party, his friends, the moment.

Was this a party, or a living wake? The room flashed before him, showing when they all first moved into the dorms shortly after Katsuki was rescued, and the ensuing room tours that took place. Izuku wondered what would become of the once dazzling room next to his.

Yuga shouldn’t be the one leaving. He had betrayed them, but without his help would Izuku have been able to end All for One? Izuku’s heart clenched. After everything, Yuga proved himself to be a hero, and he still had a quirk. Izuku didn’t.

Only himself, All Might, and the Bakugo’s knew that One for All remained as smoldering embers inside of Izuku. Soon the scarce flame would extinguish, and he would once again be quirkless.

And then what?

Izuku’s entire chest tightened now, as it did every time he thought about what his life would be like after One for All. Questions assaulted his thoughts. Would he be forced to leave Class 2-A without a quirk? Or forced to leave UA entirely? Could anyone in this room look at him the same if he was quirkless? Would they accept him? Would any of them still be his friends? How could he stand here lamenting Yuga’s voluntary departure when it should be Izuku in his place?

Through short shallow breaths, Izuku realized he needed air.

He downed the rest of his drink and sat the empty cup, as well as his near full plate of food, on a nearby surface. Izuku sneakily exited the commons to the front deck, latching onto the railing. 

His eyes screwed shut while taking several deep breaths. Izuku counted backwards from ten, and gradually grounded himself in the present once more.

It was a warm June evening with a light breeze rustling through the trees. The speakers inside thumped to the tune of a classic rock ballad, the bass reverberating through the door and windows of the dorm. The sweet taste of sparkling grape juice lingered on his tongue. 

The war was over. Izuku was alive and safe. Everything was ok.

“You good over there?” Izuku snapped his head to look at the source of the voice: Katsuki. The blonde leaned with his back against the railing, his body facing the dormitory.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said softly, shocked by his friend’s presence. He remembered himself, settling into a bashful demeanor. He nervously rubbed the shaved side of his head. “Oh, yeah, I just needed some fresh air.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows were knitted together. Izuku realized that he hated that look – pity – on his face.

“What about you Kacchan? I didn’t see you inside at all.”

Thankfully, this made Katsuki’s expression change, softening. He tapped his left hand to his chest. “The loud music, the crowd. It’s not good in large doses. I said hi to Twinkles when the party started and I’ve been out here ever since. I figured people would be in and out, and I’d talk to them then.” Katsuki shrugged and looked down at his chest. “Parties were never my thing anyway, now I have an excuse to sit out.”

A small smirk grew on Izuku’s lips. “But you still came.” Katsuki glanced up at Izuku. “Even though you’re the most beat up of us all, you’re here. You wanted to be here, with your friends.” Izuku chuckled, then he added in a voice mimicking his childhood self, “So cool, Kacchan!”

Red tinged Katsuki’s cheeks and Izuku could tell he was holding back a typical overexaggerated reaction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Katsuki muttered.

The two boys eased into a comfortable silence. The music inside transitioned to something slower with a powerful bassline. Izuku’s attention shifted to the horizon, a mosaic of blues and purples speckled with orange and pink light leftover from the setted sun. The view of the city from the UA dorms had always been beautiful. Now it was populated with visible reconstruction efforts in the distance. Izuku felt conflicted by the sight.

On one hand, it was inspiring to see how quickly Japan was bouncing back from this tragedy. On the other hand, if Izuku hadn’t been pulled away, if he had been at the fight with Tomura– Tenko from the start, would there have been less carnage? Maybe he could have saved Tenko before All for One took over. Maybe Izuku would still have One for All. Maybe Katsuki wouldn’t have been hurt so badly.

Izuku’s eyes quickly flickered to Katsuki to observe the damage. Could this all have been prevented?

The scar on his cheek. His right arm in a sling, with his right hand completely bandaged. The heart monitor on his wrist that worked in tandem with another somewhere beneath his shirt.

The hole in his chest. Blood on his face. Blood pouring out of his mouth. Blood everywhere. Katsuki is dead. Kacchan is dead.

“Stop it, Izuku,” Katsuki asserted, making Izuku’s gaze snap back to his face.

“Stop… Stop what?” Izuku’s knuckles were white from gripping the railing so tightly.

Katsuki angrily sighed. “Stop looking at me like I’m the toy you broke.”

Izuku recoiled from Katsuki’s choice of words. “Kacchan, I wasn’t–”

“Plans don’t always go perfectly, and during the war shit went sideways. Every decision I made on the battlefield was mine to make. I decided to keep fighting Shigaraki. I decided to get back up when All Might was dying. And I decided to fly my broken body across the country to help you win. It happened, it’s over, and we can’t change it.” Realizing how intense he had gotten, Katsuki paused to breathe and steady himself. “We just have to... accept our new realities. Whatever that means.”

Izuku let Katsuki’s words sink in, looking down.

Hesitantly, he replied, “Like how I’m going to be quirkless again?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be caught off guard. They hadn’t really spoken since Katsuki visited him in the hospital, where the revelation of One for All fading brought Katsuki to tears. 

“I proved to myself that even a quirkless kid could be a hero, albeit with borrowed power.” Katsuki cringed at Izuku – those were his words. “And still… I can’t shake it Kacchan…” Izuku’s voice began to quiver. “That someday I’m going to wake up from this wonderful dream and I'll just be that friendless, quirkless loser that you hate.” 

When he looked over to Katsuki, he saw a younger version of the boy, no older than seven. He wondered if he looked the same in Katsuki’s eyes now.

Voice still shaking, he quietly asked, “Do you still hate me, Kacchan?”

Before Katsuki could respond, the front door opened and Tenya appeared in the doorway. The loud music from inside bled through the now open door.

“Ah! Midoriya, Bakugo. There you are.” Tenya looked between the two boys, clearly sensing the tension. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting something.” 

Izuku composed himself in record time. If his eyes had misted before, they were dry now.

“Don’t worry about it,” Izuku said with a smile. “What’s up Iida?”

Iida briefly looked past the boys, making them turn to see Shoto approaching the dorms. “Todoroki, you’re here too. Good. Sato just finished decorating the cake. Would you like to come get a slice?”

Izuku met Katsuki’s gaze, hesitating.

“Cake sounds good,” Shoto said from the steps. “I could use some levity after my family meeting.”

“Yeah,” Izuku replied to Shoto while still looking at Katsuki, “cake should lighten the mood.”

Katsuki’s expression was unreadable to Izuku, an emotion that looked out of place on his face. Katsuki’s eyes were searching Izuku’s for something. Unable to find what he was looking for, the blonde sighed and shook his head. “Nah. Doc says I’ve gotta watch my cholesterol.” 

Tenya and Shoto exchanged a glance. They and Izuku moved to head inside. 

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s arm with his good hand. Izuku looked over his shoulder at him. Katsuki opened and closed his mouth a few times.

Then, he found his words.

“Izuku. I don’t hate you. And they don’t hate you either.” Katsuki's voice was quiet, almost difficult to hear over the music. Izuku tensed under Katsuki’s grip. “None of us will ever hate you for something stupid like a quirk.”

Time slowed, the music coming from inside the house muffling. It was like they were the only two people in the world.

“You belong in there just as much as any of us, got it?” Katsuki said encouragingly. “And… if you want to talk…” A blush inexplicably crept onto Katsuki’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I’m here for you. No matter what happens.”

Izuku swallowed nerves that had climbed up his throat. Boldly, he asked, “For the rest of our lives, Kacchan?”

Katsuki gently squeezed Izuku’s arm, his face redder than before. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, nerd.”

He let go of Izuku and shooed him. “Go eat your cake.”

Izuku laughed at Katsuki’s strange way of expressing his fondness, and a new feeling bloomed in Izuku’s chest. Hope, mixed with something fluttery.

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

--

A/N: Hope you liked it! I was inspired to write this on a whim yesterday and it just poured out of me. I'd love to hear your thoughts 🙂‍↕️💜

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 10 table of contents masterlist

taglist

discord

summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

Ophelia had been an angel while Hoseok fed her the fruit; she didn't put up a fuss when he placed her on his lap nor when he chose to feed her himself. She did get slightly annoyed at Hoseok when he missed a beat in feeding her to check his phone, furrowing her brows and trying to grab a melon piece herself. Her mittens didn't allow her to grasp a single chunk, but by then Hoseok realized what she wanted and put the fruit to her mouth with a small apology.

One by one the others began getting ready to leave. It would be Hoseok and Jin alone with Ophelia today, but Jin planned on doing a little bit of shopping, leaving Ophelia in Hoseok's more than capable hands. As each person left, Hoseok gently encouraged the girl to say 'bye-bye,' resulting in an unenthusiastic hum from Ophelia. It wasn't exactly what Hoseok wanted, but he considered the small sound of acknowledgment progress no matter how small. 

"Well don't you look comfortable," Jin cooed at Ophelia, who currently was curled up in the large recliner with Hoseok. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead that Ophelia gave her signature glare at. "Remember to give her a bottle before she goes down for a nap. Maybe in like an hour or so?" Jin reminded Hoseok.

"I know, I know," Hoseok replied with a smile. "Say bye-bye to Eomma, Lia!"

"Bye," Ophelia responded, annoyance rising in her voice. The simple response still brought a huge smile to both caregivers.

"Bye, baby!" Jin placed one more kiss to Ophelia's cheek, causing her to recoil at the touch, "Be good for Hoseokie!"

Once Jin left out the front door, Ophelia immediately wanted nothing to do with Hoseok and tried to slide off his lap. The unwanted attention from Jin ruined her peaceful and relaxed mood. Hoseok's strong arm held her in place.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok asked. A moment ago Ophelia was content sitting on his lap, and why she was suddenly fussing confused Hoseok. 

"Let me go," Ophelia hissed, pushing back on Hoseok's chest to get away. Hoseok didn't give in, instead moving Ophelia around they were face-to-face with Ophelia straddling his lap. This only upset Ophelia further, now kicking her feet and squirming around in a full tantrum.

"Lia, why are you upset?" Hoseok tried to grab her chin to get her to look at him, but a mitten-clad hand swatted his own away. "You have to talk to me, love." The fussing increased until Hoseok deemed it too much, wanting to end the tantrum immediately. He took a firm hold on Ophelia's chin, forcing their eyes to meet, Ophelia's murderous gaze meeting his own stern one. 

"That is enough, Ophelia." Using her full name acted as a trigger to Ophelia; the girl became so used to being called 'Lia' or any other pet name by the men that hearing 'Ophelia' almost threw her off-guard. The name was only used when she was in trouble, forcing her to fear whenever it was used.

The girl froze for a moment, and Hoseok used that to his advantage before she fired back up again. "You need to calm down and tell me what's wrong otherwise I can't fix it, sweetie." Ophelia's face slowly scrunched in anger, and before Hoseok could securely hold her she pushed herself backward and off Hoseok's lap. Obviously, Ophelia anticipated Hoseok's embrace seeing as she simply pushed herself onto the ground.

"Lia!" Hoseok scolded, "Do you know how dangerous that was? Your head is only centimeters away from the coffee table!" Ophelia's eyes grew twice their normal size out of shock and fear- she never heard Hoseok raise his voice at her before and honestly, it was terrifying. Hoseok grabbed her arm and pulled her off the ground before she even thought of running off. Three swift swats were delivered to her bottom, Ophelia biting back her angry screams with a whimper. He continued walking her over to a corner in the living room, his grip on her arm still painfully tight. 

"Ten minutes in time-out and then you're going down for an early nap, little one." Hoseok gave her one more swat before leaving her to serve her punishment. He sat down on the couch to watch Ophelia from the corner of his eye to make sure she stays in place. 

The time-out only caused Ophelia's anger to grow, eventually causing her to literally shake with rage. Once she saw red, there was no turning back. She turned around to release her anger at the only other person in the room.

"Could you just fuck off?" She screamed, causing Hoseok to raise an eyebrow. "This entire fucking game is getting old! I don't want anything to do with you sick fucks!" 

Hoseok remained surprisingly calm, though the same anger settled in his veins. "Ophelia, turn back around."

"No!" She yelled, taking a step away from the corner. Everything felt hot, her heart was beating a mile a minute, and Ophelia's head was fuzzier than ever. Nothing felt real- Ophelia was just a spectator in her own actions.

"You have until the count of three, baby. Get back in the corner." Ophelia crossed her arms in defiance, glaring daggers at the man across the room.

"One..." Ophelia took another daring step away.

"Two..." Hoseok thought it was cute how the girl probably thought she looked tough and menacing, but the childish pout on her face gave away her horrible acting. A defiant child throwing a tantrum because she couldn't get her way- that's exactly what she was.

"Three." Hoseok stood up, and immediately Ophelia made a run for the stairs. Unfortunately for her, that involved running past Hoseok, who scooped her up once she was in arms' reach. Hoseok threw the kicking and screaming girl over his shoulder until he entered the kitchen and placed her in her highchair, allowing her to wear herself out with her tantrum while he made her bottle. By the time everything had been added to the milk, Ophelia had calmed down enough to just soft crying.

It was precious how she often got angry to the point of tears.

"Are you done?" Hoseok asked coldly, not wanting Ophelia to think her tantrum had been forgiven just yet. Ophelia slammed her head onto the tray of the highchair, covering her head with her arms. She gave her last petulant kick as Hoseok lifted her out of the highchair, placing her on his hip. He put the bottle to Ophelia's lips and fed her as he walked to the nursery. He laid her in the crib, placing the bottle next to her so she could feed herself. 

"You earned yourself an early nap, baby," Hoseok placed a kiss to Ophelia's forehead, a small show of love alongside his scolding voice. "Daddy's not going to be happy once he hears about your little tantrum."

And the tears and screams started up again. 

Watching Ophelia's tantrum from the baby monitor intrigued Hoseok. She attempted to climb out of the crib, only to realize that the bars were slightly raised after her last escape stunt. After shaking the bars with a loud scream, Ophelia plopped herself back down and continued to wail. Her crying went on for a good hour until she eventually laid down to take her nap. What really shocked Hoseok is how she fed herself her bottle in an attempt to soothe herself before she fell asleep- something he never thought she'd do considering how often she fought being little.

Usually, Ophelia's morning nap lasted a half hour to forty minutes at most- her afternoon nap was much longer. Hoseok reasoned that because Ophelia was obviously overtired, a longer nap was necessary. Waking her up any earlier may just lead to a continuation of her tantrum. 

Noon approached and Hoseok woke Ophelia up for lunch. She was out like a light when he entered the nursery, and stayed in her sleepy state as he set her down on the changing table. She used her diaper while she napped; it was a common occurrence and partially why they wanted to change her diaper while she was still half asleep. The one time she woke up and discovered she used her diaper overnight was not a fun experience for anyone. 

Hoseok changed her diaper, but something caught his eye- a small patch of blood on the diaper. Hoseok felt his heart race with anxiety- the drugs in Ophelia's milk stopped menstruation entirely, so that wasn't it. After carefully cleaning the girl more, he discovered more dark red around...

Hoseok didn't know what to do. It looked painful and uncomfortable for his poor baby- was that why she was so fussy today? Because she was in pain? He quickly threw away the dirty diaper and changed Ophelia into a longer shirt, sans diaper. Very carefully, he picked the girl back up who started fussing at the sudden movements. Hoseok didn't care, too focused on taking her to Jin because he didn't know what was wrong, nor did he want to deal with it alone.

Maybe Yoongi could wait to find out about Ophelia's little tantrum. 

[ryoun]

my friend’s twinkle melon liveblog has me thinking of what if Eungyeol and Eunyu didn’t discover each other on the train but rather when Eungyeol was talking about missing his family like “oh, Ha Eun Ho, I miss you” and Eunyu would recognized the name and been like

(I mean that’s kinda what happened lolol but it would’ve been the initial reveal instead of just her remembering the story)

@whenthegoldrays :

OH MY GOD! Now this had me thinking of fake scenarios! 😆 but worse thing or maybe good thing that could happen is when Eunyu absentmindedly told Eungyeol: I also know this person with the same name, Ha Eunho. and she began narrating how they met at the hospital when she had lost her hearing etc etc.

Ha Eun-gyeol: *remembering this girl Eunho told him that plays cello that apparently his girlfriend*

but ofc it’d be impossible because this woman is se-kyung.

[kaathaharu]

The differences

 Having nothing to write, I started writing. My fingers are curious to write. It feels my fingers are pre-prepared to pour the feelings that are traveling through the veins from the heart. And I can easily see the veins and feelings flowing through it. And my heart, MY HEART is pounding hard to push the emotions to the fingers through veins. With the same emotions, I am writing.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for you," She said it, she feels she is not enough for me!

"So do I",  "Having differences is making us feel so!"

We both are different, and we both have differences between us. You must wonder what kind of person am I?

I love having bitter melon for dinner. I like walking at night through dark alleys. I like adorning the stars rather than the moon. Cause I have a moon, yes she! She is the moon for me. Should I care about the meteoroid that is hanging on the ceiling of space having the most beautiful moon with me? Her eyes sparkle as diamonds, I love watching the twinkles on and in her eyes. I care about her more than me.

If I could get lost in the maze alleys, I would choose the alley in her eyes. I want to be lost, in the alleys. 

Love is a maze. Love is a labyrinth. You will always hustle either to find a way to go in deep into the maze or to get out of the maze. But every time you find yourself locked and blocked in a death-end corner. And every time the corners have different shades of feeling and emotion on them.

You'll never know how deep you are, or how far you're from the core of the maze. Butterflies will be butterflying on your belly, and chills will skate from your head to the leg. The only difference is, butterflies can be of any theme, dark, light, lighter, or darker. Chills can be of different temperatures, cold, warm, or hot.

The interesting part is, when butterflies with light themes are butterflying in your belly, cold chills can glide from your neck to your heart.

I want to feel every theme of butterfly butterflying on my belly. I want to feel every temperature of chills gliding through my spines. And I want myself in the maze, in the maze alleys in her eyes, in the labyrinth of love with her. 

She thinks I am strong when I see myself weak. Those differences that I was talking about. But the thing is I felt strong when she pointed me strong. I felt glowed up. I felt something strong in me. And I love her.

She thinks I am capable. In fact, yes I am capable. I am capable of holding all the feelings in me. The feelings of love. And I love her.

Having differences made her feel that she is not good enough for me?

"I am not your type"

I would smile and reply, "You are not my type. But being not my type is my type." 

Today I let my emotions write the least thing about her. Why least? It's because she is mine, the passion I am holding for her. And She is only the person with the right to feel the complete emotions that I have for her.

My hands are not so curious to write as it becomes to hold her hands. My love travels from my heart through my veins to her.

"The Differences?"

make us both interested in each other. The Differences 

make us both passionate. The Differences 

make us curious. The Differences 

make us love each other. The Differences 

If differences make us together. I love. The Differences

And I LOVE HER MORE.............<3

[eggmarr]

could i get gone,gone,gone with diluc pls thx, and congrats on 143 proud of you <3 - 🍈

for you (143 event drabble)

pairing: diluc x gn!reader (three times diluc helped you out and one time you helped him)

warnings: rude gesture, angst bc i can never write diluc without a little bit of pain, platonic kaeya friendship!!! slight suspense at the beginning, description of sweat on skin (from sparring/working out)

a/n: love u melon <3 i hope i did your boy some justice

songs: gone, gone, gone - phillip phillips and this love - taylor swift

(I)

“GET BACK HERE!”

“Run!”

You gasped, grasping Diluc’s hand and dashing through the towering stacks of vines on all sides. He faintly wonders if Elzer will be concerned at finding his dropped wood sword as you drag him behind you, stumbling over roots and tangled green.

“But-“

Quite quickly, you tug him behind a tree in the nearby grove and press a finger to your lips.

“Please.”

The adrenaline in his system from the sprint has him panting, red eyes meeting yours in strange curiosity. 

He finds himself nodding along, putting a matching finger to his own mouth in solidarity. 

Rough steps crunch on the fallen leaves, seeming to come from all directions.

The momentary silence seems safe, but…

“Got you!”

“Kaeya!” You screech as the blue-haired teen doubles over in laughter. “You menace of a boy!”

The “menace” smirks, shiny blue eyes glinting with smugness at winning the impromptu chase. “I told you I could catch you.”

“That doesn’t mean you can chase me whenever you like!” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “That conversation was WEEKS ago!”

“You should be more prepared, then.”

“…I will smack you upside the head with my glove.”

That line lets Diluc’s held-back laugh escape, a bubble popping in his throat to let joy meet the autumn air.

You freeze, as if just realizing who you had brought with you. With a slight cough, you turn to the red-haired boy and sheepishly grin. “Sorry about that mess.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiles, inclining his head towards Kaeya. “I live with him. Mess is a good word.”

“Hey!”

(The first time you met Diluc Ragnvindr in person, you wondered how such a sweet boy could exist.)

(II)

You groan, flat on your back and cringing from the sweat on your face. Breath leaves your lungs in short bursts, using the last of your strength to keep a hand up and block the beating sun.

“This is disgusting.”

“Why yes, you are disgusting.”

Your middle finger “surprisingly” makes its way upright, flashing in what seems like Kaeya’s general vicinity.

“Well, that’s an interesting reaction.”

Diluc raises an eyebrow as Kaeya points at your near-dead state, bringing a finger to swivel at his temple and mouthing “crazy.”

“Kaeya’s calling me crazy, isn’t he?”

“Good intuition.” The redhead makes his way over to you, lowering slightly to cover the sun and offer his shadow. “Need a hand?”

“Please.”

(Knight training is difficult, but at least you have help.)

(III)

The leather-bound journal sits open on his lap, yellowed pages dimly lit by the wood fire he had scrounged up.

Today marks six months since Mondstadt was no longer home.

The twinkling of a crystalfly nearby almost makes his head lift, but knowing he’ll find a deep green instead of teal feels like a punch to the gut.

And yet, Diluc finds himself writing in one of the only things he’d brought with him; a slim book of blank paper, bound in soft leather with his initials embedded in the corner. It was an impulsive decision at best, but it didn’t feel right to leave without it.

“A notebook can be your best friend in any situation,” He murmurs, tracing over the imprint with his now-callused hands. “So long as you have a mission to complete.”

He taps his fingertips on the cover, then begins to write.

(His letters to you are simple - homesickness for a person is anything but.)

(IV)

Diluc shuffles through the ever-revolving empty glasses, filling and refilling and shaking up drinks with muscle memory. Patron after patron, hour by hour, until he’s finally at the last person for this round.

“What would you like?”

“…How about some company?”

He nearly drops the empty glass he had been cleaning, whirling around only to catch himself and attempt to act casual. 

His arms felt awkwardly placed.

They were.

A smile danced across your lips as you took one of the empty seats at the bar, eyes glittering in the lamplight as you eyed his newfound blush.

“You looked a little drained, Master Diluc. I just thought I would offer-“

“Yes!” He blurts out, before stumbling both from his odd perch and over his words to recover what little pride he has left. “I mean, hm, yes. I would like to have some company.”

(As he walks back from your house on the path to the Winery, he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt.)

[trueshellz]

Ice Cream, Sticky Kisses Event for @keiamor

Warnings: pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl), semi-public sex, swearing, reader getting verbally assaulted, suggestive thoughts, forced multiple orgasms, a bit of roughness.

Beach parties were the best thing ever!

Sun, sea, sand and hot guys were the perfect way for you to wind down after your last term at college. Exams were over and you had celebrated by purchasing a new bikini, a red one shoulder two-piece with a separate red chiffon skirt. It was jewelled around the hem with little gold diamanté detailing and the sides were cut out. You had gone past the store for 3 weeks before you even considered buying it, thought about it for another 2 weeks before you tried it on and another 2 days before you took the plunge.

Now, lying here under a huge parasol with your shades on you were excited to relax and recuperate before you started your new job in a week. The sun was warm on your legs, you could hear the thump of the waves as it hit the rocks near you and the faint screams of children as they played nearby. You had found a small secluded place where you wouldn't be disturbed on your trip. The chime of the ice cream van broke your daydream, deciding that it would be a good way to cool down and get some sugar.

Slipping on some flip flops, you tied up your hair and made your way across the beach through the small crowds of people. Making sure to avoid the groups of rowdy young men, the ones content on causing trouble with their predatory gazes and wandering hands. Edging to the side, away from the main shore towards the van you yelped, whirling around, when a hand landed purposely on your ass. Not an accidental brush, this hand cupped your ass like it was a ripe melon squeezing gently before you shoved him off. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, the gross combination making your nose wrinkle as you tried to side step him.

"Fuck off!"

"Come on sweetheart, you're out here looking that... I just wanted a quick taste."

"Ew. Leave me alone."

Moving away from him, you pulled your skirt around you tighter, vaguely aware of him swearing behind you. The noise getting louder as he followed you, your heart thumping in your chest as you searched for a security or lifeguard to help you. Turning around, you could see him stimping behind you spit flying, hands held in fists as he cursed at you. Your momentum suddenly broken when you rammed headfirst into a wall.

Or what felt like a wall at least.

"Shit... sorry... I- oh wow."

A lopsided grin, eyes twinkling with humour as you met his eyes. His blond floppy hair styled on the side, locks falling into his golden gaze. Hands clasping you by the arms as he steadied you, Pro Hero Hawks in all his winged glory. His skin tanned, a gorgeous shade from his time outside, hard muscles where they were pressed against your boobs, his-

"You fucking bitch! Who do you think you are huh? Think you're better than anyone else? Ugly bitch, you deserve to-"

"Finish that sentence, I dare you."

Gone was the humour and grin, eyes focused on the man behind you as he moved you to the side gently. Walking until he was face to face with your attacker, his wings arched menacingly behind him as he glared. Moving until he was nose to nose with him, you watched in awe as the vile man almost shrank before your eyes. The anger dissipated, almost sober now, eyes filled with fear as they darted side to side, seeking some help or assistance.

"Don't look at them. Why you looking at them? Don't look at her either. You had so much to say earlier. Care to repeat that?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, what? Can't quite hear you."

"No, sir. I'm sorry."

Hawks glared down at the man before walking back and holding your hand, tugging you away from him towards the benches. Sitting you down, you were suddenly aware of the feathers around you carrying a cold drink.

"I-"

"Drink something. You look like you're going to pass out, sweetheart."

Mouth opening and closing a few times, you sipped the drink in your hand. Looking up at him through eyelashes, his bronze legs encased in red shorts and yellow sunglasses perched on the top of his head. His wings had folded back now, demeanor a lot calmer without the danger around. His hands on his hips as he scanned the area, eyes darting around the beach. The sun catching his hair making it almost glow in the light.

"Thank you." You smiled a little when he looked at you. "For saving me back there."

Hawks couldn't help but stare a little, you looked so beautiful sitting there in his favourite colour. The warm hues against your beautiful skin, matching his wings, was gorgeous to look at. He could see the gems on the hem, the strip of skin peeking through at your hips and imagined the tan lines you would get. Recalling the incident, he remembered how scared you had looked when the guy was following you. He had seen the incident happen, not wanting to step in since you looked like you had it under control, but the disrespect he saw was too much.

"Can I treat you to an ice cream as a thank you?"

Sitting back on your blanket under the parasol in your little secluded corner, this time with Hawks sat beside you eating an ice cream, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You would glance at him from the corner for your eyes and see him smile at you, cheeks heating before you looked away quickly. His glasses were perched on his head, hand supporting him as he leaned back and licked his cone, you couldn’t help stare at the way his tongue would dart out to scoop up small bits. Watched enthralled as it would poke out and lick the side of his mouth, the strawberry sauce dripping down the sides from the heat making him chase it with his mouth.

Little did you know, the Pro Hero was thinking equally un-hero thoughts about you.

He had no right being this turned on, dick pressed against his shorts as he watched you eat your ice pop. He could see the sweet treat move in and out your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you sucked it. The sugary liquid coating your lips, small dribbles leaking down the side of your mouth that would would scoop up with your finger. Tongue lapping at the side to stop it melting, dragging it up its length before swirling it around the tip. The whole thing was erotic... and so wrong of him to think about. Especially after the pervert following you earlier. He wanted to bash his face in, make him suffer for what he did and said to you.

“... Hawks?”

Crap, you were talking to him?!

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t catch that.”

Too busy staring at you blow that ice pop.

“I said, you must be busy.”

“Hmmm, kind of.”

A sudden gust of wind had you shrieking, hands up to cover your face from the sand but it never came. Eyes opening slowly, you found yourself face to face with Hawks as his wings shielded you from the small sandstorm. So close, you could see his long eyelashes and the small spatter of hair on his chest. His hands were around your arms again, feathers tickling you slightly and you realised how well matched you must look. His red wings against your red bikini, the gold gems matching his sunglasses.

“Wanna wash off in the water?”

Hawks couldn’t keep his eyes off you, he knew he should, knew it was wrong but the way you looked right now? Fuck. The water sliding off your body, bikini wet and pressed to your skin. The skirt thing discarded, he could see the lushness of your ass when you turned around. Moving towards you, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you towards him, having you fall onto him as he caught you in a soft kiss. He could feel your small gasp rather than hear it, the intake of breathe before his mouth descended on yours.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

The words were a whisper, drowned out by the water crashing around you and the thunderous rush of your heartbeat in your ears. He could see your body heat, flush from embarrassment as his hands clasped your ass. To answer him, you grasped the back of his neck and pulled him towards you. His kiss harder this time, a loud groan as you responded back in kind, your arms wrapped around his neck as he ran his fingers across your ass. His lips were soft, teasing as he bit your bottom lip and soothed the small hurt it caused, licking the side of your neck and sucking the skin there. His hands grabbing your ass harder now, fingers digging into the soft flesh, kneading it as he started rubbing himself against you. The length of his dick pressed against your stomach, a small flush working it’s way up his body as you reached into his shorts to wrap your hand around it.

"Can I..."

The question left hanging as you held him, running up and down his cock slowly. Smiling when his head dropped forward on your shoulder, a small groan leaving his mouth. Hawks dragged you to the side, an area enclosed by rocks as where the water was shallow and you didn't risk drowning. Fingers wrapped around your wrist as he pulled you until you were pressed against some rocks as his other hand untied the strings holding his shorts up. Your mouth running a little dry when he pulled about his length, long and hard curved up and slapping against his stomach. The tip red and glistening with precum, a long vein along the bottom curling to the top. Hawks reached up to untie your bikini, eyes questioning until you helped him. Your tits bouncing as they were free from their confines, his mouth licking from your sternum to your nipples. Back arching when warm and wet surrounded it, your hand threading through his locks as you held him there.

"Hawks..."

"Call me Keigo, sweetheart. Especially when I'm going to be fucking your tight pussy in a bit."

His words sent a rush of desire through your body, wetness pooling between your legs with each pull of his mouth. His hands trailing to his hips to take your hand and wrap it around his hard length, you mouth opening on a gasp as he began moving it up and down.

"Just like that, sweet girl. Stroke my dick while I get this body ready for me."

You gasped when his fingers drew your bikini bottoms to one side, thick fingers deftly parting your folds to gather your slickness. Dipping into your hole before circling your clit, fingers pushing further each time while his mouth distracted you. Your own hand moving up and down, gathering the pre cum to ease the way. You cupped his balls as he pressed two fingers inside you, the dual feeling making him groan loudly against your tits. Fingers moving in and out, pushing against your gummy walls as he rubbed your clit. Stretching you around them, adding a third and making your gasp, head thrown back as he spoke against your chest.

"Gonna stretch this pussy out, get it all swollen and puffy. Make it leak with my cum when I'm done. Fuck, you're so wet."

Suddenly he pulled out and away, hand stroking his dick as he lifted your leg, exposing your pussy once more before he started pushing in bit by bit. Your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, running to the top of his wings and he held your hips. The feeling of his dick pushing into you had you whining, head buried in his neck as he groaned. The push and pull feeling as he added an inch at a time until your body had accepted the intrusion. His hips snug against yours, hands cupping your ass as he started moving in and out, wings providing a little protection from the elements and any wandering eyes who walked by.

You couldn't hear anything over the rush in your ears, his groans and whines in your ears as he snapped his hips. The slapping of skin on skin drowning out the waves crashing around you. Mouth finding yours and swallowing your sounds as he fucked you, louder and louder reaching a crescendo when your orgasm came abruptly. Your breath came in short pants as your heartbeat raced, not giving you reprieve, Hawks fucked into you harder. Spreading your legs wider so he could push into the deepest parts if your pussy, the movement hitting your gspot.

"Wait... H- Keigo. Slow... slow down. Please."

But that didn't stop him, his growling as he came again reaching a peak we you felt his hips stutter against yours. Your back arching and body shaking just as he pushed into you to the hilt and painted your insides with his cum. Kissing you neck and moving to your mouth, a hard kisses all tongue and teeth and he bit your lips until they were swollen from his kisses. Fingers digging into your ass until he emptied himself inside of you, grinding against your clit until you were sensitive.

The moment completely destroyed by a huge wave of water splashing on both your heads and making you both sputter. His dick slipping out with a wet pop. Your giggles met his as he looked at you, hair sweaty and stuck to his head as he put you down into the water. The cold a shock to your heated skin and wobbly legs.

[sxfterhearts]

53. [4:07 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: fluff fluff fluff, baker!au, baker!yugyeom, exchange student!y/n

➳ word count: 2,040 words

➳ summary: “Sit down, I’ll get it.”

➳ author's note: rach-stop-mentioning-food-in-every-single-timestamp-challenge: failed. just the thought of baker!yugs and bread has me feeling all soft and gooey inside. which is why i whipped this one up! it has been a phat minut since i last wrote so yea :”) (also i should mention italicised are korean!!) regardless i hope this will help brighten up your day a little!! sending many warm hugs xx

//

Your phone screeched from its resting place on the other side of your room, signalling the start of your day. It was strategically placed atop your wooden, old-fashioned dresser, with the sole purpose of motivating you to get out of bed and turn the damn thing off.

With a groan, you stretched all four of your limbs, releasing a satisfied yawn as your joints popped after a good nights’ rest.

It was late afternoon. The rays of sunshine splattered deep orange and gold as it sneaked past the cracks the half-open blinds, painting your tiny studio apartment with lazy signs of life.

You dragged your sleep-ridden body to the dresser, still reluctant to start the day after what was an immensely taxing Friday night. Having just arrived in this bustling Korean city a mere two weeks ago, you were somewhat proud of yourself for landing a part-time job to support yourself when you started your semester of exchange. The only problem was, it happened to be a bartending job in a rowdier part of Seoul, commonly patronised by sleazy middle-aged men and their younger lady companions.

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, anyways. Your Korean was still very much at an elementary level, which didn’t prove to be a hindrance in the bar you worked at. Most of the drinks were named in English, and the owner of the bar, a surprisingly kind, motherly lady in her sixties, paid you well above the minimum wage.

Still, it was your second Friday shift ever, and it clearly took its toll on you. Staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you cringed. The eyebags under your eyes were so dark it could’ve easily been mistaken as a smoky-eye look gone wrong; your lips were awfully chapped and an alarming shade of red, while a few nasty pimples threatened to break through the surface of your skin.

In other words, you looked like a wreck.

Grabbing your phone, you checked the time. Ten minutes past four. Oh no, you winced internally. You were going to be very late if you didn’t leave your house in the next fifteen minutes. As though an internal switch flipped on, you turned the shower to full blast and stepped inside, sucking in your teeth as the cold water splashed against your skin.

In eight minutes flat, you were tugging on your beat-up sneakers and dashing for the elevator in your only pair of clean, non-alcohol-stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt that you conveniently picked off the pile of dry clothes on your sofa. You jammed the down button a couple of times, all while checking the time on your phone.

“Shit,” You cursed under your breath. 4:19. You couldn’t wait any longer.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you sprinted down the fire escape and did not stop for a single breath until you reached the final destination: a charming little bakery across the road from your apartment.

Rushing to the bakery just before closing time had become a habit for you. Amidst the chaos of moving and finding your feet in this new city, the bakery and its never-ending stream of patrons were your source of stability. Not only was it less busy and crowded during the evening, but it was also much easier for you to snag a couple of good bargains in the form of randomly-packaged, discounted breads.

The fact that the cute baker was the last one in store and in charge of closing up was just an added bonus.

//

A high-pitched, annoying chime broke him out of his daze. With a groan, Yugyeom straightened his slumped figure and stretched his arms above his head, releasing a satisfied sigh as his backbone cracked.

It was late afternoon. The rays of sunshine splattered deep orange and gold as it flooded through the drawn, white lacey curtains, painting his grandfather’s bakery with calm and relief; a peaceful conclusion. The end of daylight was drawing near.

He wiped a stray trail of saliva off the corner of his mouth before sucking on a mint. Checking the clock that hang above rack upon empty rack which usually contained baked goods, his palms inexplicably grew clammy.

4:27, Yugyeom mused. He shook his head to clear his spiralling thoughts. Keep it together, dummy. Just because she came the past few days doesn’t mean that she’ll come today too. She has her own life, her own friends, maybe even a boyfri-

Oh?

Just as his mind was about to veer off course and crash into the thorny garden of unrequited love, Yugyeom caught sight of a blurry figure at the corner of his eyes. Intrigued, he stood up straight and watched as you appeared in front of the bakery’s double doors. For a few seconds, you simply clutched your knees and huffed and puffed. Yugyeom could barely stop the shit-eating grin that split across his face and had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to avoid looking like a fool.

Then, you did the unexpected. From the back pocket of your jeans, you pulled out your lip balm and applied it on your lips, using the bakery’s glass window as a mirror. At that, Yugyeom threw his head back in a hysterical fit of laughter.

It was hard for him to explain the feeling in his chest, really. The first time you walked through the doors of the bakery, eyes twinkling with pure wonder and amazement as you browsed the array of baked goods like how a girl would admire a display of diamond rings, he was screwed. You captivated his interest as you fumbled for the right number of coins to pay for your discounted breads, tongue stuck out and head tilted adorably while doing so. He gave you, the damsel in distress, a helping hand, by laying all your coins out on the counter and ordering them from lowest to highest value. Probably not the most helpful of gestures, but Yugyeom liked to tell himself that he was performing his civic duty by welcoming a visitor of Korea through non-verbal currency explanations and an introduction to the locals’ favourite breads, pastries and drinks. That evening, the two of you sat on the high table by the window, slowly savouring melon breads, injeolmi toasts, ang butter or red bean butter breads and an assortment of cream cheese breads. While the breads were wonderfully fluffy and the sweetness was at an acceptable level, Yugyeom instructed you to wash it down with an iced Americano.

Since then, the mere thought of the bakery, going to the bakery, its breads and pastries, its drinks and Yugyeom coated your insides with sweetness. Admittedly, the reason why you kept visiting the bakery was to create more memories with Yugyeom and ride the amazing sugar rush you felt whenever you were around him.

After rearranging your hair for the nth time, you bravely pushed open the doors and walked in at 4:29pm.

“Hello!” You called out in Korean as you waved at him, a wide smile plastered on your lips. There was an obvious language barrier (you with your kindergarten-level Korean and him with his Game of Thrones-standard of English), but it wasn’t obvious. The two of you came up with creative ways to break it down.

“Hi Y/N! Sit down. I’ll get it.” Yugyeom answered in English, emerging from behind the counter with his trusty English-Korean dictionary and a matcha latte he prepared in anticipation of your arrival. He walked towards you with an air of confidence, reminding you of a model in a fashion show despite wearing his typical slacks and white button-up, with sleeves rolled up and cross drop-earrings adorning his ears. Yugyeom quickly set the items down before pulling out a chair, nodding towards it to encourage you to sit.

You muffled a giggle at his gentlemanly actions, but complied, nonetheless. You glanced over to the boy, sipping on the creamy drink as he retrieved two large plates from the cake fridge. Sure, the assortment of cakes should have been the main attraction, but your eyes drifted and settled on the stern look of concentration on his face and his prominent collarbones peeking out of his shirt. Unbuttoned, you assumed, as he was going to be off work soon.

You were halfway through the drink when Yugyeom returned to the table. He noticed this and didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease you about it. “Is it really good?”

“Thirsty. I just woke up.” You admitted, cheeks heating up in slight embarrassment.

Yugyeom’s wholehearted laughter filled the entire bakery.

“H-hey! Bad boy… Mean…”

“No, I…” Yugyeom stifled another round of laughter as he tried to pull himself together. “Cute. You wake up, come to see me in bread house.”

“Not ‘bread house’, ‘bakery’.”

“Ah, thank you. Bakery.” He tested the word on his lips, getting used to the pronunciation. “Bakery…”

“What are these?”

Yugyeom handed you a small cake fork while taking a seat. “Here. This plate is for tarts, and this one is for cakes. The tarts have the same filling – custard. But we use different fruits, like strawberries, berries, grapes and peaches. Whatever’s in season, really. Strawberries and cherry tarts are really popular in winter. Try some!” He reverted back in Korean whenever he was explaining, which was a great opportunity for you to pick up new vocabulary.

It was also a fantastic opportunity to try delicious pastries. You rotated through the entire plate painted in shades of pinks and green, taking a bite of each tart. Yugyeom just sat there, head in his palms, and admired the slight changes in your expression whenever you tried a new flavour. As creepy as it sounds, watching you eat the food he prepared was gradually becoming his favourite pastime.

“Cherry! That one is the best! It’s…” You quickly reached for the dictionary, softly muttering to yourself as you thumbed through the pages. “Here, acid. Acid, not too sweet. The strawberry one too.” Your eyes crinkled at their edges as they met his intrigued orbs, proudly smiling at yourself for learning a new word today.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘acidity’. ‘Acid’ is for chemistry.”

“Acidity?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Yugyeom reached over, his huge palm caressing the top of your head before ruffling your hair. You pouted and feigned annoyance, all while your heart squeezed and pounded away in your chest.

“Hey…” You protested weakly.

Yugyeom’s hand retreated. He placed it on the table, right next to your smaller ones. The distance between your hands taunted him; tempted him to close the gap and intertwine your fingers with his. Honestly, Yugyeom wasn’t used to this; wasn’t used to feeling like his insides were going to explode. His mouth opened and closed several times as he pondered his next move, wondering whether it would overstep your boundaries.

But then you stared at him in anticipation with your beautiful brown orbs, innocent and confused, as your lips wrapped around the straw of your matcha latte. Your gaze asked him an unspoken question, urging him on.

Yugyeom dragged your chair closer his, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you. He rested both of his palms on top of your knees, gaining your full attention. “I like…” Yugyeom paused, catching his bottom lip between his pearly whites as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “I like this time with you.”

The soft giggle was purely involuntary, you swore to him afterwards. Yet, as you watched his expression flicker into one of panic, you were quick to cast out his worries. “No, no! Don’t get me wrong. Did you mean, you like spending time with me?”

“Ah, I was trying to be romantic. Stupid English…” Yugyeom cursed under his breath in Korean, unaware that you were familiar with the word ‘romantic’ due to the hours you spent (wasted) binging Korean dramas. “Yes, I do.” He said while squeezing your kneecaps in affirmation.

You had to remind yourself time and time again to keep calm in the presence of this charming man and his magical hands. “Me too, Yugyeom. You’re my favourite time of the day.”

Needless to say, your afternoon ritual continued for weeks and months to come.

[athela-3]

dub-ble trouble

1.7k words; gen/comedy; sequel/companion piece to laughter is (not) the best medicine, so some things may remain contextless here; link skill CO 12% up-type nonsense; no content warnings.

Three days into Kazunari's doctor-prescribed silence, Misumi has an idea to let him be heard. After all, that's what triangle buds do for each other, right?

You think your cheap tactics can work on me? Yosh, here we go—eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen hit combo! Hah! Take your stupid DOT debuff and eat it!

“Itarun! Whassup, my man!”

“Hm? Hey, Kazunari.” Itaru's eyes don't leave his handheld console, fingers still dancing as he chains one attack after another mercilessly.

Wait a second.

Kazunari?

Itaru looks up just as the final crit finishes off his enemy, right in time to see the rest of the room also gawking at Kazunari with varying expressions of surprise. Well, almost everyone else in the room. Judging by his regular face-splitting grin, Misumi doesn't seem very concerned, while Kazunari himself is wearing a look of perfect cheerful innocence, looking every bit as if he hadn't been explicitly prohibited from saying even a single word.

A clink from the kitchen. The Director sets down her mug, brows knitting, and uh-oh, Itaru recognises that look on her face, that's the look Sakyo has when he's this close from a ten-minute unskippable scolding cutscene. “Kazunari. Why are you talking.”

Misumi turns to Kazunari, blinking slowly like a confused cat. “Kazu? Is that a question? It sounds like one, but not really…”

Kazunari nods, still wearing a smile bright enough to light a small village.

Misumi pauses. “Oh. Okay!” He frowns for a second, then opens his mouth, and then Itaru swears he hears Kazunari's voice say: “Aww, Director! It's all good! Sumi's doing the talking for me, so I don't have to say anything for real! Dope, right?”

Silence.

“Dude.” Itaru stares at Misumi, then at Kazunari, and back again. “Are you… dubbing him?”

“Yep!” Misumi nods enthusiastically, hair flying in all directions. “I asked Kazu if he wants to try it, and he said yes! I'm going to talk for him!”

“Huh?!” Tsuzuru, standing in the kitchen with a cup noodle in his hand, blurts out. “How do you even know what he wants to say?”

“Of course I know!” Misumi declares, something strikingly like indignation clouding his face. “Kazu and I are buds, so I know what he wants to say! Right, Kazu?”

Kazunari grins, throwing an arm around Misumi's shoulders. “That's right, Sumi!” he—well, not says, not exactly, his mouth and throat didn't move and the voice clearly came from Misumi's direction, but Itaru is forced to admit that was an eerily pitch-perfect imitation.

“Kazunari Miyoshi, CV: Misumi Ikaruga,” he murmurs. “Huh. Fancy that.”

Tsuzuru blinks, sighing deeply. “I feel like I'm watching a puppet show…”

Kazunari reaches a hand towards the playwright, and immediately Misumi jumps into action. “C'mon, Tsuzurun! This way, I can still say my lines when the Summer Troupe is practicing, and I can talk to you guys! It's faster than typing, too!”

“That doesn't make it any less weird!”

“Still,” the Director shrugs, “that's a good point. You can keep on LIME-ing things to us for daily conversation, but practice has been kind of tricky…”

Tsuzuru jolts. “Director—! You don't seriously think—”

“If it's for practice, why not? It'll help the others get the feel for their timing, and you have to admit, doing this sort of double-act takes a lot of skill and concentration. It's basically an extended role study.” She turns to the two, eyeing them pensively. “And like they said, it sure is faster than typing.”

“So you prefer dubs to subs, huh?” Itaru grins.

The Director shrugs. “We can try it out for today's practice,” she decides, completely ignoring his comment. Oof. “But no promises after that.”

Kazunari pumps his fist, triumphant, and Misumi mirrors him with an excited little hop. “Yay! Thank you, Director!” he shouts in his own voice, before following it with an in-character (?) “Thanks, Director! That's so poggers of you!”

“Really, you guys?” Itaru throws his hands in the air, letting his console drop onto his lap. “Isn't anyone gonna mention how scarily spot-on his Kazunari impression is? Seriously, you should consider becoming a voice actor.”

“Huh?” Misumi's eyes are round as melons. “But I already act with my voice!”

Kazunari elbows him lightly, and, oh, here we go, he wants to say something Misumi doesn't know about, doesn't he? On one hand, Itaru could step in now and explain how voice acting is a different profession from normal acting, but on the other hand, he could also wait this out and see how the dubber and dub-ee resolve this.

He expected pantomime, at least a few gestures, maybe even the return of of Kazunari's phone to type out whatever it is he intends to say. What he did not expect was a few seconds of eye contact, after which Misumi simply turns around and says, with perfect confidence is his telepathic abilities: “Whoa, is that really a thing? Can stage actors just switch and become voice actors like that?”

Tsuzuru slams his palms against the kitchen counter. “How?” he demands. “How do you do that? Miyoshi, was that even really what you wanted to say?”

Kazunari nods, and so does Misumi. Twin pairs of nettled glares pin Tsuzuru in perfect synchronisation. “We're triangle buds,” Misumi repeats, with every air of an older sibling who has to explain the same thing over and over again and is running low on patience, “so I just have to use my triangle senses! It's easy!"

Tsuzuru stares at them, confusion and frustration flashing into desperation across his eyes. Finally, he sighs, shakes his head, and takes another bite of his cup noodles.

“But, really. Can you switch from stage acting to voice acting that easily?” the Director echoes thoughtfully. “It's one thing to convey your emotions to an auditorium, but when your voice is all you have to go by… Without gestures, body language, or even eye contact, that's a whole different kind of practice, isn't it?”

“Funny, that's exactly what Azami said the other day,” Itaru grins. “But it does happen now and then. Sometimes they still do stage acting and only voice one or two characters, but some people change careers entirely. Like—

“I'm home!”

The door swings open, and in walks Tenma, eyes immediately seeking out the clock on the living room wall. When he notices the group congregating in the kitchen, he juts his chin and pops off a sincere, if somewhat exhausted, grin in lieu of greeting.

“Welcome back,” Tsuzuru says.

“Tenten! Welcome back, piko!”

“Hey, Tenma. How was the photoshoot? Did you have fun?” The Director smiles, and Itaru mentally adds it to his ever-increasing hypothetical list of Reasons Why the Director is Everyone's Mum.

“It was fine,” Tenma shrugs. “Regular stuff, just—wait a second, what was that?”

“I asked if you had fun.”

“No, not you, Director! Before that!”

“Welcome home, piko!”

And Tenma all but jumps in his own skin. “Hey! Aren't you not supposed to talk yet? You said it's going to take a couple weeks at least! It's only been three days!”

“Oh, here we go again,” Itaru rolls his eyes theatrically. “Dialogue re-triggered.”

“Kazunari didn't say that. Misumi did,” Tsuzuru rattles off, numbering the points off his fingers. “He's going to voice Kazunari for today's practice. The future is still undecided.”

“The future always is,” Itaru notes mildly, pretending not to see the dirty look Tsuzuru shoots him.

“It's all right, Tenma!” Misumi assures him, before adding in full-on Kazunari mode: “The Director gave us permission, so we'll be in your care, yeah?”

“Sheesh… Seriously, you guys?”

“It's not a bad idea,” the Director says. “Or do you prefer yesterday's drawing boards?”

“No! Not the drawing boards!” Tenma's eyes widen in panic. “That's impossible!”

“Aw, but I think your pictures were nice!” Misumi puts in, coated in pure hundred-proof sincerity. “I liked the beef with the face and wiggly bits!”

“The what?”

“Nothing! It's nothing!” Tenma shakes his hand in the air, as if physically swatting Itaru's question aside. “L–look, it's almost time for practice, right? I had to hurry back from the photoshoot for practice, you know! Don't just stand around like that, let's go!”

“You heard your leader,” the Director chides, though the twinkle in her eyes completely undermines any seriousness in her words. “You boys go ahead, I'll catch up with you after I finish my coffee.”

“Okay!” says Misumi.

Kazunari snaps a mock salute, complete with a wink.

“Yes, Ma'am! C'mon, Sumi, let's go, piko!”

And with that… dialogue? Monologue? Something in between?—the dubbing duo bustle out of the kitchen like matched whirlwinds, curtains fluttering and footsteps echoing in their wake, while Tenma trails behind with a considerable gap in energy levels.

“I'm never gonna get used to that,” Tsuzuru mutters as he watches them leave.

“Eh, could be worse,” Itaru offers philosophically.

“Like how?”

“Could be Citron doing the dubbing.”

Tsuzuru shudders, pain shooting across his face like a thunderbolt. He finishes the last of his noodles and drops the emptied cup into the rubbish bin. “Now, that's just…”

The Director shakes her head, half a smile tugging at her lips. “Relax, they'll probably get bored of it sooner than later. Just let them have their fun for now. Besides, it can't possibly get any weirder than this, right?”

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: Timeskip Lev make me go BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF AAARF ARF. P.S: For double the experience, read while listening to this

diapason. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev meets you again and you develop some sort of warm reconnection with your past underclassman. (Continuation of this fic)

word count: 4402

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) a full, rich outpouring of melodious sound

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

The Danube Canal in mid-winter reminds you of a lot of things:

The Shakujii River flanked with its timeless parade of cherry blossom trees. Christmas celebrations spent at home with your family, popping bottles of soda and whining about misshapen gifts. Your piano recitals played in utter devotion, like the winter would never end.

You’re a long, long way away from home, and you start to hope if anyone is missing you. If there’s a hole in your figure carved into someone’s heart back in Japan or some place in the other side of the world—

What am I thinking... you sigh, bashfully urging yourself to keep on walking.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of your wool scarf, you wonder if it’s the cold ambience of the night that’s making you feel all sappy. Twinkling lights, murmured chatter from late-night cafés, the occasional gust of wind against your cheeks. You never thought you’d get so nostalgic on your “vacation”, but perhaps you’re just like any other hopeless romantic.

“Come to Vienna! A whirlwind of budding love!”

You’d read that advertisement in one of the catalogues your symphony’s personnel manager had excitedly dumped into your lap the day she announced your personal invitation to spectate the Vienna Philharmonic live a few weeks ago. You didn’t think much of the slogan, but even so... you have to admit you’re a tad bit lonely, aren’t you?

You can barely remember a moment where you didn’t feel lonely. You had your family at home, but you’d considered it your fault for being such a shut-in for the most part of your life. The neighborhood kids weren’t exactly the nicest people. And school life hadn’t been much of an improvement either.

Of course, until him.

A colossal first year stumbling into the desolate Orchestra Club room, with a mouth just as big as his stature. Haiba Lev who had been anxiously lost that day you’d met. With such little sense of direction, you can’t help but laugh at how much times he’d managed to find you in that maze of your high school.

He’d find you, talk to you, laugh with you. And you’d never felt all the rushing feelings you’d felt when you were with this dewy-eyed boy. He was the perfect image of confidence—radiant, ambitious and all the more charming.

If only you can thank him. Your hero of sorts. Haiba Lev who poured into you all the faith he had so you could move forward—

“A-ah, excuse me?”

Whipping your head into the direction of the choppy English, a seething blush rises onto your cheeks when you zero in to the large camera lens pointed right at you.

The bearded man speaks again. “Eh... you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Sorry, but we’re having a photoshoot right now, and you’re in the way of our model. Could you maybe...”

Oh dear, you frazzle. Prostrating yourself incessantly at the camera crew, you blunder. “I’m v-very sorry! Waah, I must’ve ruined your picture!”

“It’s fine,” the man smiles kindly. “Things like this often happen anyway. Ain’t that right, Hafu-sama?”

The lean figure behind you laughs, and for a second, you feel your chest flutter in your throat when you hear him. “Yep! Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

You really wish you hadn’t turned around because the moment your eyes locked with a pair of emeralds, you swear that your heart leapt out of your chest. All feeling of chilliness lamented, you feel red heat stretching out across your skin.

“H-Haiba-kun?!”

Unable to keep your footing steady, a stagnant lump rises in your throat when the familiar man grins at you with galaxies in his eyes.

“Fairy-senpai!!”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. October 2012.

“Senpai!”

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, a wave of frightened third years part to let the gigantic creature of a first year through. Haiba Lev, age 16, is excited. Haiba Lev, 194.3 centimeters tall, is burning with so much resolve that he pays no heed to the Discipline Committee member who is resentfully yelling at him to “stop running in the hallways, you hoodlum!”

But who could blame him?

When you turn around and jolt in surprise, Lev drowns in the tiny fairies that flutter in his chest.

“Haiba-kun? What are you doing here?” you take a moment to register his full presence—considering his substantial size, Lev would probably understand your current disposition.

Finally, you whisper in a low tone, highly aware of the crowd that’s pivoting towards your conversation. “... Did you get lost again?”

“Of course not!” Lev replies rather gruffly. “I wanted to look for you to give you this so I can thank you for when I got lost.”

Thrusting a daintily wrapped bento towards you, the tall boy is rather unabashed about the entire situation—lace cloth and all. There’s a fragrant steam seeping out from the gaps of the box, spooling and wafting (and you think your ears pick up the noise of someone’s rumbling stomach).

You’d thought of spending your lunch alone in your club room, or maybe even the rooftop if you were up for it... like the usual. But the moment Lev starts talking again, you completely forget the idea as a whole.

Innocently grinning, he asks, “Do you want to eat lunch together, L/N-senpai?”

How could you say no?

And thus, here you are in the courtyard with a titan first-year who is nearly twice your size, jovially chattering about as you quietly eat your lunch.

When was the last time you ate something so cute? Your parents stopped making you character bentos since you got into middle school (“Aah... sorry, Y/N. Dad’s hands aren’t as artistic as they used to be,” your father had told you that day, an utter look of guilt dancing across his face). You weren’t too confident in your own skills either, so bentos with endearing faces and shaped cut-outs of vegetables were simply a fragmented piece of the past.

First-years today are so talented, you think, shoveling down your meal in sheer politeness. “This is delicious, Haiba-kun! The chicken is so tender and the rice is so well-seasoned! I wish I had your sense for cooking...”

“My sister made it, actually. I tried to help her cut the eggs, but it ended up being a mess and she told me to just sit and wait in the dining room,” he replies sheepishly, a bubble of laughter slipping from between his lips. “I’m glad you like it though, Senpai! Just wait ‘til my sister hears about your reaction!”

“Does your sister always make your lunches for you?” you ask, curiosity subduing your reserve.

Lev takes a moment to swallow the lump of rice in his mouth.

“Mm, sometimes. If she’s not having a lecture in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. Otherwise, the teriyaki set at the cafeteria is just as good!”

Cafeteria. You shiver. That hellhole of shoving and scrambling and incessant talking... You’re thankful the school had decided to set up a few more vending machines close to campus when you entered your second year.

And then you think of Lev. With that extreme height and intimidating presence, he wouldn’t have to put his foot on the line every time he wanted melon bread, right? And he is definitely the type of person to be able to talk to the loud cafeteria lady without dropping his change.

Confidence. Recklessness. Bliss. All the prime features you wanted, right in front of you—and yet...

“Hey, L/N-senpai?” you snap awake from your thoughts. A dash of concern flashes over your underclassman’s features before he repeats his muted question. “Can I have one of your sausages?”

Peering down at the cluster of uneaten octopus sausages, you quickly nod, face reddening once you realize how close Lev is breathing near you. “G-Go ahead.”

Chirping out a “thank you for the food!”, the silver-haired boy swoops down on a miniature octopus, a sound of immense satisfaction humming in his chest. He’s like a child, you laugh to yourself. A young boy with no sense of care of the world, no concern of what’s going to happen to him unless he really does it.

Leaning back on the bench, you sigh, a smile dawning on your face. “You didn’t have to force yourself to eat lunch with me, you know. I usually eat by myself anyway.”

You’re being apologetic again. You want to punch yourself for even thinking of it. But your habit precedes your intentions, and you can already feel the mood turn sour—

“Why not though?”

Looking up at him incredulously, you can barely string together a coherent response before Lev pipes up again.

“Isn’t food always best when eaten together?”

How pretentious.

There are already valleys of flowers blooming in your stomach at his innocent reply. The same kind that sprouted the day he’d burst into your private practice room. You really hoped you wouldn’t get ahead of yourself anymore. Not with the risks that it carried. But this guileless first year was a much more difficult case than you’d imagined, and thus the flowers go into full blossom.

You smile, the faint blush on Lev’s cheeks going unnoticed. “Yeah. We should eat together more often.”

And so you did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. The passage of time a trivial shadow beneath your budding happiness.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

“You work in a symphony?! Senpai’s job is super cool!”

Under the amber light of the cafe’s chandelier, you can’t help but feel a certain déjà vu at your current situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re having tea with your high school underclassman, or maybe it’s simply the residue of your more recent wistful thinking.

Yet again, it still hasn’t registered into your mind how you’d miraculously manifested Lev into proximity just from your sheer yearning... You kind of feel selfish.

“It’s just a freelance job though, it’s probably not as impressive as being a model,” you say.

Lev crosses his arms huffily, and you worry if you’ve started to offend him. Until he opens his mouth again. “Modelling is suuuper embarassing. Sometimes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that ‘that’s my face!’ or ‘I made that pose with that other model’. The agency’s really harsh on the way I dress too—I mean, what’s wrong with wearing a shirt that says ‘HERBIVORE’ to go to Lawson’s?”

You stifle a giggle as he rambles on about “the time I had to cross-dress as a woman because the female model quit on the day of the shoot”. For someone who had grown up to be a lean, rather attractive figure, you can’t shake your head away from the thought that the 16-year old Haiba Lev is still stuck inside the body of a corporate slave. There’s a sense of relief that accompanies the feeling, and memories of your high school days slowly come into picture—

“One black tea and a latte for the lovely couple?” a kind-looking waiter gently sidles in between you, cutting Lev off from his rant, and you from your reflection.

Turning a vivid shade of crimson, you stutter, “O-oh... we are not—”

“Thank you,” Lev grins dashingly, enough to make your heart race and a few passers-by to stop in their tracks.

Once the waiter retreats back into the pantry, the man across you slowly leans forward to whisper endearingly. “My sister wants me to practice my English while I’m abroad. You think I got my message across, Senpai?”

“You did well, Haiba-kun.” There are a lot of things you want to ask him really. If he really knew the meaning behind the waiter’s sentence. Or if he realized he’d nearly pronounced ‘you’ with an extra ‘th’.

... Or why he’s pouring in a mound of sugar into your cup of tea.

“H-Haiba-kun, that order’s mine...”

“Hm? Yeah, I know,” he mutters, the soft clinking of the spoon against glass echoing in your head. “You like your stuff really sweet, right? Man, I used to be really worried the first few times we had tea together.”

That’s right, you gulp. The endless hours you’d spent together in the Orchestra Club room... he really did learn a lot of things about you that time, didn’t he? Although you had merely been friends, Lev had grown on you, as if he’d always been there from the start. And you wonder: what else does he remember about you?

“Ah, by the way,” Lev starts. “Are you still thinking about setting up that music store you wanted?”

“Of course,” you mumble. It was only a naïve dream was what you meant to say, but in the presence of such a captivating man, all the gears in your head seemed to... dislocate.

Lev smiles a simple smile. Boyish at best, but still enough to enrapture you into his lingering gaze.

“I’m glad.... I’m glad you haven’t given up. You know, the old L/N-senpai would’ve called it quits because you thought you weren’t good enough. But look at you now! Soon enough, you’ll be off to teach music to the world.”

Your heart is already doubling in size at his words. Any more and you’d probably explode... You’d lost it. You’ve lost all the capability to keep your heart in control, and now you are smiling like a maniac in front of the last person you wanted to see in this state.

But he only laughs. Youthful and full of color. Unchanging from all those years ago.

“Wahahaha! You finally smiled! We should celebrate, you know. Just a small holiday from all that hard work. Say... are you still going to be in Vienna in the weekend?”

“I’m free on those days. But what’s all this about?”

Hiding his bashful smirk behind his cup of coffee, Lev murmurs. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we—Uwaah! Hot!”

Unchanging indeed, you shake your head, calling over the waiter for an extra set of napkins.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. February 2013.

There is a tea party set stashed between the two cardboard boxes filled with sheet music and spare melodicas. They’ve been left behind by your graduated seniors, who insisted that tea, “as the prime component to a good host”, was to be kept in the club room at all times, case there were any visiting guests.

...Of course, such things never happened. And you always ended up drinking the tea by yourselves. But even with the departure of your beloved seniors, you can never shake off the habit of drinking and restocking the supplies whenever required.

So you wonder if you should really be thanking your tea-loving upperclassmen for the free beverages.

“That’s a lot of sugar!” Lev gasps in awe, the emeralds in his eyes twisting and shining with the cascade of crystals falling into your cup of tea. “I bet you have a lot of cavities in your mouth, Senpai.”

“I brush my teeth very well so I don’t think anything like that’s every happened to me,” you say, irritably trying to ignore the tactless comment from your starry-eyed underclassman. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in my club room, hasn’t it? I’m glad you didn’t get lost trying to get here.”

He grumbles, crossing his arms in faux-anger. “Geez! I won’t get lost like that so easily! Besides...”

Lev takes a moment to drink in the warmth of the club room’s solace. The grand piano in the corner. The orange light streaming through the open curtains. Your curious face, like something out of a fairytale book.

“This place is full of good memories, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget something like that.”

You chuckle at his monologue. “You sound like my grandfather, Haiba-kun.”

Lev’s face warps into something reminiscent of a prune.

“Senpai, we’re only two years apart!” he fumes. “You didn’t invite me here just to crush my self-esteem, right?! C-Come on, aren’t you going to show me the audition piece you wanted me to hear?”

There is a burning urge inside of you that’s telling you to “pull at his leg just a little more...”, but nevertheless, the artist within you says to keep your audience at bay. And so, the curtains open and your fingers dance on familiar keys.

You’ve played for him before. Songs like ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ or ‘Ma Mère L’oye’. Songs that you love, much like the one you’re performing for him right now. But you’re shaking in your seat. Wondering, anticipating, fearing.

He’s staring so much, you bite your lip, trying to avert your focus from Lev’s unbreakable gaze.

A single spectator wracks your brain even more than a theatre full of different kinds people—enthusiasts, university scouts, onlookers. But in your dismal, little club room, there is only your underclassman. Someone who knows nothing of music, but lacks so much knowledge that you know any of his critique would come from honesty alone.

...Why do you care so much about one person’s opinion?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pondering until your train of thought is abruptly thwarted by the end of your song. You finish on a satisfying note and your endearing onlooker suddenly springs on his feet to shower you in applause.

“What the heck—that was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone play like that before!” Lev stumbles, everything and anything he’d planned to say pouring out as a blubbering mess as your face grows hotter from the attention. “Senpai, you’ll definitely pass the audition if you play just like that.”

“Y-You really think so?” he’s probably just being nice, you think. But for a spare moment, could you simply imagine that he means every word?

“I know so!” he smiles, the palpitations in your chest growing intense by the second. “You just have to keep going, won’t you?”

Even if you’re not brave enough to believe it, you want to believe that there’s a single Haiba Lev in this unyielding universe who believes that you, a mere side character who wishes for more, can and will.

You feel invincible.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

Did you know that swans mate for life? As a symbol of love and affection, they’re widely known to curve their necks together in a shape of a heart when courting. A form of elegance at its finest... until they start hissing.

“They’re so big! Senpai, come take a look at the swans!”

Folding the brochure into a tiny square, you return to your companion’s side, peering over the railings of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the thrush of white feathers down below.

You gulp. They are much larger than you expected.

“They’re surprisingly loud, aren’t they?” you mutter, watching a cygnet waddle its way out of the water onto the banks of the canal. You didn’t want to say, but it slightly reminded you of Lev the first time he’d waddled his way into the the Orchestra Club room.

With the constant squawking of the swans, the both of you find yourself in silence. For you, at least, the past two days viewing all sorts of Austrian sights with Lev had been strangely more gratifying than you’d fathomed. Lev, who’d been as excitable as he’d always been, breathes in peace, plumes of white forming from his mouth.

“This weekend’s been nice, hasn’t it?” you break the silence, observing the smooth junctures of his face. Lev turns to you slowly, his voice squeezing out.

“Don’t say that.”

Your blood freezes. “What?”

“Saying things like that...” Lev sighs wilfully and turns back to the view of the canal. He frowns. “I don’t want to think that this weekend is going to be over soon.”

You want to cry out. Me too. Me too, me too, me too. Your entire body is so full of butterflies you want to double over and pass out. But he continues.

“Travelling and talking with you is so fun, I never want it to end... It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “D-Do you think so too? Am I a selfish person for thinking that?”

You shake your head. “It’s not embarrassing, Haiba-kun. I—”

Are you red? Are you blushing? Your face feels so hot, you can’t even finish your sentence. He’s so close. So close to you. You want to be reliable, you want to reply, but you can’t. Under his bewitching gaze, you’ve fallen so deep.

When Lev opens his mouth again, it’s like everything around you—the bridge, the people, the swans have entirely vanished. “L/N-senpai, c-can I tell you something? Something I wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Eh?

“I’ve always liked you, Senpai. I really, really like you.”

Blank. Your mind goes blank, even when you whisper a small, “Really?”

You’re happy, you’re so happy you want to jump and shout to the world that you love him. Awfully. Dearly. It’s all like a train had crashed into you headfirst, and you can’t settle on a proper response before the floodgates burst open.

“Wh-Whoa! Don’t cry!” he flails his arms in panic as more tears dribble down your cheeks. “Geez, Senpai, at least reply to me first...”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you laugh, wiping your eyes with the edges of your scarf. “I’m just so happy, I didn’t know how to react.”

Lev’s chest inflates for a moment before he lunges forward to encapsulate you in his embrace. Between the persistent layers of clothing, the beating of his heart resonates deeply against your face. It’s quick and lively, warm enough to remind you of the swirled feelings that you harbor for one another.

“Oh, thank god...” Lev grins, burying his face in your shoulder. “You feel the same way...”

Humming calmly into his ear, you revel in the closure. “I really, really like you too, Haiba-kun.”

And none of you lets go—save for when a swan makes its way up to the bridge to peck at Lev’s boots.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. March 2023.

“... Lev, wake up.”

Feeling a slight nudge on his cheek, Lev tethers over opening his eyes to wonder at your beautiful smile or bury his face even deeper into the sheets.

It’s not like he didn’t favor you, but as of now, the comforts of your shared bed was more important. And thus, Haiba Lev, age 26, shrouds himself under the plush duvet and focuses himself on the sweet dream he was having about you.

“Lev, I know you can hear me...” he hears you sigh, long and airy, just enough to lull him back to sleep. “You have a fitting today, don’t you? You’re going to trouble Matsuyo-san and Alisa-nee if you arrive late.”

Isn’t that on Thursday? Actually... what day is it today? He isn’t very good with dates and formalities—that’s why he considers himself lucky to have you! A cute lover to bring him back to land during the day, and to shower with love and to cuddle with during the evening.

Yawning widely, Lev owlishly wrenches his eyes open, the crystalline sunlight from the bedroom window illuminating your face like a halo.... and was that his shirt you were wearing?

Lucky me~ he grins goofily.

Pressing his lips together, Lev pulls you by the wrist and before you can avoid the sudden attack, you’ve collapsed once more into a tangled mess of limbs and crooked sheets, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Let’s just stay in bed today, Y/N-san~” he slurs, nuzzling closer to you. How catlike, you think. “I want to be lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy again...”

He yawns again, a few stray tresses of silver falling over his face. As if he wasn’t as attractive every hour of the day, you really have learned how to take control of your extreme heart palpitations around him.

Your adorable younger boyfriend, ah... he really is your weakness, isn’t he?

“I’m really sorry, but I have to open up the shop soon,” you reluctantly peel yourself away from him, eliciting a small whimper from the Leviathan in your bed. “I’ll make it up to you when I finish teaching my evening lessons and when you come home, okay?”

Stubborn as a goat, Lev grumbles. “I’ll come back early, you know. Can you not do your evening lessons today?”

“Hm? Why not?” your raised eyebrow is cynical, but is juxtaposed by the gentle strokes of your palm on the crown of his head.

As much as Lev loves you (he does, he really does!), it’s rather annoying when he can’t tell if you’re seriously being oblivious or simply teasing him. He hopes for neither, but in his case, you’re an addict to his gags and without a doubt, you’re definitely messing with him right now.

“Those damn brats... I don’t like the way they stare you up during your classes.”

You laugh, raucously. And Lev considers leaving you to catch a break from the constant jeering. When you finally pipe down, you shift closer to him and press your head onto his bare chest.

“Lev, they’re nine. How else are they going to learn to play if they don’t watch me do it first?” you chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. You should be worrying about that fitting you have in a few hours.”

“Geez, fine,” he groans. “A kiss before I shower?”

You know exactly where this is going. “Just one.”

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Lev makes quick work of his hands and tenderly cup your cheek before placing a timid kiss on your lips.

No morning breath, you notice. As expected of a professional model.

“One more...” he whispers, swooping down on your lips once again.

Two, three and maybe seven kisses later, Lev has you caged between his arms, his looming figure propped proudly over you as he continues to pepper you with affection. The moment he starts to lap up your bottom lip, you know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It’s so early, Y/N-san,” he mumbles, pleading eyes making your heart turn to jelly. “We have a few more hours before we really have to go, don’t we? So... in the meantime...?”

Sighing, you can only turn a deep red—he really has you around his finger, doesn’t he? Oh well. You suppose it won’t hurt to push back your morning lessons for a few minutes, right?

[solar-bear]

I try and stifle a yawn as I make my way down the hall towards the kitchen, “why is middle school so damn early,” I gripe to myself and fumble for the light switch. It doesn’t take long until I’m able to find the switch and I wince as the kitchen is suddenly far too bright for my sleep-addled self to tolerate. I open the refrigerator and pull out the bowl of dough I was smart enough to make last night, “school on Saturday, who thought of this bullshit, when am I supposed to sleep in,” I grumble and set the bowl on the counter. I bend down and grab the jug of oil from the lower cabinets and a large wok while I’m at it, “why did I promise the boys I’d make them homemade donuts on Saturdays,” I keep muttering to myself as I try and fight through my morning fatigue, it seems worse than usual lately, but I try not to pay it too much mind. Fatigue isn’t anything new for me, I groan and heave the heavy jug on the counter and place the wok on the large gas range, “bless you Bi-Han,” I sigh in quiet reverence for my husband’s brilliance to move us to the city get us an apartment with a modern kitchen instead of the common wood-burning stoves the houses in the countryside often had.

I hear heavy footsteps and a loud yawn as the temperature dips while I pour the oil into the wok and turn on the burner, “you’re back early,” I shiver a bit as I stand on my tiptoes to kiss Bi-Han on his cheek as he enters the kitchen coming back from his morning run.

He kisses my forehead before stretching his arms over his head, “maybe I’m just getting faster,” he grins and grabs a glass of water before draining it in one gulp. “What are you up to this early? Cooking?” Bi-Han asks as he eyes up the wok heating up on the stove as I dump the dough onto the lightly floured counter.

“I was stupid and promised the boys I would make them yóutiáo and dòujiāng on Saturdays as long as they kept their grades up, I didn’t actually expect them to keep up their end of the bargain,” I groan and grab a rolling pin to help shape the dough into a long rectangle.

“Hmm, they’re not going to fry up properly with them just coming out of the fridge, the dough’s too cold,” Bi-Han states with the confidence of a man who’s spent many years watching his wife do all the cooking.

“Yes aì rén, I realize that, but I also know I live in an apartment full of cryomancers,” I pause to pull my thick bathrobe around me tighter, “it’s never warm enough to do anything properly in here.” I cut the dough into even portions before stacking one slab on top of the other and making an indentation with one long cooking chopstick to help the two pieces adhere to one another and to give it the proper shape. “Can you get the soybean milk out of the fridge Polar Bear?” I ask him and test the oil temperature with a bit of flour.

“Sure qīn,” his deep voice rumbles sleepily as he fights back a yawn, he reaches into the fridge and bends over to get the milk out of the refrigerator, I can’t help but smirk as I sneak a look at his perfect ass.

Bi-Han hands me the milk and I pour it into a saucepan and immediately start to wretch, “oh shit,” I throw my hands over my mouth and bolt toward the sink, knowing I won’t make it to the bathroom.

“Sol?” Bi-Han’s deep brown eyes go wide with concern as he’s by my side in an instant, his cold hand rubbing soothingly across my back.

I heave into the sink unable to really get much of anything up, but that doesn’t stop me from trying, the urge passes eventually as I cling to the edge of the sink and try and calm down my breathing. “What the fuck is wrong with that damn soy milk?” I ask once I come back to myself.

“It smelled fine to me, Sol, isn’t this like the third day in a row you’ve thrown up trying to make breakfast for the boys?” Bi-Han asks and I miss the excited twinkle in his beautiful chestnut eyes.

By the time I look up at him his eyes are quickly becoming an ethereal icy blue, “I-I suppose it has been a few days, but I’m not sick, I feel fine other than first thing in the morning… oh, ohhhhhhh.” The realization suddenly dawns on me, “congratulations asshole,” I snicker, “looks like someone got their wish,” I can’t contain my excited grin as Bi-Han lifts me effortlessly and spins me around in circles. I giggle wildly as his cold lips rain kisses all across my face and forehead, we’re so caught up in the moment we don’t even hear our three boys piling into the kitchen, all with curious expressions on their faces.

“Ew, Mā, Bà! Do you have to be so gross when we’re in the room?” Xiǎo-Hánquestions loudly and obnoxiously.

“You’re so dumb gēgē, it’s obvious why they’re so excited,” Xiǎo-Bīngfrowns as he looks at his older brother as their younger brother peaks out from behind him.

“What are you doing to Māmā,” Xiǎo-Shìxuěpuffs his cheeks up as he pushes his way in between us and glares angrily at Bi-Han.

“You’re such a silly little melon Shìxuě,” I laugh and pick him up and hold him close, “Daddy’s excited because Mommy has some wonderful news!”

“News?” he half asks, half repeats my words as he clings to me, nuzzling close.

“The three of you have a baby sister on the way,” Bi-Han grins at the boys, as he pries Shìxuě away from me and sets him back on the ground with his brothers before ruffling his hair.

“Duh, tell me something I don’t know, you only look that dopey when Mā’s pregnant,” Bīng states in a bored, know it all tone.

“Really?” Hán asks looking suspicious, “how do you know it’s a girl and not another boy? I mean look around, you guys are pretty good at making boys.”

Bi-Han frowns and gives the boys a menacing look and they drop their attitudes immediately, “I know it’s a girl alright?”

“Girl? Sister?” Shìxuě just repeats and grins, “Māmā, where is she?” When do I get to meet her?”

I laugh and take Shìxuě hand and press it against my stomach, “she’s in here for now, but you’ll get to meet her when she’s ready, in about 7 months or so. Do you want to help Mommy make a calendar to wait for her arrival?”

Shìxuě’s blue eyes sparkle with excitement and he nods enthusiastically, while the older boys can’t help but crack a smile at their younger brother’s reaction.

“For now I better finish your breakfast, sister or no sister you still have school and I promised my good boys some donuts!” I can’t help but feel like I’m glowing from the inside out, everyone’s excitement suddenly giving me the energy I needed to finish preparing the morning meal. Once the boys are on their way to school and I’m left to clean away the breakfast dishes, I can’t help but cradle my belly as my eyes water slightly as I whisper, “welcome to the world little one, you’re going to be so loved my little Bīngbīng.”

[lankygeralt]

Patreon Reward for Wynter (link in my bio)

Checkout my amazing beta: @geraskier-hell!

Update: now with a prequel (link here)

With a loud thump, Geralt put down his backpack once he entered the studio. Sleep had eluded him for the past couple of days, only being able to close his eyes briefly on the bus to campus. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, sleep threatening to take over until he heard his boyfriend stumble into the living room.

Geralt perked up at that, peeking through his eyelashes at Jaskier who immediately closed the distance between them and kissed him on his cheek.

“Good evening, you sexy thing.” Jaskier winked and Geralt couldn’t help but huff through his nose.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, following Jaskier’s lead to the kitchen table.

Despite being at university all day to work on his master’s thesis, Jaskier never failed to make his heart swell to the size of a melon with the simplest gestures. On some days, the brunet would even take the bus all the way into town to make sure Geralt would take a break, and they’d chat about everything and nothing while sipping on some coffee.

Affection made Geralt’s heart throb once Jaskier put down his plate of leftovers. Roasted vegetables and chicken, his favorite. It had always been, but in this time grills were more efficient and his boyfriend had learned how to marinate meat. The pit in his stomach twisted deeper whenever he thought back to what they were before, but he couldn’t help but shake his head when he remembered that Jaskier hadn’t even been able to set up a camp in the wilderness or hunt for a meal back then.

Geralt had done the hunting, cooking, setting up camp, but times were different now. Jaskier was the one who took care of him when he needed it the most, or maybe he always had?

“You know that I can cook for myself, right?” Geralt teased but pressed his hand on the small of Jaskier’s back before the brunet sat down next to him.

“And yet, here we are,” Jaskier grinned, and Geralt had to ignore the rush of heat spreading across his cheeks. Jaskier didn’t remember, he didn’t know the meaning of those words.

Geralt played it off cooly, deciding to change the topic and asked about his boyfriend’s day.

“That reminds me,” Jaskier started, mid-sentence, broad smile curling on his lips when he jumped back on his feet. “I got us something. Well, I got myself something, haha.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. Jaskier had the habit of buying ridiculous, impractical things ‘because they looked nice’. He was such a dumbass sometimes. His dumbass.

Hearing Jaskier rummage through a couple of boxes in the living room, Geralt kept eating the rest of his meal until he was sure his soul had left his body once he heard the first string buzz.  

His eyes widened and he whipped his head towards Jaskier. There he was, without a clue in the world, casually holding a lute between the hands Geralt had loved for the second time.

“What?” Jaskier’s brows furrowed, and Geralt had to remind himself to actually breathe. “You don’t like it?”

He blinked a few times, mouth feeling awfully dry. “A lute.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said proudly, playing a few strings. “It sounds so good. It’s like it was made for me, don’t you think?”

All Geralt could do was nod as he admired the twinkle in Jaskier’s eyes as he played to his heart’s contempt. Just like before, Jaskier would sing about the most ridiculous things and would try to tease Geralt by singing about him. But this time, Geralt didn’t stop him. He listened to Jaskier with all his heart, and he wanted nothing more than for Jaskier to remember.

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter two

chapters:

1 - 2

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

–

“You don’t think I’m worthy enough to be the king?”

“No, I think you’re a spoiled brat who would rather play with pomp and circumstance than save his own people from starvation,” Levi spat.

Levi’s eyes were closed when the door to his room was opened once more.

“Enjoying your bath, sir?”

Startled, his limbs flailed in the water, soaking the tiles below. Cursing beneath his breath, Levi turned his gaze to give a half-hearted glare at the girl. Her hands were full of linens and fabrics, meant for him, he supposed. “It’s fine,” Levi finally answered, shoulders relaxing as he attempted to lean back comfortably into the tub. “Where’s Petra?”

“Oh, the Madam is preparing your studio, sir.” The girl nervously shuffled her feet, a piece of dark brown hair gracing her cheek as she shifted. “I’ve been told to bring you a change of clothes.” Levi opened his mouth to interject. “The Madam insisted,” the girl spoke before she could hear any complaints. “I’ll just gather your things and return them after they are washed, sir.” His consent was apparently not required as the girl dropped the linens off onto the bed and began collecting his items off the coffer. She was quick, pale hands hastily gathering his belongings. However, when her grasp hovered over the white cravat, Levi jolted upwards.

The sudden movement caught the girl’s attention, downturned olive eyes seeking out an answer to the distraction.

“I’ll…” He felt trapped between her leering and the tiny confines of the bath. “Leave it.” Her hand was still floating in midair above the object, thin brows now furrowed in question. Levi swallowed hard, hands beginning to slip on the sides of the tub. He didn’t want to explain - shouldn’t have to - to some servant girl why he insisted on washing something as inconsequential as a cravat. It wasn’t made of some rare, expensive material. Hadn’t been passed down from generation to generation. It was a simple item of clothing that, nonetheless, had Levi going white-knuckled.

The girl seemed to notice, curious stare fading into a look of something that appeared close to understanding. “Yes, sir.” Her hand dropped audibly to her side. “Of course.” She shuffled out of the room quietly, leaving him anxious and hung over the side of the bathtub like a true and tried idiot.

He looked down at the tile where a large puddle of water had congregated from his splashing. Stared at his warbled reflection as it shook and rippled with every drop that fell from his head. Wanted to reach inside that image and shake the bastard’s shoulders. To rip all those tainted, gruesome memories out of that mind.

That poor, poor mind.

There was a feeling pooling in his gut. Fear? Disgust? He couldn’t pin it. Only knew that the water which once felt like a sanctuary from all of travel’s aches and pains was starting to slowly drown him.

The tile was cold against his bare feet and toes curled as an unpleasant shiver traveled down his spine. The chill quickened his pace to the bed, eager to examine the clothing brought before him. Levi was almost positive that nothing would fit properly. He was, as loathe as he was to admit it, a small man. His uncle had always chucked the lack of growth up to Levi’s malnutrition as a child. But Kenny was no doctor, and Levi tended to never believe a single sinister word that weaseled out from those thin lips.

Fingers twitched anxiously at the thought of dragging their touch across the fine fabrics laid out across the bed. The dark blues and soft beiges complimented each other wonderfully, and Levi secretly hoped that the king would not be expecting the items back after he was finished with the commission. The linen glided effortlessly over his skin, smooth and soft. Surprisingly fitted, as well. Levi would have to thank Petra for her keen eye, he thought.

No sooner than he had finished fastening the last button of his tailcoat, the door creaked open again. This time, however, it was Petra’s face that greeted him and not a nosey servant girl.

“I take it the attire is suitable?” Her hands had migrated to her hips, and Levi couldn’t help but feel like a child who was about to be scolded. Maybe the servant girl had said he was an ass. More likely Petra just had a good intuition.

“Not bad,” Levi said, hands running down the front of his cinched waistcoat.

“Glad to hear it, sir.” Petra hesitated, mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to find the right words. “You scared poor Emmie to death, you know?” she finally spoke. Levi pressed his lips tightly together, not necessarily keen on the idea of a refreshment course in etiquette. “She said you near leaped out of the tub like a madman.”

Levi scoffed, “I think your poor Emmie may be suffering from a case of exaggeration.”

Petra’s lips quirked at that, the stern look in her temple softening a touch as she regarded the man. “She didn’t seem to think so, Mr. Ackerman. You had the girl in practical tears.”

“I tend to have that effect on women.”

Petra huffed overdramatically, “Of that I’m sure." Levi was positively certain that he should be affronted by the agreement. There was a mischievous twinkle in the woman's eye that begged otherwise. “Come now. The studio awaits.”

Levi brightened at the thought. He had traveled so far, and the idea of the studio was the only thing that he was sincerely looking forward to. To hell with the royal family. Levi just wanted to paint.

Petra led him down the hall, under the vast stone arches that supported the great structure. Their footsteps were muffled by the expanse of red that flowed from the singular carpet extending down the path. It was a rich, luxurious scarlet that brought warmth into an otherwise cold corridor. Beyond the rug, there was no other color. Only a bland variance in the shades of grey amongst the stone walls. It was a stark difference to the vibrant Jaeger family crests that flew their proud viridescence along the castle like a silent battle cry.

Or silent subjugation, Levi thought.

They paused at a twisted, metal staircase - the thing looking archaic and out of place amongst the brick and mortar.

“It’s this way,” Petra said as she lifted the hem of her dress. “Watch your step, sir. The stairs can be most unforgiving should you take a fall.” Levi imagined his head splitting open like a melon against the thick stone walls. To be fair, the splash of red would do the hollow halls a favor. However, the color would, ultimately, clash with the carpet.

He held on tightly to the narrow stair rail. It was rusted beneath his hands, a rogueish vermilion staining the black metal. The steps ached and creaked loudly in opposition to his frame being carried up their spine. Thankfully, the journey did not ascend too high, only above to the next floor. It was here that Levi was met with a door. A large, black door that seemed more imposing than all the castle grandeurs combined.

“We had to improvise where to place the studio,” Petra explained. “There’s been no need of one since the young Majesty’s mother passed.”

Ah, yes, Levi remembered her. Well, at least remembered hearing the tales. He’d never been so lucky as to meet the woman in the flesh. The beautiful and elegant Carla Jaeger. Shinganshina was truly a different land with the queen on the throne. Her peaceful hand helped keep the king’s tumultuous relationship with Marley in check. Some say it was her doing altogether. There was truly no one better fit to rule over the people. And then she died. Suddenly and with no warning, leaving Shinganshina with a manic king and two motherless sons. Soon after, the fragile peace with Marley had launched into an all-out war.

The residents of Shinganshina could do nothing but watch the world around them crumble while silently mourning the loss.

“A shame,” he murmured, sharp eyes studying the intricate patterns warped into the wood of the door. Looked a lot more likely the room would be housing an alchemist’s laboratory than an artist's workshop.

“Indeed.” Petra voice had lost the giddy edge, and she wrung dainty hands as the true intent of Levi’s comment weighed heavily in the air. It appeared that not only the villagers were still feeling the ill effects of the queen’s loss. The woman seemed to steel herself as she took a deep breath, “Forgive me, Mr. Ackerman. You’ve only just arrived, and I am already burdening you with unpleasant memories. You must think me a very poor excuse for a housekeeper.”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We shall make a glorious evening of this yet!” A pale fist was raised high into the air as she beamed with triumph. Levi couldn’t help but offer her a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Come, look at what we've pieced together for you,” Petra said as she pulled on the large, bronze handle. “I’m sure you’ll be absolutely marveled.” Levi had his suspicions. It was foolish to think that the king knew a single element that would be required of an adequate studio.

The entrance opened with a satisfying click, followed by a long drawn-out creak that preceded a breeze of cold air from the other side.

And then, light.

The room was positively bathing in it.

Vertical windows lined the outer wall, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling. The effects of the evening sun shone unconstrained through the glass, painting the room in a bewitching orange glow. So, the king did know something about the art of portraiture after all. Or perhaps this was all Petra’s doing. Turning to look at the bright, expectant smile lighting up her features, Levi suspected it was the latter.

There was miscellaneous furniture placed throughout the room. A plush green sofa, purple needlepoint armchairs, a rustic wooden bureau. However, what stood out most of all to him was the fireplace. Elegantly crafted from carved stone and decorated with hints of teal and gold, the fireplace seemed to perfectly embody the image of an ideal royal heir. Strong and bold, yet handsome and rich. Levi detested the thought of comparing it to a spoiled brat, but couldn’t deny that the object would be the perfect backdrop to the painting.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Petra’s smile had not faded as she stood in the doorway. Levi felt a bit like their roles had been reversed - Petra morphing from chastising mother to expectant child eagerly waiting for praise. He indulged her, giving a quick nod of his head.

“You’ve done well, Ms. Ral. I look forward to capturing the prince’s likeness here.” The words were a half-truth. To paint again and be compensated for his talents, that was what he yearned for. The damn dirty prince could burn in a thousand hells as far as Levi was concerned.

“I am honored, truly, sir.” Petra bowed lowly. He stiffened, not accustomed to the actions one would typically reserve for nobles and royalty. If only the woman knew that she was most undoubtedly wealthier than the man to whom she so easily bent her head. “I will have one of my girls bring your supplies here if that is quite alright?” He could easily manage this on his own, but Levi was positive that Petra had certainly already sent one of the servant girls into his room. Agreeing with her now was simply common courtesy.

Levi made a vague noise of approval. “Of course.” He turned to begin a more thorough inspection of the studio when the sound of quickened footfall called his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Ackerman, I’m sure that you are eager to get to work, but you must remember.” Levi quirked a suspicious brow. “I said this would be a most glorious evening. What is a magnificent affair without a proper meal to finish off the day?” Petra looked at him as if she were anticipating an answer, but Levi fancied that the woman would enlighten him without his query. “His Majesty has ordered the chef to prepare the finest venison and vegetables I’m sure you’ve ever indulged upon. You are the guest of honor, after all.” Levi tried not to let his expression sour. This was inevitable, wasn’t it? He could not very well manage to paint a picture of the king’s son without at least meeting the royal family first. The thought alone made Levi’s skin itch.

"That's not necessary," he tried, tongue heavy in his mouth as he searched for a suitable escape.

"Oh, don't be silly, Mr. Ackerman," Petra laughed, "I'm sure you are absolutely famished. And His Majesty insisted, after all." Levi felt his face morph into a sneer as his jaw tightened.

His Majesty insisted.

Of course, the bastard insisted.

“As His Majesty orders.” Hopefully, the venom in his tone was not too apparent. If it was, Levi would simply blame it on the journey. A strenuous voyage could make any man affable. Petra's smile fell, and Levi inwardly cringed. He'd have to watch his mouth, the damned thing it was. Got him in a fair amount of scuffles in his youth. However, the stakes here were much higher than a black eye or bloody nose. “Lead the way,” he continued, trying not to sound so incredibly vexed. Petra nodded silently, all former excitement replaced with a disposition as if she’d just sentenced a man to place his head on the block.

“Certainly. Please follow me, sir.” She quickly turned on her heel, the bounce in her step replaced with a rigid tread. Thin nostrils contracted as he heaved a deep sigh.

This was inevitable, Levi reminded himself. And he began his march towards the dining hall, leaving the cold chill of the studio behind him.

[stevenbasic]

I’m usually not late for things but I was wayyyy late getting to our plane. Almost missed it, in fact. They were just about to close up the gate when I rushed in, jogged through the jetway and hurried down the aisle. Melissa was already in the seat next to mine…

“Welcome to your vacaaaation!” she sang to me in greeting, eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.

“It’s not...<mmmnf!>” I grunted, doing my best to lift my too-heavy carry-on into the overhead bin. Melissa watched me with careful concern. Jesus what did I pack? Rocks?? I noticed a strikingly tall, blonde stewardess headed my way, but luckily I was just able to manage it up and into the bin before she arrived. “Thanks, I got it…” I told her. That would have been humiliating. 

“It’s not...a vacation,” I huffed, dropping into my seat, finally able to stop moving after a frantic two hours of car trouble, early morning traffic and long security lines. My breathing was labored. “We’re going…<huff, puff>...to a conference...”

“At the beach!” she sang, tossing the in-flight magazine aside, smile going wide in eager zeal, “Aren’t you excited??? You get to be with me all week!!” Her eyes glimmered in merriment. 

“Great…” I mock-groaned, smiling despite myself. I had been anticipating this trip for weeks, but ‘excited’ might not be the right word...

At that, at my joke, she giggled and leaned into me, scooching down and laying her head affectionately onto my shoulder. Already, I noticed, her perfume had filled the air around us, and as I breathed it in I felt myself gently relaxing, calming me from my hectic journey in. It was making our little space here on the plane immediately more intimate. I felt it cocooning us pleasantly in her scent and - crap - beginning to stir my loins. It was then that I took the moment to glance down, really notice what my travel partner was wearing, and try not to goggle at the size of the bosom that stretched her long-sleeved white tee and the tanktop below it so tautly. Though her top did not show much cleavage, the shirt was thin and I could clearly see though it, see the bulge of her big breasts squeezed up over the top of her too-tight tank. “Seriously, I’m so  happy you asked me to come with you,” she said, grabbing my hand to hold it, “thank you so much.”

“Oh, uh, yes, sure, of course,” I answered, as Melissa gave my hand and upper arm a squeeze. Gurk...boob.  “I’m…excited too. Happy you could come.”

Now with its final, errant passenger on board (ie: me), the plane began to roll, engines coming to life to start us down towards the runway. Normally this is where I’d feel my pulse begin to quicken.

”Sheryl’s going to miss you?” she asked, brow furrowing. 

”Oh, uh, I dunno…” I responded, feeling a twinge of disloyalty to my wife already, seated here with a young, beautiful woman on my arm - even if she was my Office Manager, and we were headed to a professional event. Nothing, of course, had happened between Melissa and I - and nothing was going to - but my thoughts about her being on this trip with me were certainly less than innocent. And talking about Sheryl now seemed like just more betrayal. “She has so much stuff going on, she’s so busy,” I continued, thinking about the final, chilly words my wife had for me this morning as I left, “I don’t think it’ll bother her…”

“Oh I’m sure she’ll be thinking about you being so far away,” Melissa assured me, squeezing my arm again into a breast which felt as big as a melon, ”but she has nothing to worry about...I’ll take good care of you…” Another breathful of her perfume and I settled back into my seat, hearing the engines gearing up again, preparing us for takeoff. Breathe, dude, breathe... 

Ahhhh….

“Yeah I’ve been looking forward to this, getting away for a bit. We’re going to have fun,” I found myself saying, and immediately knowing I’d said more than I should; maybe the adrenaline had loosened my tongue, “I mean - I w-wish Sheryl could have come, but she’s...well…”

She’s been such a bitch recently.

“...she’s maybe, uh, happier doing the stuff she has to do,” I conceded. I watched Melissa cross her left leg over her right, towards me. 

“Well, I’m so excited to be doing this,” Melissa clucked, “and...to have you all to myself!” With that, she released my arm, and reached over towards me, leaning over my lap. “Here, let’s get your seatbelt fastened,” she said, as already she had both straps in hand. Dutifully, like a mother hen, she <clicked> my buckle into place and pulled the belt taut over my hips. “Ooo you’re skinny!” she cooed, her face now so close to mine, her smile wide and big and toothy and white, eyes sparkling, “But there you go...all set, Mr Skinnie-Minnie.”

I felt myself shiver.

“Not me, though,” she continued, sitting back now, “Here…” At that, she raised the armrest between us, eliminating the separator, the one border between her space and mine.  “...you don’t mind if we share, do you? I should have bought two seats for my hips.” 

I looked down and, indeed, Melissa’s wide hips - swathed into tight grey travelling pants - overflowed into my seat. My hips, in comparison, looked meager and thin, my legs like two sticks next to her healthy thighs.

“Ah haha yeah…” I agreed, as the plane pulled onto the runway and prepared for what I knew would be its acceleration. I wanted to try to stay calm. “B-Business class, hm? Nice.” I had tasked Melissa with buying out tickets, several weeks ago. “Was that in our budget?”

”Oooo you’d be so proud of me..!” she laughed, as the engines all began to roar, “I was able to get us nice seats...Evolution Pharmasoo-...y’know, the company my friend Abby works for? -  chipped in for an upgrade. Paid for our tickets, in fact!”

”Wait what?” I asked. That’s weird. I mean, I was used to getting swag, kickbacks, little favors from some of the drug companies I worked with. But this company, Evolution...I’d never even met with a rep yet, this girl Abby. Never prescribed their...whatever it was they made. A couple of my new employees were previous employees there, but that certainly didn’t warrant a set of free plane tickets. The thought that I was already in bed with a pharm company and didn’t even really know their products made me suddenly a little uneasy. That, and the roar of engines as we gained more and more speed...

“Oh don’t worry…” Melissa offered, as if feeling my distress shivering through me into the press of her chest, “they just really want to play nice. Promise me you’ll meet with Abby…?”

“Uhhh...oh….uhhh…” I felt myself stiffen, grasping my armrest with my free right hand. 

”Dr. J?” Melissa asked, with sudden concern, “are you ok?”

“Yeah…” I answered, closing my eyes as the plane had almost reached speed, ”not always a...big fan of flying.”

“Awww are you nervous?” she asked, like she was speaking to an anxious child, “here you can hold my hand.” I felt her take my left hand in hers and hold it onto her firm lap, onto her right thigh. I felt her squeeze it, and I squeezed back. The plane was nearly in the air, and a fresh waft of her perfume found me. 

“Take a deep breath,” she instructed me, which I did, “you’re going to be fine…”

I really, really, really didn’t like flying, and takeoff was one of the worst parts. But the comfort of her hand, the scent of her perfume, her soft warmth next to me...I had to admit, it was making me feel better, taking my mind to a different place. 

“Just relax,” she said, her voice deepening, serene, like liquid tranquility, “I’m here, you’re here, it’s just us…”

Liftoff...

======================

Alright I have to thank TopographicSociety for the Chloe Vevrier x Denise Milani fake, and my editing team - CaptainAmbiguous, Doubleburger, FantasticMrMoose, Ankle4u, among others - for their ideas and input. Thanks again also to everyone for keeping up with the story!

[vintage-story-time]

Step-Father's Sins by Unknown

Chapter 1

Michele Madison did not find out until her honeymoon that her husband was a sexual sadist. She was shocked to find that her new husband enjoyed causing her pain just as much as he enjoyed causing her pleasure.

This was tough enough for Michele to handle at first, but her confusion was compounded by the fact that she was beginning to like the pain.

At first she thought that it was annoying that Bernard had to tie her up and whip her before he fucked her in one of her three, sex holes.

But now she knew that there was close association between the pleasure and pain she received, and that one sensation enhanced the other.

She had to admit that Bernard made her come harder than any other man she had ever been with, not that she was an expert on the subject of men. But Michele had been around, and she had two teenage daughters to prove it.

Michele - along with her daughters Mindy and Marlene - had moved in with Bernard Madison after the wedding, and were trying to make ago of it as a family.

It was a spring evening and the girls were out on dates, which meant Michele and Bernard had the house to themselves.

Bernard was a successful businessman and owned a big house on top of a hill in the Upstate New York town of Caledonia.

The girls had grown up ten miles down the road in Rushdale with their mother, and were annoyed because they were going to have to switch high schools the following fall.

Mindy was seventeen and would be entering her senior year. She was relieved that they hadn't made her finish up her junior year at Caledonia High School.

Marlene was ten months younger than her sister and was finishing up her sophomore year at Rushdale High.

The weather in Caledonia was beginning to warm and the grass was beginning to turn green and start to grow.

The leaves were returning to the trees, and everywhere men and women alike were getting hornier than hell.

Michele was washing the dinner dishes and Bernard was sitting on the couch in the livingroom watching television.

He could feel his balls aching with desire, and he could feel his cock start to grow inside his trousers.

"Woman!" Bernard called out from his sitting position. He never took his eyes away from the TV set.

His jaw was set firmly and there was a burning in his dark brown eyes that looked about to emit a lasar beam.

"Yes, dear," Michele called back from the kitchen. There was a musical tone to her voice whenever she spoke.

Many thought that Michele was singing her way through life.

In spite of the fact that she was thirty-five years old, Michele had lost none of her youthful beauty and charm.

There were times when Bernard thought he was living with three teenage girls rather than only two.

"I need sex!" Bernard called out. He was using his command voice, and Michele could tell he was impatient.

"Just a second, sweetheart," Michele said. "I'm just finishing up."

The woman was washing the last of the dishes and only had to dry them and put them away for her domestic chore to be complete.

"I need sex now!" Bernard screamed at the top of his lungs.

His voice was deep — like the growl of a bear who had just been woken involuntarily from his winter's slumber.

Indeed, Bernard often sounded more like an animal that a human being when he was sexually aroused.

Michele knew that she would have to finish the dishes later.

When Bernard hollered like that it meant that he wasn't in the mood to take no for an answer. She quickly dried her hands on the apron tied around her waist and left the kitchen to be with, her man.

It was time for Michele to do her wifely duty.

She didn't mind. Bernard always made her come more times than she could count when he fucked her.

Bernard looked at his wife and smiled appreciatively.

He thought that she was one sexy cunt. The sexiest cunt he had ever pumped, that was for sure.

The man had never boffed a pussy tighter and more comfortable than Michele's — and unlike his wife, he was an expert.

He had been able to tell from the second he first laid eyes on her that she wanted to be his slave.

But the cruel man had waited until he had the little gold ring around her finger to let her see his sadistic nature.

Keeping his brutality a secret, he figured, was itself sadistic.

Michele had long black hair that fell full over her shoulders and down between her rather sharp shoulder biades.

She stood five foot three and was built on a small frame so that she had never weighed more than one hundred pounds in her life.

She had the face of an angel. She looked like a white-souled being who had never committed a sin.

Her large eyes were dark brown and twinkled whenever she was happy — which was most of the time.

She had a tiny turned up button nose that wiggled up and down like a bunny's whenever she was particularly excited about something or other.

Her mouth was not large, but her lips, were full and sensuous.

Her lips were already moist, although Bernard rarely caught her licking them to make them wet.

She had a pouting lower, lip that Bernard thought was fun to suck on, and always looked kissable, even if sex was the last thing on her mind. She held her lips parted frequently so that Bernard could see little saliva bubbles on her perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth.

Her tongue could stick far out of her mouth and was very soft and pink, an asset which Bernard had learned to use fully.

She had an olive complexion and her skin was smooth and soft, in spite of her age. If she went to Hollywood, Bernard figured, she would be able to play the parts of high school girls. She would end up playing parts the age of her own daughters.

In spite of Michele's slim frame she had large breasts which were just as perky and firm as they were before she had Mindy, seventeen years before.

Those twin ripe melons rested high on her chest, and were so pert that the nipples pointed slightly upward.

Although she usually did, Michele didn't have to wear a bra, a fact that Bernard was proud of.

When Michele became sexually aroused every time her man beckoned - her nipples grew large and got very hard.

They would burn and tingle with a need to be caressed both gently and cruelly by Bernard's hands and mouth.

Her waist was still very slim and her tummy was flat.

She had put on a couple of inches around her hips - her buttocks were a bit fleshier than they once had been — but Bernard only thought that this made her look womanly.

As she removed her apron she could feel the blood rushing down her body to the delta between her thighs.

Michele could feel both her inner and outer pussy lips start, to swell with the engorgement of her arousal.

She could feel the glands inside her pussy begin to secrete their natural lubrication making her all wet and slippery.

The beautiful dark haired woman knew that it wouldn't be long before she made a wet stain in the crotch of her panties.

"Let's go upstairs, big man," Michele said with a sexy tilt to her head and cock to her hip.

"Right," Bernard said. He charged up the stairs three steps ahead of her. He felt like his cock was going to burst out of his underwear and his trousers.

He could tell that his prick was going to snap out at attention in front of his loins the second it was released from its cloth prison.

Bernard was over twice as big as Michele, which made his brutishness even more appealing to the submissive woman.

He stood a couple of inches over six feet and weighed well over two hundred pounds. This is not to say that he was obese. In fact the man did not have an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He had been working out three times a week for years to keep his body in perfect condition.

His shoulders were broad and his neck was thick.

There were thick slabs of muscle across his chest and back.

His face was ruggedly handsome, and he always looked like he needed a shave. His five o'clock shadow began thirty seconds after he finished shaving.

His hair was very dark, almost black, and curly. He always looked ungroomed. When, Michele had first met Bernard she had compulsively urged him to comb his hair. Now that she was his sex slave she knew better than to criticize her mate's appearance in any way. Michele rarely wore any make-up at all. Her beauty was natural.

She wanted to do nothing to make herself look artificial.

The dark haired woman's sole concession to womanly vanity was the dark red nail polish she used to paint her fingernails and toenails.

The small woman had always thought that Bernard had been constructed by God just for fucking purposes.

In spite of the girth of his upper torso, his waist and hips were very slim - almost non-existent in comparison.

His thighs were very thick again, and he had very large powerful hands and feet.

Michele had noticed long before that one of her husband's thighs was bigger around than her waist.

And then there was his cock. It still boggled her mind.

She would never forget the first time she saw his dick.

"W—W—What is that?" Michele had stammered nervously.

"It's my prick. What the fuck did you think it was?"

"You aren't going to stick that thing in me, are you?"

"That's the way it's got to be, cupcake. That's the way it's got to be!" Bernard said with a small chuckle.

It hurt the first couple of times he fucked her, but soon she found that her muscles adapted and she stretched to take him comfortably.

It wasn't until the woman's honeymoon only the second honeymoon of her life — that she found out what pain was all about, and how much she dug it!

Bernard slammed the door shut behind him after entering the bedroom that some paint chips fell from the ceiling.

Michele considered herself lucky that she had scooted past him into the room at the last second.

If she hadn't she would have gotten the door right in the face. Michele was quick. She had good survival instinct and knew when Bernard was in the mood to do violent things.

She would never have made it if she wasn't quick.

She certainly got enough practice at evasive tactics.

"STRIP!!!" Bernard screamed, placing his hands on his hips.

He pressed his long strong fingers together and pointed them downward.

"Yes, dear," Michele replied subserviently, head bowed.

She kicked off her shoes and reached back to unzip the frilly housedress she had been wearing. She stepped out of the dress and removed her bra so Bernard could see how erect her nipples were.

"I'm on fire for you," she said.

Bernard stood with his shoulders back and his chin tilted up.

"I can feel my pussy getting all wet and slippery," Michele said.

Bernard bent slightly at the knees and stood with his slim yet powerful hips out in front of the rest of his body.

Michele reached down to hook her thumbs under the elastic at the top of her bikini panties. She shivered.

Her panties were pink and Bernard could see that they had little red hearts all over them — looking very cute.

Bernard could also see that there was a big wet stain in the crotch of her panties made by her spilling cunt juice.

His cock throbbed violently every time he thought about ramming his pole up her tight smooth snatch.

The woman had to wiggle her hips from side to side to get her panties over them.

The wet material in the crotch had crawled up in between her swollen outer labia, making her pussy feel caught in a trap.

Her cunt had felt like it was suffocating for a second.

She sighed as she gave her pussy lips a chance to breathe.

It felt wonderful as the wet cloth pulled out from between her hypersensitive, fully engorged labia.

The second she removed her panties Bernard could pick up the scent of her hot pussy in his flaring nostrils.

His chest and belly were covered with a thick rug of fur, which made him look even more like an animal.

Michele always had gone for men who looked like they might have a little ape in the bloodline.

"Are you going to tie me up?" Michele asked.

"Nah," Bernard said gruffly, shaking his head.

His hands went for his belt buckle. Michele shuddered.

He pulled his belt out of all of his belt loops one at a time and folded the strap in half slowly.

The belt was made of black leather and he held it by the buckle end in a tightly clenched right fist.

Bernard had his long strong fingers wrapped around the leather so fiercely that all of his knuckles turned white.

He clenched his back teeth together so firmly that his jaw ached and the muscles at the sides of his ruggedly handsome face protruded.

Bernard cupped his left palm and smacked it with the belt as hard as he could, making a loud sharp sound.

It reminded Michele of a firecracker on the Fourth of July, or a car backfiring, or even a gunshot!

She winced when that sound rang through her ears because she knew it was the same sound the leather strap would make when it struck her ass.

"Bend over the foot of the bed, woman!" Bernard commanded.

She turned her back to him and moved her feet far apart on the bedroom floor.

Keeping her knees straight she lifted her heels and supported her weight on her toes, which arched far back.

The woman raked at the bedspread with her fingernails as she bent forward at the waist, offering her buttocks to her sex master's abuse.

Her fingernails were long and were manicured carefully to be very close to the same length, and they all had a common roundness to their tips. Her fingers were long and thin. Bernard had a hard time looking at those fingers without imagining how they looked when they were caressing his humongous private parts.

Her fingernails were always painted the color of blood.

The man wasted no time in starting the brutal whipping.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He whipped at her slightly parted ass cheeks as hard as he could, raising large red welts on the flesh.

She screamed.

Her dark eyes filled with tears.

Those tears spilled down her cheeks and along the sides of her nose.

Just to be extra mean the sadistic man smacked her on the backs of her thighs a couple of times.

Then he hit her on the backs of her knees, where he knew she was very sensitive and the pain would be particularly sharp.

The man then tossed the belt away carelessly without bothering to see where it landed. Michele knew her spanking was through.

The beautiful woman could tell that she was going to have some trouble sitting down for a couple of days.

But she didn't think that she would have to carry a pillow around with her like she did sometimes.

This time the man hadn't even drawn any blood with the strap. She could tell he was in a cuddly mood.

The truth of the matter was that he couldn't stand having his clothes on anymore and was anxious to get nude.

He ripped off his shirt, baring his chest, and tore his pants down so that his cock could come springing out like a horny jack-in-the-box.

Michele turned to look at his cock and balls.

She didn't think that the novelty would ever wear off his genitalia.

He had by far the longest cock she had ever seen, and it was twice as thick as any other she had known.

His prick was a full nine inches long as it stood out straight from his hips at a slightly upward angle.

The entire length of his prick was bobbing up and down with his hominess, coming very close to slapping him in the rock-hard flat plain of his belly.

If that contact had been made his cock head would have smacked him several inches above his bellybutton.

His balls felt very swollen. He would have sworn that his testicles had ballooned to twice their normal girth.

His scrotal sack felt filled to the brim with hot semen and he could tell that he wouldn't have to play hide the Salami with the cunt fore long before he shot his creamy man come deep inside hem poontang.

Michele could see that his cock was thickest at the head, although the shaft was only, slightly thinner.

The huge glans had always reminded the beautiful woman of a purple edible mushroom, or perhaps a doorknob.

Sometimes the head of his cock became so engorged that it looked almost black.

At those times the skin that covered that large cock head would stretch so thin it looked ready to tear.

Theme were times when even Bernard thought the head of his cock would explode if another drop of hominess blood tried to pump inside.

The man was having trouble keeping his hips still ...

He could feel his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, gesturing with the slightly crooked forefinger on his right hand.

Naturally, Michele obeyed and when she was on the bed she asked him, "Which hole do you want to fuck me in?"

"The cunt. At least the cunt first. I feel like I might have enough jam for a few fucks tonight," he said.

"The children won't be home until late," Michele said.

There was a feline purr in her voice as she spoke.

"Fuck the children," Bernard said. He felt like spitting on the floor.

"You would love to," Michele said, realizing that she was getting very close to being slapped across the face.

"You're damn right it would," Bernard said with a sadistic chuckle.

"What position would you like to fuck me in?" Michele asked.

"Doggie-style. I want to take you from the rear," he said.

"Oh, Bernard! I love it when you fuck me like that," she said.

Her voice was cheerful and her eyes had cleared. There were still stains on her cheeks from the tears she had spilled while the man was whipping her ass raw only moments before.

Michele rolled over on her belly and then moved to her hands and knees.

She kept her head low and pushed her knees apart on the bed as far as she could get them, parting her, outer and inner cunt lips in this manner.

She clawed at the bedspread with her long red fingernails and straightened her elbows as she arched her back to lift her ass high.

Bernard moved to a kneeling position behind her and grabbed the base of his prick in his right fist.

He guided his cock head to her cunt gracefully.

He could feel his prick throbbing against his palm.

He rubbed his pisshole against her clit for a second.

Then he lowered the head to the mouth of her fuck hole and began to push that humongous head between Michele's suddenly stretched inner labia!