#but here´s a what i hope its a pretty edit for you

[gammasnippets]

[CHANNEL_9] fromis_9 '채널나인' EP60. Spotlighting 🐿️ Part.3

fromis_9 Lee Chaeyoung

11,660 words (Co-edited by @digipigichopshop & @dnd-writes)

After "reviewing" an intense office romance starring fromis_9's main vocalist, Park Jiwon, you are now left with 8 more alluring videos featuring the remaining members to explore and indulge in. You feel teased after witnessing the explicit nature of the first video. Watching Jiwon's naked body as she partakes in what might be the best sexual experience caught on film got you pitching a tent underneath your pants. But that doesn't seem to be enough. After all, what's not to say that the other videos won't push your limits even further?

You choose among the many files that fill your computer folder, looking for the next video to review. The first thing that catches your eye is the thumbnail with the group’s playful and charismatic rapper, Chaeyoung. The entire fromis_9 is full of pretty faces and hot figures, but you've always been drawn to Chaeyoung's magnetic charm. She's funny, talented, and has a captivating stage presence… And now you find yourself eager to see how she can ignite your desires in this next video.

You press the play button and the "Channel_9" intro plays alongside its colorful intro card. As their video editor, you ponder what elements can be included in this video to tie it to the first one seamlessly. With a mischievous grin on your face, you decide to include a recap from the previous video where Jiwon's sensual encounter left you craving for more. You think it's a wonderful idea, but watching this current video to its completion comes first.

After the intro, the video shows a huge indoor swimming complex. The video shows its many pools and amenities, filled with many hues of blue and sparkling with crystal-clear water, and inviting everyone to dive in. It then shifts to an aerial shot of Chaeyoung outside of the area walking towards it. The camera switches to that of the crew following her to have a better view of this video’s main star, wearing a creative mix of a red strapless dress over a white buttoned shirt and red heels. Her long figure is accentuated by the dress, giving her a seductive yet sophisticated look.

However, as the camera focuses on her, Chaeyoung seems to look more hesitant than anything, curious as to what might be inside.

"Is this really the place?" Chaeyoung wonders aloud, her voice full of excitement and anticipation.

"Yes," one of the crew softly replies.

"What is this place? It could be like an indoor pool," Chaeyoung suggests, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

She walks a bit further and reaches the entrance of the indoor swimming area. It didn't take long for her to realize that her assumption was correct.

"An indoor pool? Oh wow, it really is," Chaeyoung exclaims, her voice filled with awe.

As she steps further inside, the view switches to a bird's eye view of the entirety of the swimming area from a drone camera. Despite her tall frame, the captured angle makes Chaeyoung look like a small figure in this large aquatic paradise.

"Wow. This place looks nice," she murmurs to herself. "They even have big slides!"

She continues to explore the vast complex, taking in the many sights and sounds around her. Her eagerness to take a dip in the many pools becomes more and more evident as she starts to softly whine every time her eyes catch anything new and exciting.

"You want to swim, don't you?" one of the crew playfully asks Chaeyoung, teasing her.

"Of course," she replies with a mischievous smile, before letting out a deep sigh. "I wish I didn't wear this outfit."

"But you look good in it."

"But I want to swim," she pouts, defeated as she looks at her clothing.

The crew chuckles at her cute yet disappointed expression.

"Can we go back here again?" she asks.

"Maybe?" the crew replies, a teasing tone in their voice.

Her eyes widened in hope and excitement. "Really? We can?"

"Well, we can certainly try to make it happen," they respond, their tone filled with amusement.

"Yes!" Chaeyoung claps her hands in glee.

"But this is a filming studio, after all," they point out.

"Ugh…" Chaeyoung groans, sounding frustrated.

"So we should coordinate with them first if we can use this place again," they suggest.

"It's a shame we can't just go here whenever we can," she pouts.

The crew again laughs at her remarks.

Her witty nature, paired with her playful banters, makes Chaeyoung a delight to work with. She's more than just a pretty face, her vibrant and welcoming personality makes her a good addition to any project. Many fans often discuss how she rarely lands any invitations to shows or events, be it as a guest or a host. Her level of professionalism, paired with her natural charm, will make her a great asset to any production.

Chaeyoung and the crew continue to explore the huge swimming facility, stumbling into more breathtaking pools and attractions along the way. They then end up in a huge yet shallow pool. What's interesting is that despite the water being shallow, it doesn't look like a pool meant for children. The pool is decorated as if it's a sports arena, with goals on each end and border lines drawn on the bottom. A scoreboard is also visible, adding to the air of competition and excitement.

"Wow! This area looks great!" Chaeyoung exclaims, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

She then proceeds to walk further into the pool area, trying to get a closer look at the intricately designed space. But as she takes a few more steps, the crew then takes their leave to let her explore on her own. She waves and bows at them as her way of appreciation for accompanying her thus far. As they part ways, the camera view then switches to those inside the area, capturing the entire place from much better angles.

As she goes deeper into the pool area, she notices a man nearby who seems to be doing some stretches.

"Uhh… Hello," Chaeyoung tries to grab the man's attention with a friendly tone as she steps closer to him.

"Ah! Hello there," the man turns to her and slightly bows, a polite smile on his face.

"Hello to you as well," she responds with a warm smile before bowing in return.

The man stands up from his task and walks closer to Chaeyoung, offering a friendly handshake.

"So I will be your partner today."

She softly giggles before accepting her handshake. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he replies, his voice calm and friendly. "Chaeyoung, is it?"

"Yes. I guess I'm in the right place," she says with a playful grin.

"I guess you are," he chuckles. "So, are you ready?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, dumbfounded.

"Eh?"

"I was told that we're going to have a friendly game of water polo," he explains, pointing towards the goals and lines in the pool.

She is then left speechless for a moment, her eyes staring at nothing in particular as she looks as if she's processing her situation.

"So, are you up for it?" he asks her again, his voice filled with anticipation.

Chaeyoung then chuckles, still staring into nothingness, before looking at him. "I wasn't even informed that I'll be swimming today."

She then turns her attention to one of the many cameras surrounding them as if looking at the staff themselves.

"Why did you make me wear this?" she yells at them laughing, playfully pointing at her outrageous office get-up.

Her partner then bursts out laughing at her unexpected reaction. "Wait. What's wrong?"

Chaeyoung then looks at him, still laughing but looking defeated. "I can't swim in this!"

He scratches his head in amusement as he has never been in a situation quite like this before, let alone see someone attempt to swim wearing office attire.

"Well that can be a problem," he says, chuckling.

"Oh no," she then starts to worry about the challenge at hand. "Do I immediately fail the challenge?"

"I don't think so. No," he attempts to reassure her worries as he thinks of a way to salvage the situation.

Suddenly, one of the monitors in the room turns on, catching their attention. On the screen, a message appears where it says the following;

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST>

Aim to be the best water polo player ever!

Score as much as you can against your opponent.

Regular water polo rules don’t apply. Do whatever you can to win!

Complete this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

They both read the message on the screen, their eyes widening in surprise. Chaeyoung then looks at him with eyes full of concern.

"A time limit? How much time do we have?" she asks, feeling lost and nervous.

The scoreboard suddenly hums to life, catching their attention. The timer displays 120 minutes on the clock, making them realize they have a generous amount of time to complete the challenge.

"Oh, neat," he remarks. "We have plenty of time."

“Yeah,” She nods as she thinks about her situation. "But I'm wearing these clothes…"

"Right," he responds with a small chuckle.

"What should I do?" she asks, her worry slowly getting the best of her.

As he struggles to think of a way to help her, he shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you'd have to take them off."

"Sure," She chuckles nervously. “But you see…”

“Yes?” he asks.

"I don't have any swimsuits on me," she admits, blushing.

He then let out a chuckle at her sudden confession. "So you're just in your underwear, then?"

She nods at him. "Yep."

"If that's the case," he pauses for a moment, before adding, "Then it won't be much different from regular water polo."

"Really?" Chaeyoung's eyes widened, curious to hear his thoughts.

"Yes. Some beginners play water polo in their underwear, with the lack of preparation and all," he further explains, chuckling as he goes.

"I see…" she nods as she understands the situation. "So my case is actually a common thing, huh?"

"Correct," he nods, smiling. "Even professionals do their practice rounds wearing underwear when they forget to bring one."

“Is that so?” She laughs. "So it's just practice for me then."

He chuckles. "You can say that."

Suddenly, all her worries seem to have vanished. She smiles and nods at herself, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Alright," she exclaims, excited to accept the challenge. "I'll take the challenge then."

"That's the spirit!" He cheers her and gives her a thumbs up.

"So…"

Chaeyoung's eyes then begin to wander around the pool area, as if looking for something.

 "Should I just strip here?"

Her query catches him off guard, blushing before laughing at himself. "Ah, right. The nearest changing room is a bit far from here. It might take you a while to walk there."

"I see," she responds, understanding the situation. "Guess I’ll do a quick one here."

"Sure. I’ll stay back," He tells her as he steps back a few steps, raising his arm as he does.

"Right! Let's do this, then…"

Chaeyoung steps a bit away from him and begins to undress.

Her partner is then left to watch her as she attempts to remove every article of her clothing. Her high heels come off first, then the belt that holds the entire ensemble, followed by her orange tube dress. As she is halfway through unzipping the dress, she suddenly stops, looking at him for a moment.

"Oh. Umm…" She looks at him, feeling shy.

"What is it?" he asks, curious.

"Can you…" she pauses, her hands pointing at the stuck zipper.

"You want me to help you with that?" He asks again, smirking this time.

She nods, feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, please…"

"Sure thing," he nods and approaches her.

He grabs hold of the zipper with one hand, the other resting on Chaeyoung's shoulder. His strength easily resists the dress, as it slides downwards without issue. She then sighs with relief, another piece of clothing is peeled off her body.

"Phew," she sighs, relieved. "Thank you."

"No problem," He smiles at her before gesturing at her if he can let go of the dress. "May I?"

"Yes," she replies with a smile, her eyes glancing at his hands.

He lets go of his hands and like a swift wind, her orange dress slides down her body. Chaeyoung’s partner stands there, admiring her figure as she is left in her white buttoned shirt with a hint of her blue panties peeking from the bottom.

"Wow. You look beautiful," he compliments her, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Thank you," he smiles and blushes.

She then goes back to business and unbuttons her shirt, revealing her bright blue bra. She slowly slides the garment down her arms, slowly revealing her slender body to him. He can't help but have his mouth open, his eyes admiring her beautiful physique. If anyone else was in his position, they would've pounced at her and ravished her right then and there, but he doesn't. He restrains himself as much as he can. And who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen along the way.

After a few seconds of gazing at her, he snaps himself back to reality, remembering the challenge at hand.

"So?" he asks her. "Ready?"

She nods, smiling. "Yes. Shall we?"

"After you," he gestures at her to dip in first.

Chaeyoung nods again and walks closer to the pool. She steps in it, slightly wincing as the water comes up to her calves.

"Ooh! It's cold," she whines, slightly grimacing.

"Are you okay?" he asks, curious to hear her response. "Is the water good?"

"I'm fine," she says, reassuring him. "Just a little chilly."

"Good to hear," he giggles, following her into the pool.

They perform quick stretches before they position themselves to face each other, ready to play a game of water polo.

"So, the goal is to score as many goals as I can, right?" Chaeyoung asks, feeling excited and nervous about the challenge at hand.

"Yes. So do your best," he replies with a wide grin, excitement evident in his tone.

"Right," she smiles, nodding at his response. "And go easy on me."

"I'll try," he chuckles, his eyes smiling along with his lips.

Chaeyoung then nods and readies herself to play.

The clock begins to tick, counting down before starting the game.

3… 2… 1…

And with a loud horn, the game starts.

The slightly serene water of the pool is replaced with large splashes as the two move fast toward the ball floating in the middle. Chaeyoung’s partner was able to reach it first with his long arms, but she swiftly reacted by swatting it away. Both then swim as fast as they can to recover the ball. Luckily for her, the water moves the ball closer to her position and she can reach it just before he does.

"Not too bad," he comments, impressed at how fast she is.

She smirks as if she already has a plan in mind. "You better get ready!"

Chaeyoung rushes toward the goal as fast as she can. In response, her partner moves towards it as well to defend it. As they near the goal, Chaeyoung, with the ball in her hands, attempts a big swing towards it, aiming for the side. He catches onto her plan and immediately positions himself in front of the goal, blocking it. With no time to waste, she lets out a loud grunt as she propels the ball out of his hands, hoping that it lands in the goal.

Unfortunately, the ball falls short, falling inches in front of him instead.

She grimaces as her attempt to score fails.

“Ah, no way!”

"Nice try, though," he says, smirking.

She hesitates to approach the ball for another attempt. But as she sees him, who is much closer, reaching for it, she abandons her plan.

"Oh, no…" she hisses. "Not on my watch."

Without a moment's hesitation, Chaeyoung drags herself towards her own end of the pool, leaving her partner with the ball. As she gets nearer to her goal line, she looks back to check his position. And to her surprise, he's already behind her, halfway through the pool, with the ball in his hands.

"Okay!" he yells, smiling. "My turn!"

"Wha—?!" she reacts, her eyes widening.

"Got you!" he says, as he winds her arms for the throw.

"Wait! That's unfair!" she frantically swims away, attempting to put some distance between them.

With the ball in his hands, he throws it straight towards the goal. As Chaeyoung desperately tries to catch up to the ball, she slips backward. This causes her to flail her arms and legs wildly. But with a stroke of luck, as she stumbles around in the pool, her feet catch the ball, hitting it. The ball then flies outside of the pool, landing on the hard floor of the facility.

"Oh!" he exclaims as he watches everything unfold. "That was something else."

After a few moments, Chaeyoung recovers her footing and is then left standing in the shallow pool, still disoriented from the tumble.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

She nods and raises her hand as if giving him a thumbs up. She wipes the water from her face and her hair, taking a few breaths as she recollects her thoughts.

"I'm okay," she chuckles, trying to catch her breath.

"That was quite a tumble you did," he comments, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah. I slipped," she replies, slightly shaking her head.

"I saw that," he giggles. "Are you good to go?"

"Yeah. Just a little bit dizzy," she reassures him, a hint of exhaustion in her tone.

"Okay. Let me just go get the ball," he says, getting off the pool to retrieve the ball.

"Wait. Where did it land?" she asks, scanning her surroundings for the lost item.

"It flew outside of the pool," he then pointed towards a spot outside. "Over there."

"Oh…" her eyes widen as she realizes her blunder. "I can't believe I kicked it that far."

He chuckles. "It happens to everyone. It's fine."

He quickly gets to where the ball is and picks it up.

"Let me get that," she says, moving towards him.

"Thanks," he smiles before softly tossing the ball to her. "Here you go."

"Oop!" she yelps, catching the ball in her hands. "Got it!"

"Nice catch," he praises her, smiling as he tosses himself into the pool.

"Thanks!" she smiles and waves, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Alright. Another round?" he asks, eager to start another round.

She nods. "Sure."

They again position themselves before resuming the game.

"Since you touched the ball before it went outside the pool," he says, looking at her. "The possession goes to me."

"Ah…" Chaeyoung sighs. "Fair enough."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance to score."

"Yeah, yeah," she nods, smiling. "Do your worst."

She then throws the ball to him as they're about to start another round.

"No hard feelings?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Nah," She chuckles.

"But don't underestimate me."

"We'll see about that," he smiles as the horns sound, resuming the game.

Chaeyoung’s partner immediately makes a beeline towards the goal. His slim yet muscular build allows him to cut through the water with ease. But Chaeyoung isn't just a pretty face, as her lithe frame helps her keep up with his speed. Together with her silly and rather "unorthodox" methods of blocking him from scoring, her strategy is paying off, even though her opponent is much bigger than her. Neither of them is advancing any further, the two seemingly in a deadlock.

"You're good at this," he asks, impressed.

"Am I now?" she replies, smiling.

"Yes," he grins. "You should consider doing water polo as a hobby."

"I guess I should," she responds, giggling.

He chuckles. "Good to hear."

Their game goes on for quite some time with them in the same spot, neither of them scoring anything.  Chaeyoung is doing everything she can to block his every move and eventually steal the ball from him, while her partner tries to get past her and keep the ball from her. They are growing tired of this stalemate, but neither of them is giving up anytime soon.

"Okay, now…" he suddenly pauses, raising his arms in the air.

"Eh?" Chaeyoung is left confused. "What now?"

"Time to score," he makes a sudden dash towards the goal.

"Hey! Wait!" she yelps, attempting to block him.

His sudden burst of energy catches her off guard and causes her to stumble again. He quickly uses this opportunity to gain more ground. He is slowly getting past her.

"Wait up… Nghh!" she groans as she desperately tries to catch up to him.

"This is it!" he declares, his voice filled with excitement.

He then winds up his arms for a throw. But as he is doing so, Chaeyoung quickly recovers and desperately halts his movements just in time, her arms locking with his, rendering him unable to shoot the ball.

"No, you won't!" She grunts, determined to stop him.

He is left powerless as he feels her strength, her hands clasping his tightly.

"Woah! You're strong," he gasps, taken aback by her power.

She looks at him, her eyes gleaming with confidence and determination.

"Not gonna let that happen!"

They continue to struggle against each other, their bodies touching as they attempt to overcome one another. As the situation for the first goal becomes tense, their clashing bodies cause them to stumble and fall into the water. But even after falling, Chaeyoung's hands remain firm on his, determined not to lose. In such desperation, she tries to grab a hold of him in any way that she can. She manages to get a grip on his waist, but that's when things take a turn for the worse.

As Chaeyoung’s partner finds a way to let go of her, her hands unknowingly grab her trunks. With not a lot of options in his hands, he decides to just sprint for the goal. But as he does so, her tight grip causes the trunks to slide off his waist, revealing his privates.

"What the?" his eyes widened, caught off guard by what happened.

"Ahh!" she lets out a yelp, surprised.

His face flushes in embarrassment as he tries to cover his private area with the ball in his arms.

"Wait a minute. Lemme just…" He fumbles around, trying to pull his trunks back up.

"Ah! Uhh… Sorry!" she apologizes, feeling flustered.

"Heheh… No worries," he giggles, feeling awkward about the situation.

She blushes, avoiding his gaze. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No, really. It's all good," he says, smiling.

"I wasn't thinking that…" she says, shaking her head.

"No need to worry. It was an accident," he says, grinning.

"Right," she responds, nodding. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"It's alright," he reassures her. "We can still continue the game."

"Mhmm… Sure," she nods, still looking flustered from the incident.

"Hmmm…" he inspected her for a moment, thinking. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, nodding.

"Okay. If you say so," he responds.

"But how about we take a break?"

"Can we?" she asks, feeling excited at the thought.

"Sure. Seems like we both could use a breather," he says, grinning.

"Well… Alright then," she giggles.

He then extends his hand, gesturing at her to take his hand.

"Shall we?"

She grabs her hand as he helps her get back up.

"Thanks," she says, smiling.

"No problem," he grins.

They then get off the pool, walking towards a row of lounge chairs placed nearby.

"Ahh…" she sighs as she sits on the chair stretching her body. "That was exhausting."

"Yeah," he nods as he hands her over a pair of towels. "But was it fun?"

"Definitely!" she smiles as she grabs one of the towels. "Thank you, by the way."

“Don't mention it," he grins. "So how about some drinks?"

"I would love to," she smiles as she wraps herself in the towel. "I'll wait here if that's alright with you."

Chaeyoung's partner then heads over to the bar nearby to get some refreshments. She is left to her thoughts, thinking about how the game went so far.

“Jeez. This is really exciting.”

A smile spreads across her face, feeling delighted about the current situation. She then feels a slight tingle down her thighs, as if she's getting turned on.

"Nghh… This is bad," she whispers to herself, stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

She then looks at where her partner is, watching him grab a couple of drinks at the bar. He seems to be taking his time doing so.

The coast is clear.

She shifts her thighs, trying to ease the sensation. But instead of stopping, it only gets stronger. She lets out a soft moan, her body feeling the familiar heat.

"No, not here," she whispers to herself, her hands stroking her thighs, attempting to calm her urges.

As if she can't control her body anymore, her fingers wander downwards. A sudden wave of pleasure washes over her as her fingers gently touch her pussy.

"Fuck… So good," she murmurs, her fingers continuing to play with her wet lips.

Chaeyoung, unable to resist the temptation, decides to give in. Her fingers continue to tease her body, her pussy getting wetter with each touch. She begins to slowly up the pace, muffling her moans as her fingers thrust in and out of her pussy.

"Hngh!" she hisses, biting her lip. "So close…."

She begins to quicken her pace, her fingers plunging deep into her pussy. The intense stimulation causes her legs to buckle, her toes curling with pleasure.

"Ugh… Yes…" she gasps, her fingers fucking her pussy fast.

Her fingers reach deeper into her, sending a powerful surge of pleasure up her spine. She is close to the climax.

But just as she's about to reach her orgasm, the sudden sound of her partner's voice causes her to freeze in her tracks.

"Hey, Chaeyoung…" his voice rings in her ears.

Her eyes dart towards the direction of the voice. He's getting close.

"Shit! What timing," she hisses, frustrated, quickly removing her hand from her pussy.

She then quickly pulls her hands up and wipes her juices on the towel. She adjusts her sitting position afterward, trying to make herself look natural.

“Sorry, I took so long,” he apologizes as he hands her a cold bottle of soda. “Here’s your drink.”

"Oh! T-thank you," she replies, her hands shaking as she grabs the bottle.

"Hmmm…" he looks at her, curious. "Are you okay?"

"M-me? Yeah! I'm fine," she replies, laughing awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” he continues to stare at her, looking as if he doesn't believe her. “You look red.”

"R-red? Me?" she giggles awkwardly. “I-it’s probably the… Heat. Yes! T-that’s it.”

"Well…" he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know if I grabbed a good drink for you. The bar doesn't seem to have much to offer."

"It's fine! T-this is nice," she giggles.

"Well that's good to hear," he smiles, before laying down on the chair next to her.

She opens her bottle and gulps down half of the content as if her throat is parched.

"Phew…" she sighs, wiping her mouth.

"You seem thirsty," he comments.

His sudden query almost made Chaeyoung spill her drink.

"T-thirsty?" she frantically responds, almost stuttering.

"Yeah. You seem to be sipping your drink fast," he points out.

"Ahh… That. Hehehe," she awkwardly giggles, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, y’know… It's been a hot day."

"Yeah. It sure is," he replies, relaxing his body. "This weather makes me feel hot and sticky."

"Sticky, huh…" she murmurs to herself, trying to keep her composure.

"So how's the game so far? You're holding up well," he compliments her, a playful grin on his face.

"Ah, yes," she nods, laughing. "I, uhh… I'm doing my best."

"You have the makings of a good water polo player," he adds, his grin growing wider.

"Is that so?" she continues to laugh, her cheeks blushing.

"You gave me a hard score, after all," he remarks, chuckling.

"I did, didn't I?" she giggles, feeling embarrassed.

"Yeah. You're creative in your tactics, too," he adds.

"C-creative?" she asks, curious.

"Well, you know…" he then slightly tugs her swimming trunks, reminding her of the silly incident earlier.

"O-oh," she blushes, remembering what happened. "That one…"

"It was a pretty bold move if you ask me," he chuckles, amused.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen," she apologizes, looking embarrassed.

"You don't have to apologize," he says, his voice calm.

"I… I got so into the game that I didn't notice what I was doing," she explains, looking embarrassed.

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?" he jokes, smirking. "I might even do the same thing if the situation calls for it."

Chaeyoung's eyes then widened, surprised at his answer. "R-really? You mean…"

"Just kidding!" he bursts into laughter, finding her reaction amusing. "You're only in your underwear, so I wouldn't consider doing that."

"But you're only wearing trunks yourself!" she exclaims, chuckling. "We're pretty much on the same boat here."

"So are you proposing an 'equal' fight, then?" he grins, teasing her.

"Well… I mean…" Chaeyoung blushes, feeling shy. "Ah! Forget what I said."

"Come on now. Don't get shy on me," he teases, smirking.

She hesitates to let out what's on her mind. Granted her sexual frustration and her partner's teasing are getting the better of her, but she eventually gives in.

"Fine," she grumbles.

"So what is it?" he asks, his voice calm and patient.

"Well," she pauses for a moment, her eyes wandering. "I was just saying that maybe it's okay if we could just—"

The horn suddenly blares aloud, interrupting her speech.

"Oh. Time's up already?" he asks, getting back up.

Chaeyoung then sighs at the impeccable timing. "So it is."

"Well, shall we go back?" he asks, lending her a hand to stand up.

"Sure," she replies, nodding. "Let's go."

They then both head back into the water to continue where they left off. They are left with 23 minutes on the clock.

"Ready for more?" he asks, smiling.

She smiles, her body ready. "Yeah. Let's do this!"

And with another loud blare of the horn, the game resumes.

Both of them hauls ass towards the middle, trying to get to the ball first. Chaeyoung manages to reach the ball first and firmly grasps it with both hands.

"Aha!" she declares. "Got it!"

"Nicely done!" her partner applauds her, smiling.

"Hehe… Thanks," she replies, giggling. "Now it's my turn!"

She does all she can to reach the goal as fast as she can. However, his athletic frame makes him move to block it before she can reach it.

"I want to see you try scoring again," he says, smirking.

"Aish…" She grunts, her eyes determined. "We'll see about that."

As Chaeyoung approaches the goal, she slowly thinks of a way to overcome him. An idea then suddenly pops into her head, giving her a newfound motivation.

"Okay…" she mumbles, as she comes up with a plan.

"Ready when you are," he firmly stands in his position, his eyes fixed on the ball.

Suddenly, she then attempts a flurry of fake shots, jumping in all directions in the hopes of baiting him to fall off-balance. As silly as she looks, her partner reacts in kind, trying to block her in every direction she jumps.

"I'm gonna get you!" she declares, giggling.

"Try if you can," he retorts, his grin widening.

As competitive as they get, a glimmer of joy and fun is present in their eyes. They're having fun. The fierce tension in the air doesn't stop them from enjoying themselves.

After a few moments, Chaeyoung finally takes the bait and dashes straight towards the goal, the ball in her hand. Her partner follows suit, hoping to stop her. They both rush towards each other to accomplish their own plans. As they come closer to each other and the tension continues to rise, Chaeyoung decides to jump out of the water as high as she can and throws the ball towards the goal.

"Get in there!" she yells as she lets go of the ball.

He reacts by reaching for the ball with his hand, attempting to block the shot.

"Got it!" he said in glee.

But in the nick of time, Chaeyoung swats the ball away with her hands, sending it upwards towards the goal.

They were frozen in their tracks, watching where the ball would land. A mix of emotions fills them both as it comes nearer to the goal.

"Did I score?"

"Did she miss?"

The ball then touches the edge of the goal, sending it bouncing to the side and landing a few inches away from the goal line.

"Agh! No!" Chaeyoung cries as the ball falls short of the goal.

"Whew! That was a close one," her partner exclaims, a bit exhausted.

He then rushes to recover the ball, attempting to score his own. But despite her failed attempt, she is quick to react and runs for her side of the pool to defend her goal.

"No way am I letting you score that easily!" she declares, smirking

He chuckles. "Good. Bring it on, then."

He winds up his arms for a big throw, while she prepares herself for his next move. He throws the ball as high as he can, far from her reach. But Chaeyoung isn't going to let him win that easily. She jumps another time, and with her long reach, is able to grab the ball in mid-air. It sends the ball out of bounds, outside the pool.

"Nice!" she exclaims, pumping her fist in the air.

"Ugh…" he groans, slightly annoyed. "That was a good block."

"Thanks," she smiles. "I have a good opponent."

"I'm honored," he chuckles.

After exchanging compliments and a few seconds of rest, they again prepare themselves for more water polo. They continue to attempt to score a goal for themselves as the other party tries their best to block their every move. Their restraints are slowly coming off as the two of them are willing to get up close and personal with each other during the game. With how serious the two of them are getting, Chaeyoung's partner can't help but exert a bit of his strength tussling against her. His hands, in a desperate attempt to retrieve the ball, accidentally end up grasping the softness of her butt

"Hngh!" she suddenly lets out a sharp gasp.

"Oh. Sorry!" he apologizes, retracting his hands.

"It… It's fine," she quickly recovers, smiling. "D-don't worry about it."

"Alright then," he says, still looking a bit apologetic.

They continue playing, but the situation seems to have shifted into a more sexual one. It's evident in their eyes the fire that makes them determined to win the challenge. But at the same time, the same fire emanates a more intense passion between the two of them. Gone are the subtleties they have for each other from the first few minutes of the challenge, now they're going all out, showing no signs of holding back.

As the game goes on, the two's bodies are getting closer and closer. Their touches aren't accidental anymore. They're deliberate, seeking a certain sensation from each other. And as their excitement grows, so does the tension in the air. The desire to get to each other becomes more apparent with each passing moment. This isn't just a game anymore. It has become a test of wills—a battle to see who'll succumb first. Getting physical is the name of the game, after all. 

A few moments later, they again find themselves at a stalemate, the two staring at each other intently, neither giving up their guard.

"You're getting better at this," he comments, smirking.

She chuckles. "Not gonna let you score that easily."

"You think so, huh?" he asks, teasing her.

"Yeah, you bet," she replies, smirking.

"Well have at it, then," he says, challenging her.

As they are about to have another go, the horn blares out loud, catching their attention.

"Huh? Is it over already?" Chaeyoung asks, surprised.

"Doesn't seem like it," her partner responds, his gaze fixated on his timer. "We still have several minutes to go."

"Hmmm… Then what seems to be the—oh! Look at the screen."

They both then turn their heads toward the big screen in the middle. A message is being displayed, informing the players of another challenge.

"ATTENTION BOTH PLAYERS:

As neither player hasn't scored so far, we have decided to change the current challenge."

They are both confused, not expecting this sudden change.

"What does that mean?" Chaeyoung asks, perplexed.

"I have no idea," her partner shrugs. "Let's see what else is there to know."

The message on the screen changes again. It reads the following:

“SPOTLIGHTING CHALLENGE: SPLASH & BLAST

1. Can you be the best lover in the pool?

2. Try and make your partner cum as much as possible! There are no rules!"

3. Whoever cums the most loses.

4. Win this mission to earn your group a reward.

GOOD LUCK AND HAVE FUN!"

"Huh? What in the world is that?" Chaeyoung exclaims after reading the text on the screen, blushing.

"Woah!" his jaw drops, his eyes wide. "That's some challenge."

"So, are we really gonna…" she asks, looking at him, her face flustered.

"Looks like our game took a different turn, didn't it?" he chuckles, smiling at her.

"Yeah. I guess so," she giggles, her hands fiddling.

"Shall we… Do the challenge?" he asks, curious as to how she'll react.

She hesitates, her mind conflicted. However, the need to fulfill her lust and desires seems to overwhelm her, as she has no choice but to go with it.

"Uhmm… You see," she starts to say, her tone soft and a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"You haven't done this yet, have you?" he asks, his expression calm.

"I mean…" Chaeyoung fiddles with her fingers, not looking him in the eye. "N-not that I haven't, but…"

"It's fine," he reassures her, smiling. "Bad experience?"

She shakes her head. "N-not with the real one, at least."

"I see," he nods, his hand grazing over her arm. "It's alright. We can just take it slow."

"Y-yeah, I guess…" she nods, agreeing.

They slowly approach each other, their bodies becoming closer and closer. They stare at each other's eyes, their bodies shivering. He then reaches out his hand and gently holds her chin, lifting it up, his face moving closer. She feels the warmth of his breath, their lips a mere centimeter apart.

"So, shall we begin?" he whispers, his voice soft and gentle.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she closes her eyes and presses her lips against his, sealing the deal.

Their bodies are pressed against each other, their skin touching, as the kiss grows deeper and longer. She wraps her arms around his waist, her hands touching his back. He, on the other hand, moves his hand down her hips, grabbing her buttocks.

"Mmmh…" she moans softly as their tongues intertwine.

Chaeyoung’s partner then slowly moves his hands towards her breast, his fingers fondling it. She lets out another soft moan, feeling his fingers rub her nipple.

"Feeling good?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

She nods, "Y-yes…"

He smiles, happy to see her reaction.

"I'll take it further," he says as he begins kissing her neck.

"Ahh… That tickles," she giggles, his kisses causing her body to tingle.

He continues to kiss her neck, his tongue tracing the curves of Chaeyoung's delicate skin. She moans softly, enjoying the sensation. His hand then slowly moves downwards, cupping her buttocks.

"Mnnh!" she gasps, his hands kneading her ass.

He smirks, amused at her reaction.

"Liking it?" he asks, grinning.

"Ahhh! Y-yes," she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Good," he says, his tone gentle. "I hope you're ready for more."

He continues to knead her soft butt, his hands grabbing a handful of her soft, round flesh. She lets out a series of moans, her body shivering with pleasure.

"Ahh, fuck…" she moans, her breathing getting heavy.

Her partner then continues his advance. As he moves his lips down her neck and onto her chest, he slowly unclasps her drenched bra, freeing her breasts from its confinement.

"Oh, wow… Chaeyoung-ah," he whispers, his eyes fixed on her chest.

Chaeyoung's nipples are already erect and glistening with the water from the pool. He then looks at her, his eyes burning with lust and desire.

"How cute," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing her nipples.

"Not there, not—hngh!" she whimpers, her body jolting from the touch.

He then continues to fondle her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples. Her face turns red, feeling a tingling sensation in her body.

"Fuck… So good…" she pants, her voice soft and weak.

"You're really sensitive here, aren't you?" he teases, his voice playful.

Chaeyoung nods, her face flushed. "I… I'm just not used to—nghh!."

He chuckles, finding her reaction adorable.

"Let's move on to something else, then," he says, his voice calm.

"W-what is it? What are we going to—"

He places his index finger on her lips, signaling her to stop talking.

"Hush, Chaeyoung."

Her partner then lowers himself and grabs her panties, slowly sliding them off. He tosses her soaked underwear outside the pool, leaving her fully naked.

Chaeyoung attempts to cover her body with her hands as much as she can, her cheeks burning from the embarrassment.

"I-I hope you're l-liking the view," she stutters, her face turning a deep shade of red.

"Of course I do," he replies, his voice firm.

"I-I don't think I'm that—"

"Shhh…" he again interrupts her. "There's no need to be shy."

"O-okay…" she replies, nodding.

"Just relax and let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft and gentle.

His words send shivers down her spine, her body shivering from his words.

He slowly moves Chaeyoung's hand that covers her crotch and spreads her legs open, exposing her wet pussy.

"Such a pretty sight," he murmurs, admiring her glistening pussy.

"Mmmh… Can you stop?" she groans, her pussy aching with need.

"Oh, I’m sorry," he chuckles, his hands gently caressing her thighs.

"I'll get right into it."

"P-please… I can't wait," she stammers, her face red.

His hands slowly move upwards towards her inner thighs, his fingers grazing her delicate skin.

"So soft… So warm," he whispers, his fingers touching her folds.

"Aah! T-that's so good," she whimpers, her breathing getting heavy.

His fingers continue to explore her wet pussy, his fingertips caressing her sensitive clit.

"You're so wet, Chaeyoung," he teases, his fingers brushing against her swollen clit.

"T-that's because we… We're in w-water," she stutters, her body trembling.

"Excuses, excuses," he laughs, his tone playful. "You know what I mean."

"I-I can't help it!" she whines, her face flushed. "You're making me… Feel s-so good."

"Then let me make you feel even better," he says, his fingers now slowly penetrating her tight pussy.

"Ahh! Oh fuck," she yelps, her body shivering.

"Looks like you liked that," he whispers, his fingers pumping inside her.

She nods in response, her body shuddering with each thrust.

He adds another finger, his digits begin to thrust faster and harder.

"Fuck. So tight," he compliments, his voice husky. "You're taking my fingers so well"

"Ahhh! It's so… Deep!" Chaeyoung moans, her eyes shut tight.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his fingers moving at a steady pace.

"Y-yes! Oh, shit. Yes!" she stammers, her body shuddering.

"Looks like you can't last much longer," he teases, his fingers continuing their assault.

"P-please… I'm gonna…" she looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Then go ahead. Cum for me," he commands, his fingers plunging deep.

Her body shakes as her orgasm approaches. She tries to grip whatever part of his body as best she can as her muscles tighten.

"I’m… I'm gonna!" she pants, her eyes squeezed shut.

"That's it, Chaeyoung. Just let go," he encourages, his voice gentle.

Finally, her body twitches and shudders, her pussy squeezing his fingers as her orgasm hits her hard. Her hips buck wildly, her body squirming as waves of pleasure wash over her. She elicits a loud moan as her pussy contracts, her juices spraying all over his hand.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" she yells, her body spasming.

"Good girl," he compliments her, his fingers still thrusting inside her.

"I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming!" she cries, her voice quivering.

"Keep cumming," he instructs as he continues to finger her, his fingers reaching deeper inside her.

"Please! Ahhh!" she moans, her body shivering with ecstasy.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Let it all out," he says, his voice calm.

"I-I can't! I'm gonna… I'm gonna—ahhh!" she screams, her pussy squeezing his fingers one last time before releasing a huge gush of fluid, like a floodgate bursting open to the pool.

"Yes! Yes! Agh!" she screams, her body convulsing as she cums, her juices spraying onto her partner's hand.

He slowly pulls out his fingers, his hands sticky from her fluids.

"You sure did cum a lot, Chaeyoung," he comments, a playful grin on his face.

She doesn't answer, her face red, her body shivering with aftershocks. Her chest heaves, her breaths coming in ragged pants.

"So how was it?" he asks, curious about her thoughts.

"I'm… I can't think," she murmurs, her voice weak.

He chuckles, amused by her reaction.

"Seems like you liked that," he says, his tone teasing.

As much as she hates to admit it, she replies with a subtle nod.

"Though I hope you're ready for more," he whispers, grinning.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death of me," she grunts, her breath still shaky.

"Don't worry," he replies, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'll be more gentle this time."

"For some reason, I don't believe you," she responds, her voice a mix of frustration and excitement.

"Oh, come on. I promise," he replies, his tone playful.

She sighs at his silly plea. "Fine. Whatever."

"So, anything on your mind?" he asks her, an excited glint in his eye.

Chaeyoung tries to think of something interesting to do with her partner. After a few seconds, she giggles before looking at him with a seductive smirk.

"How about…" she pauses for a moment, trying to build the tension.

"What is it?" he asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Hmmm… Come with me first!" She then grabs his arm and pulls him towards the edge of the pool.

He complies and allows her to drag him with her. Once they reach the edge, she pulls him in for a kiss before playfully pushing him, his back now against the wall.

"What now?" he asks, curious.

She doesn't reply, instead, her hands slowly move downwards. He gets the message and lets her work on removing his swimming trunks.

Chaeyoung's delicate hands slowly pull his shorts down, freeing his half-hard member. It seems that it hasn't reached its full size yet, but her eyes are fixed on such a huge object.

"Mmmh… It's so big," she murmurs, her eyes staring at his cock.

"I'm flattered," he smirks, his voice calm yet playful.

"You must be popular with the girls," she says, a playful smile on her face.

He chuckles. "You can say that."

She continues to stroke his member, her soft hands rubbing against his shaft. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her hands touching his skin.

"Ooh… Yeah," he groans. "You feel so nice."

"T-thank you," she giggles, her eyes glimmering with lust. "I'm trying to make this fucking cock bigger."

"Well, you're doing a good job," he grins, his cock slowly growing hard.

"Glad you're liking it," she replies as her pace gets faster, her hands quickly moving up and down his cock.

"Ugh… That's so good," he grunts, his hips rocking as her hands work their magic on his throbbing shaft.

"Enjoying the service?" she teases a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Why wouldn't I?" he responds, his voice calm. "You're good at this."

She giggles, amused at his comment. "Beginner's luck, I guess."

"I can't tell if you're serious or joking," he replies, chuckling.

"Who knows?" she winks. "Does it matter?"

He pulls Chaeyoung closer, their faces mere inches from each other. The tension between the two continues to build, their breaths coming out hot and heavy as they stare into each other's eyes.

"Not in the slightest," he says, his tone deep and husky.

Without warning, his lips crash into hers, his hands pulling her even closer. His tongue slides into her mouth, exploring every inch of her soft, warm cavity. The young lady, as inviting as ever, reciprocates with an eagerness of her own.

Their tongues intertwine, their lips locked together. The two are locked in a passionate embrace as if they are two lovers who haven't seen each other in years. They continue to press their bodies against each other, their breaths becoming louder and hotter as the kiss becomes more intense.

As their kiss grows more and more passionate, his cock throbs in her hands, her pace getting faster and faster. As his shaft becomes harder and harder in her hands, it pulsates and begins to twitch.

"Are you close?" Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, a seductive smile can be seen on her face.

He nods, his cock fully erect and ready to burst.

The response from her partner causes her to increase her pace, her soft, delicate hands stroking his shaft vigorously. His hips begin to rock, his breathing getting heavier and faster.

"F-fuck… I'm so close…"

"Yes. Let it out," she purrs, her voice sultry. "Give me all of it."

"Chaeyoung-ah, I'm gonna…"

With one final stroke, his cock bursts, releasing a massive load of thick, white cum, covering her hands. She does her best to catch all of his semen in her hands, but the excessive amount he releases proves to be too much for her to handle and drips to the water below. She continues to stroke his shaft, milking his cock as her hands are fully covered in his seed.

"Oh, fuck…" he groans, his cock twitching as his load spurts out of his cock.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she asks, smirking.

"Hell yeah, I did," he chuckles, his body feeling exhausted.

"I can see why you're popular with the girls," she teases, her fingers scooping his seed and licking it off her fingers.

"Delicious."

He smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"But.." she smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. "The game's not over yet."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Chaeyoung quickly lowers herself, her face now positioned right in front of his member. Without hesitation, she engulfs his cock with her mouth, her lips wrapping around the tip. Little by little, she forces herself to take his girthy shaft, her throat struggling to fit his length.

"H-hey!" he exclaims, surprised at her bold move.

She ignores her partner and continues to suck his cock, her pace increasing. Her mouth makes slurping noises, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks him vigorously.

"Mmmh," she hums, his cock deep in her mouth.

"F-fuck… That's so good," he moans, his voice heavy with pleasure.

"I know," she mumbles, her lips wrapped around his cock.

"God… So good," he growls, his hips moving.

She continues to suck him, her head bobbing up and down his shaft. She looks up at him, her eyes filled with lust and desire looking straight at him. Her eyes are like that of a predator, her prey now at her mercy.

"Ugh, shit…" he mutters, his breathing becoming heavier. "You're eager to get ahead of me, huh?"

She didn't answer. But her increase in speed and intensity is proof of her determination to beat him.

"Yes, that's it. Just like that," he praises, his voice heavy with arousal. "Fuck… Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She retreats and releases his member, a thick strand of cum and saliva connecting his swollen tip and her soft lips.

"Hope you don't mind me getting another point," she teases, a playful grin on her face.

"Just get on with it, " he grunts, smiling. "Fuck, you're a lewd sight."

"Oh shut up and enjoy, will you?" She teases, her tone sultry.

"You don't have to ask me twice," he chuckles, amused.

Chaeyoung again engulfs his shaft, her tongue lapping on his sensitive skin. She takes him whole in one go this time, his cock hitting the back of her throat. Her eager attempt causes her to choke, but she does her best to not gag.

"Fuck… You're too good," he praises, his voice shaking.

She resumes to suck his cock, her head moving up and down his shaft. Her throat quickly adjusts to his size, allowing her to take him in deeper and deeper. Her eyes never leave him, her gaze fixated on him as her mouth is full of his member, her head bobbing furiously.

"Fuck! I think I'm gonna cum again," he grunts, his breathing becoming ragged.

Like a signal, her pace increases. She is determined to make him cum again. She wants more of his semen. She is hungry for it.

"H-holy fuck," he pants, his eyes shutting tight. "I'm close, Chaeyoung!"

Her pace increases even more, her head wildly bobbing up and down his length as she attempts to make him cum. She can't seem to resist his taste, as if it's a drug.

"S-shit… I'm gonna explode!" he growls, his body twitching.

She feels his cock pulsating in her mouth, his length fully erect and ready to burst. She drives herself to the brink of madness, her pace so fast and violent that she begins to gag. She doesn't care. She wants his semen. She needs it.

With a loud, guttural moan, his hips buck and his cock explodes, sending a massive load of his hot seed inside her mouth. Her eyes widen as she struggles to take it all in, but his release is too much, catching her off guard. A thick trail of his cum drips out of her mouth and down her chin. She gags and chokes, but she does her best to swallow every last drop. His orgasm continues for a few moments longer, his load continuing to spew inside her mouth, his cock pulsating and throbbing.

"Fuck! S-so good," he pants, his body shuddering.

After an almost non-stop stream of cum, his cock finally stops releasing, and Chaeyoung slowly withdraws from him. Thick strands of his semen and saliva connect his shaft and her lips, making an erotic mess of her. It seems crazy how such a pretty girl like her can look even more attractive with the amount of cum on her face.

"Goddamn," he says, his breathing heavy. "That was amazing."

She licks her lips clean, his cum still dripping down her chin.

"How was it, hmmm?" she asks, her voice sultry.

"Amazing. Best blowjob ever."

"Good," she smiles, her expression smug. "I can tell you enjoyed it."

"You bet I did."

"It's not everyday an idol would give anyone a… Special fanservice."

"Guess I'm a lucky fan, then."

"Lucky indeed. Though the game's not over yet, is it"

"What do you mean? I already came twice."

"Doesn't mean we're done, does it?"

Despite spurting such a huge amount twice in a row, her words seem to excite him still. His cock springs back to life, already at half-mast.

"You're right," he grins, leaning closer to her. "We're not done yet."

"That's the spirit," she smiles. "Though I'll be taking the lead."

"Oh?"

"You can rest for a bit," she says, her tone playful.

"You think I can't keep up with you?" he asks in an intrigued yet playful tone.

"Not really," she giggles. "You just look like you're about to pass out."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," she replies, chuckling. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Feeling challenged, he quickly grabs Chaeyoung by her legs and lifts her up the water.

"I'm gonna show you that I can still keep up," he growls, his eyes full of determination.

"W-woah!" she yelps, taken aback by his sudden move. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a ride," he responds, his hands firmly gripping her thighs.

"Eh? A r-ride?"

"That's right," He nods, smiling. His cock slightly grazes against her inner thighs, slowly nearing her crotch. "You wanted to lead, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then here's your chance," he interrupts, grinning.

"Wait, what are you—oh! Oh fuck!" she gasps, suddenly feeling his cock penetrating her pussy.

He enters her with a powerful thrust, his shaft sliding all the way inside her tight, warm walls.

"Shit. So tight," he groans, his cock throbbing inside her.

"F-fuck… Y-you're so big!" she whimpers, feeling his girth stretching her insides.

"And you're soaking wet, Chaeyoung," he smirks, amused.

"W-what are you talking about? I'm not—ahh!" she moans, her body jolting with every thrust.

"I'm not gonna let you win that easily," he grunts, his pace slow but firm.

"Oh yeah? Nghh! Y-you… Think you're gonna w-win?"

"Still underestimating me, huh?" he growls, his fingers digging into her fleshy butt.

Despite the tough shell she displays, his aggressive moves make her moan involuntarily. Her arms wrap around his neck, while her legs lock around his waist. Try as she might, the immense pleasure seems to be flooding her inhibitions away.

"Nghh! F-fuck…" 

"You're liking this, huh?" her partner taunts her as his pace quickens.

"Ahh… S-so good," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"That's what I thought," he smirks.

He continues to pound her with his cock, his shaft reaching her deepest depths.

"F-fuck! D-don't… Go faster!" Chaeyoung screams, her face flushed.

"Who do you think will win, huh?" he teases, his voice full of arrogance.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, her body trembling.

"I like it when you talk dirty," he chuckles, amused.

He thrusts his cock deep inside her, causing her to gasp.

"Nghhh! Shit!" she yells, her pussy tightening around his shaft.

"Feeling good?"

"N-no! I'm just… Mhhh!" she protests, her voice weak.

"Just admit it," he says, his cock pulsating inside her.

"Aghhh! T-that's cheating!" she complains, her body shuddering.

"Excuses, excuses…" he smirks, his thrusts becoming deeper and stronger.

"I'm gonna… W-win, you know," she boasts, challenging him.

"Really, huh?" he chuckles, looking at her dazed eyes. "Looks like you can't even think properly."

"You're just… Nghhh! You're moving too fast!" she exclaims, her voice weak.

"Then if that's the case…" he then walks slowly towards the pool stairs, his cock still deep inside her.

"W-what are you… Hahh! What are you doing?"

"Giving you a proper ride," he says, his tone smug.

He takes slow but heavy steps as he carries her towards the pool stairs, making her squeal with each movement.

"You… Y-you're so mean," she whines, her pussy tightening.

"Sorry, Chaeyoung. But we're against each other here," he says, his eyes full of mischief.

"Fuck!" she whispers angrily to herself in frustration.

"What's the matter?" he taunts, his cock sliding inside her with ease.

"N-nothing… Hngh!" she grunts, her teeth gritting.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Fuck! Just… Just fucking fuck me! Goddammit!" Chaeyoung admittedly yells, her face red and flushed.

"Now that's more like it," he smirks, amused.

Her partner resumes his relentless assault, pounding her hard and deep as they near the edge of the pool. Chaeyoung's moans are getting louder and louder, her body quivers as if she got shocked by lightning.

"Shit… You're so big…" she whispers, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Feeling good, aren't you?" he taunts, his pace steady.

"Nghh… No!" she replies, her trembling in frustration and pleasure. "T-this is… Fuck!"

"That's what I thought," he sneers.

"Ahhh! When are you gonna stop?" she whines, her voice full of desperation.

"When I'm done," he answers, his tone casual.

"Y-you…" she grunts, her face red. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Of course," he answers with a smug grin on his face.

"Oh, fuck me…" she whispers, her breathing heavy.

"Looks like someone's getting close," he comments, his voice full of amusement.

"No I'm not! I'm—fuck!" she snaps, her voice shaking.

"Come on. You're denying it but you're pussy's getting tighter," he teases.

"Nghh… Fine!" she finally gives in.

"I'm… Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"There we go," he smirks, his cock throbbing. "An honest answer."

"B-but… Not before you!" she shouts, her pussy squeezing his cock.

"Heh. Still got some fight left in you, huh?"

"M-maybe… I-I don't know!" she yells, her face red.

"Well, if that's the case, then I better make sure you can't keep up," he sneers, his cock pounding her with reckless abandon as he exits the pool. Despite his aggressive movements, he gently lowers Chaeyoung to the pool’s deck, his cock never leaving the tight embrace of her walls.

He then continues his relentless assault, his thrusts deep and rough. He moves his hands to her breasts and starts to massage her perky, erect nipples.

"F-fuck… Not my nipples!" she whimpers, her pussy clenching around his shaft.

"Feels good, huh?"

"Hahh… Y-yes," she admits, her face flushed.

"There’s a good girl," he smiles, his fingers pinching her nipples. He then leans forward to suck on them, his tongue swirling around her sensitive nubs.

"Aghh! Don't suck on them!" she whines, her voice weak.

He doesn't answer. He keeps on sucking her nipple as his cock pounds her as deep and as hard as he could.

"Fuck! I'm gonna go crazy, you asshole!" she yells, her face red and hot.

"That's what I like to hear," he chuckles.

"But I'm not… Losing… To you!" Chaeyoung grunts, sounding determined despite her weak position.

"We'll see about that," her partner replies, his pace picking up.

"Ahhh! Fuck! You're going too fast!" she protests, her hands reaching for his back, her nails digging into his skin.

He continues his relentless assault, his pace unrelenting as his cock ravages her insides.

"S-stop…" she whispers, her body shivering with pleasure. "I can't take it anymore!"

"Then cum," he says, his breath heavy. "I know you want to."

"B-but… But I…"

"Shhh…" he shushes her. "I'll do it with you."

"Nghh… B-but I'm not gonna lose to—"

His lips interrupt her words, gently crashing into hers. Chaeyoung tries to resist, but her mind becomes blank as his tongue slides into her mouth.

Despite the feisty attitude she's showing towards him, she kisses him back as their tongues intertwine in a passionate dance. Gone are their antagonistic antics against each other, and the only evident thing are fervent thrusts and muffled moans from the two of them.

The tension builds and their kiss grows more intense. Their hips move together as one, their bodies grinding against each other. They are locked in a passionate embrace, their desire burning deep within them.

"Fuck," he groans. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

"Aghh! S-stop… You're making me…" she stammers, her voice soft.

"Come on, Chaeyoung. Give me all you got," he whispers, his cock pounding her deep.

"F-fuck…" she grunts, her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm gonna cum again!"

"That's right," he coos in her ears. "Let me feel you cum."

"Y-yes!" she cries, her voice strained. "Oh shit… Ahh!"

With a loud moan, Chaeyoung’s pussy clenches his cock, her body convulsing as her orgasm hits her hard, waves of pleasure washing over her. She can't do anything but hold onto her partner’s back as her orgasm ravages her body, her arms and legs locked around him. Her juices spray uncontrollably out of her, covering his cock with her sticky fluids.

"Ahh! Fuck!" he yells, his body shivering as his orgasm approaches. "My turn… Hngh!"

"C-cum inside me, p-please…" she begs, her voice weak.

"Here it comes… Nrgh!"

After a few wild thrusts, his cock bursts inside her, releasing a huge load of his thick, hot seed. His hips rock and buck as his cock spews a massive stream of cum, his semen overflowing from her tight pussy.

"Yes! Oh fuck! Your cum feels so warm inside me," she moans, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Ugh… Take it all, Chaeyoung!" he growls as he continues to thrust all he's got inside her.

"Fuck… I can feel it coming out of my pussy," she moans, her pussy still squirting her fluids.

"Shit. You're so hot, Chaeyoung" he grunts and goes to kiss her once again.

"Mmmh… I love your cock," she purrs, her body shaking.

They continue this sensual moment, their bodies pressed together, their mouths locked in a passionate embrace. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure for the two of them, and they reveled every second of it. Despite being filmed, they didn't care. All that mattered was the moment they were sharing that burned deep within their minds.

As the intense lovemaking subsides, their lips break apart from each other. He withdraws himself from her, his cock covered with their mixed juices that connect from her freshly fucked pussy. He then moves a few inches away from her, trying to take a seated position with his exhausted body. Chaeyoung on the other hand, is left panting, her body trembling, her chest heaves for air and her pussy gushes out their mixed fluids, leaving a trail of love juice that pools below her.

"Hahh… Hah… Oh fuck…" he breathes, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Nghh… Are you… Okay?" Chaeyoung asks him, her voice barely audible.

"I'm… Whew. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah… I'm… I think I'm good," she replies, her body still shuddering with aftershocks.

"Fuck… That was good," her partner groans, his voice heavy.

"Do you… Want more?" she proposes as she tries to lift herself up the floor into a more comfortable position.

He crawls towards her, his seemingly tired body ready for yet another round.

"If that's what you want…"

The young lady is already feeling the effects of his relentless assault, her body trembling as she anticipates his cock pounding her once more with reckless abandon. But the pleasure of having her insides ravaged by his girthy shaft is too much for her, and she is helpless to resist his advances.

"Mmmh… Keep going," she urges him on, her voice shaky.

But as they ready themselves to have another go, the buzzer rings, indicating that time is up.

"Huh? Already?" the young man groans.

"Looks like we got carried away," she giggles, her breathing heavy.

"Yeah," he snarls. "I got so lost in all that."

"So… Who won?" she asks, her tone curious.

"Not sure," he shrugs. "You?"

She looks confused.

“Me? I don’t know.”

The screen then showed the result of this rather interesting game:

"RESULTS:

3-2 in favor of Chaeyoung!

CONGRATULATIONS! You succeeded in the challenge!"

"Oh wow," he smiles.

"Really? I did! Yay!" she cheers, clapping her hands in excitement.

"Yeah, you did. Good job, Chaeyoung," her partner congratulates her, clapping his hands as well.

"Thank you!" she replies as she gives him a hug, her face beaming with joy.

"You're a great partner," he praises her. "It was a lot of fun."

"Thank you again," she blushes. She then looks around her.

"So what now?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "No one told me what to do after the challenge."

The screen then shows a new message for the two of them:

"Congratulations on completing the challenge. The pair should then proceed to the final area after a signal in a few hours. In the meantime, you can do whatever you want together in this area. Have fun!"

"Huh. So we're gonna wait, then," Chaeyoung concludes, reading the message.

"Looks like it," he replies, shrugging.

"What are we supposed to do until then?"

"Who knows," he shrugs, then looks at her with a sly smile.

"We can… Start where we left off, you know?"

"Hmmm…" she smiles, her cheeks slightly turning pink. "We can do that."

"Fuck. Aren't you restless?"

Albeit struggling due to the intense fucking from earlier, Chaeyoung still chose to stand up on her feet, her legs wobbling. Luckily for her, he’s there to give assistance. She then gestures to her partner to stand up, to which he obliges. As soon as they've gathered their footing, she suddenly gives him a rather obvious gaze.

"M-maybe we can do something else first," she suggests, grinning mischievously.

"Uhh... What did you have in mind?" he asks, curious.

She then walks back towards the pool, gently tugging him along.

"I just want to swim around for a bit," she replies, smiling. "Do you mind joining me?"

"Sure," he replies, his eyes fixated on hers. "I suppose a little swim would be nice."

"Great." Chaeyoung beams with joy. 

"Let's go."

As the two dip their bodies into the pool, the camera follows them from above as they enjoy each other's company in the water. They swim around, playing and laughing together. They exchange more playful banters and even more sensual moments with one another. It is clear that the two of them have hit it off quite well, and the sexual tension between them continues to build. Even as the video fades to black, you know Chaeyoung and her partner are just getting started.

Two videos down, and many more to go. Reviewing videos for long periods is tiring, but not in this case. Instead of exhaustion, you are filled with renewed excitement and anticipation. With a quick check of the time, you realize that lunch break is coming up. But your stomach would have to wait.

You close the current window and open the next video file.

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

Author’s Notes:

As promised, this is the next chapter of my "Spotlighting" series. It wasn't easy to pick an idea that'll suit Chaeyoung. I originally wanted her to do an "indoor surfing" challenge. But I quickly realize that I'd rather want her to be rag dolled by her partner than by the waves. 😂 And as wimpy as this tall squirrel can be, I don't think she'd back down from a challenge, especially when there's something promising on the line. So I guess playing water polo suits her.

Now that I thought of it... It's find it interesting for the idols to have some sort of "competition" with their partners. It really makes for some really wild ideas where neither of them is backing out, even when doing the deed. 😏

Once again, thank you to the people that helped me make this fic readable. 🤣 @digipigichopshop and @dnd-writes... Thank you so much, you two. 🙇 Be sure to follow them if you haven't already. As well as @braaan for another great poster. You guys are the best. 👍

Again, thank you very much for reading! 🙇

[pastafossa]

"From A Squirt Gun, With Love" (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 5's prompt: water gun fight. It's also been a while since I've written for my favorite super soldier, so today's prompt is for Bucky Barnes! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! Side note, once I've got more these will all be edited a bit more and placed on my AO3, so if you lose one, just keep an eye out over there!

Ship: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: some suggestive dialogue and innuendo

You couldn’t afford another mistake. 

He’d been hunting you for at least an hour now, stalking you determinedly through the corridors of the compound and the manicured gardens outside. He’d already nailed you half a dozen times. And much to your disbelief, one of those times was because he’d somehow managed to find his way up into the air vents where he could track you unseen. You’d done your best to at least make it a challenge for him, relying on a variety of traps you’d managed to set up ahead of time, but it hadn’t done you as much good as you’d hoped, your hit count a measly two against his six. And now? Now you were running low on ammunition, and just as low on workable options. What was worse, he’d cornered you in the garage. You’d been able to tuck yourself beneath an SUV before he could see you, but there was only one exit—one currently being monitored by your annoyingly precise marksman of a boyfriend. 

You held your breath at the quiet scrape of heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete floor. If you had to guess, he was wandering around about two rows over and off to your left. He could have bent over and just scanned beneath the cars immediately, but he was enjoying this far too much to let it end that easily. He was toying with you, dragging things out now that he had you boxed in. 

“I know you’re in here, doll,” came his low chuckle. “Come on out, and I’ll go easy on you. Besides, you gotta be soaked by now, and not in the fun way. But I can change that for you if you want. All you gotta do is pop that pretty head up for me.”

Not a chance. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. 

You clutched your water gun tighter, checking the glowing tactical display—you hadn’t even known high-tech water guns existed until Bucky had dropped one into your hands with a grin. “If my girl wants a water gun fight, we’re gettin’ a water gun fight.” 

And what you saw wasn’t good. 

Shit. 

You were down to eighteen percent tank capacity. Anywhere else in the compound, you might have had a chance to reload with one of the buckets you’d both scattered around, but you’d forgotten to put one in the garage. If you didn’t get him with your next shot, you were done. 

“The fact that you’re not out here shootin’ at me like before tells me you’re low.” His voice sounded different now: higher up, and a bit more distant. Had he… climbed on top of the cars? “You need more practice. I’ll admit, I was proud of you when you got that ass shot in, but that ain’t happenin’ again. My turn to get your ass now, darlin’. You gonna give me what’s mine?”

You sucked your lower lip for a moment before carefully edging your way forward, water gun held in front of you just in case he decided to pull a horror movie move and drop into view. It wasn’t easy. The goddamn water gun was shaped more like a shotgun than a super soaker, clunky and a bitch to drag around. The upside was it had an automatic reload so you didn’t have to worry about making any noise while pumping the gun. Its range was good for a water gun, around twenty feet, but not good enough that you could shoot Bucky at distance. You’d need to get close.

One of the cars down the row creaked, tires groaning, presumably as your massive super soldier of a boyfriend strolled along the top of the cars like they were paving stones. That he wasn’t bothering to be silent was… unusual.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he purred, his voice growing fainter as he wandered down towards the other end of the garage. “Where’s my pretty girl gone?”

On the one hand, you enjoyed hearing that tone from him, playful and relaxed, warm and content. He’d grown pretty comfortable with you, open and affectionate, over the time you’d known him. That comfort, that openness with you had only blossomed further as your relationship had morphed into something romantic. But even so, it was still unusual for him to let go like this just so he could have fun. It was progress, and that knowledge filled your heart with a sparkling warmth. 

But you also couldn’t help but be the least bit suspicious, because it would be absolutely like him to use his voice and playful tone to distract you from something. 

You froze again when a pair of boots suddenly appeared on the concrete in front of you, landing without a sound—you’d been right; all the sound a minute ago had been to try to lure you out, make you think he was farther away than he really was. You didn’t dare move, not when the slightest sound might give you away. Slowly, the boots shifted on the concrete as he turned one way, and then the other. Waiting for you to make a run for it. 

But he’d taught you better than that. 

There was the softest, quietest little huff of amusement, or maybe pride, instead. But instead of heading off, he began to kneel. 

Shit, shit, shit—

He was going to duck down and look under the car. He knew you were here, he had to. He had to. Could you shift the angle of your water gun before he leaned down and saw you—

Fortunately for you, it became clear a second later that he was only lowering himself into a crouch. You stilled again in the shadows beneath the SUV, your gun still aimed cautiously at his legs.

Speaking of which, you had a really good view of his thighs at this angle. With him crouched the way he was, his thighs looked even thicker than usual, deliciously hard muscle covered in old denim. The round curve of his ass looked just as good where he filled out his jeans, though the dark splotch on the tight fabric made you grin. It was a testament to one of the only two shots you’d managed to hit him with. Sure, he’d shot you twice in the ass in retaliation, but it had been absolutely worth it. 

He settled onto the balls of his feet, rocking a little back and forth. You heard a soft whir, before his metal hand appeared in your view. Your heart skipped a beat, a droplet of maybe-water-maybe-sweat rolling down your temple. Only… his hand didn’t appear to be going for you like you’d expected. Instead, it slipped down to the concrete. One metal fingertip gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, it brushed lightly at the droplets of water drying on the concrete. 

Fresh droplets. 

From you. 

Crap. 

His head appeared beneath the SUV as he leaned over to meet your eye. Then he flashed you a feral grin. “Hi doll,” he said smugly. “Hi Bucky. I love you,” you said fondly, and shot him in the face. 

His head reared back as he spat out a curse, frantically swiping the water away from his face. It gave you just enough time for you to squirm out from under the SUV and take off down row between the cars, your sneakers slapping against the concrete, the wind blowing your hair back. If you could get to the door before he did, you could turn around and lock him in. It wouldn’t keep him here forever, but it might buy you a few minutes to reload. 

Based on the rapidly pounding footsteps behind you, though, you weren’t even going to get close. Not when it sounded like he was charging after you with every last bit of super-soldier-powered speed he had. You needed another plan, or else—

Something slammed hard against one of the cars behind you, startling you enough to make you stumble. In that brief moment of distraction, Bucky had vaulted himself up off the car and over your head. 

His broad form landed smoothly in front of you in one easy motion, dropping into a crouch. He rose slowly, powerful muscle gradually uncoiling inch by inch, until finally he loomed up over you, water gun held ominously in one hand. His pale eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils blown wide as he fixated on you: his prey. He took one prowling step forward, a flash of pink from his tongue as he lazily licked the droplets of water away from his mouth.

“You shot me,” he rumbled hungrily. “I should be mad. But damn, doll. That was hot.” “Hot enough to stop you from shooting me back?” you asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smirk, before firing a blast of cold water directly at your abdomen. You let out another shriek, turning to sprint away from him, a trail of damp footprints left behind. And if your shriek was half laughter, well, his playful growl was just as full of joy as he took off after you. 

[wlntrsldler]

smau (instagram): luke castellan x poseidon!reader

based on yourstingrey's post about luke being a drake stan and my obsession with this guy’s tiktok videos

or

a smau where luke didn’t betray everyone and chb allowed phones; teenage, drake stan!luke (birthdays edition)

tagged yn_yln, silenabeauregard, and others.

clarisselarue: shut up, the birthday girl’s talking 🎂

yn_yln: ITS MY GIRL’S BIRTHDAY

yn_yln: happy birthday clar <3 i love u

clarisselarue: i loveeee you more. thanks for celebrating with me!!!

silenabeauregard: ohhhh u look so good in the first picture

clarisselarue: thanks for taking the best pictures of me ily

silenabeauregard: i’d literally do anything for u

chrisr0driguez: happy birthday clarisse!!! hope you had a good one!!

lukecastell4n: he was shaking typing out this comment

poseidonsfavchild: bro is down BAD

poseidonsfavchild: happy bday clarisse thanks for contributing to my character development (bullying me)

lukecastell4n: presents, presence, and power g 💯 have a good one!

bethchase: what does this mean luke

gr0verunderwood: ????

tagged bethchase, gr0verunderwood, and others.

poseidonsfavchild: FINALLY a teenager 😈

bethchase: nobody leave ur cabins ITS FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY

gr0verunderwood: bro turned 13 and forgot how to act

poseidonsfavchild: bro is in his 20’s and beefing with a 13 yr old?

gr0verunderwood: SATYRS AGE DIFFERENTLY I TOLD U THIS

yn_yln: happy birthday baby bro 🔱��� (change ur username! it’s false 😃)

poseidonsfavchild: did he show up to ur birthday party??? DIDNT THINK SO

yn_yln: DAD WAS THERE?

lukecastell4n: another point scored against Father Time, i see you 💯

poseidonsfavchild: what do u know about fathers?

clarisselarue: nah u ate with this 😭😭

chrisr0driguez: PAUSE.

bethchase: percy.

poseidonsfavchild: sorry

tagged lukecastell4n, clarisselarue, and others.

yn_yln: another trip around the sun! thanks for not letting me drown, dad 🩵

poseidonsfavchild: how r u a child of poseidon and dont know how to swim? AT UR GROWN AGE?

poseidonsfavchild: happy bday tho sis

yn_yln: thanks percy 🙄

clarisselarue: happy birthday my love ❤️‍🔥

yn_yln: thank uuuuu clar i love u always

silenabeauregard: happy birthday pretty girl 🩷

yn_yln: thank u bae

lukecastell4n: here’s to another chapter of your legend. love you 🖤

poseidonsfavchild: how u managed to pull my sister is the biggest unsolved mystery of our generation

bethchase: can u say happy birthday like a normal person for once

chrisr0driguez: dont listen to the haters bro this one goes hard

yn_yln: love you always <3

tagged yn_yln, chrisr0driguez, and others.

lukecastell4n: more life

poseidonsfavchild: hey brother cake and candles man

poseidonsfavchild: salute to your birth anniversary bro

gr0verunderwood: roaring into another year of glory

bethchase: acknowledging your yearly ascent

clarisselarue: celebrating ur legacy day big dawg

silenabeauregard: marking another year of your strength

yn_yln: happy birthday lover boyyyy

lukecastell4n: thank you babyyyy

lukecastell4n: ik yall are clowning me in the comments but jokes on you, these comments go hard

poseidonsfavchild: ....

bethchase: luke pls

chrisr0driguez: NAH FR these are bars

liked by lukecastell4n.

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #7

What if... SMG4 takes a vacation?

[more below cut]

For context... c'mon, can't a guy catch a break? :) Time for a vacation! Also available on Wattpad - [link]

Let's hope Four doesn't waste all the bajillion dollars I just gave him. Am I right, @bowlolol? (yep it's part 2 of concept #5 - link)

"No regrets."

Four zips up his suitcase with an exhausted yet satisfied “hmph”. He sat the case up to its wheel, facing the Crew.

SMG4: “You guys have always been telling me to take a break from editing, especially because of WOTFI and Marty months ago. It’s about time. Besides, I just finished editing the video I’ve worked on for the past week.” [*pulls out his phone and presses publish*] “And…there, I should be good for the whole vacation. I mean, who wouldn’t want to see a 10-hour complication of Kermit clips!” Mario, on his knees: “SMG4, please take Mario with you!” SMG4: “Sorry, Mario, but the giveaway only had one ticket to give out. It was such a good deal too!” [*points over the pile of empty Rizz soda cans in the corner*] “Totally worth it.”

While Mario was pleading Four sneak him in his suitcase, shaking him, Meggy was on the phone.

Meggy: “Thanks again, Auri, for being SMG4’s guide. Just make sure he doesn’t lose his suitcase like I did.” Auri, giggles: “Of course, anything for you, partner! I’ll be sure to meet him at the port. Guy with the blue “S” cap, right?” [*Meggy nods*] “Alright. But I hope his ship gets here before the storm does, heard it was going to be really rough.” Meggy: “Yeah, SMG4 can get a bit seasick. Well, we’re just about to drop him off by the docks. I’ll talk to you soon, Auri!”

After Auri says goodbye, they hang up and Meggy turns to see Mario being dragged around by his grip on Four’s ankle.

Meggy: “Ready to go?” SMG4: [*thumbs up*] “You bet!”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The Crew waved Four farewell as he did the same as he was on board the ship heading towards Port Aurora. Once the ship was out of sight, they all went back to what they were doing, content with the fact that Four wouldn’t be in front of the screen all day. Well, everyone except Mario, who was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom out of boredom.

Don’t get him wrong, Mario is happy for Four. Ever since the ‘perfect’ incident, each of them were secretly weary of Four spending too much time editing a video. Not that they could stop him completely, he’s a YouTube content creator after all. So, they would occasionally go up to him and ask him for something or straight up to take a break. Mario remembered he did it one time, when he asked Four for milk. Sure, it wasn’t the most solid plan but it was at least something that distracted him for a bit. What other plan was there anyway?

Ask him for a cup of sugar? Pfft. That’s pretty lame excuse, even for Mario.

Mario groaned, getting off from his bed. Four finally takes a break but without him around, the poor plumber was left alone, bored. There wasn’t really anyone to go along with his funny shenanigans. So, he tried it with his other friends.

Luigi ended up having to clean up the mess he did at the flow shop. Melony was busy working on her second book. He got bored listening to Boopkin’s stories. Three was also busy, running the cafe and streaming. Saiko was in band practice with Kaizo.

Then, there was Meggy. From what he could tell, Meggy was unsure if she could keep her red beanie. Unsure what to do with her life anymore. He couldn’t blame her, after Western Spaghetti and what Mr Puzzles did. It was a lot to take in. It’ll be best to give her some space, away from his silliness.

So, he tried doing stuff on his own, like reacting to some Nintendo memes in the game room. But it didn’t feel the same. Tari was also there, focused on a gaming session with Belle and some other online friends. However, seeing how Mario drooped in his chair, Tari paused her game.

Tari: “Sorry guys but I need to do something real quick. Be right back.” [mutes herself and goes over to Mario] “Hey, Mario? You feeling okay?” Mario: “Mario was just so bored. Wish SMG4 was here.” Tari: “Oh, Mario, it’s only been a couple of hours. He won’t be back until after 3 weeks.” Mario, eyes shot open: “ONLY A COUPLE OF HOURS?” [*shakes Tari by the shoulders*] “Tari, someone is messing with the time gods! It’s the end of the world!” Tari, reassuring: [*grabs his hands*] “You really miss him, huh?” Mario, calms down: “He is Mario’s best friend, we have done a lot of stuff together.” Tari: “Hmm, do you want to hang out with me?” Mario: “Thanks, but it won’t feel the same.”

She takes a moment to think, pointing a finger on her chin, until an idea comes to mind.

Tari: “Why don’t you send SMG4 a video postcard?” [*Mario looks at her curiously*] “I’m sure SMG4 misses us too, so maybe you could send a video of our friends. Around the Showgrounds. You could ask him to do the same in Port Aurora. That way, you guys will still be in contact.”

Mario’s eyes sparkled, jumping with enthusiasm. He shakes Tari’s hand, thanking her, before running out of the game room. With a camera in hand, he goes around recording everything he can and the first person he went to was Luigi, of course. Mario apologized about the mess but he is willing to make it up to him by helping out doing some labor. Luigi was happy at the offer.

While Luigi handled with customers and arranged flower arrangements, Mario was going around doing deliveries. It was the best part, after all, steering the wheel while making airplane noises. Nearly crashing into several cars, y'know the usual. But then he passed by Meggy’s house. Wanting to cheer her up, he asked Meggy to come along.

Meggy: “I don’t know, Red.” Mario: “C’mon, it'll be fun! Certified Mario promise.” Meggy, still unsure: “Well, okay…”

Mario let out a “yippee” and dragged her to the delivery truck. As Mario drove, Meggy was reading off the list for him since he’s not a fan of reading.

Meggy, stopping at a particular address: “Wait, ‘Wright’? As in, Phoenix Wright?” Mario: “Oh, yeah. That was the lawyer guy you’re a fan of, right?” Meggy, excited: “Can we go see him?”

Mario was surprised by her sudden change of attitude but he smiled, gladly changing the route for her. Stopping at a tall office building, Meggy and Mario went in and searched for Phoenix Wright’s office. At the reception desk, they saw the man himself, talking to two younger lawyers in red and yellow. The secretary, seeing the duo, called out to Phoenix.

???: “Ooh, looks like someone got a nice bouquet!”

Phoenix, seeing the familiar faces by the desk, excused himself from his co-workers before greeting the M&M duo.

Phoenix: “Hello Mario, Meggy! It’s been a while. Do you guys need more legal help?” Mario, holding out the bouquet of red roses: “No, Mario's just here to help Luigi out.”

Phoenix grabs it from his hands and examines the card attached. From reading it, he grew a fond smile on his face.

Phoenix: “Thanks for the delivery.” Meggy: “Um, actually, I could use some advice. Between friends, if that’s okay.” Phoenix: [tilts head, then nods] “Sure, why don’t we take a walk?” [turns to the secretary, handing the flowers to her] “Truce…” Trucy: “Don’t worry, I’ll let them know. Just be back before we need to meet for lunch.” Phoenix, chuckles: “Oh, yeah.” [*impersonating with a mid-Atlantic accent*] “Wright, I reserved this days ago and you’re here drenched in rainwater. This is what happens when you’re late.” [*back to normal*] “Alright then, take the wheel. We all know how Apollo was last time.” ???: “HEY! That wasn’t even my fault!”

Phoenix and Trucy shake their heads. He guides Mario and Meggy out, and to a nearby park. Mario had some packages to deliver nearby so he left the other two to walk alone.

Phoenix: “So, what’s in your mind?” Meggy: [shrugs] “It’s just…” [sighs] “A lot has happened.”

Meggy goes on to explain what happened after the Nintendo lawsuit. The ‘It’s Gotta Be Perfect’ incident, Western Spaghetti. Mr Puzzles, Leggy. With the Crew, every day is another adventure but it’s starting to take a toll on her sometimes.

Meggy: “Everything I am was because of One-Shot Wren. Splatfest, Desti. I idolized him so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I get where he was coming from, I do. But he hurt my friends, me. It’s like I lived through a lie, my entire life. I just don’t know what to do anymore.” Phoenix, nods understandingly: “I see. Y’know, you remind me of a friend. He, too, idolized someone, put them on a pedestal. I think it was because he knew what he lost, and he wished he could have it back. Like you, he pursued the same career his idol had, following every guideline to a 'T'. When he discovered his idol was nothing but a cruel man, he felt lost. What else can you do when you are just a pawn in someone else’s game?” [*pulls out a locket from his pocket, clicking it open*] “So, he went to rediscover himself. What it means to be a prosecutor, was what he told me. He found that answer, pursuing the truth. He taught me a lot of things, and I guess I did the same for him.”

Phoenix hands the locket to Meggy, to finally see what was in that locket. It was a small family portrait: Phoenix, another man around the same age, one girl with a raven black ponytail, and another girl that Meggy recognized as the secretary she just met. What caught her eye was the gold rings both men wore.

Meggy: “Wait, you’re married?” [*hands the locket back*] Phoenix: [*laughs*] “Not a lot of people suspect the infamous Turnabout Terror being married to the city’s Chief Prosecutor. Yes, before we got into law, we were childhood friends.” Meggy: “Ah, well congrats! You seem to have a nice family.” Phoenix, hums: “I do. And don’t think we don’t have our hardships. The point is, Meggy, it’s not too late to rediscover who you are. If you want to continue with Splatfest, do it. If you want to continue doing law, do it. But do it for yourself, not to prove something to anyone. Like I said, the truth can help you a lot when you want to find it.” Meggy: [*nods in gratitude*] “Thanks, I really needed this.”

Mario comes back to get Meggy, both saying goodbye to the lawyer. Meggy soon learned about the postcard idea Tari proposed and wanted to help Mario out, thinking it was a great idea. After the deliveries, they went along filming postcards for everyone.

Luigi and Shroomy preparing a giant flower float of an incoming parade. Melony and Swag presenting the publishing gathering of her newest book. Boopkins having a friendly hangout with Hatsune Miku, talking about anime. Tari and her friends in a gaming tournament. Bob trying, and faliing to get rich at a nearby casino. Saiko and Kaizo performing in a live audience.

After gathering all of the film, Mario went to go edit them in Four’s room. Four, being a content creator and all, would surely have the best editing software. Pulling the app up, Mario noticed Four left a project open, labeled “video3_draftdraft(unfinished)”.

Mario, skimming through the video: “Huh, a 10-hour compilation of Kermit clips…” [*shrugs*] “Ah, classic SMG4, he forgot to save and close out.”

Mario went ahead and save it, dragging the file to the ‘Complete’ folder Four had. The outlier, the rest of the files in that folder were either labeled “final” or “(ready)”.

Mario: “All done.” [*does a thumbs-up*] “Now, time to do the postcard.”

Editing the videos into a single one, Meggy came to check in on how he was doing. Overall, it looks awesome. Except for one thing…

SMG3, annoyed: “What do you want?” [*points at Mario*] And what’s with the giant camera?” Mario, with a comedically large camera: “We’re gonna send SMG4 a video postcard!” Meggy: “It’s almost complete, we just need something from you.” SMG3, changing to amused: “Well then, I’ll gladly make a clip all about me!” Meggy: “SMG3, be serious. This isn’t time for you to gloat, you can do that any other time. It’s more than a postcard, it’s to show that we care about SMG4 as his friends.” SMG3, mixed expression of bashfulness and denial: “Friends?” [*looks away, crossing his arms*] “Uh, no. No, we aren’t friends.”

Both Meggy and Mario shared a suspicious brow. Yeah, sure.

Mario: “So, can we film?” SMG3: “No.” Mario and Meggy, surprised: “What? Why?” SMG3: “Because I said so.”

Knowing Three, perhaps too well, Meggy knows he’s hiding something.

Meggy: “Well, if you want to, you can just film it yourself and send us the clip. We’ll leave you be, c’mon Red.”

Three watched as M&M duo walked back to the Castle before being back in the cafe. Nearby Eggdog barked, warning him that it was almost time for his stream.

SMG3: “You’re right, thanks Eggdog.” [*pats Eggdog on the head*] “Pfft, sending a sappy video to SMG4. As if!”

He went ahead to stream Mario Party for tonight, the usual routine. After thanking the chat for the subs and donations, he logged off and pulled out his notebook to write about the day. Just as he turned to a blank page, his finger stopped at a particular page and he stopped to see what it was. It was the drawing he drew at the end of WOTFI 2023, of him and SMG4 sharing a coffee together. Three’s face softens.

It’s such a phenomenon, isn’t it?

Rivals, friends, none of it matters when it comes to Four and Three. They would always cross each other’s paths, bounded by a cosmic link. And yet, the roles they play were already set in stone the moment they landed in the Mushroom Kingdom. Good and bad, light and dark.

Two sides of the same coin.

It was always one pressing the other, to keep on their toes. Three supposed that was the thrill of it all, his life ever more exciting. He always wondered if Four felt the same way. If he suspected that it was the case, then it would be even more proof that they can keep up each other’s pace. Three knows Four, and Four in return. It’s what essentially saved Four from the ‘perfect’ incident.

Other than Four, no one else could truly understand. Even with Four, there are secrets Three hoped they would never see the light of day. It was the role he was chosen part, and the show must go on. If he revealed all of himself to the rest of the world, surely people wouldn’t be happy about it. Hell, people already despised him for not being threatening anymore. How far was he truly going to go for them? For Four?

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he supposed he could do a clip.

Indeed, take after take, he tried to make a video he was satisfied with. But no matter what he did, his words weren’t right. His silence wasn’t right. Naturally, he was frustrated at that fact but he pushed himself to give one last take.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Looking over their shoulders, Three’s eyes chased after the mouse cursor. He already sent the video to Meggy, trusting her more than Mario. Three already knew Mario would tease him for what he essentially said to Four. Regardless, he kept an eye on the M&M duo editing the video, occasionally warning them to not look at his clip. To not even think of listening to it.

After saving the video, Meggy exported the final video to Mario’s phone.

Meggy: “And, I think we’re done!” [*shares a high-five with Mario*] SMG3: “You better delete my clip from your messages, Squid.” Meggy: [*rolls eyes*] “Don’t worry, I got it.” [*shows her phone screen as proof*] Mario: “Yippee! Mario can’t wait to see Four’s reaction!”

When Mario send the video to Four, a warning pops up on the screen. “No signal.” Mario shoves the phone to Meggy.

Mario: “Meggy?” Meggy, looks over: “Hmm, that’s strange. There should be signal in the island, let me call Auri.”

It took a couple of rings but Auri finally responded.

Auri, concerned: “Meggy! I’m so sorry.” Meggy, shocked but quickly reassured: “Auri, calm down. What happened?” Auri: “I promised I would find your friend. But when the ship arrived, I was running late and he wasn’t at the port when I got there. I tried looking everywhere, but I’ve lost him.” Meggy: “Hey, it’ll be alright. Maybe he went off on his own.” SMG3: “I’ll call the hotel.”

Three pulled out his phone and dialed the number Four gave to them.

Receptionist: “Hello, this is Hotel Aurora. How can we help you?” SMG3: “Hey. Listen, we’re looking for a friend who booked a room in your hotel. His name’s SMG4.”

A pause, the muffled sound of the keyboard typing in the background.

Receptionist: “Sorry, sir, but we don’t have anyone under the name SMG4.” Mario: “What are you talking about? He was the winner of that giveaway the Rizz soda company had.” Receptionist: “What giveaway? We hadn’t received anything from any company about that.”

Meggy, Mario, and Three all looked at each other, their eyes widened at the implications. Where in the world is Four?

The Showgrounds went into complete chaos. The Crew tried contracting Four with no response. They contacted the cruise that took Four over sea and according to their logs, Four never got off that ship. Meggy asked Auri for a team to search the island.

Waiting was agony. But what else could they do?

Mario apparently did, suggesting to use the tracker on Four’s phone. It worked last time when Mr Puzzles planned with Puzzlevision. After contacting the phone company and requesting Four’s last location, they couldn’t believe what they heard next.

Four’s phone was in the Mushroom Kingdom. As if he never left.

The Crew immediately contacted everyone they knew to create a search party. Bowser, Shroomy, the military, FM & X, Wario, Waluigi, the Anti-cast, all of the Mario recolors. All of the volunteers as well as the Crew gathered outside the SMG4 Castle while Meggy stood on a stage with a megaphone.

Meggy: “Alright, everyone. SMG4 could be here in the Mushroom Kingdom but the tracker couldn’t pinpoint where it is! We need to split up to cover more ground. If anyone finds him, contact us and tell us where he is.” [*scans over everyone’s worried faces, taking a breath*] “Just be careful out there. We’ll get SMG4 home.”

The crowd scattered, each going their own way, but Meggy pulled Mario aside.

Meggy: “Red, I know it might be impossible but there’s a place I want to check out.“ [*hold up her Splattershott*] “Want to be my backup?”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

BOOM

Meggy and Mario busted in through the office door, a trail of unconscious patients on the floor behind them. Ugh, the Meme Rehab. They didn’t exactly had a choice but it was better to be safe than sorry. They glared at the man who’s now cowering in the corner of the room. Meggy goes over and picks him up by the collar.

Meggy: “Alright, Mr. Niceguy, where’s SMG4?” Mr. Niceguy, confused: “SMG4? But I haven’t—” [*Meggy slaps him*] Meggy: “Don’t play dumb! Tell us where you’re hiding him!” Mr. Niceguy: [*screams*] “I swear I don’t know where he is! I swear it on my mother’s ashes, please don’t hurt me!” Mario: “Uh, Meggy.” [*points at all the containers filled with other patients' lobes*] “Mario thinks he’s telling the truth. No SMG4 lobe here.” Mr. Niceguy: “The red guy is right, I would’ve done another lobotomy on him if he came back. I swear that he didn’t, though.” Meggy: [*sighs, letting the doctor go*] “Great, another dead end. I’ll let the rest know then.” [*send a text to the search party group chat*] Mr Niceguy, mutters: “He was such a great patient. Well, if he wasn’t so weird.”

Mario and Meggy shared a confused look, then to the doctor.

Meggy: “What do you mean by weird?”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Hearing a ding from his back pocket, Three saw Meggy’s message of Four not being in the Meme Rehab. As much as it seemed uplifting, It only made Three’s concerning suspicions grow larger. Walking down the path, he spotted something familiar. He ran and picked it up, it was Four’s phone. Turning it on, he saw the dozens of abandoned calls and messages, dating all the way back to the day SMG4 supposedly left for that vacation.

Looking ahead, he saw a figure on the horizon, a dot of blue, and his blood ran cold. He begged each and every star, hoping Four wouldn’t be back here. But he was. Three sent a quick text to the group, telling them that he found him and where, before he ran towards that dreaded place.

Four was standing by the edge of the Pit of the old Castle ruins, looking down at the demonic gateway.

Once Three managed to get closer, he slowed down his pace to a halt, afraid that one wrong move would scare Four into falling in.

SMG3: “SMG4?”

Four doesn't say a word but he slightly tilts his head, listening.

SMG3, confused and frustrated: “What, you’re not gonna say anything? Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been going around like headless chickens, they thought you got kidnapped! I thought…” [*stops himself before genuine worry rises within*] “What are you doing here?”

A beat. A rumble of thunder coming overhead.

SMG4, unusually calm: “You guys shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. I’m fine, SMG3. I actually had a great time during my break. It helped me with a lot of things.”

Three approaches him slowly. There was another ding from his phone but he shut it off. Light rain started to drizzle.

SMG3: “C’mon, let’s just get out of here.” SMG4: “I’ve been thinking back at all the stuff I did. What I’ve chosen.” [*shakes head*] “No matter what I do, everything goes wrong.” SMG3, arm stretched out: “Four…”

Once Three’s hand was hovering over Four’s shoulder, Four gripped his arm. Within a blink, Three was flung into the air and slammed, the impact causing the ground to crack. Three groaned, thinking that Four might’ve broke his back, until Four picked him up by the throat. Three’s hands immediately tried to pry himself free but Four’s grip was firm. With enough strength, Three looked at Four and he felt his heart sink.

Four’s eyes, they were pink.

A familiar goo enveloped his eyes, the pink plunging into the dark void. His expression was blank, before it suddenly formed new eyes. Jagged and irregular, glowing white. It wasn’t Four anymore. He wasn’t even human. One eye was shaped like a triangle and the other was circular. After a blink, a wicked grin crept on Four’s face.

SMG4, voice growing an echo: "I should've saved the USB over you. It would've made things a lot better, wouldn't you agree?” SMG3, choking: “Four… don’t…” SMG4, snapped: [*eyes cycled to different ones*] “You have no idea how many hours, weeks, I sacrificed for that perfect video! And then, you had the audacity to say we’re friends, you just wanted to save your own skin.” [*back to the initial set*] “But that’s about to change, and everything will be perfect.” [*holds out Three over the edge*] “Goodbye, SMG3.”

The unnatural strength gathered in his arm, Four tossed Three into the pit, and with that, time seemed to slow down. From the corner of his eye, Three could see the satisfaction beaming off of this man. It isn’t Four.

But it was too late. There was nothing Three could do other than to meet his demise.

Suddenly, a force grabbed him by the side, and was pulled out of the way to solid ground with a thump. Three placed a hand over his head and sat up, to discover that the force was Mario. The red plumber looked exasperated, more of worry than anything else.

SMG4: “What?”

There was a flinch in his eye, as if it was sensing something from behind. Then, when time slowed once more, he dodged the paintball that raced towards him, missed by a hair. The paint, along the goo covering him, were gone. Four spun around, a trail of pink light from his eyes shimmered like a comet, until he landed into a defensive stance. He moved like a glitch. As the trail faded away, he growled at his newfound threat.

The terrified Crew ran over the hill, Meggy leading them with her Splattershott.

Meggy: “SMG3, get away from that thing!” [*takes another shot*]

Effortlessly, Four manages to dodge that shot as well. He glared at Three, a silent promise that he’ll be back, before escaping. A clash of thunder strikes the ground and the Crew lost sight of him. As Mario helped Three up, the Crew finally reached to them.

Mario: “SMG3, did SMG4 look different to you?” SMG3: “Yeah, his eyes were pink. The goo.” [*shakes his head, starting to get frustrated and lost*] “Can someone tell me what’s going on?! Why the fuck does SMG4 have that goo from incident?”

The Crew looked at each other, unsure what to say to Three. What can they say? Meggy, mustering up the strength, took a step forward.

Meggy: “There’s something you should know.”

Recalling everything from the interrogation in the Meme Rehab, the surgeon explained that during the lobotomy, he discovered something unnatural in Four’s body. It looked like goo. When he tried poking at it, the goo grew eyes and screeched. He felt like his ears were about to bleed so he quickly finished stitching Four’s head up. His curiosity, however, got the better of him.

Taking a sample of Four’s blood, he examined it under a microscope and observed tiny black specks plaguing the red blood cells before consuming them. Becoming one.

Meggy: “It never left. That goo has been taking over SMG4 this whole time, reacting to his emotions. He said that, at the rate that it was going, there won’t be anything left of him.” SMG3, still confused: “Wha…what are you saying?” [*she hesitates*] “Meggy.” [*she refuses to look at him and he grabs her by the arms*] “What are you saying?”

Meggy takes a breath, her mind trying to find a way how to put it delicately for Three. But in every way she sliced it, it just wouldn’t be fair for this man. She had to tell him, the way it has to be.

Meggy: “SMG4… is dead.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

He wanted this to end. Begged for it. He wanted someone to shake him by the shoulders, to wake him up. From his nightmare, from this sick joke. This level of cruelty, he wanted it to stop.

This was no nightmare.

It has been a week since the Crew last saw “SMG4”. It was best for it to stay that way, but they knew that thing would stop at nothing to take its vengeance. While the rest of the Crew was preparing the Castle for a grand meeting with the search party volunteers, Meggy was on the other SMGs. Other than the Crew, they were on an expedition and the first to receive the news. Currently rushing back to the Mushroom Kingdom from essentially dropping everything immediately.

SMG1: “This storm is affecting us a lot more than what we were expecting. But, we promise you that we are on our way. Just stay put.” Meggy: “Okay then, bye.” [*she hangs up, her hands holding her head*]

Tari, noticing Meggy’s distress, walks over and brings her into a side hug.

Boopkins: “Well, what now?” Meggy: “Once SMG1 and 2 are here, they can handle it.” Bob: “And do what? Use their meme powers to scare the goo away?” Saiko: “Bob!” Bob: [*pointing at Meggy*] “You said it yourself, that goo basically went full ‘Venom’ and took over SMG4! If he is dead, it’s going to find a new host.” Boopkins: “Bob, you’re not suggesting…” Bob: “Oh, I’m very much suggesting.” [*pulls out bazooka*] “It’s time to obliterate that son of a bitch.” Meggy: “He’s right.” Everyone else, besides Bob: “What?” Meggy: “Now that I thought about it, SMG4 hasn’t been himself ever since the incident. It’s more than just trauma. Sometimes he’s strong out of nowhere, or how he got good aim back at WOTFI. He’s been acting strange this whole time, I just couldn’t see it.” [*the rest start to feel a bit guilty as well*] We managed to save him the first time but…” [*glances at Four’s door*] “It was because Four was still in there.” Melony: “And, what if…” Meggy: “No. He’s really gone. I think, to save everyone, the goo has to go. For good. That’s what he would’ve wanted.”

The room filled with silence, it was almost suffocating. Four’s behavior, the debate was did they see or did they wish not to see? Either way, this was the price and they agreed that death would give mercy to Four’s soul from the pain and suffering he had to endure.

Without anyone noticing, Mario slipped into Four’s room, he needed to talk to him. The room was dark except for some sunlight peeking through the closed curtains. Just like outside, it was silent here. Other than Mario was Three, curled up in Four’s bed, refusing to face the door. His hair was in a loose and greasy mess, and he wore a light gray hoodie. It was one of Four’s.

Mario walked over to him, passing by plates of food pilling up on Four’s desk. Untouched. He sat on the edge opposite where Three laid, who was unfazed by the mattress shifting by the weight.

Mario: “…SMG4 isn’t dead.” [*a beat*] “Mario doesn’t know how, he just does. SMG3, you’re his partner. You guys are cosmically linked. You must’ve felt it if it broke, right?”

SMG3 stayed silent in response. Mario took a breath, steadying himself on what he was about to say.

Mario: “They’re planning to go after him and…” [*his voice starts to quiver*] “They can’t kill him! I can’t! I didn’t ask to kill my best friend, SMG3. I… don’t think I can.”

Silent, once again. Mario lets out a sigh and stands up.

Mario: “Mario just doesn’t want to lose another friend.”

He leaves Three alone in the room, the soft click of the door closing behind him.

What Mario couldn’t see were the silent tears that rolled down Three’s face. The news of SMG4’s death. The world completely changed, like someone pulled a rug from under his feet.

And nothing was the same again.

The minute they returned to the Castle, Three had beelined to Four’s room. Perhaps because he was still in denial, he tidied the room up. Four was never exactly an organized person anyway. Three made his bed, dusted his shelves, threw out the food takeout bags. He held on to that hope, that Four was gonna come in at any second and be normal again. That everything will be fine again.

That he’ll be back.

Even when tears started to form in the corners of his eyes, he refused and refused and refused goddamnit. He’d known Four for years, he had been his long-time rival for meme’s sake. Four was stubborn, resilient. The sight of his determination shined brilliantly in Three's eyes, it blinded him as a rival but admired it as a friend. So, why? Why was this the thing that stopped Four?

Those thoughts spiraled in his mind as he folded up one of Four’s hoodies. From its touch, Three remembered when his partner wore it, that tender smile on his face. It was always reserved for Three. One memory was all it took for Three to terms with this undeniable fact, breaking into an uncontrollable sob and burying himself in the hoodie. Back then, when he had control over the YouTube Remote, he asked to replace SMG4.

This was what he asked for. And there he was, a complete mess.

After that, as the rest of the world was, he went numb. His friends came and go to check up on him. Food, condolences. They begged to say something, anything.

He didn't.

Sitting himself up, he looked down at what he clenched in his fist. It was a small USB that appeared identical to the pod Four landed in the Mushroom Kingdom with. Blue and white, fashioned in a bracelet. Ever since their pods flew away, these USB keys were left behind. During the confrontation at the Pit, Three somehow yanked it off from Four’s wrist.

Being isolation, it gave him time to think and one question remained, where did this goo even come from, before the ‘perfect’ incident? That keyboard, it must be a lead. It doesn’t matter how many precautions he had to prevent something like this from happening, he needed to find answers. He already failed Four once, this was the only way he could make it up to him.

With what Mario just told him, he was running out of time.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

“Hey, Gary. I know this is out of the blue, but I need a favor.”

In the depths of the Dark Web, a light passes through the underground labyrinth. Three, a flashlight in one hand, fidgeted with the drawstring of Four’s hoodie. No one must know where the realm’s Archives are, much less that he was one of the Meme Guardians who had access to it.

“Is this about your cafe of yours?”

At last, he reached to a stone-bricked door, moss creeping through the cracks, and his hood was pulled off to allow himself to be scanned. With a confirming beep, the door rolled itself open and a computer covered in dust awaited for him inside. He swiped some of it off with a sleeve to find a small rectangular keyhole.

“No, not this time. I need you for a mission, you’re the only one in the Dark Web I can trust.”

Taking it off around his neck, Three held his black and indigo USB key, strung as a pendant. He inserted it into the keyhole and twisted it. The room suddenly awakens in light, rows of digital manilla folders circled at the ready.

After Three pressed a couple of buttons and scanned his photo, the database became a hurricane, narrowing down from millions. Only a few dozen closely matched the input he put in. He picked up each and every folder, his eyes skimming past unnecessary details until it came to one.

A folder, dated back years ago, long before he was a Guardian, perhaps held a start…

CLIENT NAME — Winston [REDACTED]

AGE — [REDACTED]

PRODUCT — Failed Lab Subject #18

He read through the shopkeeper's notes, how a man asked for a transmutation device that is compatible and adapts to biological matter. “The new evolution” was what he said. The buyer claimed that was a personal experiment on plants, Three highly doubts that it was.

From one file to another, Three chased a lead of this "subject #18" into a spiraling rabbit hole. A laboratory, unsanctioned experimentation. A weapon. All to lead to one name:

Project Horus

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Everyone in the Castle stood around the table, a sense of mourning settling in. Who knew it would have to come to this?

Tari: “How did the goo even get to SMG4? I thought it went down with Peach’s Castle.” Luigi: “Someone must’ve brought it back, maybe the keyboard wasn’t needed.” Saiko: “Well, SMG1 and 2 better be here soon and fix this mess. Forget the kingdom, the whole world will be in danger.” Swag: “As if they were there the first time.” [*pulls out a grenade*] “I’d say let’s blow that goo to smithereens.

Then, they all started to jump in with their own suggestions, shouting over each other that their idea was better. Bowser offered his airship, Steve his buckets of lava, the military their tanks. Bob with his (illegally-obtained) weapons, Saiko her hammer.

But when the question came of who was going to the one to finish Four, they beat around the bush.

Mario looked at all of them in disbelief, a pit forming in his stomach. It just couldn’t be real. His best friend, one he known for years, was gone. And here they were, debating how to kill the shell that was once Four. Meggy could feel his pain and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Meggy: “Red, I’m…”

The doors of the Castle burst open, distracting everyone from their argument.

Everyone, surprised: “SMG3?”

Indeed it was. Three, abandoning the hoodie and loose hair, marched in with a fresh new look. He wore a purple belt holding his black overalls, and his iconic gloves inverted in color. On one arm, he wore a red and white checkered band while the other had a simple stubbed black band. Gary was close behind him with a cart full of weaponry.

SMG3: “None of those are gonna work. That goo mutated from too many experiments that it's practically invincible.” [*walked to the table, leaning on its surface with his knuckles*] Bob: “How would you know that?” SMG3: “The goo was created by a secret government experiment to explore and survive in the Great Beyond. Or am I wrong, Chris?”

They all turn to Chris, then back to Three. Bewildered but it was clear that they demanded an explanation.

Swag: “Hold up, you can’t just accuse Chris of anything! Besides, there’s no…” [*he looks at Chris, who looked tense*] “Chris?” SMG3, to Swag: “I’m not accusing Chris of anything, don’t worry. He might’ve known about the experiment but he didn’t do any of the lab testing himself.” Chris, sighing in defeat: “It’s true. I remember when the whole base was in total chaos when the subject managed to break out of its containment chamber. Project Horus.” SMG3: “After that, it got captured and experimented on twice. A lab in the Dark Web, and Mr Puzzles.” [*the Crew freezes with a note of recognition in that name*] “We’re not going to be here all day pointing fingers on who’s going to be the one to kill the goo. I’ll do it.” Meggy: “SMG3, I don’t think…” SMG3: “I was SMG4’s Meme Guardian partner. It’s only fair that I'd be the one to take it down.” [*looks over at Mario, lowering his head apologetically*] Chris: “If the government couldn’t even control it, what makes you think you got a chance at this?” SMG3: “SMG4 was the one who gave it to us.”

Gary tosses him a black and red rifle. The Dark Web lab’s weapon, dubbed “The Ultimate Virus”, has a single “bullet” powerful enough not only to kill any entity, but it erase their existence entirely. This includes erasing any memory of it from everyone who interacted with said entity, in this case, the goo since it’s all that remained.

Why remember the monster that killed Four?

Though, it is useless by itself, without two particular keys. Well, except if you happened to be lucky. Inserting his and Four’s USB in their designated slots on each side, the rifle sparked to life. Its miniature lights glow red, ready to fire in Three’s command.

SMG3: “Whoever wants to join, prepare yourselves because there will be no coming back.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

There were a few who would know about this place. Passing from the Showgrounds and through the woods, there is a flower field on a nearby cliff, overlooking the sea. It’s quite calm, the only company other than oneself was the sound of the whispering breeze and the waves kissing the rocks below. Right above, there was a spectacle of stars.

Three twirled one of the white lilies between his fingers, his cap laid next to where he sat. As expected like an old friend, the wind blew through his ponytail that was tied with a long white ribbon. A finger delicately trailed on its petals, his face in utter turmoil and loss.

“SMG3, are you sure you’re up to this?”

Four was the one who brought him to this place. Three had a nightmare one time and was brought here to help with his nerves. Ever since then, this has been their secret spot. At least, it used to be theirs. Now, it all belongs to Three.

“My partner is gone, Gary. If I can avenge him by killing Horus, then I won’t regret anything.”

The goo, “Horus” was the name the Dark Web lab gave, was the one who took SMG4 away from him. Three could put the rest of the blame onto Mr Puzzles. Or Winston, whatever his damn name is. Perhaps, in another timeline, he would’ve given Mr Puzzles a chance to redeem himself. Three used to be like him, after all. But to go this far, this has to end. He has to end it.

He had contacted Gary for a favor, to bring in the best of the best of his inventory for his friends to defend with. With the material strong enough to withstand Horus, they’ll be fine. However, there was a doubt, lingering in the back of his mind. One he wasn’t willing to show to the Crew.

SMG3: “SMG4, if you’re still in there somehow, show me a sign. And I won’t shoot, I promise.”

He let the wind take the lily from his hand and watched until it flew far, far away. After putting on his cap that hid his ponytail, he got up and walked back into the Showgrounds. The Crew needed a leader for tomorrow, after all.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

His pink eyes stared above, fascinated by the stars shining ever so brightly. You get tired the same old red tentacles roaming around in this pit. Not that what was left of Peach’s castle helped his boredom either. But the stars, he didn’t know why he was so captivated by them.

Horus supposed this was the consequences of waiting in one place.

Suddenly, he spotted some movement and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what the object was. Though it was impossible, he thought it might’ve been a falling star. It didn’t seem to present any threat. He curiously waited until he was able to catch it. It was a white lily. His eyes flashed blue.

SMG4?: “…Three?”

But he shook his head and dropped the lily, eyes returning to pink. No, he needs to focus on what’s important. The host must live.

.

.

.

[ END OF PART 2 - PART ONE ]

That's right, my dear fellows, this was part 2 of Concept #5 all along [*insert villain laugh here*]

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

can you do something with anxious reader who is just always overthinking everything and bf jj comfort her

looking out for you

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!anxious!reader , sarah cameron x fem!reader (platonic)

warnings: overthinking, slight jealousy, pet names, alcohol

summary: after seeing jj with another girl at a kegger, you start to think of all the possibilities.

authors note: thank you so much for the request! this is my first time writing one so i hope it’s good :) i’m kinda excited to write these so please request more!!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“you need another drink, babe?” sarah asked softly, holding out a red solo cup to you. “you feelin’ okay?”

you smiled gratefully and took the cup. “thank you.” she followed your eye line to jj who was across the boneyard talking to a different girl. “i’m okay. just a little out of it, i guess.”

she leaned her head onto your shoulder, frowning at your expression. “i’m sure its nothing to worry about. don’t stress yourself out too much.”

“sarah! come here real quick!” john b called out from by the water.

she looked to you for a moment with a sad look on her face. “i’m sorry, babe. i gotta go make sure he doesn’t fall on his ass with how drunk he is,” she explained. “you’ll be okay though. if you need anything, i’ll be right there and my doors always open.”

a sweet smile spread across your lips. “thank you, honey.” she giggled and took a sip from her drink.

she waved at you as she walked away, headed towards her boyfriend who was drunkenly stumbling around on the water.

your eyes averted back to your boyfriend who was still talking to that same girl. she had perfectly tanned skin and long brown hair. she was definitely athletic, maybe a surfer if you had to guess.

something jj would totally be into.

from the looks of it, he looked like he was really passionate about whatever he was talking about. was he flirting with her?

your mind began to race and your hands were starting to get clammy.

you had met jj at a kegger and that what had started your relationship. was he doing the same with that girl now? did he want to be with her instead of you? were you not interesting anymore?

they’d been talking far too long to just be passing. you took another sip of the cheap beer and threw the cup away, beginning the walk to the chateau to try and take your mind off things.

————

jj laid behind you on the couch, his chest against your back and your butt flush to his pelvis. a blanket draped over the two of you, the blonde having mischievously turned the temperature in the room down so you’d snuggle up closer to him.

there was a movie playing in front of you, one that you weren’t even paying attention to, too focused on what you’d seen earlier and what it could’ve meant.

his head was propped up on his hand that rested against the arm rest so he could watch while the other twirled your hair between his fingers absentmindedly.

suddenly, a new thought popped into your head.

were you too close to him? maybe you were starting to make him feel suffocated. or maybe your weight was leaning too much on him? did he even want to lay with you like this?

you scooted forward slightly, your body no longer pressed against him. he groaned and placed a gentle hand on your hip. “where’d you go, baby?”

you just shrugged and held onto the blanket tighter. he reached around you to grab the remote and pause it. “whats wrong?” he asked, looking at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“nothing,” you mumbled quietly.

his hand moved from your hip to gently grab your chin and turn your head towards him. “tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl.”

you shifted uncomfortably. “who was the girl you were talking to earlier?”

he smiled and kissed your neck softly. “just some random girl.”

that didn’t help at all. “what?”

“some girl tried flirting with me,” he said.

you began to get in your head. “you were talking to her for a while. seemed like you were really into her.”

he kissed along your neck again. “baby, i was talking about you. i told her i had a girlfriend then she started saying all this shit so i started bragging on and on about you before i walked away.” you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips before he was pulling you back in. “c’mere.”

you scooted back against him, his lips peppering kisses all over your neck, cheek and jawline. “‘s only you that i want, pretty baby. you’ve got all my attention.”

[literalite]

mistki's the land is inhospitable and so are we (2023)!! as edits featuring mine and some of my friends ocs 😁 had a lot of fun with this project... rough explainer of how/why each song corresponds to each character/s under the cut because i love symbolism and talking! sorry it is long

bug like an angel - sapphire

without spoiling too much of her story and arc... sapphire's life is not easy. she's hurt by people she cares for and who care for her, although inadvertently, and in turn hurts people who she cares for and who cared for her, also not by her own volition. it's kind of a terrible truth that you will harm and be harmed by the people you love, even when you and they truly don't want to. it's up to you how much you're willing to take and deal. you can't keep every promise you make and you can't right every wrong. but you have to keep trying anyway. that's sapphire's strength, and the core of her goodness and why i personally consider her one of my favourite ocs. i chose to depict bug like an angel in mitski's more positive interpretation here and in that light i think it works best for saph

buffalo replaced - heiya

well first and foremost the vibes of the song fits heiya perfectly fhgjk but also lyricism and tone... yep. quick breakdown of heiya's background since i doubt i'll ever be able to do it properly she's an interesting character for me because she like a lot of my other characters has lost. everything. she had a wife and a child and they were both killed and she had to leave her home again and again and unlike how some of my others would have taken this she has never flagged in her unwavering dedication to preserving hope. for herself for her people for the future etc etc. which is a very fucking difficult thing to do! the world changes faster than you can keep up with it sometimes but for heiya she will not let herself tire and be swept away in it all. people rely on her. she's a guiding star as much as she is a woman. she's a lover and a fighter and thats what buffalo replaced means to me! so

heaven - vinny and caleb

i feel like of all my oc couples so far they have like. the sweetest most kind of simply mutually trusting dare i say straight forward love. they just love each other so much and thats all. the world could end around them when theyre together and it'd be okay truly. also yeah vinny is ostensibly in heaven now bye angel i feel like this one was pretty self explanatory. me and who WHEN

i don't like my mind - sunny

he just like me fr (said in denji voice) anyways wow ha. unstoppable unending guilt due to past actions that haunt your every waking moment? throwing yourself into any and all distraction just to take your mind off it, filling your time with other shit so that past sin doesnt for once echo in your awful and hollow brain? this song is perfect for sunny honestly just that sentiment also the "please don't take this job from me".... sometimes the coping is worse. you can be proud of something because you can do it better than anyone else even if that thing is terrible

the deal - wolfgang munch by @gunthermunch

Wolfgang Amadeus Munch. umm this will make more sense later on but it still kind of makes sense now i think. he doesn't want to be himself he keeps . leaving and moving and running away from his own memories his own self in reaction to others. if he could pawn it all off he would. if he could be better in an instant without having to feel every agonising second of change he would! but thats not how the world works. or is it. read munch by gunthermunch thats an order

when memories snow - lilian

i feel the older you get the more your past kind of swells up and trails behind you... at least for lilian that is shes very linked to the different versions of the girl/young woman she used to be. for her its a double edged blade, a lot of her own strength is drawn from who she was and what happened to her throughout her life. they haunt her but she's haunting it back in her own way

my love mine all mine - saige, bellona, ari

stares you down okay so usage of this song very much almost verges into spoiler territory but uhm. uhm. starts twitching basically the whole dynamic here is . sometimes when you love you will sacrifice. and while that is usually a good thing sometimes it is not but sometimes it still is. sometimes you pay your dues for love and sometimes someone else has to pay for your love as well. and whether that is worth it to them remains to be seen. but it's all about love still. whether that's a worthy cause is up to you i suppose

the frost - yoshiki and hikaru from hikaru ga shida natsu

fun fact (or not so fun fact since i had it listed as such) this slot was originally meant to be taken up by a gojo/geto edit and while it still works for them frighteningly well i swerved to do another black and white haired doomed gay pairing gfhjkl; i really recommend yall to read hikaru ga shinda natsu/the summer that hikaru died because honestly it speaks for itself! it's SO good i love it so bad

star - ari and luca by @anjitrait

wow these two did not deserve the horrors the narrative (me) slammed down onto their heads. they're kind of the most married of all time to me but like of course under pressure even the strongest most loving of bonds will warp. they've been together for roughly a decade and a half now. they know and love each other as totally as you could possibly imagine. despite it all i am yours, no matter. are we picking up what i'm putting down chat

i'm your man - nayef and sióar by @lucidicer

after the album dropped like at least 3 people swung into my dms with a ?this you?? about this song which. i mean the fucking dogs that start barking halfway through the song. are you kidding me. but anyways sioyef and devotion. sioyef and putting yourself in your lover's hands and looking to them like they are a god. this is super self explanatory. you know

i love me after you - redacted and ophelia

HM.... all i'll say here is that sometimes the homoerotic tension filled high school friendship where both parties have something very wrong with them but in totally different directions can be. scarring. bad. sometimes love just isn't enough when you don't know what you're meant to do with it and when you've lived in survival mode all your life. but that once the dust clears you can scrape yourself off the ground get up keep going and that isn't gonna be the end for you there. or for love, even. sometimes shit just ain't meant to be and thats ok

[mysouleaten]

FRIENDSHIP BRACELET [S] !

platonic[?] kurona, ness, niko x reader

summary ... little blurbs on how your best friends react to you giving them friendship bracelets!

an ... this is a re-edited work I had on my last account and I wanted to post it again because I thought it was cute!

RANZE KURONA

sooo all I know about his man is he’s somewhat quiet and says few words [I promise I'll read the manga soon..]

you and him have been friends for a long time! :D

you have never had a problem with him being quiet

just like he never had a problem with you being more outgoing

he lets you talk his ear off :)

BUT WE'RE HERE FOR THE BRACELET !

you have been walking around a small store and stumbled across a couple of matching friendship bracelets

and your first thought was

’ I should get one for kurona! :O ’

and you did, he was thrilled! <3

you wanted some new jewelry for yourself and decided to hop into a new tiny shop that was in your city

it looks more like a cafe than a jewelry shop with its bright pastel colors and plants in front of the windows- but who were you to judge?

walking into the small shop and hearing the bell ring above your head and a small “hello!” from the cashier, which you replied back and made your way through the shop to see anything that would catch your interest

and what would you know! something did!

it was a line of bracelets in small boxes and pictures above them, showing a much better view of what was inside

they were interesting…. just nothing creative and to your taste but still pretty to look at nonetheless!

wait you take your words back

there it was! the best friendship bracelet anyone could buy their shark-teeth friend! he was gonna love this!

kurona was waiting for you to pick him up from practice

he was tired from all the running.. he couldn’t wait to get home with you and watch a new show you wanted to show him

he finally saw your car parking and saw you getting out with something in your hands

he was curious

what were you holding? was it for you? or him? he wanted to know

“rannn! look what I found it’s so cute! you’re gonna love it!” your excited voice had brought him comfort from the long day

running up to him with a bright smile handing him the same box he was curious about..

when you held out the box to him, he got to see your wrist and saw a new pretty bracelet

it was thick silver with little blue shark outlines engraved into it and a small light blue shark magnet to connect to something- wait..

“this is for you! I really hope you like it!”

it was for him!

and he loved it very much, so much that he hid his face with his jacket sleeve hiding the small pink blush on his cheeks..

ALEXIS NESS

you and him shared a friendship through kaiser but this ain't about him

ness was very surprised!

he loved it soo much! it made him feel special :>

little pookie blushed at the kind gesture !!

you and ness had a small date, it was a friend date nothing more and somehow kaiser wasn’t there, which surprised you but you thanked the soccer ball heavens for it..

you had the small box with the bracelet inside, you already gave one to kaiser and wanted to give ness his

seeing the magenta-haired male sitting on a park bench in front of a lake

you sped up your walk to get over to him, sitting down next to him and turning your body towards him, giving a shy smile

“here you go alex! I hope you like it!” you cheerfully stated

“hm?” he hummed, putting away his phone and reaching for the box you were handing him

he saw a new bracelet on your wrist, it looked lovely!

“oh! that is a very beautiful bracelet!” ness exclaimed

your cheeks heated up and his words and he let out a small giggle and his little ‘v’ smile

putting the box you gave him into his pocket to look at later, he kept asking you about your bracelet and saying how lovely it looked

“alexxx! you were gonna get the same one! but you put it away!” you huffed and puffed out your cheeks

“huh? oh!” he quickly took out the small box and started to carefully open it

pulling out a matching bracelet, his eyes lit up at the sight of it!

“did-” “yes kaiser got one too! just admire your own one!”

he chuckled and did as you said

looking at the bracelet more carefully he saw small writing on the inside of the bracelet

’[name] and kaiser love you very much ♡’

his face heated up very quickly and he hid his face from you, mumbling his 'thank you' to you

IKKI NIKO

niko was a bit embarrassed when you first gave it to him

but was very appreciative !

making sure it was always in sight for others, and you and him to see

niko was happy to call you his friend

he was happy to have you around, always praising him for small things and making him smile or laugh with your dumb jokes

he was waiting for you to come back to your shared apartment with him

you were running late and weren’t answering your phone

he was getting worried but all the worry washed away when he heard the front door open and lord and behold you were there

standing out of breath like you ran a marathon, you looked up and ran to niko with stars in your eyes

“sorry! sorry! I wanted to give you something on our friendship marriage anniversary!” you happily said

“huh? marriage?… were not even married” niko huffed out

“we are- platonically- we are, yes” you said

he lightly smiled and then turned his attention to the box you were holding and a bracelet he never saw you wear before

“huh? whats that?” he pointed at the box then at the bracelet

“oh! this is your gift!”

“my gift?….aw, I didn’t get you anything! that’s not fair ..” he frowned

“it’s fine I don’t care! just look at this!” you pushed the box you were holding into nikos hand

it was a beautiful blue bracelet that matched the color of his eyes

picking up the bracelet and putting it around his wrist he lifted his arm up to show you

“i like it very much, it’s beautiful” he mumbled with a light blush coating his face

“im happy you like it!”

“yeah yeah… c'mon let’s watch something”

ngl im not sure I like this very much </3

[waitmyturtles]

FACT-CHECK! Status of Thai Marriage Equality Bill (TL;DR Will not be ratified and signed into law in time for Pride, but still gives us something to celebrate anyway!)

Thanks to our WONDERFUL FRIENDS in Thailand, @happypotato48 and @recentadultburnout, I've fact-checked and edited my post earlier today about the Thai marriage equality bill passing its first round of Senate deliberations. From @happypotato48!

yeah i think it's unlikely for the law to be signed by june and from what i've read if there shenanigans, things might get delay (i really hope not.) but if everyting go smoothly the law will be signed in 2-3 months and will take effect 120 days after it's signed. so likely october or november when we'll get marriage equality here. but the laws did only dictated that the amendment must finish in 60 days so maybe (finger crossed) we actually get this sooner.

From @recentadultburnout!

My knowledge is pretty lacking, but here is our current law-making process.

Some folks last week asked about what exactly the "legalization" of the bill meant after its passage in the Lower House/House of Representatives last week. I loved @happypotato48's use of the word "shenanigans" because throughout this entire process, I'm either reading into and/or expecting some shenanigans to go down because, government. But anyway:

The bill was approved in principle by the Upper House/Senate yesterday in Thailand. On July 8th, it'll go through an amendment process, and then a full approval of the bill in whole (scroll down for the reblog and additional tweet).

The most likely and/or hoped for scenario is that the Senate will take on the amendment/editing and approval process without hiccups in July, and that THEN, the bill will move to the Royal stage, which means that it'll get published in the Royal Gazette, and after 60 or 120 days (I think that was depending on what Parliament was saying), will become official law.

What are the prospects of shenanigans? I was reading on Twitter that some protests and arguments during yesterday's (or today's, depending on your timezone) deliberations in the Senate had to do with some senators stating that families are "naturally" occurring between men and women, and that quite a bit of reframing has to happen -- particularly reverberating by way of what other laws will be impacted (such as adoption laws, or benefits-by-family laws) when marriage equality is implemented. From the Thai Enquirer on Twitter:

(Source)

This response tweet below made me giggle, because it reminded me that a lot of the shows we love deliberately criticize the kind of inane arguments and politics that were made in the Senate yesterday:

(I can't find the post, I think @respectthepetty may have made it, about how last year's Midnight Series shows on GMMTV referred to politicians multiple times as dinosaurs. If someone has it, can you link me, and I'll edit this post? It was so apropos!)

In any case: the Senate has NOT fully approved the bill yet, and there's more yet to come in July. Shenanigans could happen, anything could happen!

If the Senate does NOT approve the bill in July, it will kick BACK to the Lower House/House of Representatives for ultimate approval before the Royal approval stage. Considering the overwhelming number of votes the bill got in the Lower House last week, it is almost (ALMOST!) guaranteed that it'll pass THAT stage. BUT! There's always the opportunity for shenanigans.

So advocates are still waiting, hopeful, but still waiting. The baddies who took up arguments in favor of the bill during yesterday's hearings are to be celebrated nonetheless.

IN ANY CASE. That this is even being deliberated for as close as we've ever gotten to legalizing marriage equality in a Southeast Asian country is worthy of celebration during Pride.

[voidedaurora]

Apologies for the ask about the 🍉 thing.

If you have a story to say you should say it, the group who made the document thought it was important to make it public. Maybe you can reach out to them if you need help. It’s never too late to share your story if you believe the person deserves to be called out.

She’s already known for lying. And she never addressed a lot of the things in the document. Like those multiple false grooming allegations. Just remember that there’s no backing out once you have it out to the public. Once on the internet always on the internet.

Hope you’re ok. Don’t be intimidated because of fans. They don’t know what you’ve gone through. You have a support group who already set the ground for you. Good luck with what you choose.

Not specifically replying to this ask but Im going to use this to say a bit of what I need to say. Follow up to my last post, Mel has made it clear that she is not going to talk to me, one of her friends dmed me (one of the two I mentioned prior) trying to get me to vc with all 3 of them to get "closure" and talk about things, this was only prompted by the fact I am now speaking out about this (clearly just trying to save face), I stayed silent for nearly 3 months giving her time to come and talk to me and it was honestly the last nail in the coffin for her to clearly only give a shit now that I'm speaking about it. So I'm done, I'm not going to keep any of her shit to myself anymore, I know I shouldn't have been keeping them to myself to begin with and I completely accept anyone who is upset at me for not speaking up sooner. Quickly, I will say that some of this I cannot provide solid proof for, you will all have to take some of this with a side of salt / use context to come to your own conclusions, but I still think its important to mention because I know what I saw and experienced, It is up to you whether you believe what I have to say or not Aswell, Some of this obviously could be wrong as she has refused to clear things up privately but I believe them to be true since I experienced what I experienced :/. I do not condone Harassment, witch-hunting, threats, attack anyone involved, or anything else of the sort You obviously may be honest about your feelings on the matter but have your morals about you when doing so. People that did not consent to being mentioned here will be censored when possible I will be reffering to Quartelz as Mel in this, just felt I'd clarify TW: S/A, Coercion, Grooming(?), General Toxicity, etc.

Firstly, To everyone who supports Mel after the google doc she "made" I've got some unfortunate news to share, She did not write that doc. Mel had quite a few of her friends at the time essentially write the entire document for her, I was one of those people. To clarify, we were not forced but since we all wanted the best for her and for her to be able to move on from it all so we all helped her. The apologies ESPECIALLY she did not write nor mean, She has stated many times to me personally that everyone did not deserve an apology, I will provide some screenshots backing up these claims below Others writing the doc/Proof I can edit the original doc (the public document was moved into a fresh file because I suggested it)

Proof of Mel being an unapologetic asshole about the whole thing (sorry for the rudeness) Her saying "how to write an apology I don't mean" which Is pretty self explanatory, Included more context of the convo so she cant scream at me for not, AS you can see I was very insistent on her writing the apology because I did think they all deserved one, aswell me saying "I'd write it for her but that'd "I would literally write the apology for u but that'd be bad" Which is bad on my end 100% especially because I went through with that, I accept full responsibility for that and I am sorry, you all deserved better

More apology stuff bruhh

(so sorry archi I know you are mentioned here alot but I need you for proof, If anyone attacks you I am so so sorry) Admitting the apology wasn't written by her directly + re-stating she didn't mean the apology a million times and not taking any accountability

Bonus SS of talking with one of her friends at the time about our frustrations of helping her with the doc only for her not to work on it I think that's enough proof she didn't mean a lick of that doc and didn't even write it herself, I do NOT have proof that I specifically wrote the apologies but before the doc was sent out to the public I practically rewrote entire areas to make her sound more genuine aswell fixed the entire thing up, then I had her go over it and edit it to "sound like her" Time for the next part which is one of the more serious topics within this whole thing, I initially was NOT going to bring this to the public or mention it at all since its fairly private but after thinking on it really hard ,and the fact this will never have any closure Clover and I have decided to let you all know about it, I am sure she's going to be quite upset this is public now but she shouldn't have done any of it in the first place. TW:// S/A and Coercion I don't really know how to approach talking about this but around the 30th of march 2023 (before and after) Clover, Mel, And I had all gotten pretty close as friends, This eventually evolved into us having sexual interactions with each other as a group twice. At the time we had all had lengthy conversations making sure everyone was ok with it, the whole consent protocol and such. Edit: for the record, our age differences at the time were me: 16 (10/16/2006) Clover: 17 (3/03/2006) Mel: 17 (8/30/2005) This is relevant because a while back (I am not sure when) Mel had admitted to me one day that she had only slept with Clover to do things with me. I know for a fact she will deny this. This obviously horrified me and clover both because we were under the impression it was a mutual thing between all of us, I'm sure Clover feels violated, used, and a sleuth of other things, I feel absolutely terrible about the entire thing because I was the one who had helped her feel comfortable with the whole thing in the first place and convinced her it was something mutual, and to have Mel later on admit it was not and she just wanted an excuse to do shit with me is absolutely disgusting. Clover and I are both extremely damaged from this and neither of us ever got an apology for this and probably never will, not one that she means at least, shes already proven she doesn't feel remorse for anything she does. You'd think the person that allegedly got assaulted herself and had dealt with homewrecking related things herself wouldn't do something like this but here we are. (Just clarification this was a 3 way, sorry to have to blatantly state it but I didn't want any confusion. Aswell I'd like to state for the record that the interactions happened twice total) I will not be sharing proof of any of this as it would include sharing sensitive information/conversations I don't think any of us would be comfortable being public, You may take this as you will but Clover and I both are living proof of this happening and I just hope you'll take our word for this one as it was already obvious Mel had a thing for me to literally everyone around us, I genuinely do not think I need proof to prove that part alone. There was another section I was going to add explaining another situation but I do not have enough proof gathered to speak on it at the moment so I'll keep it at these two for now. I initially wasn't going to make a big post like this but I wanted to get the stuff I know 100% out there (aswell wanted to get some of the worst out of the way :/) There is absolutely MORE I could/want to talk about but I simply do not have the context/proof to make a proper statement on it at the moment, maybe in the future I will.

also, if any of ya'll need more proof of stuff I CAN dig but I think I got it all covered? That's it for now, She's either going to deny everything, have her friends to defend her, flee the internet, or retaliate. Have a good day ya'll, I am done staying quiet for her also I'm so so sorry if this isn't written well in certain parts, I don't really know how to make stuff like this

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics in which a character had experienced abuse of some form in the past as requested in this ask. Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here.

- Louis/Harry -

🧱 Run Like the Devil by benzos

(E, 143k, Supernatural au) Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

🧱 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🧱 Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 111k, omegaverse) Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him. 

🧱 Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry

(E, 110k, punk Louis) the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

🧱 The Naked Truth by @larrysmomfics

(E, 80k, Naked Attraction au) The producers of Naked Attraction decide to do a 'Second Chances' edition of the show where past contestants who didn't find love on the show the first time can re-apply in hopes that the second time's a charm. 

🧱 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🧱 Shout It From The Rooftops by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 70k, PTSD) Plagued by memories of the worst day of his life, Louis Tomlinson feels like he’s constantly living in darkness. Harry Styles might just be the person to bring him back to the light.

🧱 These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, omegaverse) Born to one of Seattle's wealthiest families,  Harry was raised exactly as a Styles heir should be: sharp as a tack, witty, charming, and powerful. He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega.

🧱 you're ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece by Valentia

(E, 50k, uni) The one where Harry is soft and pretty but doesn't see it and Louis just wants to love him the way he deserves.

🧱 elephant juice by @stylinsoncity

(M, 32k, uni) harry doesn't understand boundaries. louis doesn't mind at all.

🧱 With These Arms Folded by @taggiecb

(NR, 21k, famous/not famous) Harry Styles is living a peaceful existence in California as a very successful songwriter. That is until he receives a curious email one sunny summer morning, and his life almost immediately gets turned upside down buy a force that's bigger than any storm he's seen outside his window.

🧱 why take your life when you give it so willingly by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 19k, pirates) When Louis Tomlinson, Captain of The Rogue, ends up adrift at sea after Captain Cowell attacks his ship, he is surprised to find his enemy, Captain Styles, coming to his rescue.

🧱 vatican cameos by nightwideopen / @themarshalstale

(T, 14k, asexuality) sometimes louis gets sad and sometimes harry lets louis write on him

🧱 Just a touch of your love by @thegirlontheblackhoodie

(E, 12k, omegaverse) Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

🧱 You've Got A New Life (Am I Bothering you?) by LilyBlue28

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) the one where Louis is an omega who suffers from PTSD and is triggered one day. He doesn't know how to ask for help from his doting alpha, doesn't think he deserves it, and tries to handle it on his own.

🧱 I Don't Wanna Hurt Anymore by offwiththeirheads / @hazzabooween

(M, 5k, kidfic) Harry walks a thin line between breaking his best friend’s heart and fighting a losing battle.

- Rare Pairs -

🧱 Sugar, We're Going Down by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 131k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) At 37, Nick has everything he could possibly want in life: huge success in business, a Bachelor of the Year award hanging in his toilet, piles of money, and a rather odd little habit of visiting a cafe with terrible service on his way into the office every morning.

🧱 It's You by happily_missy

(E, 56k, Zayn/Liam) Liam is a PA for a famous fashion designer and Zayn is their gorgeous new model.

[mtchee]

Kura Kura - [Sugawara Koushi] GN

blurb:

if you can act upright around your crush you must be a sociopath because that is the most difficult part of [name]'s entire school life. Hit hard in the feelings for the pretty setter in class 3-4, your fear of rejection and his blinding beauty and radiant and kind soul keeps you from approaching with any sort of romantic intent and hellbent on running away. Eventually, a few friends try to give you a shove closer in the right direction, though it seems like Sugawara's finally caught up all on his own.

cw: not edited, fluff galore, second-person-pov, sweet poor anxious [name], suga has my heart, wingmen daichi and asahi, asahi lowkey freaks out, kiyoko my beloved, [name] fearing for their life, kissing, Suga musters up his courage for your sake, smooth sugawara smooth

| masterlist | haikyuu collection |

[2.3k]

I get absorbed into an eternity~ Kura, Kura, Kura, Kura! (Dizzy Dizzy) (TWICE!)Isn't it magic, babe?~

"No, Lia, stop--" You flail as you're forcefully shoved towards the stairwell by the third year classrooms, "I will throw up on you if we get any closer!" 

"Don't be dramatic," Your friend replies, not ceasing her movements, "you promised me that you would talk to him this week, and it's Friday." 

"I said that I might if I can," You manage to wiggle your way out of Lia's grip, "I didn't promise you anything--ohmygod he's right there--" 

"Go say hi!"

"No! I don't want to be here right now!" 

From his place by the top of the stairwell, Daichi glances down at the two bickering in hushed whispers.

He blinks with a hum before looking at his friends, Sugawara and Asahi, who are too busy talking to notice them. A barely noticeable smirk makes its way onto his face at the sight of a familiar third-year, watching as they frantically shake their head at their friend.

He elbows Sugawara, "Hey, isn't it that [name]? Our classmate you said you like?"

"What? Don't be so loud, Daichi." The silver haired male warns, huffing at him despite the pink tinge on his skin. His friend rolls his eyes, motioning towards the friends down the stairwell.

Sugawara follows his line of sight, chest tightening. "...Okay, maybe I did say that," he sighs as his friends fist pump victoriously, "so what?" 

"Go talk to them," Asahi states, an encouraging look in his eyes.

Suga's gaze flickers and his shoulders slouch, "Even if I wanted to--I-I can't."

"What? Why not?" 

"Well," He rubs the nack of his neck sheepishly, "[name] runs away at the first sight of me," Sugawara sighs, diverting his gaze and propping his arms on the balcony railing.

"I think I've already scared them off somehow..." 

They remain in silence for a moment, Suga wallowing in his self pity whereas Asahi and Daichi remain in thought. 

"You know," Asahi pipes up slowly, "[name]'s generally a pretty shy person..."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Daichi perks up, "isn't [name] in your class, Asahi?" The male in question nods.

"Mm. Uh... I could talk to them for you if you want." 

Sugawara visibly brightens, perking up against the railing, "Really?" 

"Sure," The bun haired man smiles before faltering, "b-but... I hope [name] isn't scared of me..."

"U-Uh, hey, [name]-san!" Asahi hurriedly calls out to you after the school bell rings, signifying the end of the day. You look up from your desk, having stood up to pack your bag.

Asahi immediately sweat drops, not having though this through.

"Um, uh... y-you're in the photography club, right?" He mentally sighs in relief at her nod, "I was, eheh, just wondering what this term's project was? A-Asking for a... friend..." 

"Oh, sure." You give him a polite smile and open your bag, plucking out your camera.

You don't notice Asahi thanking whatever god there was that you bought his excuse.

"We're supposed to do something along the lines of... capturing movement, or some sort of... improvement? It's an odd topic that I've been struggling with, so quite a few of us haven't started it yet, myself included." 

"Capturing... movement?" Asahi echoes, and you nod with a hum, "like, physically, or..?"

You shrug, "I guess. Ah, I'm not too sure where to start though."

Your classmate straightens up, an idea springing to his mind, "Hey, how about you come photograph the volleyball club? That counts as movement, right? Besides, we've been meaning to advocate for sponsors too..."

"Oh, really?" Your eyes sparkle, "I'll take you up on that offer, for sure! But, would that be okay with your captain..?" 

Asahi nods, "O-Of course! You could drop by now to check things out if you want!" 

"Ah, alright!" Your smile is one of relief and gratitude, "thank you, Asahi-san! I'll just call in with my club and then I'll head on over." 

"Sure, I'll see you soon then," Asahi holds his breath as you nod politely before leaving the classroom with your bag and camera in hand.

He stalls a few minutes before bolting out the door and into the nearly empty class next door, "Daichi, Suga! She's dropping by the court today!" 

"Today? Now?" Sugawara perks up. The ace nods affirmatively. 

"[name]'s got a project in the photography club and I offered to let them take pictures of us. [name]'s just stopping by to check things out today."

"Well, we better head down there then," Daichi smirks, nudging Suga and giving Asahi a rough pat on the back, "nice work, Asahi! And try not to get too distracted, Suga." 

"I-I won't get distracted!" 

His two friends share a look. 

"Sure you won't." 

"Whatever you say." 

"Uh, hello?" You hesitantly knock on the wall of the gymnasium before you step in, "pardon the intrusion--"

"Ah, [last name], right?" Daichi makes his way over to you after talking to Ukai about everything, "feel free to put your stuff by the bench and to move around. We're just warming up at the moment." 

"Thank you, a-and feel free to just call me [name]," You give him a curt smile before doing just that, getting your camera back outall the whilst.

You turn it on and adjust the lens, directing it towards the court and focusing it on the various players stretching. You hum to yourself as the slight blur disappears before gasping, a squeak nearly daring to echo with the gym's torrent acoustics when you spot Sugawara in the midst of the group.

You lower the camera from your view, eyes wide before quickly turning your back to them as you feel yourself overheating. 'How could I forget? He's the vice-captain of this club..! God I'm so stupid...'

"[last name]-san?" You tense as Kiyoko approaches, "are you alright? You look a bit... flushed."

You swore you could see the lightest of smiles on the pretty girl's face.

Kiyoko hums, "hm, don't worry. I won't tell him."

Your heart drops.

"What."

You could feel the blood rushing to your face in humiliation--maybe you weren't as slick as you though...

"K-Kiyoko-san..." You felt pale, "did... did Lia tell you?!"

'They are in the same class after all...' 

"That, and it's rather obvious you like him." The ravenette chuckles, "it's okay. He hasn't caught on quite yet. Why don't you say hi?" 

You shake your head, "I-I can't," you sigh while Kiyoko tilts her head confusedly, "he's just...too much for me. I think I've gotten myself too involved in it, in a way."

"What do you mean?"

Your feel dizzy having to say it all, shrinking in on yourself with a humbling groan.

"When... When I'm around him it's like... I-I get dizzy, and, I've never liked someone so much before and I don't know if it's weird or not, b-but I can't stop thinking about him, and then I get restless and-and--I just seem to lose control of myself..."

Your voice cracks, "mMMmMm I hate feeling so flustered about this..!" 

"No, no," Kiyoko giggles at your embarrassed expression, "it's a very sweet sentiment. I think it's cute... And you know," A cheeky glint appears in her eyes, "he probably would too~" 

"Who's this about?"

Your heart stops beating momentarily before you slowly turn around, visibly deflating in relief at the sight of the team's captain.

Daichi chuckles at you sheepishly, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know we're about to start our practice game in case you wanted a few shots of those." 

"A-Ah," You straighten yourself up and nod gratefully, ignoring the fact that your face refused to give you a moment's respite from its embarassed warmth.

"Thanks. I'll, uh... I'll just take a few photos of that... uh.." You give your fellow third years a quick awkward smile before scurrying away to the other side of the court. 

Daichi blinks before turning to Kiyoko, "Do you think they're getting anywhere?" 

"Oh, [name]'s down just as bad as him," The manager lets out a small laugh, "but nowhere near as confident. Suga can rest assured that [name] isn't actually scared of him, just a bit shy." 

"I think 'a bit' is an understatement," Daichi crosses his arms in thought as he watches the student in question bolt off the moment Suga so much as steps in their direction, "let's try work on that, shall we?" 

Aha.

Unfortunately for them, you managed to evade almost each and every one of their attempts to set you up with Sugawara, whether knowingly or otherwise. It was like you subconsciously avoided it.

And it was frustrating. 

But then, fortunately for them, a miracle happened where classes 3-1 to 3-4 merged for a combined project assignment; classes 3-1 and 3-2 were paired together (Kiyoko and Lia's class) followed by classes 3-3 and 3-4, which were coincidentally the classes containing Asahi and (Y/N), and Suga and Daichi.

The project required you to pick a partner from either class, wherein Asahi and Daichi quickly paired up, leaving Suga and you to fend for yourselves.

Luckily enough, Sugawara had the courage to ask you to be his partner, and thank god you actually accepted--otherwise the others would freak.

Thankfully, through this the two of you became closer (not like you really had a choice), often meeting outside of class time and during the weekend to complete your assignment.

Even then, you still stuck around during volleyball training since your own photography project wasn't finished either, giving the third years more time to plan--not noticing Sugawara gradually making moves of his own. 

"Hey, [name]," The vice-captain approaches you at the end of practice.

You were seated on the steps outside as you flicked through the camera's gallery, "Get any good shots today?" He smiles at you. 

You look up at him, nodding before turning your attention back to your camera, stiffening when you realize you just so happened to stop scrolling on a picture of him.

You snap the camera closed, warmth creeping up your cheeks, "Y-Yeah, ah... I should be finished with my project in the next week or so."

Your voice is quiet, but not so much that you had to strain yourself to hear it. 

Sugawara nods, humming, "Oh, nice. Speaking of projects," he ignores the butterflies in his stomach, forcing himself crouch down to match you, "about our assignment..." 

You could swear you were trembling under his gaze, ears ablaze in nerves and humiliation at having the audacity to breathe within this proximity--though you find you can't bring yourself to look away from his patient form.

"Y-Yes..?"

Suga takes in a breath before smirking, "How about... instead of meeting at the school library, we head downtown to that sweets café on the weekend? It would be a nice change of scenery, ah--plus we could have something to eat during study."

Your mind turns into chaos immediately, questions about if he had any sort of hidden meaning in his offer and overthinking the situation; your too caught up to notice the pink tinting his cheeks, nor how he hid his hand in his pocket to conceal his own trembling nerves. 

"Ummm... sure."

"Great," A wave of relief washes over Sugawara, the only visible signs of this being how his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

His smirk slips into a giddy, boyish smile, "How does Saturday sound? Around, let's say... early noon?" 

"Y-Yeah. That's okay with me!" 

He notices your conflicted, flustered expression and recalls the information his friends passed onto him. He bends his head to meet your eyes, gaze half lidded.

"Perfect." He leans in a little closer, and you doesn't move away. You take in a sharp breath, heart pounding in your chest.

His grin widens, and his blush increases to the tip of his ears, "It's a date then." 

Gaze flicking down to your lips, he takes in a small breath when he spies your anticipatory look before gently pressing his lips to yours.

His stomach erupts in a flurry of butterflies and he can't fight back a wide smile when you almost immediately--eagerly--respond to his touch.

The kiss is sweet, and goes on for a few moments longer than he expected--not that he was complaining. You separate with a quiet chu~.

(Y/N)'s eyes flutter, seemingly in shock before looking up at him. Suga swallows, feeling bashful as he notices you subconsciously run your tongue over your lips quickly, nervously, as though you could still feel him there. 

Suga smiles, no longer functioning on his mustered up courage but instead, running on a rush of adrenaline and unadultered joy.

"See you Saturday then," He positively beams at you.

You smile at him bashfully, feeling your body tingle in happiness as you grow giddy.

"Yeah," You voice softly, finding yourself lost in his hazel-brown eyes, "see you then."

He reaches out and caresses your warm cheek, giving you one more quick kiss and moon-eyed grin before picking himself up. 

Each now going your own way, Suga fist pumps to himself estatically, laughing at how he could feel the heat radiating from his own cheeks.

"Yes!" He traces a finger over his lips, almost unable to believe he got the confidence to make those moves on you. He bites the inside of his cheek, 'I can't wait to see [name] again.' 

You, on your way to upload the photos from your camera in the photography club room, find yourself in a daze.

You feel dizzy, breathless--oddly enough, not with your mind, but your heart. You let out a weightless laugh, a mix of happiness and bashfulness coursing through you. You clutche the camera case to your chest tight.

'I can't wait until Saturday...' 

From the steps of the clubroom, the remaining third years stand with their mouths agape in utter shock.

"Whoa... Suga was bold..." Asahi mutters quietly, still in disbelief.

Kiyoko blinks before shaking her head and giggling, happy for their two friends. Daichi finally snaps out of his stupor. 

"Well, at least we don't need to plan anything anymore."

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hi, there! :D

I saw the new event once a book and I thought it was interesting, If it's not too much trouble I would like to request:

Fandom: TWST (Silver x Fem reader) Story: Charming Fairytale the Book: A book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric. <3

If my order does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure. Thank you. The new event made me excited, you are one of my favorite twst writers and I am happy to finally place an order here

Oh my goodness! I’m so touched that you like my writings and I’m thrilled to write a fic for you. In all honesty, the book selection actually serves as the character selection, but since I didn't clearly indicate that int he even, I've written two fics for you. One for Silver and one for the book you chose. The one for Silver is below (which was written and edited while I listened to “Entendez-Vous” by Cécile Corbel, but I’ll make sure to link the other one to you as well! I hope you enjoy your tale(s)!

600 Followers event!

Happily Ever After - Silver

Type: Female reader/ fluff/ romance implied/ charming fairytale/ isekai

Word count: 2465

I had to give it to the enchanted book I'd been sucked into; I had been given a very simple role. Find the lost prince and return him to his home so he could save the land from the rule of an evil witch.

It was a pretty basic fairytale plot, and I could only hope that finishing the story would result in me going back to Twisted Wonderland. If it didn’t, I really didn’t know what I could do other than place all of my hopes in Silver.

After all, he had been in the room with me when I’d opened the enchanted book that had, quite literally, pulled me into its story.

I scrambled up onto a rock, glancing around in search of some place that looked even vaguely like where I thought a lost prince might hide or be hidden.

To be honest, I fully suspected that he’d been locked away more so than he had been lost, since that seemed far more in line with what I’d expect from a fairytale about a supposedly lost prince.

But then, this particular fairytale had already surprised me in that there was a dude in distress with a lady savior rather than the usual damsel with a male hero. But then, I quite possibly wasn’t actually the hero of this story like I’d been thinking I was.

But no matter exactly what my role was, I was the one attempting to find the lost royal that the country was counting on to save the day.

I felt my eyebrows lift as I spied a shadowy castle that wasn’t terribly far from where I currently stood and did look almost exactly like what I’d expect from a place where a royal in distress would be kept.

I nodded slightly to myself before setting off, my pace fairly leisurely as I made my way towards the dark castle that looked like it had seen better days.

I almost smiled as I noticed the bats fluttering around the towers that stretched up towards the sky. A nice, almost gothic touch to the overall villainous aesthetic of the castle.

What made the place even better from my point of view was that the massive gate was open, and I had no difficulty getting in. In fact, I quite literally just walked into the place.

I did have to admit, though, that the fact that I’d gotten in so easily did beg the question of why this lost prince hadn’t simply escaped or come home on his own?

There was, of course, the possibility that I’d wholly misunderstood this situation and that I was dealing with a runaway prince rather than a hostage situation.

A runaway prince who was plot-ordained to save the country would make for an interesting tale, though it certainly wouldn’t be that of your typical fairytale.

More of a subversion than anything.

I frowned slightly as I walked around the seemingly abandoned castle that looked like it was steadily crumpling into nothing.

It was the sort of place Malleus would like, but that hardly helped my current dilemma.

Because if this prince was a runaway, he would probably be hiding from me. But if he were instead a hostage, like I’d initially suspected, then the first place I’d look would be in the dungeons or the tallest tower.

I glanced up at the towers, grimacing slightly at the thought of going into the mass of rocks that looked like they were about to collapse the very second a wind blew through.

I paused in my survey of the castle, though, feeling my eyebrows arch as I caught sight of a door that looked far heftier than any of the others. And it wasn’t just that either; that section of the castle also seemed far sturdier than the rest.

I rolled my shoulders and braced my hands on the dark wood before pushing, only for nothing to happen, causing me to frown at the weight of the door.

I inhaled deeply, though, and leaned fully into my shove as I dug in with my heels. I breathed through my motions as I slowly started walking forward, pushing the door open slowly but surely before I stumbled to a stop and looked up into the room beyond. 

It was mostly dim, with only a bit of sunlight filtering in through the damaged roof above and spotlighting a single area on the dais. But otherwise, it looked wholly uninhabited, and no one was obviously hiding in it either.

I hesitated, though, frowning as I listened closely to a distant sound that slowly became clearer until I could identify it. Footsteps.

I glanced around, my eyes searching for the person, until a figure became visible as it approached the dais.

I felt my eyes widen as he stepped into the light that made his pale hair shine in perfect opposition to the darkness that was all around.

And he looked like a perfect prince. A dark uniform with silver epaulets and a sword hanging at his side. It was almost like I was looking at a picture out of a storybook, and I blinked up at him, hardly believing my eyes as my words failed me.

At odds with my speechlessness, he spoke in an almost tired tone, “Y/n… I wondered where you were.” 

I blinked, almost like I was snapping out of a spell at the sound of his soft voice, and my voice returned to me, “You’re the lost prince??”

I openly gaped up at him, but I couldn’t help but be shocked that all of this time I’d been looking for him. Somehow, it seemed oddly fitting. I had gotten the strange sensation that I’d been searching for him my entire life before, but I’d always shaken it off and refused to ask him if he’d ever had that same sensation.

Despite my surprise, Silver was just like he always was. Utterly stoic and seemingly unbothered as he nodded at me. 

I could only assume he’d gotten used to his role in this book just I like had, but I still found myself walking towards him with surprise still rolling through me, “You got sucked into the book too?”

It was another rather obvious question, but if he was bothered, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he just nodded before calmly walking down the stairs and meeting me in the middle of the room.

“Have you been in this place the whole time?” I found myself scanning him for injuries or anything else of the sort, but he seemed wholly unharmed.

“Yes, this castle seems to be cursed to keep from leaving,” He explained calmly, turning and walking over to the still open door only to be stopped short of exiting by a wall that shimmered into place.

I had been right. He wasn’t a runaway prince at all. He was being held hostage, no doubt by the witch that was currently ruling the country.

I felt myself frown as he stepped backwards, causing the wall to disappear once more as he turned to look back at me.

On the bright side, I now knew why it had been so easy for me to get into this place. But on the down side, I had no idea how to get him off here if this castle was specifically enchanted to keep him in.

And to make matters worse, if I couldn’t get him out, then we were stuck just in here, but in this story, and since he was in here, no one back in Twisted Wonderland would know where we were.

But then, I also didn’t know if finishing this story would get us out. For all I knew, we might be trapped in an endless rotation of the same story over and over again.

I glanced over at Silver before walking over to join him by the open door, “Do you know if finishing the story will get us out of this book?”

I watched him closely and prayed he knew the answer, only to sigh as he shook his head, a slight frown of his own appearing on his face, “No. I’d heard of enchanted books from Father, but he never mentioned how one got out of such a book.”

I watched him silently for a moment before inhaling and turning my gaze back to the door, “Well, working with the idea that finishing the story will get us out. We have to get you out of this castle first.”

I paused, glancing back his way before I continued, “Do you know anything about the curse on this place that’s keeping you inside?”

Again, I was desperately hoping he did because, despite all of the information I had received the very moment I’d woken up in this tale, none of it had anything about cursed castles.

A smile briefly flickered across Silver’s face as he nodded, shifting slightly to better face me, “Yes, ‘Only through the help of another who truly cares can the lost prince escape his home of old.’”

He spoke like he was reciting something, though I didn’t know. Perhaps a prophecy his character came pre-downloaded with or something.

I felt myself frown as I echoed his words, “‘His home of old’?? Was this the old royal castle or something?”

Silver shook his head, the motion disturbing his hair so that it was laying more like it usually did rather than the way it had been carefully placed beforehand.

I let out a hum, abandoning my questions about this story’s plot in favor of focusing on the rest of what Silver had said.

Only through the help of another who truly cares.

It sounded suspiciously like an explanation for how to break a curse since most fairytales usually include some sort of way to save cursed individuals.

Though, admittedly, that usually involved a kiss. A thought that had me avoiding looking at Silver and instead staring out the open door.

After a brief moment, I glanced back over his way once more. At the very least, I did care about Silver. I had for quite some time now, even if I often did my best to avoid thinking about it in favor of not messing up the friendship we currently had.

But, since I cared, that meant that I should be able to get him out of this castle.

I smiled at him slightly and held out my hand, watching as he glanced down at my palm before he reached over and carefully took my hand in his and looked my way expectantly.

I held up our conjoined hands between us, “Trust me?”

A smile flickered across his face at my light teasing before he nodded, and I grinned, “Alright then….”

I trailed off as I lowered our hands and tightened my grip on his hand as I turned to face the door once more. I inhaled, bracing myself before taking a step forward with Silver at my side, following my motions perfectly and even matching my stride as he stepped forward with me.

And at first, there was a strange sensation of being engulfed. Almost like something was pressing in on us from all sides.

And then, as quickly as breathing, it was over, and we were outside. But we weren’t just outside the room. We were also outside the entire castle, and I found myself glancing behind us in surprise.

“I can’t believe it worked…” My words were barely muttered, but were wholly honest. I really had expected it to be harder to actually get him out of the castle.

I turned to look at Silver, only to feel myself go still as my gaze collided with his, and I saw the way he was smiling at me. With gentle fondness. Just like he had ever since I’d gotten to know him.

And though I’d already thought it, I couldn’t help but wonder at how he really was the perfect choice for a fairytale prince. Almost unfairly so.

“W- Well, I guess now all that’s left is to get you back home,” I managed a smile despite the way my voice wavered.

Something flickered in his gaze that bordered on amusement. Almost like he knew exactly what effect he had on me, but he didn’t say anything about it. Allowing me a small bit of dignity even as he squeezed my hand lightly, causing my eyes to widen as he spoke, “And to get both of us back to Twisted Wonderland.”

I blinked slightly before feeling a genuine smile stretch across my face and I nodded, “Yeah.”

I gazed at him for a brief moment longer, letting myself relax now that I wasn’t alone in this storybook and had him by my side. But then something shifted.

He noticed it at the same time I did, his gaze sharpening before he whirled. Putting me behind him as he reached over and grasped his sword.

I stepped closer to him, glancing around warily, “What's going on?”

He shook his head, his voice solemn and lacking all of the warmth it had just previously held when it had just been the two of us standing together, “I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”

His words were the only warning I was given before the world bled away into white, slowly absorbing everything else into it. The last thing I saw was Silver whirling to look back at me with a determined expression before even he disappeared from sight, and all of the whiteness that threatened to blind me turned black. 

I twitched slightly, and then my eyes flew open as I inhaled sharply.

The first thing I really registered was Sebek’s voice bellowing “HUMAN!!” as Lilia leaned over me with an amused smile.

I blinked up at the fae in alarm as he titled his head, his eyes glittering with amusement, “Looks like you both made it home just fine.”

I almost frowned in confusion as my brain fought to slowly catch up to reality before I realized that we were in the school library. I shifted before freezing as I realized something was wrapped around my waist that shifted with me.

I slowly twisted, my eyes widening as I made eye contact with Silver, who smiled at me slightly in an almost apologetic fashion as I realized what, or rather, who, I was sitting on.

“Do you know how this story ends, Malleus? It is a Briar Valley classic, after all,” Lilia’s tone was beyond amused as he spoke from behind me.

I heard Malleus hum in response as I sat, frozen in mortified embarrassment, in Silver’s lap. And somehow, Malleus’s response just made it all the worse, “Of course, how could I not? ‘And so they lived happily ever after.’”

[heliads]

LISA !! your requests being open again is a glorious occasion, i’m so happy !! 

now, could i pretty please request spot conlon with a gender-neutral reader who’s a brooklyn newsie ? the reader’s newsie nickname is sunshine because they’re known for being super cheerful and sweet and pretty much always having a smile on their face, but thing is that spot’s kind of closed-off and gruff with them, even more than he is normally, because he finds it kind of grating how relentlessly happy they are when as newsies they live the way they do. but the reader just keeps on being the way they are, being kind to spot and smiling whenever they see him no matter how he always responds with a scowl, until finally he snaps at them and tells them to quit being so weird and happy all the time, but then they actually do and it makes him realize that he’s relied on seeing their smile every day and that he actually likes seeing it, so he goes to find sunshine and apologize, telling them that he actually admires how strong they are to keep being kind and happy despite everything and how much he appreciates it. it doesn’t have to end with a confession or anything, but hopefully at least some romantic undertones ? now, as always, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but thanks in advance if you do, and i hope you’re doing well !! <3

'cloudy days' - spot conlon

masterlist

For once, it’s not a gray and blustery day in New York. Spot Conlon doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, settling in a place like this, although he supposes he never really had a choice about it at all. It’s a cold and shady city, and that mood translates to its people. No one here would give him the time of day unless they absolutely had to, and he wouldn’t give them a damn thing either. That’s the tune of the city, and Spot drums it daily. Eat or be eaten. Kill or get killed.

That’s the way it’s always been, the way it always will be. Spot doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He’s grown past the point of needing it. Spot will do what Spot does best:  look out for himself, never take handouts, never be dependent on anything save his feet to carry him places and that weird thing beating between his ribs to keep him alive.

The other newsies respect that, and look up to it. Brooklyn may have a reputation for being the meanest borough around, but the newsies protect each other like no one else. Even when the sun don’t shine for months on end. Even on rare days, like today, when it does.

The bright streets have Spot thinking a little funny, just like always. When the sun is out and the skies are blue, he starts feeling a strange thing some might describe as happiness. For once, everything isn’t totally terrible. It’s like the high he gets after soaking his enemies, ‘cept his knuckles aren’t bloody and his eyes aren’t blackened.

Maybe it’s got him in a good mood. Maybe that’s why, when a new fella comes looking for a spot in Spot’s growing army of newsies, he’s inclined to say yes. This new ally of his is nothing like Spot has ever seen before. They’re smiling at him before they so much as tip their hat or say hello. At first, it makes him wonder if they’ve got some sort of problem, then he realizes that the newcomer isn’t grinning like that to be threatening, just because they’re legitimately, well, happy.

Strange. Confusing, even. Still, the abundance of sunshine is rattling Spot’s brain, so instead of laughing in their face, he actually offers them a place amongst the ranks. Were it any other day, he’s sure he would have made them go somewhere a little more sickly-sweet, where friendship is magic and everyone can stand around, fuckin’, square dancing or something, whatever it is they do over in ‘Hattan or the other less serious boroughs, but he doesn’t. He welcomes them into his home. He pretends he isn’t completely baffled by their happy-go-lucky act. 

And, since it’s clearly on the brain anyway, he gives them a nickname then and there, a real Spot Conlon first edition:  Sunshine. He reckoned it seemed pretty true at the moment. As it turns out, he had no idea. Sunshine gets on his damn nerves every moment of every day. They’re so sweet it makes him want to throw up. If he ever saw them without a smile on their face for longer than thirty seconds, he’d suspect an imposter. They toss out compliments like they mean it or something, and they actually pick flowers to give to their friends.

Spot would think it was an act, except it actually isn’t. No way a human being could keep up a pretense that long and not go totally crazy. Spot, for one, does feel like he’s going crazy, but that’s neither here nor there.

Every day is the same. He wakes up too early, drags himself out of bed and gets ready, then pokes his head out of his space just to find Sunshine already up and at it, beaming at him and wishing him a very good morning, Spot, before turning to the next half-asleep newsie and repeating them message, and man, he wants to throttle someone already. In the line for papes, they’re excitedly talking to him about how they hope for a good headline, and whenever Spot runs into them while selling, they’ve always got something funny to say. If Spot wanted to laugh, he’d go to the circus. Although even he has to admit that New York feels like that half the damn time anyway.

It’s actually starting to make him angry. Who is this newcomer to burst in and disrupt everyone like this? Spot’s no fool. Even though he’s proud of his newsies and glad to be among the best company there is, this isn’t the life any of them would choose if they had other options. The newsies are here because they have no money and no prospects. They are the terrible youth, set out on the streets because there is no one else to watch out for them but each other.

Yet here’s this stranger, bounding down the halls of their lodging house, beaming and laughing as if everything were sugar and sweet. It feels as if they’re making a mockery of the whole thing, and Spot doesn’t like being taken for a fool.

It twists his judgment. Spot isn’t exactly known for his warm and caring personality, but he cracks down even harder around Sunshine. Maybe then they’ll figure out that the whole super happy thing doesn’t fly around here. Dreams don’t get you anywhere, and pretending otherwise only costs a lot of effort that could instead be directed towards selling some papes.

He should be better, Spot knows that. Already, his closest friends have started to scold him (very carefully) about how he’s treating sunshine. “Y/N’s no problem,” they’ve said. “It’s just you, Spot.” But he doesn’t listen.

One day, he gets to the breaking point. After another restless night, Spot drags himself out of bed despite not getting nearly enough sleep. He’s hardly stepped out of his room before Sunshine’s smiling cheerily at him, asking, “How was your sleep, Spot?”

As if they can’t tell by the look on his face. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Spot positively growls at them, “Terrible, obviously. God, can you just quit it with that stupid attitude? It’s makin’ me crazy.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just pushes right past them and heads downstairs. He’s a grouch all morning, purposely making sure no one is near him while he’s selling and not talking to a soul all throughout the day. He manages to pull himself together enough to sell the papes he needs, but other than that, Spot is barely functioning at all.

Even the Brooklyn newsie home base seems quiet and uneasy when he gets back. Spot sits by himself in his office, temper growing worse with every passing hour. He can’t put his finger on the issue until nightfall, when he hears a chorus of cheerful voices out in the hall and realizes that Sunshine hasn’t spoken to him all day. Not since he snapped at them.

Cursing faintly, Spot drags a tired hand across his face. He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? Thinking back on it now, he remembers the startled look in Sunshine’s eyes when he told them to stop being so fake all the time. It’s fine, he tells himself. Everyone gets their feelings stepped on in Brooklyn. Things will be back to normal this time tomorrow.

Only, it isn’t. When Spot wakes up, Sunshine isn’t there to wish him a good morning. They avoid him in the line to pick up papes, and they steer clear of him throughout the entire day. Even when he makes a point of emerging from his office to sit with the rest of the newsies, Sunshine talks to every damn person there but him. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little guilty. Even Spot Conlon.

As the days go by without a single word from Sunshine, Spot feels worse and worse. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to see their smiles and hear their laughter until he didn’t get a drop of it. It’s like he’s trapped in permanent storm clouds. Only gray clouds and cold nights for him.

God, he’s getting poetic. This is horrific. Spot knows what he has to do, and even though he dreads the idea of having to admit he was wrong, he gathers his strength and goes to find Sunshine. At first, they try to duck out of the way when they see him coming, but Spot tracks them down, pulling them into an empty room so they can talk.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Spot says by way of introduction.

Sunshine doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

A sharp prick of guilt stabs through his chest. “I thought that, too. Turns out I was wrong.”

Sunshine’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet his. “Really?”

“Really,” Spot confirms. “I– I like being around you, Y/N. I like hearing you talk. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about being you.”

A slow, careful smile spreads across Sunshine’s face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Spot says indignantly. “What, you’d think I’d go around saying things that ain’t true? What a waste of time.”

When Sunshine starts laughing, Spot feels his cheeks start to rush with warmth. “It’s not– you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do,” they grin. “I’m just glad to hear you want me back.”

“I do want you,” Spot breathes. “Back, I mean. I want you back. Yes.”

When Sunshine smiles knowingly at him again, Spot gets the odd feeling that he’s revealed more of himself than he really ought to, like he’s been caught showing his cards halfway through a bet. He gets the feeling he can trust Sunshine to not call him out, though. For some reason, he believes in them more than anyone. Maybe even more than himself.

The threadbare curtains on a nearby window shift slightly, allowing a thin, tenuous ray of sunlight to slip through the cracks. It slices neatly through the room, illuminating Y/N’s face in thin tendrils of gold. The sun’s back again. They’re back again, and Spot might be okay after all.

requested by @faerieroyal, i hope you enjoy!

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[hwadess]

[00:28] stoner!yunho (s)

this is actually my first fic ever on this account and i haven’t really kept up with writing since like 2019??? lol… here goes nothing! i did not fully proof read this so if there are any errors pls let me know 😭 also, i feel like this goes without saying but obviously i know weed is NOT legal in south korea, but this is a work of fiction and i like having fun. i am 100% projecting. yep! anyways,

warnings are underneath the cut!

MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

remember, tumblr’s algorithm works off of reblogs. i love and appreciate likes but please reblog my work as well if you like it ♡ much love!

warnings: reader has female anatomy and is called gendered terms associated primarily with females, !!!usage of marijuana!!!, dom!yunho, some light stoner terms, reader tells yunho to stop but doesnt mean it, size kink, use of nicknames/pet names/titles (baby girl, tiny, angel, doll, good girl, yuyu, sir), obv strong language, unprotected sex (please always stay safe during sex!), creampie, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f receiving), degradation, humiliation. if i forgot any i will add!

word count: idk i edited it in app and lost track (jk update its 3,479!

your friend group was definitely a crazy one, hosting escapades you could never imagine by yourself, making so many memories. all of your firsts were with your friends by your side. hell, you would be with your friends every single second of every day if you could, but today when yunho came home talking about how he had someone in the group find some really good weed, you knew you had to try it alone with him. even though you knew you’d definitely hear from wooyoung about it later. yunho told you that he was sworn to that it would create one of the best highs you had ever faced.

god, you were hoping that his friend was right. you knew how you were when you smoked, you were excited. of course, the two of you could not waste such an opportunity, right?

your head is filled with warmth as your body started feeling floaty, the harsh coughing from the first hit of this third blunt really helping the feeling set in. the drug began to hit you even harder at this point, turning your entire world into a dizzy, yet comfortable daze. you look over at yunho, eyes half lidded from the effects of the bud, bright with the reflection of the led lights that outlined the corners of your bedroom walls.

you took a second to absorb every single detail of his appearance, his hoodie somehow big on him, making you wonder how you’d look wearing it, remembering how big he is already. he was wearing sweatpants, the string on it tightened just enough to hold them loosely around his hips. the weed had the gears in your mind grinding even harder than usual, he looked fucking amazing.

you don’t know if it was the overwhelming urge to be close to him, or what got into you, but before you knew it, your leg was thrown over his lap, and you were there, straddling him on the sofa in the bedroom. taken back by this a bit, yunho breathlessly laughs before cocking a brow at you, head lolling back lazily along the back of the couch from laughing. you take your almost completely cashed blunt, placing it in the ashtray beside the two of you, immediately bringing light kisses to the part of his neck thats barely exposed by the oversized hoodie. fuck, he was so perfect.

that’s all it took, his body began to react what seemed almost instantaneously, his hips subconsciously pressing against you, starting the process of getting hard, as he grabbed your waist for leverage.

“ooh what’s this, pretty girl,” he cooed out, pushing your hair back out of your face, exposing all of your features even more to him. you were so pretty, “some weed got your little pussy wet?”

“no, you did,” you barely managed, the breath barely leaving your lungs. he smirked at you before tapping your side, automatically remembering that’s his sign for wanting you to raise your arms to sneak off your shirt.

“well, i’d better take care of this little problem i created, don’t you think doll?” with large yet gentle hands, he eased you off his lap on the sofa to take you to the opposite side of the room to his bed.

the room was coated in a haze of smoke as the bed creaked ever so quietly underneath the weight of you two. the harsh smell of this particular leaf clung to your senses but you were used to it, the smell didn’t bother you as much as you thought. even if you weren’t used to it, you weren’t sure how much you could even pay attention to the smell of anything when your tall boyfriend was pulling off his sweatpants to reveal his semi-hardened cock. your mind was full, the thoughts mixing in your head, enough to make you fucking dizzy. the effects of what you smoked had long since taken over, you were feeling so much.

“you wanted to start this, so go ahead.” he said, moving back onto the bed with you and then laying down against the bed, head on the pillows, gesturing down with his chin.

you knew better than to act stupid. your whole body shuddered when you looked up at him and saw him wearing the cockiest smirk you swear you had ever seen in your life. he was gonna be the death of you.

you crawled on top of him, taking the same position you had on the bedroom sofa, but this time you took his thick cock in your hand, positioning the tip of him at your entrance.

“wait, angel” he interjected, grabbing your wrist to make you release his cock. your swear your need was about to boil over any second now, mind burning with the thought of how close he was to filling your needy hole up.

“do you think you can take me like this?” he asked, looking at how big his cock looked next to your cunt. you stared back at him, blinking blearily, you were overtaken with confusion and the empty feeling in your chest having the pleasure of his cock that was so tantalizingly close ripped away from you, so hungry for his cock buried in you.

“just a couple more things, doll,” yunho adjusted in his spot, putting pillows underneath the back of his head, so he was laying up a bit more. he brought one large hand to your waist to stabilize you so you stayed still on your knees above him while his other hand slid between your thighs, spreading your folds to run his finger down to find your wet entrance. when he felt the arousal seeping from you just by gliding his fingers through your slit, he hummed softly, sinking two digits inside you which drew a pathetic cry from you.

his fingers were coated in your wetness as he pulled them out, but he still took a moment to tease you by brushing the pads of his fingers along your clit and dip his fingers in just an inch or so a few times until he was satisfied enough with how worked up you were. it wasn’t until yunho retrieved it that you realized he had his unfinished blunt tucked behind his ear, licking off his fingers coated with your juices before grabbing the lighter on the nightstand and lighting it, unexpectedly blowing all the smoke right into your face, making your eyes burn with tears. if they were from the smoke, or from need, that you weren’t too sure of.

“alright pretty baby, you should sink down for me,” he ashed his blunt before looking back at you, cocking an eyebrow at you, making you shiver.

his eyes were on your shaky ones as you eagerly positioned him at your entrance. the moan you let out as every single inch of thick cock grazed against against your walls menacingly slow was absolutely sinful. the neediness in your moan made yunho’s cock twitch inside you as you slowly worked him deeper into your wet cunt.

“now that’s a good girl, huh?,” yunho groaned out, one arm beneath his head on the pillow and the other gripping your waist. between his lips was the blunt, smoke going up in a helix from the burning tip and the corner of his mouth as he panted, feeling your tight walls squeeze him, filling up your little stretched out cunt.

your body was so sensitive to every touch, every single feeling running through your body. you could feel yunho’s cock everywhere. it was so overwhelming. all you could think about was how delicious it felt that his cock was ramming into that one particular spot that made you feel like you were going to pass out right there on his dick splitting you open.

your whole body was so sensitive from the pot, so much so that you found yourself on the edge quickly. your body began to tremble harder than you have before and you gasped out to your boyfriend, hands reaching to bring him closer,

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” yunho laughs, feeling your cunt clench around his cock, “already, huh?” he mocks you, taking another hit while he watches your trembling fingers leave the grip on his shirt to find your swollen clit to hurl yourself into your crashing orgasm. your hips spasmed uncontrollably and your cunt was squeezing him as you came all around his thick cock, but you continued to ride him, abandoning your clit in favor of going back to grabbing onto his hoodie for leverage.

“fuck, tiny, you’re so good,” he grunted, rutting his cock up into you deeper. “yuyu, y-your c-cock is… s-so g-good,” you barely managed to choke out, bottoming out and grinding your clit against the base of his cock as you felt another orgasm already building in your tummy.

“gonna cum again?” he laughed this time, making your cheeks sting with humilation, but if anything this fueled you working yourself over the edge for him until you were trembling on top of his cock once more.

“fuck!” you yelped out, focusing on your bouncing to aim his cock to brush against the spot that feels the best. you didn’t even give yourself a break, eager to find your next release, eager to make him cum. you just wanted to be so good for him, all you wanted him was for him to fill you up with his cum.

yunho was basically panting, skin glowing shiny under the blue led lights in the room as a light coat of sweat coated his forehead, and he couldn’t deny that you looked so gorgeous right now. he adored when you were so insatiable to the point where you lost your mind on his cock, using him as your toy to make yourself cum. he was more than happy to sit there and let you take what your body needed.

and you, you were a sight for sore eyes. sweat beading over your body with your head thrown back, as you ground down on him with your little cunt filled with his long cock. you had already cum so much already, and you weren’t sure how much or what time it even was. time was a blur at this point, and it was the last thing you were gonna think about. the creases of your thighs, as well as his were both covered in your cum, creating sloppy, loud wet noises every time your skin met.

you were positive you had stained the bed beneath the two of you now, there was no way it hadn’t. it was filthy and you both fucking loved it.

“fuck, yunho!” you pathetically wailed, holding yourself down as deep as possible once you bottomed out, reaching down with a desperate hand to brush against your swollen clit gently enough to initiate the most toe-curling orgasm out of yourself that you think you have ever experienced. yunho groaned, pulling the blunt out of his mouth to blow a lungful of smoke back into your face as you gasped for air from cumming so hard.

“god, i can fucking feel you cum like that doll,” he groaned, tucking the rillo back in his mouth in to grab onto your tits, relentlessly pinching your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“jesus fucking christ,” you groaned, placing your hands behind you on his thighs, using him for leverage as you began to bounce onto him again. you had no idea how the burn of your thighs wasn’t bothering you as much as it should’ve been, but you just equated it to the thc flowing through your system. “you feel so fucking good, yuyu, fuck!”

“what was that?” something shifted in him, watching you through dark and heavy eyes as you lost yourself on his cock. his cock twitched in your cunt so hard, “your tiny cunt’s so fucking sensitive, couldn’t stop cumming even if you wanted to, huh?”

“fuck. yuyu, i’m gonna cum.” the nickname took his breath away, he loved how pathetic and small you looked while hungrily bouncing on his cock, calling him such a cute nickname. he could never admit it but the nickname made him fall apart, but he wasn’t going to admit that. yunho hisses, feeling your cunt clench around his cock that he swears has never been this hard before.

your head went blank, everything was subconscious at this point, digging your nails into the skin of his thighs, grinding your clit against the hilt every time his cock filled you to the brim.

yunho scowled, seemingly unsatisfied that you weren’t answering him. he sat up slightly, tangling a hand into your hair and gripping a fistful tightly to force you to stop bouncing on him, making your eyes meet his worriedly.

your pupils were blown, eyes shining with tears of need. your body was trembling above him as a sign that you were desperately close to another orgasm, and he stole that from you. this was the first time he had really moved since you got onto the bed, and the sight of him taking another long, thick hit, tapping off the ash off the side of the bed carelessly, and then blowing the smoke right into your face with a blank expression had you clenching pathetically around him.

“hmm, i asked you a question, angel,” he cooed, speech a little mumbled as he held the blunt between his lips again to free up both of his hands. wrapping both hands around your waist to shove you onto his cock the deepest it could possibly reach.

“i, i didn’t hear what you asked…” you whimpered, his cock making contact with your cervix from the angle he was sitting at now.

“i know that. poor thing,” he loosened his hold on your hair to move to cup your face almost a confusing amount of gentle, “so fucked out on my cock you can’t even think? is that what’s happening here?”

“y-yes sir,” you whimpered, the attempt to grind down against him unnoticed failed as your clit throbbed so painfully from the neglect.

“sir, huh? cute. sir fucked you dumb?” he smirked, reaching up and taking away the blunt completely now, putting it fully in the ashtray that was at the nightstand.

“y-yes,” it was a small reply, not able to get anything out that was more than that. you just wanted to cum for him again.

“my stupid little baby girl,” he chuckled, his lips against yours. you immediately responded, the pot aftertaste lingering in his mouth. you wrapped your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss as you began to bounce on him again.

“fuck,” you cried, feeling close as you ground your clit against his pelvic bone every time you sunk down onto him. yunho lowered himself back down against the pillows again, but this time, he wasn’t letting you take control in any sort of way this time. he started to fuck up into your dripping cunt instead of leaving the work to you completely.

“rub that clit tiny, cum on my cock again,” he panted out, grabbing your free hand, which had been busy playing with your nipples, to press your fingers against flush your clit. “fuck that’s it,” he praised when he felt your pussy flutter around him, watching you gently circle the bud as you rode him to your high.

the sight of you just using his body for your own pleasure while feeling your warm cunt wrapped around his throbbing cock was beginning to become too much, he could feel the heat of his own orgasm beginning to sneak up on him. the amount of self control he’s able to show after all this time was still astounding to you, and you just wanted to break that and let him paint your insides with his cum.

“fuck, fuck, i’m cumming again,” you got out in between broken words and gasps for air, thighs trembling as your high washed over you so hard it almost hurt. this time, the force from the orgasm was so intense you were unable to hold yourself up and you leaned down to rest your face against his chest as you panted and trembled through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

everything happened way too fast, and suddenly you found yourself on your back with yunho towering above you. his cock slipped out of you in the process, making your hole clench pathetically when you realized you weren’t full anymore.

“what are you doing…” you whined, arching your hips in a lazy attempt to get him back inside you.

“im gonna eat you out,” he mumbled, instantly lowering on the bed until his head was between your thighs. “oh fuck, you’re soaking,” he used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, exposing your entrance and swollen clit to the chilly air in the room. “how many times have you cum?”

“i don’t remember,” you muttered almost lifelessly. it felt so nice to be lying on your back again and giving your legs a break. you were so gone at this point, how could you remember?

“what a slut,” he growled, dragging the flat of his tongue against the tip of your clit, before shoving his tongue into your hole, coating his tongue in your delicious juices. your hands shuffling to yank at his hair when he used the tip of his tongue to graze your clit gently.

“holy fuck, that feels so good,” you whined out, arching your hips to grind against his tongue, making him chuckle.

it was unfair, how fucking good yunho’s cock felt in you, and how he had a sinfully good mouth. the feeling of his tongue licking over your swollen bud and you remembering how good his cock felt filling you up just minutes ago had you you cumming so much, spiraling into another screaming orgasm. this time, however, as your eyes rolled back and you let out a shriek of his nickname that he loved so much, you felt yourself utterly gush against his tongue.

“fuuuck,” yunho growled, sitting back on his heels before immediately sliding into your embarrassingly wet cunt without a second thought. the noises that came when he sunk into you would have embarrassed you if you not for the weed and the adrenaline pumping through your system.

“c-can’t anymore, yuyu, please stop,” you whined, but made no attempts to halt him as he began pounding into your sopping wet cunt.

“fuck. i. got. you. babygirl,” he whispered through grunts, attempting to give your lips little pecks although his deep and rough thrusts offset them a bit. “can you cum once more for me?” he panted out, eyes scanning over your fucked out, dumb expression.

“if you cum in me,” you compromised, drawing a dark change in his eyes from him as he nodded.

“anything you want, tiny,” the two of you fell into relative silence aside from your whines and moans mixing with his grunts and the wet sound of his cock fucking so deeply your cunt. he licked his pretty fingers before reaching down to spread your lips open and found your swollen clit, brushing against your bud softly as he knew how sensitive it would be and it felt like someone was shooting electricity down your nerves.

he continued to fuck you until you reached your last high, thighs clamping and trembling around his waist and your hand ripping his away from your throbbing clit. with a handful of powerful, deep thrusts, ropes of his thick cum were filling you up, and a long drawn-out groan came from his sweet lips.

the both of you were still for a minute, just sharing a moment to take a few deep breaths as his cock softened inside you before he pulled out, making you gasp from the realization of how spent your hole was. his cum leaked out of you, dripping down onto his blue comforter. he sighed, before catching it with his fingers. he brought his wet and soiled fingers to your lips, and you eagerly took them into your mouth with a small whimper; the bitter flavor of his cum spreading over your tongue.

watching yunho sink his exhausted body down to force your thighs apart wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the two of you were done. you were tired but you sighed, letting your eyes gently shut as his tongue slid between your folds to catch the mixture of both of your cum thats leaking out of you profusely at this rate, while being gentle enough to not even brush against your clit anymore tonight.

“i love you,” yunho pets your head, fingers combing gently through your hair, “so good for me.”

“i love you, yuyu,” you hum. you don’t think you’re ever smoking with any of your friends present ever again.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she��d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

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@heartbrake-hotel

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@loving-elvis

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.��

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.