#every time we get new angles of this ice bath

[leclercskiesahead]

Release this full pic @ Ferrari

[thelouvrefm]

— 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 . . .

♕ ( muse l / 42 / cis woman / she/her/hers ) — did you see JOSEPHINE REYES wandering around the island today? they kind of look like NATALIE PORTMAN from certain angles? i heard around town that the OWNER OF CLEAN SLATE is INNOVATIVE, and SPIRITED, but also RETICENT, and SELF-DESTRUCTIVE. people say that they remind them of A TIMER CLOSE TO HITTING ZERO, DRINKING COGNAC IN A BUBBLE BATH, and THE POUNDING OF RUNNING SHOES AGAINST COLD CONCRETE, and ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE by THE KILLERS is definitely their theme song. they seem like a nice enough person, but we all know how hard it is to keep a pristine reputation in a small town. ( lauryn / 22 / cst / she/her/hers )

b a c k g r o u n d —

[ ! ] TRIGGER WARNING : MENTION OF RELIGION, DIVORCE, STEALING, LEGAL TROUBLE, PARENTAL DEATH

 001. a doted on only child born in kings haven in 1980. josephine’s childhood was normal and about as far from traumatizing as it gets. her parents were loving and had sufficiently prepared for the arrival of their baby girl. they were well off and had plenty of help from josephine’s grandparents. josephine was given every resource imaginable growing up and all the support her parents could muster up.

 002. josephine’s parents were jewish, and she was raised accordingly. while her parents were raised in orthodox judaism, they grew to practice reform judaism. though they seemed committed to raising josephine in judaism at first, their efforts dwindled as time went on until they were the family who just observed the “important” holidays.

 003. josephine was a fairly average child, but the influx of resources gave her more opportunities and strengthened her strong attributes. she was probably a little bit smarter than the average kid, nothing near gifted, but her at home studies paired with her school teachings helped build her intellect. from a young age, josephine also exhibited an interest in art. so, of course, her parents would sit down with her and an art teacher every other day to hone her craft. her interest was mostly in watercolor paintings, though she dabbled in varying art and pottery mediums as a way to figure out what amused her.

 004. a happy and well adjusted child, josephine had many friends and was involved in a couple after school programs like girl scouts and soccer. she was vibrant and described as a ray of sunshine. and who would expect anything different with a life like hers? only, as she grew older, while nothing around her changed, what was inside of her did.

 005. there was an introspection and discipline that came naturally to josephine from her years of gentle parenting. josephine was well aware of her privilege and security as she aged, and there was an ever-growing need inside of her to self destruct. looking at it from an outside perspective was funny, a girl with a perfect life looking for reasons to be sad. but the thought behind it was really quite simple: there was a monotony in her routine that left her with the absence of excitement.

 006. josephine made a real effort in fending off that need to self destruct, but life sought to equal the balance. her parents announced their separation when josephine was 12 years old. it came as a shock to the young girl. perhaps there were warning signs, hushed arguments heard from down the hall, the slow disintegration of their religious practices, more silence at the dinner table than usual… but divorce? josephine hardly even understood the concept.

 007. those resources that were once available to josephine slowly began to dwindle as the logistics of the separation took up much of her parents’ time. josephine began to recede within her own mind, lacking the usual outside presence that she was accustomed to. as it turns out, her thoughts were very loud. social isolation became somewhat of a new norm for josephine. she would sit at the lunch table with her friends still, but sleepovers and trips for ice cream were no longer existent.

 008. anger and fear plagued josephine’s mind. she experienced anger toward her parents, the changes being made in her life, the world in general. she was with her mother most of the time, during the week but no weekends, but it wasn’t the same. her once lively, dedicated mother was now relatively hollow, at least compared to her old disposition. josephine could tell she was trying to pick herself back up, but the struggle was apparent.

 009. flash forward to age 15, josephine had mostly adjusted to the changes in her life. was there some subtle lasting damage? probably. but she had much more going for her now than she did at age 12. high school was kind to josephine; she was well liked, popular even. she was starting varsity for soccer in her sophomore year. though her dedication to her schoolwork wasn’t strong, she managed to keep her grades up. it wasn’t that josephine was lacking in intellect, she was simply unmotivated. that peppy demeanor that she kept up around her friends wasn’t always present at home.

 010. see, josephine did well when other people were around. her thoughts and anxieties did not scream in her head like they did when she was alone. that same little need to destruct that was growing as a kid had grown quite large now; it was becoming hard to ignore. this led josephine to start stealing things whenever she would go to the store. it was little at first, some chapstick or a twix, until she moved onto big ticket items.

 011. she would put things in her cart and “forget” to scan them. it was a destructive habit at first, causing her to feel shame, until it turned into something else. josephine grew to look forward to these trips of hers. she would often try to outdo herself, until she was eventually caught. she had stolen a trashcan; had there not been items stashed inside, perhaps she could’ve claimed that she forgot to scan it. she ended up doing diversion to get the charge wiped from her record.

 012. kings haven being such a small town, word certainly got around. josephine was embarrassed as her friends exiled her, though the vast majority of kids couldn’t care less. it might’ve even earned her a little street cred. regardless, josephine had momentarily ruined her life enough to quiet that need of hers. when she felt it building back up, however, she found an appropriate outlet for her feelings: painting. her love of art had been rediscovered. after the divorce, josephine had grown out of painting regularly. it had produced some bad associations for her, but she felt ready to try again.

 013. soccer was switched for art clubs and local art competitions. josephine found new friends within the art community, feeling as though they were a much better fit for her. now, when she was alone, all she had to do to quiet her brain was throw herself into a project. it was easy for josephine to get lost in things, a good book or a new project. she wouldn’t be part of this world anymore, she was apart of something much greater, something beautiful.

 014. after high school, josephine went off to college to acquire a bachelor’s degree in business administration. art seemed far more tempting, but her father’s pressure to yield financial success was etched into her brain. and soon enough, josephine was married! it was a whirlwind romance for her, the fairy tale of her dreams. diego had truly charmed her, and josephine was ready to take on the world with him. they settled down, got a house, and focused on building a life together.

 015. following graduation, josephine took a job in market research. it was unfulfilling in many ways, but she convinced herself that it would get better eventually. with diego’s support and her escape via art, it was manageable. her twenties were fairly standard; she matured and had time for self exploration. the prime of her life was lived well; she had friends, family, love, beauty, and enough money to scrape by. it wasn’t until her thirties that things began to fall apart.

 016. things with diego had changed; there was an unspoken disconnect. they were meant to be open with each other, but it seemed neither one of them wanted to admit that something was different. josephine had always felt as though maybe she loved diego more than he had loved her, but it seemed like things had began deteriorating more and more. she could see his dissatisfaction growing with his life, but she had no words to help or talk it through. eventually, they were more like roommates than spouses.

 017. with this, josephine felt as though she was going crazy. there was a desperation in her to fix things, but she felt as though she would be overreacting or pushing him away further if she were to bring it up. so, she stayed quiet and suffered internally. she tried to be a positive presence around him and hoped that was enough, until eventually their time together became less frequent. josephine was spending more time alone; without much distraction outside of work, she was led her to pursue other things in her career. this led to her buying an empty gallery space.

 018. clean slate, a rather fitting name for her new business. the building was advertised as a space to be rented out for exhibits or events, funded in part by her parents. it was something to do, something to fill in the spaces of silence when she and diego ran out of things to talk about. somewhere to sit in the emptiness when it was lacking an exhibit. there was a small building connected to the space that housed a permanent rotation of local art and photography, offering prints at a price. it was a way for josephine to shine some light on local artists; it brightened her days enough to make them bearable. clean slate didn’t pull in the big bucks, but it was sufficient enough, and it was hers.

 019. unfortunately, that wasn’t built to last. not long after she turned 40, her father died of a heart attack. it was an unexpected and devastating blow that turned her world upside down for quite some time. it seemed like no one around her knew how to console her, what to say. it killed much of her spirit and motivation in ways that she hasn’t yet recovered.

 020. flash forward to now… josephine is going through somewhat of a midlife crisis, if you couldn’t tell from the convertible parked outside of her house that she just traded her old car in for. often times, diego doesn’t even sleep in their home. she has silently wondered where he goes all the time, but she wouldn’t dare to ask. there is perhaps a small part of her that doesn’t want to seem like the nagging wife, even if there is some growing resent that’s getting harder to ignore. josephine doesn’t want to admit that perhaps their marriage is over. that would mean admitting that she had wasted nearly half of her life, that she was going down the same path as her parents. no, she couldn’t do that… but that little need to self destruct is growing again, and she’s not quite sure how to stop it.

[ ! ] TLDR : was super loved and well cared for as a kid until her parents got divorced. has this need to self destruct that is ever-present, though art helps. got in trouble for stealing in her adolescence, ended up getting a bachelor’s degree in business administration. eventually opened up clean slate (an exhibition space) and is now in a failing marriage

p e r s o n a l i t y —

 001. josephine presents herself in a certain way to the outside world. while she is generally polite and sometimes soft spoken in public, she is incredibly spirited and has a raging fire inside of her. josephine sometimes needs some help breaking out of her shell, but when she does, she is a sight to behold. she is fun, wild, compassionate. this was mostly how she presented herself in her 20s, but as time went on, she began to feel buried and that nature of hers is now harder to access.

 002. her creativity and vivid imagination benefit her art in a variety of ways. josephine isn’t exactly known for being entirely rooted in reality; she is a bit out of touch and a bit out of it in general. she seeks more than this life could offer her, which is why she tries to escape through her art. there is a feeling that she possess that grows with time and encourages her to self destruct. when she listens to that feeling and takes action, it seems to quiet for a while. josephine is typically a patient person; the only time this isn’t the case is when she’s already very frustrated.

 003. it could be the multiple cups of coffee she consumes on the daily, but josephine is a pretty jittery person. she can appear on edge to people who don’t know her very well. josephine is generally very career oriented, especially when there’s a lack in her relationships, or in her life in general. her communication could certainly use some work, but josephine’s sympathetic and compassionate nature has made it so that building relationships with people aren’t too difficult for her. josephine has a hard time verbalizing her thoughts and emotions, so she is more likely to hide them.

about. statistics. headcanons. connections.

[s0dium]

Makeup Sex w/ Geto Suguru

Anonymous asked: Ever thought about what make up sex with geto would be like?

A/n: Oh god, things would get intense. Especially if you guys are just friends who both secretly have a crush on each other.

Warnings: Rough sex, masturbation, mutual pining, praise, fluff, daddy kink at the end 🥺

Artist credit @xxgojoxx on twitter

His brain is just filled with thoughts of you, you and only you. Fuck, is it just Geto or had the skirts you’d been wearing since the two of you argued got shorter. Before, the way he handled these urges was by touching you, throwing a friendly arm around your shoulder or patting you on the head, things that seemed platonic on the surface but always masked a deeper craving inside of him. He starts smoking more to replace the urge to seek you out and take in your sweet scent as he always did.

Not only this but Getos fantasies about you become more rough, like pushing your sobbing face into the mattress while he brutally fucks you from behind, basking in the way you scream and sob for him to let you cum until you finally do and spray all over the mattress.

You are also suffering the same amount he is. You find yourself slipping a hand into your panties late at night more often and moaning his name your pillow as your fingers desperately search for release.

It all starts piling up until neither you nor him can take it anymore and the two of you start to search each other out to confess your feelings, and when you finally do oh boy, you wont be walking for a bit.

~

“Oh god fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” you begged, hips long gone from obeying any command Geto could try to give you as you fucked yourself against his length. You dont even recognize your own voice anymore, but your too drunk on pleasure to care.

“Shit *hah* you drive me *hah* utterly fucking insane, you know that angel?” Geto manages to say in between thrusts but all you can do is sob at the feeling of his leaking tip hitting your cervix and filling you up to the brim with every sharp snap on his hips.

“I-”

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and the new angle has you screaming as he hits that gummy spot hidden deep inside of you.

“Fuck, found it didn't I” With a chuckle he lifts your leg a bit higher and pummels into you with a low groan. The sounds coming from his thrusts are filthy and wet, but barely audible due to your moans overtaking any type of noise. You hands come up to thread its fingers through Getos raven hair and you pull on it as your back starts to arch off the mattress.

“m’ so go good sugu dont stop please please!” You let out a choked gasp when you feel a sudden wave of hot searing pleasure course through your stomach. That wave caused another more intense wave of bliss to crash on you, and your legs shook vigorously as you opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out,

“There you, go. Look at you cumming all over daddys cock for him, so wet and pretty f-fuck”

~

The aftercare is just *chefs kiss*

Alot of confession of feelings, things the two of you have been wanting to say for a while

You just lay on his toned built, looking into eachothers eyes why he plays with your hair and tells you about all the times the two of you hung out together and what he was really thinking

“Shit y/n and remember that time we went to the ice cream place with Gojo and Shoko? I thought you looked so fucking cute with the bit of ice cream on your nose and how you tried to wipe it off with your tongue, i was lying when I said you looked stupid, really i wanted to kiss it off of you.”

You just have a stupid wide smile on your face the whole time becuase now he is actually yours, this perfect man is actually yours to love.

He carries your naked to the bathtub since your too weak to walk, and sits you between his legs in the tub as the warm water slowly fills the bath.

Everything smells like him, especially since your in his bathtub and he is washing your hair with his shampoo that smells like aromatic cinnamon infused with pine that intoxicates your senses.

Geto treats you like your made of glass, as if one wrong move will make you shatter into a million pieces.

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

[nocturnalazura]

Out of Curiosity

Todoroki Shoto x GN!reader (Afab)

Minors do not interact.

Warnings| 18+, Oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting and temperature play

“Hey I have a weird question for you.” You say suddenly pushing your boyfriend away from you slightly.

“Hmm?” He hums in reply, itching to get back to marking your neck.

“Can you change the temperature of your tongue?”

“Yeah, why?” Questions Shoto.

“Just wondering. So like the whole thing at once or just half?”

“The whole thing.”

“Oh uh that’s interesting .” You say shifting around on his lap.

Giving you a soft smirk he tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you back to him, his lips softly ghost over your neck. “Want me to show you?”

You think you give him some kind of noise of confirmation but once a soft puff of cold air hits your neck any noise you were about to make dies in your throat. His lips are cold against your neck but they do nothing to prepare you for the ice cold feeling of his tongue dancing across your neck. He traces cold little circles across the marks he left just minutes before soothing them, slowly he lets the temperature change back to it’s normal warmth. With a pleased smirk he lets his head rest against the back of the couch so he can get a clear view of your lust blown eyes.

“How’s it feel?” Questions Shoto.

“Good.” You whisper shakily.

“Good, now c’mon. I wanna try something.” He gives you no time to question him before he’s standing up with you in his arms. You quickly scramble to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. Climbing onto the bed on his knees before softly dropping you on the perfectly made bed. He looks down at you with an almost predatory gaze, his eyes dance along your body seemingly trying to decide what he wants to do. A soft ghost of a smirk crossing his face, long fingers wrap around the waistband of your pants, he raises an eyebrow at you waiting for you to give him permission.

When you give him a small nod he makes quick work of removing your clothing. Looking down at you he shakes his head and wraps his arms around you and flips the two of you over. You blink down at him owlishly as he adjusts himself below you. Hands grab at your ass to push you up his body.

“C’mon, up. You know where I want you.” Nodding at him you shuffle up to settle yourself above his face and wrap your fingers around the headboard. Like usual you're hesitant to lower yourself but he quickly wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you down onto him. “C’mere”

Warm lips quickly wrap around your clit sucking at it as you moan and let your head tip back. One hand drops from headboard to tangle in the soft strands of red and white hair. He moans hotly against your core when you let your head fall forward to look down at him. Shoto carefully lets his tongue caress your clit watching your face with darkened eyes. Pulling you down a little harder he shifts to let his tongue press into your now soaked entrance. His eyes narrow up at you cockily at how quick he can get you soaked with so little effort. Glaring down at him you tighten your legs around his head and forcefully suppress a loud moan as he groans directly into your soaked little cunt. His eyes suddenly darken as he looks up from between your legs.

Suddenly his fingers dig harshly into your thighs as if he’s trying to anchor you down to him. You start to give him a small questioning look when you feel it. The normal warmth of his tongue slowly fades as he cools it down. Shoto lets his cold tongue press into you, pushing it as far as he can in an attempt to press into your little spongy spot. You do your best to push up and wiggle away from the cold feeling but Shoto simply grunts and pulls you down even harder, smothering himself in your cunt.

“Hah cold, Shoto oh my god.”

Shoto pulls back slightly to lick a long cold strip up your slit to attack your clit. A harsh shiver racks through your body as the ice cold tip of his tongue swirls softly around your sensitive little nub. He works his tongue over you carefully, letting it slide down along the soft folds of your pussy as he lets the temperature even out again as he dips it back into your dripping entrance. Your legs quiver helplessly around his head as he licks into slowly changing the temperature as he goes, finally releasing his death grip on your thighs to allow you to grind against him.

“Shoto!” you moan out loudly as he focuses his mouth on your clit and press two fingers into you, biting into your lower lip you do your best to ignore the knot forming within you.

Every time you tug at his hair he can’t help but moan around your clit. Looking down at him you're met with gorgeous half lidded eyes as Shoto stares up at you. Pressing his fingers up and into that little spot inside of you he lets the temperature of both his mouth and fingers drop. Your fingers tighten in his hair causing him to let out a long groan forcing pleasure to shoot through your veins. The cold pads of his finger press further into you scissoring them slowly. The longer he teases the tip of his tongue around the harder you find it to fight off your impending end. Of course Shoto notices the way your hips jump and grind into him a little more and even the way your velvety walls begin to tighten around his fingers.

“You getting close, baby?” Shoto questions finally pulling his mouth away from your center and letting all the heat return to his body. “I can feel you getting tighter. You wanna cum around my fingers?”

“God yes.” You moan tipping your head back. You feel the hand on your thigh suddenly disappear and the soft sound of fabric moving around. Glancing over your shoulder slightly you watch as Shoto wraps his free hand around his cock and builds a quick pace to get him close to the edge to match you.

Grinning at your response he eagerly picks up the pace of his fingers switching the angle of his wrist ever so slightly until you lurch forward with a loud moan of his name, walls clenching rapidly around his fingers with every move they make. Now he knows he’s hitting the perfect spot inside of you to get what he wants. Taking a deep breath he wraps his lips around your clit one final time, sucking harshly before chilling his tongue and letting it lap over your hot sensitive clit. The sudden extreme change in temperature mixed with his finger hammering into causes the knot to finally reach its breaking point. Your legs shake helplessly as you gush around him unexpectedly, a small chant of what sounds like his name falls helplessly from your open mouth. Judging by the surprised moan he lets out from under you he wasn’t quite expecting you to squirt either. His fingers make loud wet squelching noises as he works through your orgasm and honestly you’d probably be embarrassed by the noise if you could manage the brain power to think. Pulling his fingers free he eagerly runs his tongue along your slit savoring the way you taste. He softly prods his tongue into you enjoying the soft whimper he receives in return.

When you begin to squirm around uncomfortably he pulls away from you fully letting you collapse onto the soft bedding next to him. Still lost in your haze you don’t notice him shifting you around until he’s gently tapping your face forcing you to look up at him. Your mouth drops open when you finally see him clearly, red and white hair a tangled mess from your hand but what really gets you is the slick dripping down his chin and his clearly soaked shirt.

“Holy shit that was hot.” He grunt before diving down to kiss you, he eagerly pushes his tongue into your mouth letting you taste yourself on him before pulling away and licking at his lips again.

“Yeah” you agree as you reach up to help sort out the mess of hair.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made you squirt that much before.” Says Shoto, a little too pleased with himself. Groaning in embarrassment you push his face away from you ignoring the small smile on his face as you turn red. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard or fast just from going down on you.”

“We um we can do that again one day right?” You hesitantly question.

“Definitely. Now c’mon we need a bath and new sheets.” He says getting up from the bed.

“Can you carry me? I can't feel my legs.”

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Heyhey! I think the cryo archon chlde one. Sorry for not being specific. Thank you

It's okay anon! No problem! This one has no smut and more murder couple and politics. I had fun writing this, thinking about how could you get kidnapped under lock and key and realized that it could only happen if it was allowed to so ta-da!

CW: descriptions of cruelty and gore.

The curse words, in order, are: bitch and whore

--

In a Quiet Lagoon, Devils Dwell

Summary: It was easy to forget that there was more to the Cryo Archon's face than a besotted husband and loving father. It was easier to forget that the beloved Tsaritsa was a dutiful Harbinger.

For all of Tartaglia’s meticulousness, he was not infallible as his worshippers made him to be. You knew that there were times he could be blindsided by things he didn’t take into consideration. As his wife, you took it upon yourself to ensure to cover for his blind spots, both in the battlefield and in running Snezhnaya. It required meticulous planning from both him and yourself, to ensure that the work would not interfere with your family’s life.

Tartaglia and his harbingers dealt with Snezhnaya’s foreign relations and problems. You dealt with the domestic problems; spies and dissidents that partnered with the Abyss Order, the occasional gods that wanted to dethrone Tartaglia, and on very rare occasions, traitors.

You cocked your head as you observed the room you were held in. Fine furnishings and lavish interior designs that were popular among the upper middle nobility of Snezhnaya. You were glad that your beloved son was with Tartaglia since it meant that you’d be able to get information out of this.

‘Well, at least before this reaches his ears’ You thought as you dreaded the bloodbath that would await you once this was over.

You stood up from the bed, gauging your current strength and frowning at the visible after effects of the drug.

“How troublesome”

You couldn’t locate your vision at your person, you applauded your captors for being thorough in that regard but pitied them for their worthless effort. You wobbled as you slowly walked around the room, inspecting the decors and checking out the windows. The door was locked with magic, you could tell with a cursory glance that the magic was intricate and would result into a backlash if opened with brute force.

‘Smart’ you praised them.

You moved to the windows and found the same magic. You sighed at the minor inconvenience this put you through. You could only forlornly stare at the white expanse of snow that was outside your window. The scenery was familiar to your eyes but its name eluded you.

‘And I wanted to welcome him when he returned.’

You sighed once more. Hoping that your captors would show themselves soon, you wouldn’t want to waste an opportunity to do some spring cleaning after all.

--

The moment Tartaglia returned to Zapolyarny Palace, the entire capital of Snezhnaya had drowned in his frosty wrath. He barely restrained himself from plunging the entire nation into frost, the thought of his darling son fearing him had kept him mostly sane. Pulcinella had taken his son away from the crime scene, a wise choice for the Harbinger if he wanted to keep on breathing.

Tartaglia could tell that the guards and maids stationed in your wing were all shaking. He spared no thought for them, postponing their inevitable demise for the kidnapping of his beloved wife.

“Your majesty” Dottore called from behind him.

Tartaglia kept on investigating the crime scene, scouring every detail so as to not miss any possible leads.

“The maids and guards have been questioned” Dottore reported, steeling himself to the cold hard stare of his Archon. Being subjected to it was suffocating, and he wondered how you could maintain eye contact with the Tsar when he was like this.

“I trust that you’ve brought me good news?”

The calmer Tartaglia was, the more pressure Dottore felt. His archon was fickle at best and volatile at worst. Most myths that surrounded him were almost never far from the truth and Dottore had no want nor need to be used as an example.

“Almost” He answered, “While we’ve yet to determine who is behind this attack we’ve narrowed down the list from the means used and there is ample reason to believe that the Tsaritsa has not been harmed.”

The silence was deafening. Dottore couldn’t wait to get out of Tartaglia’s warpath, seclude himself in his lab and experiment on the fools who had let this happen.

“Throw everyone stationed in this wing in the dungeons. Zapolyarny Palace will be in lock down” Tartaglia ordered as he moved out of your marital room and headed towards his former wing.

Dottore hastened to follow from behind, awaiting further orders now that the Tsar had made his move.

“Bring back everyone who entered and left the Palace. Those foolish nobles must have forgotten their place.”

For all of Tartaglia’s genial smiles and affable personality, it shouldn’t be forgotten that he was a man born to fight. One of the three archons from the original seven. A god who could stand toe to toe in the battlefield with Morax.

“As you command!” Dottore replied, face grim and yet he could not hide the excitement in his eyes. He had heard rumors, stories about the days when the entirety of the Snezhnayan ancient noble houses were almost culled in a blood bath.

There was no clear reason on why it had happened and no one dared to ask. But the one detail that remains in every iteration of the story was that the blood from those nobles were the reason for the odd patterns on the low parts of the wall of old establishments within the capital. Patterns that oddly resembled blood stains when seen from a certain angle.

--

You hummed as you saw the snow storm picking up from outside, a visible sign that Tartaglia had already learned your disappearance. You remained at your position by the window, back turned to the door as you listened to the rushing footsteps that were getting closer.

‘I do hope they can amuse me’ You thought just as the doors banged open behind you.

“How did you contact the Tsar?!”

‘Oh~ so it was them?’ You thought with mild amusement, you didn’t bother turning around to greet them.

“Is that the proper tone to use when speaking to your Tsaritsa?” You mocked them, eyes watching their angry face from the window’s reflection.

Behind you was the Count Potemkin, current head of the ancient noble House of Potemkin. Standing beside him was one of your former fiancé candidates, the heir apparent, Matvei.

“Answer me, you disgusting Сука!” Potemkin cursed making his way towards you.

You slowly turned around, a smile on your face just as he reached out to grab you. Before he could even breach your personal space his hand was pierced by ice protruding from the ground. He screamed in agony, clutching his arms as he squealed like a pig.

“Gosh, would you lower your voice? It’s unbecoming for such an ancient bloodline to act like an animal” You chastised as you took a step back and observed the damage.

“Ah, what a shame, I didn’t break your wrist at all” You commented as if you had not precisely calculated to pierce his hand through the most excruciating way.

“You Блять! Let my father go!” Matvei cursed as he struggled on his restraint “You’re no match for our family’s knights!”

You blinked at his words, tilting your head to the side, as if considering his words. He smirked on seeing your action, “That’s right! Even if you’re a harbinger you’re still just one person!”

“Would you stop squealing like a pig? It’s been minutes now, you should have gotten used to the pain!” You turned around to shut Count Potemkin’s mouth. Ice formed on his mouth, starting from the tongue and making its way outwards.

“Ah~ That’s better!” You ignored the pale looks from the father and son, “If you behave, I might just let you keep your mouth but if your son keeps on pissing me off…”

You trailed off, maintaining eye contact with the Count. Your eyes were filled with malice and sadism, “My hand will slip and blow your brains out~”

You smiled, sweet and disgustingly vile as you made your way to the couch and sat in it. The snow storm outside had turned stronger, hail fell through the skies, mixing with the rapidly falling snow. Just from that alone, you could tell that your time to wring out information from them was running out.

“What reason did you have to attempt something as stupid as this?” You asked as you formed ice shards that floated on top your fingertips.

Matvei remained silent.

“Not talking anymore?” Every move of your body was designed to mock them, a display of power that showed how easy it was for you to trample upon them, “I just remembered, the Count was raising his precious daughter outside wasn’t he? A pretty blonde child with green eyes…”

Matvei flinched and stared at you in horror, dread pooling in the pits of his stomach as you spoke,

“Inessa Yakova Potemkin” You laughed softly, “No wonder the Countess died of anger, her dear stupid husband had acknowledge his bastard child, sent her to the palace to be a handmaiden.”

“Imagine what kind of face the Tsar would make if he knew how the Potemkin family insulted me by sending an illegitimate child as a handmaiden” Your ice changed its shape into a dagger, “Even if House Potemkin is an ancient bloodline, it doesn’t erase that your house is lower than my duchal household.”

Matvei screamed in pain as your dagger cleanly sliced off his left ear. You smiled at them coldly, “Start speaking, you should know by now that any resistance would only lead to a painful death...I can’t guarantee your darling sister would be spared from it either.”

In another life, you wouldn’t threaten another’s family. You would have shown mercy but this wasn’t that life. You were the Tsar’s wife, a Harbinger, and most of all the child of Snezhnaya’s strongest ducal house. A slight against you was a slight against everything you stood for.

“Time’s running” You reminded Matvei.

“We couldn’t let you threaten the Tsar’s power! You’re Lord Pulcinella’s niece, a child of House Yusupov. We needed to remove you from the seat of power, at first we planned to get rid of your child but all of our attempts were foiled.”

Another dagger found its way to his thigh. He screamed in pain, wet stain growing on his crotch and you clicked your tongue in disdain.

“Please that’s all we know!”

This time blood spurted out from his father’s left shoulder, some of it landing on you, some on the table in front of you. You didn’t flinch, merely wiping the blood that landed on your face with your gloved hand.

“Father!”

“Let’s do this again, shall we?” You smiled.

“I-I really don’t-”

Spikes of ice burst out from his right thigh.

“Duke Izmaylov! It was him who planned all of this! Duchess Tolstoy funded the operations! Please spare me!”

“How disappointing” You sighed as you made his father’s eyes burst.

You sneered in disgust as Matvei vomited on the marble tiles in front of him. You looked up as you heard heavy footsteps and the sounds of scream echoing beyond the open doors. Moments later, Tartaglia was visibly walking towards you from the other end of the hallway.

“Ah. Time’s up.”

You stood up from the couch and made your way towards your husband, the Tsar, Tartaglia. His cold eyes melted and looked upon you with relief, his hands patted your body, looking for non-existent injuries. You let him do as he pleased, both of you ignoring the dying count and the vomiting Matvei.

“I came as fast as I could” Tartaglia burrowed his face on your neck, ignoring the discomfort from the height difference between the two of you “I thought I’ve lost you.”

You felt your heart ache at his tone, your arms automatically hugging him in comfort, laying a soft kiss to his cheek as you spoke, “I’ll make sure that will never happen.”

You signaled the Fatui waiting behind him to start rounding up the two.

“We’ll have to clean up Two ducal households and five Countdoms” You reported as you gently and comfortably let Ajax’ hand settle on your waist as he led you out of the mansion.

“I’ll handle that. You should take a rest with Teucer, our son was worried today.” Ajax replied as softly as he could but the tenseness had yet to fade away.

You leaned further into his embrace, “Mhm. By the way, the insider was Inessa, you should get rid of all the staff that had a relationship with her. It wouldn’t do if one of her lovers got the idea to avenge her.”

“As you wish.”

--

Three months later the public bore witness to a new cruelty of the Cryo Archon. At Krasnaya Square, a stage was set up, in it were the shackled and chained members of several noble households. Some from the ancient noble houses, and the others from the new nobles.

Tartaglia had intentionally spread the news of your capture and subsequent rescue. He wanted to make a show of power, one you approved of, if only to ensure that his plans for world domination and eventual downfall of Celestia would run smoothly.

Teucer, your 5 yr old son, sat on your lap watching the proceedings from the balcony area. The two of you were surrounded by Fatui guards, new ones. The entire area was secured and security was tight, there was no way a rescue for the condemned would occur.

Tartaglia had made sure of that.

“Close your eyes, dearest” You whispered to your son’s ears.

From below, all of the traitors had blood bursting out of their heads, spikes protruding from the inside of their brains as Pulcinella finished declaring their crimes and their sentence. You hummed a soft tune as Teucer asked, “Mamochka, can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet dearest, not until Papa comes back.”

You gazed down at the crowd, watching as they rejoiced at the culling before your eyes were drawn at the corner. You smiled at the familiar blonde hair of Inessa, your eyes merciless as she stared at you with hatred.

'Ah, how she must have looked like once she realize all of it was a sham~'

You waved at the crowd from the balcony, pleased that the nobles would now learn to step back in line. You felt your husband’s stare and gave him a loving look.

“Mamochka?”

You sighed in fond exasperation, you figured that he could look now that the bodies were being carted away, “You can open them now, give Papa and the rest a good wave okay?”

Teucer did as you said, more cheers erupting from the crowd upon seeing their beloved Tsarevich waving at them. From his position below, Ajax smiled warmly at the sight of his family being safe and sound. The sun shined brightly in Snezhnaya’s eternal winter.

An auspicious sign from their Cryo Archon.

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[lovehugsandcandy]

just close enough (Logan x MC, RoD)

A/N: I am sorry, I have been very out of touch. I apologize for not responding to tags and chats. Things haven’t been great and I am surprised that I have anything for rodaw. Please keep tagging me on your stuff!

Pairing: Logan x MC, ROD

Length: ~1700 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (sorry, in rereading this, yeah, you probably shouldn’t read this at work)

Summary: Distance can be measured in miles and inches, and none of it is too far for Logan to travel.

.

He’s almost asleep, sliding into the hazy space between full alertness (how he spends every waking moment) and complete unconsciousness (where any dream he regretfully remembers is from a past best totally forgotten). The couch cushions are rough along his spine, spring digging into a shoulder blade, but he’s slept in worse places. He’s almost blessedly asleep, darkness warm and welcoming and-

“Logan?”

His eyes fly open and he jolts up, instantly awake. The room is in shadows, light of the moon filtering through the LA smog, bathing his surroundings in a sleepy glow. He turns his head; other than the call of his name, the loft is quiet, still. With a lifetime spent attuned for threats, he can sense that the calm in the air signals safety.

“Logan?” she slurs again, voice tinged with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He blinks, squinting over at the lump under his sheets. “What?”

“You’re too far away. Come here.”

God, he wants that, more than anything. In the daylight, when the corners of the shop gleam sharp and lethal, he knows it is too dangerous to get close. That distance is the one thing that will save her from mistakes he has spent a lifetime making and atoning for. But here, in the stillness of night, when the scratching fabric chafes his back and the siren in his bed calls, he feels his resolve weaken, scattering in shards to the floorboards to join the dust and grime underneath.

He pads over, the rhythm of his footsteps matching the soft sigh of her breath, and cautiously perches on the mattress, giving her a beat to reconsider before he swings his legs over and slides under the covers. She is soft and warm, coconut and sunshine next to his grease and oil, and she rolls over to edge soft on his side.

“Close enough?” he asks into the curls pillowing over his shoulder.

“Mmh… almost.” 

He chuckles as he catalogues the space between them, an inch where her waist curves concave from his, a rumpled barrier of fabric where her feet are entangled. They could barely be closer, but somehow, he still agrees with Ellie. 

The smile is still on his face as he drifts off into a contented sleep.

~~~~~

He’s not used to being in the passenger seat. 

The view is different here, shifted, the rows of parked cars tilted and angled askew, but he sat relaxed, legs splayed and hair catching the wind the entire way. It’s a testament to her driving; she’s brilliant behind the wheel, beaming with every acceleration, leaning into every curve, and he can tell - she finds the call of the road freeing, just like he does. She’s come a long way from the shy bookworm whose path he stepped in front of. It’s barely been a few weeks, but it feels like forever.

He wishes it could go on forever.

He inhales harshly through his nose, recalling the day they met, the hushed conversations that preceded it. She deserves to know the truth and here, parked in this lot waiting on a disconcertingly mysterious job, seems like the perfect place to tell her.

But before he can find the words, she turns, fixing him with a devious smirk.

“Come here.” Her finger beckons and, just past it, a devious smirk glows in the multicolor shades alight from the dash. 

“What do you…”

“Come here. You’re too far away.”

He leans forward, and the center console digs into his ribs. It doesn’t matter, not when she tugs on a strand of hair to pull him closer, so close he can map the lines of her smile with an intensity usually saved for fuel intake lines and racetracks. “Better?”

“Nope.”

He inches forward. “How about now?”

“Nope.” Her voice is teasing, soft, a whisper of air against his lips, the tingling of excitement before the fall.

He’s completely in her space, so close he can’t see beyond the dark of her eyes, the apples of her cheeks. There is no world beyond the girl in the driver’s seat. “Now?”

“... almost.” She breathes the response into his mouth as their lips finally meet; he realizes with a start that he will never be closer to anyone, here in this stadium parking lot, with his hands tangled in her hair and poisonous secrets in his heart.

Even when they are close as can be, he still feels the distance.

~~~~~

Logan’s just catching his breath, skating a shaking palm over her side. “Are you ready?” The words make him pause.

“No.” He blinks at her as she rests against the pillow in Vaughn’s spare bedroom, hair spilling down against the pillow; the strands curl around his finger as he absentmindedly runs his fingers in a tense pattern. He could never be ready for this, to see the one person he ever trusted, the one person he ever loved, race for their freedom on a pitch-black highway.

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“I know.” 

“Logan, we need to do this.” She props herself up on her elbow, and his heart falls.

“I know. I just… I hate the thought of not being with you, not being able to protect you.” 

She blinks down at him, and his fingers reach up to tangle in one graceful coil of hair strands soft on the pads on his fingers. “You know I can drive.”

“Of course, Troublemaker, I’ve seen you drive. I just… I don’t want you to be in danger. I hate that you’re going to be out there where I can’t help you.”

“I’ll be too far away?”

“Yeah.” For as close at they are now, where he can catalogue the distance between them (millimeters between his shoulder and hers, three inches between their lips, and no distance at all where his cock is just stirring, again, into the soft skin of her stomach), he knows that the waiting, the space on the highway --- it will wreck him.

She smiles, faintly, distantly, her eyes echoing his own pain. “I’m here right now.”

“You are.” He spins, hand on her hip pushing until he is over her, legs intertwined, fingertips around her waist, every inch of them aligned and in sync. “And I’m going to make the most of it.”

~~~~~

You’re too far away.

The words are high in the wind and he whips his head around frantically, as memories collide with the storm brewing outside. The first flake is a shock, pelting his forehead in an icy portent and, mere seconds later, the grey clouds above part in a mass of ice and slush.

It never snowed in LA.

Logan cranes his neck up to feel the full brunt of the storm hammer his face, each frosty blast a jolting reminder of how far he traveled from the last few months, the distance between him and his old stomping ground washed away as the frozen water melts over his face, droplets pouring down his brow and drenching his hair.

His face is frozen when he steps back into the shop, some run-down shithole he found in inner-city Detroit. Here, locals don’t ask questions, and there are no reminders of the mentor who was almost like a father and the girl who was almost like forever.

This time, they are miles and days and utter lives apart, and he worries that nothing on the earth will bring them together again.

~~~~~

The years flow like molasses. Fall edges into winter, which thaws into spring and heats into summer, and then it starts all over again, punishing, never ending.

The cities stack up almost as easily. After Detroit, it’s Miami, then Houston, a long stretch in Nashville before Milwaukee calls and then, finally, to the East Coast. He stops for a spell in DC, walking through shaded paths as the cherry blossoms sway above him. The pink defies imagination. He’s used to vehicle-grade candy paint, each car brighter and more audacious than the last, a parade of vibrant neons and sultry veneers that spin rainbows around tracks. 

This pink is soft, petals even softer against his fingertips, and Logan feels an irrational stab of guilt for the calluses that dare grace the blossoms swaying in the wind. His dark past makes him unworthy to touch such beauty and, as he watches the petals flutter to the ground, he thinks of another beauty that slipped through his fingers.

He stays for a few months, enough to learn the grid of southeast DC and the bisecting avenues, but then spring tiptoes into summer. He’s used to the sun but the goddamn humidity makes his hair pouf into patterns he knows gentle fingers would soothe, so he heads north.

It’s a quick drive, the four lanes of 95 providing ample room to swerve and fly; he imagines another car with another driver speeding down these roads.

Finally, the wheels lead him to New York, where he trembles on a doorstep under flickering lights in this apartment building, fighting up five floors where every step made him want to vomit.

He breathes through his nose. He didn’t come all this way (trans versing the United States, multiple times, him and the Devore burning miles and gas but subsisting on memories and love) for nothing. His fingers shake and he rings the doorbell.

When it opens, she looks just as she does in his memory, eyes warm and bright, smile breaking out over the apples of her cheeks. His heart leaps.

“Logan?”

“Hi,” he breathes. He had been unsure of his reception but now, with her blinking up serenely at him, the years fade away and he’s brought back to the moment in front of her fathers house, watching the tears pool in her eyes and wishing futility on every star that life could be different.

They move at the same time; she jumps forward, and he pulls her in and their lips meet as if no time had passed, as if they had never been apart, as if distance were meaningless in the troublemaker's face who stole his heart.

 “Close enough now?” He beams at her, smile so wide it hurts, cheeks pinching unfamiliarly, and he never wants to leave her side.

Her answering smile shines brighter than any shooting star he’s seen, and he knows he is right where he needs to be. “Finally.”

.

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[marshmallow-xphile]

My thoughts on the sexuality of some of my favorite X-files characters.

I posted this in my X-files amino back in June as part of a LGBTQ pride challenge and for some reason I only just thought to post it here as well.

Fox Mulder: openly bisexual

Mulder is so open sexually that I really don't think gender matters all that much to him. He does seem to prefer females but I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if he had a boyfriend or two in the past. I don't think he's flamboyant about his sexuality but I don't think he'd hide it at all either

My evidence:

In the season one episode "Ghost in the Machine" we meet an Mulder's ex-partner, Jerry, and I absolutely feel like there is an ex-lovers vibe to the both of them. They hug upon first seeing each other, Mulder looks incredibly happy to see him, when Mulder says they worked together Jerry corrects him to say they were partners at which point Mulder looks over at Scully as if to see her reaction. Mulder has this real guilty look to him. When Jerry acts a little self conscious Mulder is real quick to jump in and reassure him. They get in each other's personal space. It just really leaves me with the impression that they care deeply for one another and broke up for other reasons, perhaps the different career goals as Mulder tells Scully.

We also have Mulder with Krycek. From the very beginning of Krycek's involvement with the X-files I feel like the writers went out of their way to make a correlation between the change in partnership and a new partner in a relationship. There is a scene in Sleepless where Mulder and Scully are on the phone and Mulder tells Krycek he'll be right there, the rest of the conversation feels reminiscent of two exes chatting about the change brought about by the new relationship. Scully even brings up that it must be nice having a partner who doesn't question his every theory.

There were many scenes in Sleepless, Duane Barry, and Ascension in which Mulder and Krycek were alone but that we never got to see who knows for example what the two of them got to talking about while they were stuck in traffic during the drive to New York in Sleepless. Or how often they hung out between Sleepless and Duane Barry.

During Mulder and Scully's partnership Mulder only called her 'Dana' on a few emotional occasions. He started casually calling Krycek 'Alex' almost immediately.

Let us not forget the infamous speedo scene. While yes it definitely showed more of a Krycek attraction to Mulder than the opposite. It does make one wonder what led him to wear such a revealing bathing suit. How many straight men do you know who wear speedos? My guess is few. How many straight men wear speedos when they can reasonably assume their male partner will show up looking for them? Not many would be guess.

And then there is their relationship after Krycek is revealed to be a traitor. They both tend to act more like scorned lovers than enemies and notice that it's Mulder, not Krycek, who cannot seem to keep his hands off the other. Seriously it's like every time Krycek shows up, Mulder immediately grabs him.

Now here's a couple quotes from Mulder,

Krycek tells Mulder he most be losing it because Krycek beat him with one hand. Mulder's immediate reaction: "isn't that how you like to beat yourself?"

When the little man in Humbug is lined up pretty much exactly with Mulder's crotch he says that Mulder would be surprised how many women find his size alluring. Mulder's immediate reaction: "you'd be surprised how many men do as well"

How many straight guys do you know comfortable enough with their sexuality to make a gay innuendo? I personally cannot think of any.

Dana Scully: bicurious

I believe that Scully is sometimes attracted to women. It definitely is not as blatant as with Mulder and I really don't think she's had any past girlfriends but I definitely think that there is an attraction.

My evidence:

In the episode "Ice" I really felt like there are a few tender moments between her and Felicity Huffman's character especially while they were examining one another for the worms. That examination had a sort of sexual energy to it I thought.

In the episode "kill switch" theres a moment where the Invisagoth asked if she could have her handcuffs removed or if she should type with her tongue. Mulder mentions that she doesn't want a vote there and the look on Scully's face and the way she licks her lips, I definitely get the impression that she would have been perfectly happy to see what Invisagoth could get up to with that tongue.

Some people point to Scully's relationship with Reyes as evidence of her bisexuality, I personally don't see any attraction there on Scully's side but I don't think its outside the realm of possibility.

Monica Reyes: Closeted lesbian

This one's probably a surprise I know there was something between here and Brad as well as a flirtation with Doggett so you would probably think she was Bisexual but honestly was either one of those even remotely convincing? To me they weren't. I believe that Reyes is a lesbian.

I kind of go back and forth on whether she's open about it. Reyes is very spiritual and open so it seems strange that she would be in the closet but maybe she has a reason, fear of it affecting her career in the FBI perhaps? It just seems strange that she keeps pursuing these heterosexual relationships she has no passion for unless she is trying to hide her true passion.

My evidence:

I admit I really have very little evidence but look at the relationship between Reyes and Brad Follmer. It had all the chemistry of two people who got really drunk once and cannot remember sleeping together. I don't for a second believe she was ever in love with Brad nor he in love with her.

Then you've got the same thing between her and Doggett. Yes the writers were obviously trying for a romantic angle with the two of them but to me it never came across as convincing. It seemed more like she thought of him as a good friend and figured she might as well date him, I saw no evidence of love or attraction.

On the other hand look at her and Scully. While I feel like the attraction there was one sided I definitely feel like Reyes was into Scully or Dana as she would call her. Reyes was willing to risk her life for Scully and yes that is her job after all but Reyes seems to take that above and beyond and it's not just Scully herself but also William. Look at how protective Reyes is of William in The Truth and of the sacrifice Scully made in giving him up. She seems to care even more than Mulder on that.

Cigarette-Smoking-Man: Asexual

CSM has probably had sex at some point, he is of course the father of at least three children but I do not think that he was ever in love with any of these women or even attracted to them. I believe they were all just a means to an end.

I believe that CSM's only love was for his cigarettes

Evidence:

There is a little bit of evidence that he might have actually felt something for Teena Mulder but I don't buy it. He freely admits that he felt nothing for Cassandra Spender but he must've been convincing if he got her to marry him and we have seen him fake emotions more than once. He also seemed to show an attraction to Scully in En Ami but that too was just a means to an end. Perhaps he does feel something towards all the women he has impregnated but I wouldn't call it love. I don't see any real attraction there either. My bet is that CSM needed some "help" in order to produce his offspring.

Alex Krycek: Gay

While Krycek did have an obviously sexual relationship with Marita Covarrubias he definitely didn't have any real feelings for her and I don't buy attraction either. No I'd say they were both just trying to use sex to get what they wanted. His anger at finding the Russian boy gone wasn't because he was heartbroken at her betrayal. Merely mad that she'd managed to get the upper hand.

Whether Krycek is open or in the closet I'm not sure, I'm thinking it probably depends on the mission hes on at the time.

Evidence:

Of everyone on this list I'd say Krycek is the one I'm the most sure of. There is no doubt in my mind that Krycek was attracted to, perhaps even in love with, Fox Mulder. From the very beginning there appeared to be a bit of longing in his eyes.

There was the speedo scene wherein Krycek was definitely checking Mulder out. There were several scenes where Krycek could've killed Mulder but chose to help him instead.

As I've seen pointed out before, Krycek's crazy motivational choices don't make any sense at all unless it's all in an effort to be around Mulder more.

Look at his sense of style and his obvious love for lip gloss. I am not saying that straight men cannot love lip gloss and dress themselves in Krycek's fashion but it is uncommon and it was especially so back in the 90s

The infamous kiss in The Red and the Black could certainly be explained away as some kind of Russian custom but it isn't one that I am aware of and he hasn't really shown any other signs of his Russia heritage.

I would say my best evidence of Krycek's sexuality is in Essence and Existence, just look at the look on Krycek's face when Mulder trusts him to protect Scully. Krycek knows what Scully means to Mulder and then look at how seriously Krycek takes the job! I definitely feel like that moment meant a lot to him and he would have protected Scully with his life for Mulder.

There's also the fact that Krycek's unwillingness to kill Mulder lead to his own death.

Of course asking Skinner to shoot Mulder goes against this theory but I do have a couple thoughts on that, the most sensical being that he knew there was no chance Skinner would shoot Mulder and he probably knew there was no chance he would survive anymore. Maybe he made that request in hopes of sparing Mulder any pain he might have otherwise felt at his death (I know it's a bit of a stretch but my other theories require a long explanation of my thoughts on where the series had planned to go next)

The lone gunmen: no one knows....not even them

Three (I don't count Jimmy for this) single adult men who all live together in very cramped quarters and are, at least in Langley's case, perfectly happy to be around each other without thier clothes on certainly makes it seem like there's something between them all but I really don't get a overtly gay impression with any of them, even Langley who as mentioned doesn't like to wear pants and is the only one who hasn't had a love interest. They just have this sort of Vegas-esque thing. "What happens in the bachelor pad/newspaper room stays in the bachelor pad/newspaper room.

I would love to hear other people's thoughts on these and any other X-files characters you think might be somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum.

[beautiful-and-terrible]

dazed ’n’ confused (part 2)

A/N: omg this part was so much longer than i ancitipated sorry T__T and i promise in part 3 we will get some fun stuff ;)

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x OFC

Warnings: none (for this chapter)

---

The whole day, Nicole was distracted. She sat in her lifeguard chair, biting her nails, eyes concealed by her sunglasses and gazing at nothing. The pool manager ended up telling her off because she let multiple people dive off the board at the same time. She was a mess on the way home, too. She stopped at her favorite gas station to get slushy and almost left her bike behind, aimlessly wandering toward her house before she remembered she hadn’t walked there in the first place.

She got home and hopped in the shower, rinsing off the sunscreen and sweat, trying to forget how warm Rodrick’s hands felt under her own, how she had been close enough to smell laundry detergent and cinnamon gum. His dark eyes and full lips. 

She almost slipped getting out of the shower.

She tried to write music and get him off her mind, but all of her songs ended up sounding sad and sappy or slow and sultry. It was maddening.

The next day, Saturday, Nicole woke up more irritated than usual. She normally wasn’t a morning person, but this was next level. She did her makeup quickly and threw her hair into a pair of messy french braids. She decided to treat herself to an ice coffee, so she grabbed her wallet and headed outside to her bike.

Despite it being 9:30 in the morning, Rodrick was already outside… mowing grass? Nicole had never once seen him do that before. Giving him a short wave, she coasted down her driveway and headed into town toward the Starbucks. 

As she stopped at the sign at the end of their street, she looked back. Rodrick was looking in her direction, but Nicole shook away the thought that he could’ve been staring. She looked both ways quickly before pedaling quicker than she had before.

The Starbucks was about a 20 minute bike ride from her house, and Nicole usually took this time to listen to a podcast or her favorite album. This morning, she chose “Dr. Feelgood” by 

Motley Crue - she was a sap, sue her. She liked to remember the little things about people. She definitely recognized the chord progressions and drum patterns replicated in Loded Diper’s songs - at least, the songs that she had heard muffled through the garage door as she hung her head out her window to listen.

A short time later, Nicole hopped off her bike and locked it in place, skipping with anticipation for the sweetest, creamiest ice coffee she could get her little hands on. She walked up to the cashier, browsing the menu quickly.

“Hi, Welcome to Starbucks - what can I get started for you?”

“I’ll do a iced caramel macchiato with almond milk and light ice, please.”

“For sure, anything else?”

“No, thanks,” Nicole said, pulling out a five dollar bill and some ones.

“Hey, aren’t you new in town? You came into school at the end of the semester.”

Nicole looked up at the cashier, just now noticing what she looked like. She was cute in a pixie, petite kind of way, with short brown hair and big green eyes. If Nicole hadn’t been so enamored with Rodrick, she probably would’ve developed a big whopping crush on this girl, too.

“Yeah, I’m Nicole. You go to PVH, too?”

“I’m Caitlin - we were in bio together, I think.” Nicole wracked her brains, thinking back to the last bit of school she could remember.

“Oh, right, we partnered up a couple times.” Nicole said, smiling.

“Hey, if you want, a couple of friends and I are having a party tonight. You should come,” Caitlin said, flashing a dimpled smile. Nicole felt her tummy flip - mostly from excitement, and the elation of feeling included by her peers.

“For sure, just text me the number.” Nicole wrote down her number on a hot beverage sleeve and slid it towards Caitlin.

“Cool, see you then. Oh, and your drink will be right over there.”

“Thanks.”

Biting her lip to keep from grinning like a crazy person, Nicole moved down the divided counter to wait for her drink. The whole bike ride home she couldn’t help thinking that maybe moving to this town wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The day ended up not being as horrifically hot as yesterday, and Nicole’s mood had improved significantly after a heavy dose of caffeine.

But, when she rounded the corner back onto her street, Rodrick was still outside, mowing the lawn. And lord have mercy, for such a skinny looking boy, he had some seriously toned arms. Nicole almost crashed her bike into the curb, narrowly avoiding spilling her drink all over herself. She rode past him up her own driveway without acknowledging him, even though this time he was the one who waved to her. Payback for flaunting his ridiculous arms in front of her at 10:30 in the morning.

She went inside to change into her bathing suit and the usual denim shorts she wore over them. She didn’t need to leave for work for another hour, so she plugged her electric guitar into the amp in her room and fiddled around with learning some Motley Crue riffs that she remembered from her morning bike ride. Nicole wasn’t a prodigy by any means, but she had been playing guitar for long enough that she knew the basic chord structure of most of their popular songs. 

As she stood up to slip on her black converse, she saw her phone had lit up with a text. Unknown number.

“Hey, its Caitlin :) the address is 460 Norfolk Drive. Party starts @ 10!”

Nicole did a little dance. “Cool, I’ll be there :)” she texted back, and ran down the stairs back to the garage to get her bike again. She was so excited by the idea of hanging out with people her age that she almost didn’t see Rodrick leaning against his own bike at the end of her driveway.

“Your lawn looks good,” Nicole teased as she rode by. If Rodrick had any snarky reply, she was gone before she heard it. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him standing with his mouth agape. She laughed to herself before starting her regular route to the city pool.

Not long after she started her shift, perched in her lifeguard chair with the umbrella angled to deflect the worst of the sun, Rodrick showed up with his two friends. They seemed to be attached at the hip. One was shorter than Rodrick, with long, surfer-style blonde hair, and one was about Rodrick’s height, with short dark hair and a cool slit in his eyebrow. 

Nicole was glad her sunglasses were dark enough to not see her eyes, because she definitely would’ve been caught staring by now. Rodrick wasn’t muscular by any means, or athletic, but there was still something cute and boyish about his gangly frame, and the way his shoulder muscles flexed when he took his shirt off was… for lack of a better word, distracting.

The first couple of hours passed uneventfully, and Nicole started to doze in her chair, chin propped up on her hand. The combination of warm sun and cool breeze lull her into a half-awake state. It was adult swim, so there weren’t any kids to worry about. She could close her eyes for a few minutes and…

She heard him before she saw him. The signature sound of the diving board being bounced once, twice, and then…

Nicole was doused in freezing cold water.

The huge splash covered both sides of the pool, high enough to reach her in her life guard chair. Moaning with displeasure, Nicole wrenched her sunglasses off her face and pointed an accusing finger at the grinning boy in the water. Fucking Rodrick.

“You’re dead, you little shit.” Nicole growled, and left her sunglasses on the seat of her lifeguard chair before diving in the pool.

The cool water enfolded her, silky and calm, before she came up under Rodrick and unleashed all hell. Still under water, she grabbed his ankles to pull him down. She heard his shout of alarm before it transformed into bubbles.

Underwater, her vision was blurred, but Nicole could still see Rodrick laughing and the dark outline of his eyes. She found herself laughing too as they briefly wrestled and tried to drag the other farther underwater before they both broke the surface, gasping for air.

“Okay, okay mercy,” Rodrick gasped as Nicole wound her arms around his neck in a headlock.

“Stay off the diving board, or I’ll make you drink the kiddy pool water.”

“Oh my god, kids pee in there!”

“Exactly,” Nicole laughed before shoving him away, though it wasn’t very aggressive considering the water softened the blow. Rodrick was still laughing behind her.

“Damn, if I get that kind of a reaction every time I jump in the pool, maybe I’ll do it for a living,” he called after her.

Nicole dunked her head under water once more to adjust her hair before climbing out of the deep end on the latter, electing to ignore that last comment. Now that she was back in her life guard chair, she couldn’t believe how impulsive she had been. Some kind of instinct took over and before she knew it, she had been flying out of her chair to give Rodrick a taste of his own medicine.

And now that she was thinking about it even more, the more embarrassed she became. Oh God, had she been super obvious? And more than that, had she been unprofessional?

She looked around the pool to see if her manager was watching - luckily, no sign of him. Most of the other pool guests weren’t paying that much attention either, except Rodrick’s friends, who were still laughing hysterically as Rodrick dried himself off by shaking his hair like a wet dog.

Nicole had touched more of Rodrick than she had the other day when they accidentally touched hands. Way more of him. Not that she exactly remembered the feeling of every limb, but the contact still made her feel more than a little weak in the knees.

They didn’t even know each other that well! What was she thinking!

Nicole spent the rest of her shift biting her nails anxiously, and when her co-worker came to switch chairs she ran to hide in the employee lounge next to the girls bathrooms.

By the time five o’clock came, she had calmed down a little bit, but was still embarrassed by her frankly juvenile behavior. She helped clean up the pool area by hosing it down and picked up some left over trash before heading to her bike.

And, because Nicole had maybe the worst (or best, it was hard to say) luck in the world, Rodrick was waiting for her.

“Figured I could ride home with you, since you like being near me so much,” Rodrick called as she approached. Nicole groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to get near you if you didn’t a) act like a child, and b) violate pool rules.”

“I’m pretty sure “almost drawing a patron” counts as violating pool rules, Nikky.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nicole spat with no real heat behind it.

“If you’re gonna ride home with me, you’re gonna pay for my slushy,” Nicole called over her shoulder as she started pedaling away.

“Ooo, is this a date?” Rodrick laughed, and Nicole flipped him off without looking. “C’mon, I thought we were getting along since I fixed your tire?”

Nicole, tired of the banter and not able to think of a better response, decided to take mercy on him.

“No… no. We’re cool. I’d rather have my dumb neighbor as a friend than no one at all.”

Rodrick pulled up next to her on his bike, tongue peeking between his teeth as he tried to suppress a grin. “Yeah, you seem cool. At least, your music taste isn’t completely horrible.”

“Oh, and yours is perfect, I’m assuming?” 

“Naturally,” Rodrick said, pedaling faster to pull a wheelie in front of her, obviously trying to show off. In all honesty, it was a pretty cool trick - but Nicole would never tell him that. The evening was cooling down, but the sun was still a couple hours from setting, so everything had a deep golden glow - the trees seemed greener, and the grass softer, and random birds would occasionally chirp from deep within the woods. The world felt alive and wonderful and terribly, terribly exciting.

“So, why the hell did you move to Plainview?” Rodrick asked. 

“Wasn’t like it was my choice. My Dad got a new job, and my Mom works from home so she can take care of us - so me and my two little sisters just got the short end of the straw.”

“You have sisters?” 

“Yeah, Caroline and Georgia. Do you have siblings?”

Rodrick rolled his eyes, “Yeah, two shit head little brothers, Greg and Manny. Well, Manny isn’t really a shit head, ‘cause he’s like three, but I know he will be once he hits four.”

Nicole laughed. They were nearing the gas station she liked to get slushies from, so she suddenly started pedaling faster and yelled behind her, “First one there buys!”

She narrowly made it there before him, laughing at his red face and shaking legs as he dismounted his bike.

“No one should be that fast,” he panted, but smiled as he opened the door for her. 

The blast of air conditioning felt good on Nicole’s heated skin, and she made a B-line for the slushy machine.

“Blue raspberry is the obvious best choice,” Nicole said, filling her cup up to the brim.

“No way, cherry is the only valid flavor,” Rodrick said, already munching on a bag of sour gummy worms. She raised an eyebrow at him and he simply winked in response, causing Nicole to turn her head away when she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

Rodrick paid for their stuff and they spent the rest of the bike ride home trying to throw gummy worms at each other and catch them in their mouths.

“So.. there's a van. Outside your house. With your band name on it,” Nicole said, pointedly looking at him. Rodrick looked straight ahead.

“Yeah.” 

“And yet, you’re out here riding your bike. With me.”

“Yeah.”

“So what's the hold up? You don’t have your license yet or something?”

“I can drive!” Rodrick said indignantly, his voice cracking slightly, causing you to throw your head back in laughter.

“I’m saving up money to get it fixed,” he grumbled, pulling another wheelie.

“Doing tricks won’t distract me from this, Rodrick.

“Fine. Once its fixed, I’ll take you for a ride, deal?”

“Deal,” Nicole said primly, taking a sip of her slushy. 

Sooner than she thought, they ended up in front of their respective homes. The time had flown by - she hadn’t even noticed they were close.

She was about to wave goodbye and turn to go up her driveway when Rodrick cleared his throat.

“Hey, um… my band and I - we’re having practice tonight. Again. We have a gig later this week so we wanna practice as much as possible. Uhm. Would you wanna stop by? You can bring your guitar or whatever,” he said, looking down at his shoes that he was currently scuffing against the sidewalk.

“How do you know I play guitar?”

Somehow, Rodrick looked even more sheepish. “Uh, you left your window open, earlier. When you were practicing.”

This time, Nicole was the one to blush. Fuck. She hadn’t even thought about any one being able to hear her. And after Rodrick told her Loded Diper was originally a Motley Crue cover band.... Oh, he definitely knew she was whipped. Fuck!

“Haha, oh, yeah… uh, sure. I can come over.”

Rodrick grinned - a genuinely excited smile, not his usual impish smirk. It made Nicole’s heart stutter in her chest.

“Come over in an hour - I’ll get snacks.”

Nicole turned away without another word, deciding they would have plenty more to say to each other very soon. But fucking hell, what was she going to wear?

[burnedbyshoto]

strawberry milk & watermelon seeds

How to get through the worst summer heat: have a sweet drink, eat a sweet fruit, and have someone with the sweetest kiss around.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: fluff, cursing, one year later rewrite

word count: 2,855

a/n: so today is my one year anniversary of this blog. it’s been a rather weird and unknowing journey that I still cannot comprehend or put into words as to how this has changed me. one year later and I still love todoroki shouto the most, one year later and im still as invested into bnha as the day I first watched it. wild. anyways, thank you for watching my growth as a writer, and thank you for 14k followers in this single year. anyways, if you want to read the original to compare, here it is.

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“This day can not be any worse.”

With your sweating forearm thrown over your face, and the heat emitting from your face scorching your skin, your clammy skin provided small comfort from the overwhelming heat. Today, according to every news outlet in Japan, it was the hottest day recorded ever. At first, you didn’t believe it; your condo had cooled to near completion with your AC unit running happily in the background. You had spent your day free from work, merrily doing house chores while watching your old classmates text message thread blowing up with complaints about how torturous it was to be outside in this heat. (Even Bakugou who enjoyed hot weather because it benefitted his quirk was ready to go home and get into an ice bath.) That is, you were merry until your power went out.

“I thought you would be happy that you aren’t working right now?”

Ignoring the sweat the slowly pooled down your neck, you turned your head to look at your phone that stood against a stack of books. On the bright screen was Todoroki Shouto, who was wearing a shirt and a jacket despite the heat of the weather. Curse his fucking quirk. 

“It was a happy day until the power blew, and I was told that the power wouldn’t be back on until night!” you whined, fingers pressing to your forehead to wipe the annoying sweat on your face. “Now I’m miserable at home, it’s hotter than balls, I have no snacks, and I am not going outside like this!”

You lifted your legs off the couch, shuddering at your sweating thighs sticking to the material. This was the worst.

“I can come over in a bit; it’ll take me about twenty minutes.” Shouto hummed, his left wrist rising as he looked at his watch. His face had a small smile painted on; it was a new look he was trying as he had stated earlier. As part of being a hero that reassured everyone he rescued, he was working on his smile.

While you would never complain about seeing a kind smile on Shouto’s face, it didn’t help your hammering heart when he looked at you with it.

“What?!” you exclaimed a bit frantically, your hand snatching your phone on the table while sitting up on the couch. Your flustered face a bit too close to the camera while you watched Shouto stand up from his seat and gather his things without minding your attempts to have him not come over.

The thought of being horrendously sweaty around your crush was not something you wanted to do.

“Do you like strawberry milk?” Shouto asked you, his head tilting to the side. At the same time, he picked up his phone, leveling the camera, so it angled below his chin (and you immediately noticed that even with the awkward angle, he was still unfairly hot). “There’s a store on the way to your place that I like.”

A strange noise that crossed between a whine and a sigh emitted past your lips when his eyes locked on yours in question. It seemed that you didn’t have much of a choice.

“I love strawberry milk,” you begrudgingly admitted, watching with heating cheeks as Shouto’s face spread into a bigger, more full, and genuine smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit then. Bye.”

You couldn’t say goodbye back, your finger immediately hanging up on him and your body shaking in your nerves. For right now, you couldn’t tell why you felt overheated: the record temperature or the smile that made your heart stop.

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If your mother could see how you cleaned your home in the twenty minutes it took Shouto to get to your place, she would cry in joy. In fifteen minutes, you had swept, mopped, and cleared the countertops of the slight messes they had been and quickly bolted upstairs to change into something less sweaty while reapplying perfume and deodorant because you would not make a fool of yourself.

“You look like a mess,” Shouto called out immediately as he stood at your front door. Despite his introduction, his hands lifted in front of him, and he showcased the bag of snacks and tea he brought. 

Despite the initial feeling of wonder at opening the door to see him standing there in all his glory, his words' sudden bluntness immediately made your eyes narrow. 

“I don’t come to your house uninvited and roast your appearance,” you scoff, turning on your heel and letting him in. 

“Oh, was I not invited? I assumed I was allowed to come over, sorry,” Shouto’s voice followed after you, but it did nothing to keep him from staying. The two of you had grown incredibly close as friends. It was without question that he was allowed over whenever he wished, a detail that had taken quite a while for Shouto to accept. 

“I wouldn’t’ve opened the door if you weren’t,” you sigh, your hands fanning the back of your neck as Shouto placed his guest slippers on and walked over. He put the bag onto the kitchen counter before walking over to you, taking your hands and pressing his right hand to the nape of your neck.

“Just making sure,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours in a careful gaze before his hand dropped in temperature. For the first time since your AC broke down, a shiver went through your spine. 

You had no idea whether it was from the sudden loss of heat from your body or his gentle yet strangely warm touch. But with the loss of being overheated and reaching a better point of homeostasis, you realized that you had been wordlessly staring into his eyes. Falling deep into the blue and grey, drowning in the way they bore into you gently, intently. 

“So, uh, what else did you bring me besides your stupidly advantageous quirk?” you asked, your mouth feeling unbelievably parched. At the same time, Shouto’s fingers slowly pulled away from your skin, leaving behind nothing but an exploding heart and raised skin.  

To that comment, Shouto’s eyebrow lifted, and his lip quirked a bit too, a teasing look on his face while the two of you began to walk to the bag he had brought. He grabbed the bag before you, bringing it close to his chest as if to keep it from you.

“Sounds like you’re using me for my quirk, y/l/n. That wouldn’t be very heroic of you.”

“I’m off duty, I can be an asshole,” was your quick response, your heart beating faster at the chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest as he untied the bag. His eyes rose to yours, inquisitive and teasing, and an eyebrow raised.

Shouto seemed to debate whether he should say something or not, your locked stares never wavering. But before you could question what was running through his head, he pulled out the items from the bag. Your jaw dropped in your sheer love for what he brought you: two sealed cups of strawberry milk, half of a watermelon with two scoops, and an arrangement of other snacks you loved. There was nothing he could do to stop you from scooping up your nacks in your arms, tears misting your eyes because, at this moment, your lousy day had become good again. 

“I hope you still like all these snacks, you always used to talk about them,” Shouto rubs the back of his neck, his gaze falling onto the sweet pink drinks before him. He grabbed the straws and punctured the drinks for both of you, and you looked at him with a smile of pure joy and disbelief. 

“This is perfect, Todoroki, really! I love this so much!”

Maybe if you had been looking at Shouto and not at the bags of snacks he had bought for you, you would have seen the flush color climbing the back of his neck.

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It had taken Shouto precisely two seconds to bring your condo back to a habitable environment, a feat that had you quite literally jumping into his arms in your excitement. But in your sudden burst of emotional energy, Shouto had been taken back so abruptly by your arms thrown around him that he had iced over your entire living room. Both of you had stared at the iced room with shocked gazes, and while he looked on in horror, your face split into a shit-eating grin.

So despite his initial decision to defrost the entire room, you said it was fine. Grabbing the frozen watermelon (you had to tear the melon and the two scoops off the counter as it had also been frozen, not to mention you almost ate shit if not for Shouto easily catching you) the two of you retreated to your shaded patio, sitting on the brick and tasting the sweet melon while idly chatting between the both of you.

“You got the watermelon with the seeds!” you laughed loudly, letting the small black seed fall from your bottom lip and onto your await palm. “We have transgressed the need for watermelon with seeds! Have you never gotten seedless watermelon?!”

Shouto shoved you with his shoulder, his face grimacing a bit when a rather sharp crunch came from his mouth. Your laughter growing louder when a fractured watermelon seed fell from his tongue. 

“The sign said it was seedless, besides it takes two seconds to get the seeds out, stop complaining.” Shouto groaned, placing the seed onto the pile the two of you had created. You had been taking a drink of the sweet milk as he said this, and his smile grew into a crooked grin at the sight of your eyes widening with the need to speak. 

Tearing the cup from your mouth, you swallowed the liquid quickly before jabbing a finger into his shoulder, “Tell that to my face after I accidentally swallow a seed and a watermelon grows in my stomach!”

“The day that happens, I will personally let you dress me up in Endeavor merch.” Shouto wagers, his eyes watching as you scooped out a bit of the watermelon and shoving it into your mouth. You contemplated his words, thinking about the horrendous merch his father had and the humiliation he would have if he had to wear it.

Your teeth bit onto a black seed, and instead of politely removing it from your mouth as you had been doing, you turned your head toward the fence and spat out the watermelon seed. 

“Oh, that’s tempting!” you sing out, your fingertips dancing against each other, a very comically villainous sight. 

Shouto scoffed, his head shaking as he chewed his own watermelon before spitting out his own seed. You watched it soar through the air before falling somewhere near where your seed landed. Ever the competitor, your head tilted, trying not to take it personally as Shouto finally spoke.

“Is it? Well, we both know it’s impossible.”

You shake your head at his true remark, your mouth once again full of watermelon, and you concentrated on the two black dots on the grass. Rolling your shoulders, you spit the seed sitting on your tongue, and you refrained from sounding too victorious when your seed was now the furthest one out. So with the calmness of a child who had done something terrible and was attempting to not be caught, you turned to Shouto with a wink. 

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shrugging, Shouto took another mouthful of the watermelon before sending a seed flying, landing what seemed like a centimeter further than yours. Your eyes narrowed at the taunting victory.

“Oh, but some things are,” it felt like he whispered that in your ear, and you turned onto him. Your fiery glare matching his while he took yet another bite of the watermelon. He did it without breaking his gaze with you, and an astounding grin spread on your face at the pure childishness of this all.

“...are you… are you challenging me?!” you accused, your eyebrows shooting to your hairline and your finger connecting with his nose.

Shouto smirked, his face turning back to the grass, and he spat out the seed, sending it much further than it had gone before.

“No. Not at all,” he said smoothly, his sight coming back to you, and as if to rub in the salt, he added, “We both know who’ll win.”

So, under the blazing hot sun, both you and Shouto sat with sticky sweet watermelon juice dribbling down your chin and black seeds soaring as far as they could go to only pathetically landing on laps. Slandering words were thrown about, but the echoing laughter told anyone who tried to overhear just how unserious this entire predicament was. 

Your fingers wiped at the bottom of your chin again while tears streamed down your face from the laughter. Shouto was in a similar position, his head leaning against yours as three black seeds failed to leave his mouth and chose to stick onto his chin. 

“Imma - holy shit STOP - Imma fucking pee my pants!” you wheezed, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t Shouto right now. “You look so dumb right now!”

“Your insults mean nothing to me because you’re jealous I’m winning,” Shouto forced out, his voice wavering with his own laughter and fleeing concentration.

“Only because YOU CHEATED!” you exclaimed, your fists weakly pounding onto his arm. “Who the hell burns a watermelon seed flying in the air if not to keep me from winning?!”

“Because you took five steps closer! That’s cheating!” Shouto pointed out, the back of his hand, wiping the sheen of watermelon juice and seeds from his chin.

“Whatever, I’ll end this all right now!” you rolled your eyes, and the both of you directed your attention to the nearly empty watermelon. Almost empty, save for one part that would be enough for one last scoop.

“That’s the last of the watermelon…” Shouto spoke softly, his hand grabbing his spoon the same time you did.

“Yeah, and?” you pressed, your gaze narrowing as he lifted his spoon, moving it to push against yours.

“You were the last one to spit,” he said, trying to box you out of the melon.

Your jaw dropped, and you pressed against his again, trying to keep him from doing as he pleased. “I called it first!”

“You can’t go twice!” he pointed out, his hand wrapping around your free wrist to keep you from potentially hitting him with that arm.

“You went twice earlier!” you countered, pushing forward, leaning on with all your weight in hopes he would back off. You had to win.

“I’m the guest at your house, be better accommodating!”

Push.

“Oh yeah?! Well, ladies, first!”

Shove.

“Clearly, I am acting more ladylike right now, so it’s not you!”

But in an unequal push, you sent Shouto and you tumbling off the patio and onto the floor with a thud. Your eyes were squeezed tight as the earthy ground made contact with your back, and you sighed, knowing you hadn’t been hurt. You saw the watermelon on the floor, the last scoop of the sweet fruit ruined with dirt and grass, but you froze when you became aware of the way Shouto had landed.

His forearms were planted onto the ground by your head, his eyes wide and his mouth parted slightly. His warm and minty scent easily carried into your nose like this, and the smell of the strawberry milk still clung to his lips. Immediately your face exploded in heat, and your sight went dizzy in the situation you were in.

“...the watermelon… um, you dropped the watermelon, Todoroki,” you painfully whispered, unsure if speaking would send him away from you, acting like this didn’t just happen. 

Your beating heart was loud in your ears, almost washing out the summer day's sounds as Shouto studied you carefully before turning his head to look at the indeed ruined watermelon. Still, he made no attempt to move off from on top of you.

“We can go buy some more in a bit.” 

“I… but Todoroki--” you almost shuddered, unsure as to why that simple sentence ignited something profound from within you.

“Don’t-” Shouto interrupted, his brow furrowed, and his eyes dark while he looked down. Shaking his head, your breathing stopped when his eyes met yours. There was no hesitation, no doubt, and something you never knew you would see in his eyes: adoration. “Shouto. Call me, Shouto.��

“Shouto…” you breathed out, the sound of his name on your tongue foreign yet otherworldly pleasant.

And his eyes warmed at the sound of his name, and you could do nothing when his sugary sweet lips connected with yours, pressing thoroughly and gently against yours. Today had been a mix of goods and bads. Still, the moment his lips claimed yours, everything in the world quickly faded away. There was nothing to focus on except Todoroki Shouto and the way that you would forever crave the way his tongue and kisses tasted like strawberry milk and watermelon seeds.

[maeve-writes]

Summer Camp

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNi

Warnings: PWP, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex, brutally murdered teens by an immortal serial killer at a summer camp (though that is just mentioned).

Summary: You and the boys investigate the slaughtering of counselors at a cursed summer camp.

a/n: This was written on a Friday the 13th and an excuse to write Sam smut.

-

It was a case straight out of a campy horror movie, five counselors were slaughtered as they got the camp ready for the summer. Normally it wouldn’t have been your kind of scene, but the cops wouldn’t talk about it and the only survivor was missing two limbs and held up in a psychiatric facility. The news said she claimed that whoever killed her friends was still out there and impossible to kill, even after they set him on fire and managed to stab him in the chest.

“Think it’s a Tulpa,” Sam asked as he lugged your bags towards a cabin.

“Could be,” you hummed. You honestly hating camping, the dirt, the bugs, the heat, but living the life as a hunter brought you out into the deep woods from time to time and you learned to deal with it. But at least here at camp there was indoor plumbing and beds. “Or it could be a serial killer bent on revenge against horny camp counselors.”

Sam grinned as you pulled the rickety door open and allowed him in first. The cabin was small, but had a tiny sitting room that lead to a bedroom holding an aging queen bed and bathroom that you barely fit in, so you weren’t sure how Sam was going to use it, but at least you had your privacy. Dean was rooming with, much to his delight, the rest of the actual counselors in hopes of a hookup before facing the big bad.

“My parents shipped me off to camp every summer,” you recalled idly, unpacking your clothes into the small wooden dresser. “I hated every minute of it.”

“Why? I would’ve loved to have gone to a regular camp,” Sam laughed from where he stretched out on the bed, the springs creaked with his breathing. “Probably would’ve been better than chasing werewolves all summer.”

“I built so many birdhouses out of popsicle sticks it’s not even funny.” You tucked away the last of Sam’s shirts and moved to crawl in the bed with him, the thin mattress gave easily to your weight and groaned in protest. He reached out for you as you moved closer, his hands found your hips as you straddled his. “And they forced me to go fishing,” you grimaced. “Had to hook poor little worms, it was so sad.”

“I promise you don’t have to do anything like that while you’re here. We signed you up as the swim instructor,” he informed with a glint in his eye.

“What? You said I was doing archery,” you gasped, slapping at his chest.

“And miss the chance of seeing you in a bathing suit all day? No way,” Sam grinned and blocked the rest of your playful hits.

You rolled your eyes and fought against him as he pulled you down for a kiss. “You’re a pervert, you know that?” You lost the battle and allowed him to press his mouth against yours. “And hopefully we aren’t all chopped up into tiny pieces and eaten before the camp opens,” you muttered against his puckered lips.

“You really know how to kill the mood, Y/N,” he groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

You laughed and winked, climbing off of him. “C’mon, let’s go find your brother.” You pulled him out of the bed and eventually the cabin, heading out to join the others already gathered around the evening campfire. Dean was chatting with a pretty blonde around your age, wide eyed and flushed as the other Winchester flirted shamelessly. “I see that you got straight to work,” you greeted them when you got close enough.

“This the Brittany,” Dean turned his attention to the both of you. “Her parents own the camp.”

She gave a little wave to the both of you. “They’ve been talking about buying it for a while now. They met here when they were younger, they were counselors here. Just celebrated their 25th anniversary, so they caved and guilted me into running it.”

“How sweet,” you cooed.

She nodded and smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Thanks for accepting the job, it was hell trying to get people to want to work here.”

You tilted your head, feigning ignorance, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head, “We’ve got a nasty mosquito problem. Everyone’s worried about bird flu or whatever.” She laughed loud and nervously and you played along. “Anyway, let’s get drunk!” With a clap of her hands, she was up and jogged over to the cooler the others had open and full of cheap beer.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Think you can get it out of her, Dean?” The eldest Winchester winked and joined in the merriment of bad music and alcohol, his arm already wrapped around Brittany. “Wanna look around?” You grinned up at your boyfriend and grabbed his hand, leading him back towards your cabin. “I thought you wanted to work?”

“Dean’s working,” you replied with a half shrug. “Besides, don’t you know the best way to get a crazy serial killer to come out of hiding is for two young, beautiful people to fuck like rabbits while their friends party outside?”

Sam laughed and scooped you up to carry you the rest of the way to the cabin, “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, “it’s in the rule book.”

“There’s a rule book, huh?” You pulled the door open once again and Sam bee-lined straight to the bed. He unceremoniously dropped you on the cheap, thin mattress and eagerly climbed on top and between your legs. “Does it say how we’re supposed to do it? Hard and fast? Nice and slow?”

You tilted your head in thought when he sat on his hunches, pulling off his thin white shirt that was already soaked through with sweat. “Hard and fast,” you decided. “And very loud.”

“Loud? I think we can manage that,” Sam chuckled and worked on his pants as you wiggled out of your own tank top and shorts, tossing them aside. Stripped down to your underwear, he was back on you, mouth attacking yours with his normal primal greed, teeth and tongue and growls. Your fingers twisted into his hair, your sweat slicked bodies clung together as he rolled his hips against yours.

The bed groaned beneath you as the two of you moved in tandem, drowning out your whimpers and Sam’s moans. Any other time, any other place, you would have complained and moved to the floor as you’ve done in past hotels, but somehow, being in a camp like this hearing the springs protest beneath you made it all the more dirty and got you a bit more hot and bothered.

“C’mon, Sam,” you whined, pulling away from his hungry lips, “fuck me.”

“I’m workin’ on it,” he grumbled, but sat back once more to pull off his boxers. Your panties were next, already soaked from your slick and sweat, peeled off with the hook of his thumbs. A devious smile split his face and he dropped so that his shoulders could spread your thighs.

“No, no,” you shook your head and tried to coax him up to you, “no foreplay, straight to the dicking!”

Sam shook his head right back at you and licked at his lips, his thumbs that removed your underwear now parted your folds and he stared hungrily at your core. “Didn’t get dessert when we stopped for food,” he reminded you.

“I’m not ice cream!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sam sniggered and licked a long, flat strip from your fluttering hole to your clit and groaned at the bittersweet tang. A shiver shot through you and your legs clenched around him, a whining moan begged him for more. “Thought you said it’s gotta be loud? I could barely hear you.”

You slapped the top of his head and scowled down at his beautiful, smirking face. “That’s ‘cause you gotta fuck me.”

“I am,” Sam snorted. His eyes locked with yours as he licked another slow trail from hole to hole to your swelling bud. You struggled around him and groaned, your eyes threatened to flutter closed, but you fought against it to glare at him.

“It’s been five days since you’ve been inside me, Samuel,” you snapped. “Stop fucking around and dick me down, dammit.”

“You’re really bossy when you’re desperate,” he teased, but climbed up your body once more to give you a taste of yourself as he lined up. “I kinda like it.” You grinned up at him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders and when he pushed in one fluid motion to the hilt, your smile turning into a sinful O. “You said hard and fast.”

You nodded eagerly and he pulled back, leaving just the tip before slamming back home with the bed squeaking underneath you. “Sam,” you hissed, “just like that.” Your legs and arms wrapped around him as he started the quick, brutal pace of his hips. The thin metal frame of the bed rocked and swayed with his thrusts, your desperate moans only joining in the chorus of the whining objection of the mattress beneath you.

Sam’s lips found your skin once more, kissing and marking the slick flesh. “Louder,” he murmured against your jaw, pinching the skin off its bone with his teeth. “Want that killer to show up, don’t you,” he chuckled breathlessly.

You did as you were told, lewd sounds ripped from your throat as Sam changed his angle, searching for the right spot to get you really singing. You did your best to encourage him, sobbing out dirty words, telling him to fuck you harder, faster, and he did. His hips slammed repeatedly against your ass, the squeaks of the bed barely registering over the sound of skin against skin or your porn worthy moans.

And when he found your spot, you clawed at his back, latching onto him which signaled him to let loose. He fucked into you with wild abandon, his face buried into the side of yours, both of you losing your voices as Sam worked you closer to the edge. Neither of you registered the sound of your cabin door open or the sounds of the footsteps creeping closer.

You hit yours first, the blinding white of you orgasm burst through you and came out with a cry of Sam’s name. You clung to him desperately as you rode it out, Sam still pumping into you with a feral need until he spilled his own deep inside of you.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me,” Dean said from the doorway, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Are you fucking serious,” you yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling to across the room only to miss.

Dean watched the pillow fall to the floor and he snorted, “Nice throw. You might want to get your clothes on. We’re getting out of here.”

“What? Why,” Sam asked, reluctantly pulling out of you. Dean gagged playfully and turned away so you two could get decent.

“Because the whole thing is a hoax. The ‘survivor’,” he used air quotes, “we talked to? Brittany’s crazy sister. And Brittany? Just as crazy. The family made the whole thing up to get people to come to the camp. There’s no killer, there was no murders, just a scam to get publicity.”

You sighed heavily and climbed out of bed, gathering you clothes on the way to the shower. “We’ll pack up and meet you in twenty, I guess.”

“If you two wanna keep playing naughty counselors, I’m all for staying the night,” Dean chuckled. “Brittany might be crazy, but she’s got some nice ti-”

You made a loud yelp to get him to stop. “Get out, Dean. We’ll meet you at the car.” You disappeared into the bathroom with Sam on your heels. As you predicted, he was barely able to get around the small room and when you two climbed into the shower, he couldn’t turn on the water without elbowing you in the face.

“You look disappointed,” Sam noted, his fingers running through your dampening hair.

“I wanted to kill something,” you pouted.

Rolling his eyes, he reached for the shampoo and started to wash your hair. “I’m sure we’ll find something for you to murder soon. Close your eyes.”

You whined pathetically but did as you were told. “Next time we agree to go to summer camp, there better be an immortal serial killer on the loose or I’m gonna be pissed.”

[flightlessangelwings]

Comandante Veracruz NSFW Alphabet

(This is smut obviously so do not read if you’re underage)

Word count: 2k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Veracruz likes to be rough, we all know that, but he always makes sure you're ok afterwards. He’s not the type to carry you to the bath or bring you snacks or anything lavish, but he always checks you over for bruises or anything. Sometimes after a particularly rough session, he’ll kiss the marks he made. He’s silent while he does so and you know better than to break him from his haze until he kisses the top of your head and pulls you close to rest on his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Veracruz likes his hands. They get the job done, be it dealing with someone who thought it was ok to get too handsy with you or pumping his fingers in and out of you. He’ll also never admit it out loud, but he loves to hold you close after you two have sex and run his hands up and down your body.

V is an ass man. He loves to slap your ass while he rails you from behind and he will leave little hickeys just for him to see. He also likes that area at the top of your thighs at your hip, especially when he leaves hickeys there that make you squirm.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Veracruz’s favorite place to cum is inside you, though he also enjoys pairing your body with it too. And of course he loves when you take him in your mouth and swallow every drop.

Although people may like to think otherwise, Veracruz loves to make you cum. He always tries to outdo himself to make your orgasm even more powerful than the last. And he loves when you completely fall apart and lose control at his touch. He’s not satisfied until you've come at least twice too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When it comes to dirty secrets, it’s different for Veracruz. His little secrets are that he loves it when you ride him and he actually really wants to make love to you. You rode him once and he found that he loved watching you bounce on top of him, and he liked the way he could hold your hips from that angle. It also gave him the perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of you.

And when it comes to making love, it’s not something that Veracruz usually does. In fact, it’s not something he’s ever really done before. But for you, it’s something Veracruz finds that he really wants to. He would need to admit some things to himself first though and he’s not ready for that just yet.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Comandante Veracruz f u c k s. And he knows what he’s doing. Before you though, he never did the whole relationship thing, and he’d argue he still doesn’t (although he wouldn’t like it if you said that).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Veracruz is a dom through and through so he loves to be on top of you. There’s no such thing as boring missionary sex with V because he’ll use that position to rail you into next week. Plus, he likes that position so he can watch your face while you fall apart for him.

He also likes to pin you to the wall and hold you up by your ass while he does. The angle drives him even deeper into you and he gets off on how loud you cry out when he rails you that way.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Umm have you seen Veracruz? He wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him on the dick! He’s definitely serious when he’s in the moment.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It depends. There are times when Veracruz is away for a long time and doesn’t bother to trim his hair down there. Other times, he will trim it down. Nothing extra though, just enough to keep it neat. You’re still getting his cock in your mouth either way though, so be ready for anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Veracruz doesn’t do romance. Well, not in the traditional way at least. He’ll never be the type to say “I love you” in the heat of the moment, but he will do anything to keep you safe. He’d kill for you if necessary (and maybe not entirely necessary). He’s hard and rough, but he always makes sure it’s consensual. All you need to do is say your safe word and he’ll stop with no questions asked.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The Comandante is away from you for weeks at a time sometimes so of course he jacks off. He always thinks of you while he does it too, though he’d never say that out loud. It does the job, but he’s rather it was your hand or mouth or pussy instead. When he’s home tough, he doesn’t feel the need to jerk off since you’re always ready for him and just as eager for sex all the times as he is.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage- Veracruz loves to tie you up, especially with metal chains. He loves the sounds of your struggle against the restraints and the clang when they move against your skin. He loves to see you completely helpless and at his mercy for him.

Overstimulation- Veracruz is the king of multiple orgasms and he won’t be satisfied until you’ve come at least twice. His favorite is when you’ve come so many times that you’re in tears.

Orgasm delay/control- Much like overstimming, Veracruz likes to tease you with your orgasms. Sometimes he simply won’t let you come for a while and pull away just as you’re about to. Other times, he makes it a game to see how long you can hold off your climax hike he pounds into you and rubs your clit.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the privacy of his or your place or his tent when he’s out in the field. Veracruz likes when people hear you, but he’s too possessive to let anyone one see you. But when you’re at either of your places, no surface is safe, and you’d be hard pressed to find a surface that Veracruz hasn’t fucked you on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Veracruz is very turned on by sounds. He loves the sounds you make in bed and whenever you moan his name, he’s pretty much done for.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Veracruz doesn’t play well with others. And he doesn’t share. He also won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. And although he likes to push the envelope and mix pleasure with pain, he would never want to harm you. He also wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, just say the word and he’ll back off no questions asked.

He also doesn’t like to gag you because he loves to hear all the sounds you make.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

With Veracruz, your face is definitely getting fucked. He loves to thrust in your face like he does your pussy, and seeing himself disappear in your mouth gets him off so much. You suck him off better than anyone else before too. He’ll never admit how much he melts for you while you’ve got your tongue swirling around his cock.

And V will happily eat you out for hours too. Sometimes he’ll start slow and tease you, other times he’ll dive right in and devour you like a bowl of ice cream on a hot day. Veracruz is definitely skilled at eating pussy too, he always leaves you trembling when he’s done.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough for sure! Veracruz loves to pound into you and hold your hips down while he does. Sometimes though, he’ll slow his pace or just still himself inside you just to tease you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Veracruz isn’t a big fan of quickies. He likes to take his time with you and draw out both of your pleasure for as long as he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Pretty much whatever you’re up for, he’s up for. He likes to push boundaries and try new things. Veracruz isn’t shy about using knives or weapons on you too, and of course he’s extra careful when he does something more risky with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh boy, Veracruz can go all night if he wants to. He is the king of multiple orgasms, and he won’t stop until you’ve both come twice at the very least. Though his favorite game is to see how many he can pull from you in one marathon.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There is a secret black box that Veracruz keeps under his bed that is filled with toys and different types of restraints. He never lets you look inside because he likes to keep you guessing at what’s in there. So far he’s used a bullet vibe, a hitachi, a dildo, cuffs and a spreader bar. Who knows what else is in there...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ok. This man… is the BIGGEST tease. And boy does he love to hear you beg. Sometimes he’ll tease you by just ghosting over your pussy, or even avoiding it all together at first. He’ll just use feather light touches on your clit until you're begging him to touch you. Other times, Veracruz will work you the way you like, but just as you’re about to cum he’ll pull away completely. The most he’s done this was four times and you were in tears as you begged him to make you cum.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Veracruz isn’t super loud. He’s more of a growler than anything else, and you know he’s turned on when he snarls at you. But he does love the sounds you make. To him, the louder you are, the better.

One thing about Veracruz though is he loves to tell you how amazing you feel. And he loves to tell you that you’re his. Whenever you’re not too lost in your own pleasure, you’ll hear a faint “mine” in a low voice and it turns you on so much.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Veracruz loves any type of sensory play. He’ll run ice cubes along your skin and grin in delight as he watches you shiver. Especially when he plays with your nipples or your pussy with the ice and you’re squealing and squirming. Or he’ll use some hot wax and just watch it drip patterns on your body. Sometimes when he’s got you tied down, he’ll add a blindfold as well so everything he does is a surprise to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Veracruz is packing, and he knows how to use his equipment well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not only can Veracruz go multiple rounds, but he’s ready to go any night of the week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tends not to fall asleep right away, even though you do. Veracruz is worn out for sure, but he likes to just lay with you on his chest for a while before he lets himself drift off to sleep. Is it because he actually feels more for you than just sexual desire? Is it because he feels the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe? Veracruz will never tell.

~

Perm taglist: @the-purity-pen @bisexual-space-slut @paintballkid711 @f0rever15elf @woakiees @mikeisthricedeceased @waatermelon-sugaar @jedi-mando @feelmyroarrrr @giselatropicana

Headcanon taglist: @tintinwrites @ollypopp @thanossexual @thirsty-flygirl​ @huliabitch @theocatkov @my-super-musical-life @stardust-galaxies

[sweetwritertanya]

Midnight Swim

Summary: When a famous group comes to stay for a month in the holiday inn you are working at, you never expected to start a relationship with one of the idolized guys. And you had never thought you would go out for a midnight swim ever, until he asked you to.

Warnings: this is mainly just FLUFF, with just the tiniest bit of erotic body touching by the end, and that’s it! Also, we are dealing with an insecure reader, nothing too major, but still. You are warned.

Word Count: 3571

To say you were nervous would be the understatement of the year. It all still felt so very confusing in your head, like some sort of weird dream mixing with cold reality, this unexplainable feeling of fatal momentary bliss. From the very first unexplainable moments to the very breathtaking sensual last ones.

This summer job proved to be lifechanging for you. Honestly, the only reason you even agreed to coming to this remote holiday inn, beautifully surrounded by tall green mountains and bathed by a teal lake, was to escape the stressful problems from the city you lived in. All the toxicity of the people around you, the crumbling feeling of anxiety. Yearning for a breath of fresh air, you applied to be a receptionist during the busy season.

Starting in June, all would go well until the last week of July and the whole month of August. That’s when they arrived. When you met him.

No one told you this very popular group was renting the space for a full month while filming for a music video and some photoshoots for an apparently new album in the works. While preparing for what you assumed was another normal day, a large crew with big bags and large equipment came in through the inn’s door, alongside seven good-looking younger guys.

Someone, you assume their manager, asked you a few questions but you were so surprised it took you a few moments to respond. Your eyes crossed with almond shaped dark brown eyes, ends scrunching up with a smile hidden by the black face mask. His eyes looked so happy and awake for such an early morning that they just drew you in, apart from everyone’s else, but as soon as he looked back at you, your eyes avoided him and you felt your cheeks flushing.

As a recepcionist, you expected to only cross paths with them maybe once or twice a day, only when they would come in or go out and you’d be at the front desk, but it turns out you and the rest of the inn’s staff were asked to help the guests during the day, since there would be no other costumers for the next month. Probably to keep the famous group’s location as secretive as possible.

It started out unexpectedly ordinary, catching a glance or two your way while you helped around their set, an exchanged of ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’ when bringing them food. You truly could not see any reason such a winsome man would show any interest in your bulky large person, especially in the tight white shirt and red vest that evidenced your rolls at your sides and on your back, along with the dark grey knee-length skirt that made your legs look shorter and bigger than they already were. You never liked seeing yourself in the inn’s uniform, but it wasn’t your choice.

But then, after a day or two, the honey tanned skin man would constantly come around to help you moving the chairs or lifting a table, anything you would be doing that the crew asked, he would find himself next to you, defined dark pink lips smiling at you, wrinkles at corner of his eyes angling up.

He introduced himself by the third time you met, shaking your timid hand and asking for your name. Before you knew it, Hoseok knew more about you than you shared with most of the people you worked with during the summer. Full name, age, how long you’d been working at the inn, how long would you stay, where you were from, your family members and pets. Favorite colour, favorite season and why, the way you liked your coffee.

It creeped up on you. How much you grew to like him. Hoseok was so warm and inviting, so easy to get along with. Only he would get a true laugh out of you, from the depths of your stomach, and could get you talking for hours without realizing. Of course, he was an extroverted guy and got along well with everyone. But he payed close attention to you, something even the other guys in the group seemed to notice if their smirks and shared whispers when you came in the room were any indication.

Even so, you refused to believe he had any non-platonic interest in you. You were both totally different people that just happened to get along, that was it. That was what you told yourself when you woke up every day and your first thought was of him. When you walked into the cafeteria and searched for his fit frame in the room. When your heart expanded so much in your chest that it made it hard to breathe whenever he noticed you and smiled widely.

But even with all of this denial, there was no denying the way he kissed you in the infirmary room after you fell down and hit your head while on set for a photography shoot. With only a few bruises and an ice bag cooling down the bump at the side of your head, not even you could hypothesize it was some sort of hallucination. Not with the desperate look of worry when he burst in, something you had never seen in his face before. Not with the delicate way he held your hands in his warm and slightly clammy ones as the medic left the room. Not with the tears behind his nervous eyes, even as you promised him you were completely fine and there was nothing to worry about.

And definitely not with the way he got a hold of your chubby cheeks between his hands and pulled you in, eyes closing and head leaning to the side just instants before his lips were on yours with despairing pressure. And after the shock of the first few moments, you kissed him back. To the point that what he may have assumed was a simple peck turned into a head swooning and breath impeding session of deep and ardent kisses, filled with repressed want and love and passion.

The few weeks after that transformed into more than you could ever imagine and hope for. Brushing hands while passing by each other, sharing glances that spoke louder than words, stolen kisses in closet rooms, keeping the relationship a secret to the best of your abilities. You didn’t know if it would last, if it would even go past the month of August they would be staying here, but you couldn’t force yourself to care at the moment. You just enjoyed his company and affection.

With that said, at this particular moment in time, as you walked the dirt path, your nerves returned to the life long habit of stealing any joy associated with your plans. Hoseok had asked you to meet him by the lake, at a spot you both knew was away from any prying eyes, hidden between the emerald trees around the inn. He had excitedly talked about a midnight swim.

You weren’t sure how to bring it up to him that you had no intention of going swimming. More particularly, you were dreading the thought of even having to remove any article of clothing around him. Kissing and tight hugging and wandering hands over clothes was one thing, but you could not shake the fear of his reaction if Hoseok was to ever see more of your naked skin. You had seen a lot more of him than he had seen of you, if only because he had to change clothes for photoshoots and would get very hot when practicing with the boys, removing his shirt and switching to something a little cooler. You knew the body he had, that athletic build of a great dancer. The bewitching face of an artist. The humor and personality that so many women dreamed of finding.

And yet, he had found himself curious about you. Out of all the beautiful women in the world. In your mind, not only didn’t it line up, you weren’t about to risk it all by undressing and revealing all your imperfections for him.

“What are you thinking about?”

The sudden cheerful voice coming from the edge of the path had you screaming and jumping in place, having been completely absorbed by your thoughts the whole way over.

“God, you scared me!” you yelled, taking a hand to your racing heart.

“Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to!” he apologized immediately, but instantly smiling that bright contagious smile of his and linking your arm in his as he pulled you along for the ride. “I was just wondering what you were thinking about. You looked so cute, deep in your head.”

“Hum? Oh, just some silly thoughts, not a big deal” you shrugged off, leaning in to him as you walked. You tried to keep your nerves to a minimum. “Anyone saw you leave? Asked where you were going?”

Hoseok made a face and shook his head no. “They were all sound asleep by the time I left. I already have a hard time falling asleep as it is, but knowing I was meeting you made it just impossible. I came out as soon as I could.”

“That’s sweet” you said, resting your chin in his shoulder and looking sweetly at him. “But that means you must be very tired. You sure you don’t want to go back? We can always do this another time.” As much as you tried, there was no denying your hopeful tone, wanting nothing more than for him to agree and forget the whole thing.

“Are you kidding? I already have my trunks on, I can’t wait” he excitedly shared. “We all went in the water this morning and it was amazing.”

“I noticed. Especially the way you trembled before actually getting in with Jungkook” you tease, remembering the scared and hesitant look on his face.

“Hey, I thought the water was deeper than it was!” he defended himself, back going all straight. “Turns out we have feet for almost half a mile before it gets deep, I didn’t know that.”

“They kept telling you it was safe and don’t think I didn’t hear you questioning if there were monsters in the water” you chuckle.

“And, we’re here!” he shouts in an attempt to change the subject. You laugh and shake your head before looking ahead at the end of the path, a small clearing before the earth met the water.

At night, the lake was painted a beautiful deep marine blue, water sparkling with the shine of the moonlight, tall in the starry sky above your heads. The trees reflected in the water as an upside world beneath it, silence only interrupted by the nocturnal creatures roaming around the greenery. This was exactly what a city girl like you so desperately needed.

“C’mon, let’s get in!” He propels, already taking off his sneakers and starting to undo the zipper of his hooded jacket, but your hand on his forearm stops him.

You lick your lips as you stare at the ground, heart hammering in your chest and unsure of how to say anything. Taking a deep breath, you glance back up at Hoseok’s confused stare.

“I, hum… I didn’t… bring a swimsuit” you confess in a low whisper.

After a moment of standstill, you notice Hoseok fidgeting his feet in place and scratching at his right cheek. Looking carefully up at him, you realize he is the one avoiding eye contact now, a slight colour painting his skin red.

“I don’t- I mean, I have nothing against-” he struggled with words for a moment. “Skinny dipping is cool by me if you… if you want, of course.”

Understanding he took your words in a whole different way, you chuckle embarrassed, taking your hands to hide your blushing face, before clarifying it to him.

“No, no, that’s not it! I mean, I don’t really wanna go in the water. You can totally go; I don’t mind at all! I’ll just… stay here and watch?”

That seems to confuse him even more than the notion you had any intent on going in naked.

“What? Why not? We’ll only stay in the shallow waters.”

You press your lips together and cross your arms around your middle tightly, eyes set on the lake instead of the man in front of you.

“That’s not really the problem, Hoseok…”

Maybe it was your body language, maybe it was the tremor in your voice or maybe it just dawned on him after a few more minutes of utter confusion, but when he stepped closer, took hold of your face in between his large hands and pecked at your pursued lips, his kind chocolate eyes told you he understood what was impeding you.

“Y/N, I know we just met not too long ago, but can you trust me on this? I really like you, truly, a lot, and that is not going to change if you go to a swim with me.” He smiled kindly and his eyes showed nothing but honesty, and yet it was hard to accept it.

“You say that, but…” What you wanted to say was ‘how can you like me when you are always surrounded by beautiful girls, singers and dancers that belong to your world instead of me?’.

“I won’t force you, but it’s a hot night and you are already sweating in this sweatshirt you’re in” he points out, cleaning a drop of sweat from your temple with his thumb. “How about this, I’ll go in first and I won’t look until you’re next to me. Okay?”

Taking your silence as a yes, Hoseok steps back and strips down to his swim shorts, delectable toned body on display until he carefully steps into the water and goes shoulder deep, the further his fears would allow him to go.

“It feels great, it’s your turn!” he yells, waving his hand and an open smile on his bright face before turning the other way, back to you.

Sighing, your hesitant hands give in to his wishes and you start undressing slowly, each second doubting your decisions. It felt like you would hurt him if you didn’t trust him, and it felt like he would hurt your feelings once you did and he saw you. There was no winning in your mind.

Down to your panties and bra, since you didn’t put on a swimsuit, it takes all of your courage to go ahead and step into the water, slowly pushing forward as the cold temperature cooled off your flushing skin. You called Hoseok once you were comfortably covered by the dark water, hiding you from your neck down.

He smiles when he looks back to find you in the water behind him, swimming your way with approval glinting in his eyes. He reaches his hands to you and you gave him yours in return, which he held underwater as he pulled you in and caught your mouth for a brain-shutting kiss.

“See? It’s not that bad, right?” he asks, still holding your hands and making you both float around the calm waves of the lake.

“I guess not” you concede, still unsure of how this would end.

“Just us two in a small lake, away from everyone, the bright moon and no dangerous animals around… It’s awesome!” he chuckles, splashing around a bit with carelessness.

“Yeah…” Feeling a bit better by now, you actually decide to tease him a bit. “If you don’t count the alligators, of course.”

The reaction is priceless. The carefree boy swimming around loses his stance, tripping and head sinking in the water as he gasps in surprise, hands splashing around this time in a panic, making it difficult for you to even go and catch his arms, helping him back up.

“Alligators!?” The desperate boy breathes out as soon as he stands back up, water running down his oblong face from his wet hair, a terrified look in his wide eyes and still trying to catch his breath.

“Kidding, I was kidding!” you reassure even as you are holding back your laugh, Hoseok’s hands clawing at your shoulders with how scared he got. “No animals in the lake, I promise.”

“I think I just had a heart-attack” he overreacts with a relieved expression.

“Well, now you know how I felt before coming here” it escapes you before you realize, the admission of how nervous you were.

Back on his feet and with a settled down mind, Hoseok comes closer and embraces you strongly, warm but wet arms coming around your almost submersed shoulders, water splashing around your bodies with the movement of such an act. You tense up at the feeling of skin on skin, the only barrier between your torsos being your bra. This was it, he would feel your voluptuous body and the body rolls that came with it.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N.” He whispers closely to your ear, one hand in your shoulder and the other tangling at the hairs at the back of our neck. “I never felt so strongly about someone like I feel about you.”

Surprised, you try and pull your head back but he doesn’t quite let you, sinking further into your arms and hiding his face in your shoulder. Butterflies flutter at the pit of your stomach and your skin tingles beneath the contact of his body against yours.  The arms that felt chained to heavy sinking rocks broke free and you smile as your hands move to rest at his biceps, soothing the skin there.

“Really?” you murmur back, almost in skepticism.

“Really. It’s the first time I fell for someone so quickly. It’s also the first time I came swimming at night with anyone. You’re really special to me, Y/N.”

Amazingly appeased by his words and lack of judgement of your body type, you find yourself giggling into his shoulder and hugging him back, feet lifting from the ground and allowing your bodies to float in the lake.

Hoseok presses his lips to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck and you reciprocate by landing a kiss by the end of his clavicle. Encouraged by that, he leaves hummingbird pecks up your neck to the soft skin of your jaw, one hand still at the back of your head and the other falling down to the curve at your lower back. Your own hands run up and down his naked spine as you sigh with pleasure.

Pulling you by your head just enough for you to lift your face to him, Hoseok kisses around your jaw, up to your cheeks, before claiming you mouth, lips moving slowly over yours in the most loving ways, tongue sweeping your bottom lip in an inquire for entrance, which you allow avidly. Still an exotic flavor he was to you, becoming ever more familiar each time.

Long kisses take their sweet time exploring the recesses of your mouth, the hand not holding your head in place traveling your body and discovering every single one of your insecurities and throwing them out with delicate caresses, shameless squeezes, desperate touching. Soon you are throwing your arms around his shoulder, pulling all your weight on him and forcing him to get his feet back in the ground so your heads stay above the water.

His hands end up attaching themselves to the fluffy skin around your ribcage, sending goosebumps all over your body, slowly climbing up until his palms are cupping your covered breasts, a hesitant touch that requires your permission for him to continue. Suddenly emboldened, you grab his hand under yours and lead him to squeeze your boobs at the same time you bite down on his lower lip just enough to pull it with you when you lean your head back. Hoseok groans heavily at that and needs no further encouraging.

Bodies mingle together in the lake and explore each other wondrously, alone with nature and the small waves of the lake, enjoying each other playfully but innocently enough, until the night grows longer and the skin grows cold. Infinitely happier than when you went in, you exit the lake with your almost naked body and hair dripping water and search for your clothes, hoping they would help you keep you warm until you reach a shower.

When you look back, you are surprised Hoseok is still waist down in the water, seemingly hesitant to come out.

“Hey, are you not coming?” you ask, jumbled.

“Yeah, in a sec” he says, avoiding his eyes.

“You must be cold, come on. Want me to grab your clothes?” you offer, still not understanding why he was still in the water when the hairs in his arms where standing up with the cold.

“I, hum… I have a slight problem. Can… Can you turn around and give me my pants?” he shyly asks, pointing at the shorts he had on top of his swimwear.

It dawns on you then and you chortle, ignoring his protests of not being able to control it and handing him his clothes as you turned your back as he requested and put on the rest of your clothes too. Hoseok refused to put on his jacket and instead held it waist high the rest of the way to the holiday inn, before wishing you goodnight and leaving back to his room.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 12

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Writing has been slower this week with what’s been going on in the news. Hope the wait was worth it? 

Aelin wakes up cold and alone in her bed, and it’s a bizarre feeling. It feels like forever since she hasn’t greeted the day without Rowan beside her. It seems in his sleep, he can’t stay away from her, and each morning she’s woken with his arm draped over her chest and his nose tucked into her shoulder. She frowns, looking at the empty spot next to her and picks up her phone to see if he's texted. He hasn’t.

She does have about a dozen texts from Dorian apologizing for bailing on her last night. He reminds her that he wants to get laid this summer, too, and lets her know it was all worth it because he went home with some hot EMT named Sorcha. Aelin texts him a thumbs up and then switches back to Rowan’s message thread.

She rereads his last text and can’t help but wonder what his plans are tonight. She contemplates asking him, but ultimately concludes that it’s none of her business. He’d tell her if he wanted to. Instead, she texts him, asking when his next day off is so they can plan going to the park, which she thinks is innocent enough.

He doesn’t reply, but that’s not unusual for the hour. If there’s one thing Aelin has learned from sleeping over at Rowan’s it’s that he is not a morning person. In fact, he has a horrible habit of snoozing his alarm until the very last possible minute, when he knows he’ll arrive at the park exactly when it opens, instead of the ten minutes early he’s supposed to get there.

Aelin gets ready and lounges around her room until she hears the doorbell ring. She bounds down the stairs with a loud, “I’ve got it!” before swinging the door open. Elide smiles widely on the other side and throws herself at Aelin with a tight hug.

“Ugh, I missed you,” Elide says, pushing her giant sunglasses onto her head as she steps into the house.

“You two are adorable,” Evalin chuckles, giving Elide a hug of her own. “Missing each other, even though Aelin’s been spending nearly every night at your house this week.”

Elide raises an eyebrow and flashes her dark eyes at Aelin, who cuts her off with a blinding smile at her parents.

“You know us,” Aelin says, grabbing Elide’s hand in hers and pulling her towards the kitchen. “Adorable.” Aelin glances at Elide, silencing her swirling questions with a pleading glance. “Now come on, let’s go make margaritas.”

“Keep an ear out for the doorbell, please,” Rhoe calls out to his daughter. “I’m expecting an important package from the city, and you’ll have to sign for it.”

Aelin pauses. “Where are you two going?”

“Into town for errands, then a board meeting,” Evalin explains.

“Then to Aedion and Lysandra’s for dinner,” Rhoe continues. “You’re welcome to join, but we assumed you two would have plans tonight.”

“Right. We do.” Aelin sends her parents off with a happy smile and best wishes for her niece and nephew, and with that they’re gone.

Aelin walks into the kitchen, Elide trailing silently beside her. Aelin grabs the tequila and margarita mix and pours it into the blender with some ice cubes. The blender fills the silent room with its loud whir for a few moments, and then Aelin pours them two very large glasses. When she looks up, Elide’s head is in her hand as she leans over the counter with a wicked grin plastered across her face, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“You really think you’re going to get away without telling me who the guy is?” Elide cackles.

Aelin groans. “After my first marg. Please?”

“Nuh uh,” Elide says through her first sip. “You’ve been using me as an alibi! I think I deserve to know.”

Aelin begs her friend silently with imploring eyes, and Elide scoffs and takes another sip. “Fine,” she concedes. “Tell me later. I won’t forget.”

“I have no doubt.” Aelin salutes her tiny friend and grabs some tortilla chips and Emrys’s fresh guacamole from the fridge. At the sound of food, Fleetfoot wakes from her slumber and bounds out of her bed to circle Aelin’s heels. Aelin grabs her bed and takes it with them outside. Fleetfoot plops down and promptly falls asleep again.

The pair grab two lounge chairs and strip down to their bathing suits. Aelin’s wearing her skimpiest string bikini in an attempt to prevent crazy tan lines, but as she goes to tighten the strings on her bikini bottoms, she sees the bruises the same time Elide does.

Four fingertip-shaped blue-grey dots scatter across Aelin’s hip, with a larger one in the back. Aelin tries not to stay composed, but she can’t help but blush when she remembers the feel of Rowan gripping her hips from behind, his hands tightening around her with every pronounced thrust.

“So, you’re seeing someone… strong,” Elide chokes out through her poorly stifled laughter. “Oh come on, Ae, just tell me.”

Aelin stretches out on the lounge and takes a large sip of her margarita. “It’s Rowan,” she finally says.

Elide’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head at her confession. “Rowan, Rowan? Like, my coworker Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn? That Rowan?”

Aelin’s brow furrows. “Why are you saying it like that?”

Elide shrugs. “I don’t know… he’s just… not your usual type? He’s so blonde! And shy.”

“He’s so hot is what he is,” Aelin says, wiggling her eyebrows, and Elide laughs outright. “And he is anything but shy in bed.”

Elide snorts. “I can see that.” She takes a long sip of her margarita, her eyes flicking down to Aelin’s bruised hip before staring back at her friend. “So come on, are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to beg for details?”

Aelin can’t help but gush. She’s been holding in all these details, because she knows she can’t tell them to Dorian. And now that Elide knows, the dam is ready to burst. Which is good, because Elide wants absolutely no detail spared. So, Aelin starts at the beginning.

She gives Elide a thorough description of their time together – the kissing booth, the kiss under the docks, how he gave her the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life by going down on her, how he makes sure she comes first (every. single. time!), how when Elide ran into them they were definitely buying condoms (which Elide can’t help but crack up at), how Aelin always thought she liked being on top best because she could control things, but there’s this thing when’s on top of her and hitches her leg over his, that he can reach a spot she didn’t even think truly existed.

“I swear, I think I blacked out the first time,” Aelin says, refilling their margarita glasses. “Or saw God.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Elide cackles.

“Is he quiet?” Aelin asks, and Elide nods emphatically.

“Oh my god, yes. He didn’t even make eye contact with me the first week,” Elide says. “Lorcan got some perverse pleasure out of forcing him into conversations. He was so petrified of him.”

Aelin smirks. “Lorcan, huh?” Elide takes a large sip of her drink, but her eyes glaze over with wistfulness. “How’s that going? And don’t deny it. You’ve both been pining for each other for years.”

“We have not!” Elide insists. “Lorcan doesn’t pine. He broods.” Elide giggles. “I might be having too much fun torturing him this summer.”

Aelin barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, tell me everything.”

“It was all actually Manon’s idea,” Elide confesses. “To make him so jealous that he’d break down and ask me out.”

“Manon, as in, Rowan’s Manon?” At the mention of him, Aelin can’t help but check her phone. Still no reply from Rowan. Aelin’s lips tug downward, but she forces them into an eager grin as Elide explains how she’s made Lorcan’s summer a living hell.

“So how did this all start?” Aelin asks.

“Well, I told Manon that I liked someone, had for years, and I thought they liked me, but they’d never asked me out, so I didn’t know for sure,” Elide explains. Aelin nods, listening to her friend babble about how Manon offered herself up as a constant companion – hanging out and enjoying themselves in all the places Lorcan usually frequents, the shitty dive bar he loves so much, the steakhouse on Main Street, etc. etc. Completely ignoring Lorcan’s presence and just having the best time the two of them.

“And how does Manon feel about Lorcan?” Aelin asks. She can’t imagine the two of them getting along, for some reason.

“Oh, they’ve never interacted,” Elide confesses. “In fact, I didn’t even tell her it was Lorcan I was interested in until this week. But we’re supposed to go to his bowling league tonight. You should come if you and Rowan don’t already have plans?”

Aelin loves bowling. For some reason, her hand/eye coordination only applies to bowling and mini golf, and she hasn’t been in forever. She’s thrilled to tell Elide she’s free tonight.

“We should take a picture,” Elide suggests, apropos of nothing. “We look fucking hot, and the internet deserves to know.”

“I didn’t know Lorcan’s nickname was the internet,” Aelin giggles, and Elide rolls her eyes and takes out her phone to snap some pictures.

Aelin and Elide spend the next hour finishing their pitcher of margaritas and taking selfies, trying to get the best angles of their cleavage and the rest of their scantily clad bodies for Instagram. Aelin finally decides to post one of Elide sharing her lounge with her, squished together, and Elide’s lips pressed against her cheek in a firm kiss while Aelin scrunches her nose and grins. She captions it, Wish you were here and then at the last second adds a question mark before posting it. The comments start coming in – each one a resounding YES. But, one name is notably absent from them.

Elide posts one of them cheersing their drinks with the caption: FRI-YAY. Aelin likes it immediately, and smiles when she sees that Lorcan likes it at the same time. She can’t help the small pang of jealousy that stirs within her. But she pushes it down and suggests they get into the pool. They’ve been sitting in the sun for long enough.

Aelin jumps in like a pencil, her body slicing through the cool water. Her feet reach the bottom quickly, and she pushes up and breaks through the surface. She sees Fleetfoot, at the side of the pool, barking her little head off. Aelin swims to the side and comforts the puppy.

“I’m okay!” Aelin smiles at the golden ball of fur. “Look, I’m fine!”

Without hesitation, Fleetfoot flings herself off the ledge and into the pool and swims directly to Aelin. It’s pretty much the cutest thing she’s ever seen. She and Elide take turns making Fleetfoot swim to them until the small dog tires, and Aelin lifts her out of the pool. She jumps right back in.

“You’re going to drown!” Aelin scolds, pulling her out again. The dog cries, and Aelin throws a sympathetic look to Elide. “I think I need to get out.”

Elide laughs and holds up her hands. “I’m turning into a prune anyway.”

As they get out, Aelin finally hears the doorbell ring. She remembers her dad’s package and wraps her towel around her waist before heading to the foyer to sign. But it’s not a delivery on the other side of the door, but the low-key brunette she spent yesterday with.

“Sam!” she exclaims, her arms crossing over her bikini-clad chest. “What are you doing here?”

Sam’s eyes stare into hers hard, and she can tell that he’s trying extremely hard not to look down at her chest, which she appreciates. She feels way too exposed in front of this practical stranger.

“I texted you earlier,” he begins. “But I didn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been in the pool…” Aelin explains, though the explanation is clearly unnecessary. She’s dripping wet and wearing a bathing suit. The situation seems pretty clear.

“I can see that,” he says, and his eyes finally flit down her body and immediately force themselves back to her face. She watches as his cheeks darken with a deep red blush, his freckles blurring into the flushed color. Flustered, he shakes his head. “You were just so nice to me yesterday, and I’ve been sitting in that empty house all day while my Aunt and Uncle are out, and I figured I could see what you were up to. But I’m sorry, you’re clearly busy. I shouldn’t have come over.”

“Sam,” Aelin chuckles lightly. “It’s fine. I had fun yesterday, too. Come on in.”

He pauses, unsure if her offer is genuine, but Aelin waves him in and leads him out to the pool where Elide is back in her lounger, with Fleetfoot splayed out beside her, drying in the late afternoon sun. Aelin drags up another chair for Sam, who leans forward to introduce himself to Elide. He then sits on the lounger and crosses his legs – one plaid pant leg over the other.

As Elide peppers Sam with questions about where he’s from and what he’s doing here for the summer, Aelin takes a moment to make another pitcher of margaritas and bring a glass back for Sam, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

“So, I hear you two are going bowling tonight,” Sam says, and Aelin nods.

Elide looks to Aelin probingly, and Aelin realizes Sam has probably just told Elide about the passing of his father, and how he’s expected to take over his family business come August. That’s what he spent the majority of dinner talking about last night, and it’s clear it’s weighing on him immensely. She can’t imagine having to take over a giant company at his age while also mourning the death of a parent. She internally sighs, knowing what she has to do.

Aelin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You should come, Sam.”

“Really?” he asks, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah!” Elide says, excited. “There’s a whole league thing tonight, so I’m sure you’ll meet a ton of people.”

Sam smiles warmly. “Why would I want to meet more people, when I’m with the two prettiest girls in town?”

Aelin rolls her eyes, but Elide laughs. “Just wait until you see Manon!”

As Elide and Sam chat back and forth, Aelin picks up her phone again. Still no reply from Rowan. She frowns. He’s gone on his lunch break already and has certainly looked at his phone.

“Expecting to hear from someone?” Elide asks, her eyes wide with innocence.

“No,” Aelin replies too quickly. “Just seeing what Dorian’s up to tonight.” She pauses. “He’s busy.” Aelin is grateful when Elide doesn’t call her blatant lie out.

Instead, the three of them sit in the sun for another hour, chatting about their favorite summer activities, until Aelin declares she should shower and get ready. Sam agrees to do the same and meet them back at Aelin’s at 8pm.

Aelin’s shower is a far cry from the last shower she had. She presses her fingers in the bruised spots at her hips and imagines they’re Rowan’s strong hands instead of her dainty ones. Her fingers slip over her wet thighs and between her legs, and she brings herself to pleasure quickly. It’s not nearly as fulfilling as when Rowan does it, she can’t help but notice. But, she also hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him all day, and she knew she couldn’t leave the house all worked up.

By the time Aelin is ready to go, Rowan still hasn’t texted her back. She’s not ashamed to admit it’s driving her a little bit insane. What has been keeping him so busy that he can’t even text her back? She decides that it’s been long enough that she can text him again. She takes a quick selfie, showing off her subtle cleavage and sends it off with a text asking how she looks.

As she and Elide wait in the foyer for Sam, Aelin stops pretending she’s not waiting for a text reply and keeps her phone out in her hand. Elide can’t help but comment. “You like him.”

“Who?” Aelin asks, distracted.

“The Chaol 2.0 lookalike who was here all afternoon,” Elide jokes. “No, dummy. Rowan.

“Of course I like him.”

“No, but I mean you really like him.”

Aelin shrugs. She does like Rowan, and she definitely missed him today.

“He’s nice,” Aelin says carefully. “We’re friends.”

“Who fuck,” Elide adds. “Usually when I’m friends with the person I’m sleeping with, it’s called a relationship.”

“Or, friends with benefits.”

Elide raises an eyebrow at her friend. “So, what, it’s just some dirty secret affair?”

Aelin frowns. “Affair sounds so tawdry.”

Their banter is interrupted by Sam’s arrival. He looks preppy as ever, and Aelin finally understands Elide’s Chaol 2.0 comment. Their coloring is fairly similar, and all dressed up for a night out, they both have a similar air about them. This is exactly who Aelin’s parents would want her to date. But oddly enough, he does absolutely nothing for Aelin.

Rowan finally texts her back while they’re en route to the bowling alley.

You know you’re stunning. His text makes her grin wildly.

The drive to the bowling alley is short, and soon they’re all piling out of their Uber and into the small dingy alley, which has never been updated. Elide spots Manon right away, and leads them over to her lane, where a bunch of people are huddled at a table with beers and pizza.

Manon hugs Elide, but her eyes narrow when she sees Aelin.

“I brought friends,” Elide says, “I hope that’s okay.”

“I did, too,” Manon says with a frown, and Aelin’s heart soars when she follows Manon’s gaze and it lands on a head of silvery hair making its way toward their table. It’s a perfect coincidence that she accidentally ended up crashing Rowan’s plans. Fate.

She smiles, making eye contact with him. His pine green eyes light up with desire upon seeing her, but he looks away quickly, tension filling his posture as he gets closer.

He drops two beers onto the table in front of them, and Aelin quirks her head in confusion as a pretty blonde brushes against his hand to take it. The blonde smiles at him and bats her eyelashes, thanking him sweetly for the beer. Aelin’s stomach turns.

“This is my cousin, Asterin.” Manon introduces the girl to everyone. Aelin has the urge to throw her arms around Rowan and kiss him, but she can’t with everyone around. Instead, she takes a seat at the table next to him, and tries to greet him.

But Rowan isn’t paying attention to her. His scowling face looks over her shoulder at Sam, who’s taken the seat on the other side of her.

“Sam,” he says with a small nod of his head.

Unfazed, Sam greets everyone at the table with gusto, introducing himself as the new guy, completely unaware to the extreme tension simmering beneath the surface.

“So, are we going to bowl or what?” Elide asks. Rowan stands up from the table quickly and grabs a ball, not looking back at Aelin. Asterin cheers wildly for him from the table, her gold eyes glowing at the handsome man getting ready to play.

There’s only one thing Aelin can conclude. She’s inadvertently crashed Rowan’s date.

~*~*~*~*~

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[ijustdragon]

Everything About The Moon in Magick

An Overview of The Moon Cycles

The Lunar Phase or Moon Phase is the shape we see of the moon, which is lit by the sun, when viewed from earth. The Lunar Phases gradually change over the period of a Synodic Month, which is around 29.53 days. This occurs due to the orbital positions of the Moon around Earth and the Earth around the Sun moving. The Moons location is tidally locked by Earth's gravity, this causes most of the same lunar side to always face earth.

Each of the main four "intermediate" lunar phases is around 7.4 days but this will vary slightly due to the elliptical shape of the moons orbit. There are four main principal lunar phases: • New Moon (0°) • First Quarter (90°) • Full Moon (180°) • Last Quarter (270°) The Degrees show the Moon's ecliptic longitude at the angle to the sun. All of these phases appear slightly different times at different locations on earth.

During the intervals between principal phases are intermediate phases, during which the Moon's apparent shape is either crescent or gibbous. The intermediate phases last one-quarter of a synodic month, or 7.38 days, on average. The descriptor waxing is used for an intermediate phase when the Moon's apparent shape is thickening, from new to full moon, and waning when the shape is thinning.

Full Moon of The Months

January Full Moon

The first Full Moon of the year is named after howling wolves, hence the name The Wolf Moon. In some cultures, it was known as Old Moon, Ice Moon, Snow Moon, and the Moon after Yule. In ancient times, it was common to track the changing seasons by following the lunar month rather than the solar year, which the 12 months in our modern calendar are based on. For millennia, people across Europe, as well as Native American tribes, named the months after features they associated with the Northern Hemisphere seasons, and many of these names are very similar or identical. This is the time for protection and strength, this time symbolizes both the beginning and the end.

February Full Moon

The Snow Moon is the Full Moon in February, named after the snow on the ground. Some North American tribes named it the Hunger Moon due to the scarce food sources and hard hunting conditions during mid-winter, while others named it the Storm Moon. Some sources also call it Chaste Moon, although most attribute this name to March Full Moon. About once every 19 years, February does not have a Full Moon, known as a Black Moon. In 2018, this was the case in most time zones. Instead, January and March have two Full Moons each, creating a double Blue Moon. This is the time to focus on magick for fertility and strength.

March Full Moon

The Full Moon in March is the Worm Moon, and it is usually considered the last Full Moon of winter. It is also called Lenten Moon, Crow Moon, Crust Moon, Chaste Moon, Sugar Moon, and Sap Moon. The Worm Moon got its name from the earthworms that emerge at this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere. This is the time to plant plans in your mind, its also a period of purity and newness.

April Full Moon

The Full Moon in April is the Pink Moon, from the pink flowers – phlox – that bloom in the early spring. Other names for this Full Moon include Sprouting Grass Moon, Fish Moon, Hare Moon, and the Old English/Anglo-Saxon name is Egg Moon. It is also known as the Paschal Moon because it is used to calculate the date for Easter. Now is the time to put your plans into action!

May Full Moon

The May Full Moon is known as Flower Moon to signify the flowers that bloom during this month. Other names for the Full Moon in May are Corn Planting Moon, and Milk Moon from Old English/Anglo-Saxon. Now is the time to focus on love, health, romance and wisdom. It’s time to rekindle your withering flames.

June Full Moon

June’s Full Moon is the Strawberry Moon as these little red berries ripen at this time. Other names are Hot Moon, Mead Moon, and Rose Moon. Now is the time to focus on love, marriage and success. June is the month of marriage!

July Full Moon

The Full Moon for the month of July is called Buck Moon to signify the new antlers that emerge on deer buck's foreheads around this time. This Full Moon is also known as Thunder Moon, Wort Moon, and Hay Moon from Old English/Anglo-Saxon. Now is the time to focus on enchantment, health, rebirth, strength and celebration. It’s a great time for prosperity magick and others of the sort.

August Full Moon

The Full Moon for August is called Sturgeon Moon because of the large number of fish in the lakes where the Algonquin tribes fished. Other names for this Full Moon include Green Corn Moon, Barley Moon, Fruit Moon, and Grain Moon from Old English/Anglo-Saxon. Technically, the Harvest Moon is the Full Moon closest to the September equinox around September 22. Most years it is in September, but around every three years, it is in October. The Harvest Moon is the only Full Moon name which is determined by the equinox rather than a month. Now is the time for abundance, agriculture and sharing. Enjoy the bounty of the earth but don’t forget to share with those who don’t feel the abundance like you do.

September Full Moon

The Full Moon in the month of September in the Old Farmer's Almanac is called Harvest Moon, which corresponds with the Old English/Anglo-Saxon name, while other names are Corn Moon or Full Corn Moon or Barley Moon. Now is the time for protection, prosperity and a continuation of abundance.

October Full Moon

Every three years, the Hunter's Moon is also the Harvest Moon. Traditionally, people in the Northern Hemisphere spent the month of October preparing for the coming winter by hunting, slaughtering and preserving meats for use as food. This led to October’s Full Moon being called the Hunter’s Moon, Dying Grass Moon, and Blood Moon or Sanguine Moon. However, this should not be confused with a Total Lunar Eclipse/Blood Moon. Now is the time for new goals, resolution and spirituality. Evaluate yourself, reflect, what could you do better, who could you be?

November Full Moon

According to folklore, the Full Moon in November is named after beavers who become active while preparing for the winter. It is also known as Frosty Moon, and along with the December Full Moon some called it Oak Moon. Traditionally, if the Beaver Moon is the last Full Moon before the winter solstice, it is also called the Mourning Moon. Now is the time for prosperity and your bonds with family and friends. Take this opportunity to use divination to show what your future holds.

December Full Moon

December is the month when winter begins for most of the Northern Hemisphere, and the Full Moon is called the Cold Moon. The Old English/Anglo-Saxon name is the Moon Before Yule, while another name is Wolf Moon, however, this is more common for the January Full Moon. Now is the time for hope and healing, let go. Start anew. This is your new self.

The Moon in Magick

Moon magic is associated with the Moon. There is a belief common to many cultures that working rituals at the time of different phases of the moon can bring about physical or psychological change or transformation. These rituals have historically occurred on or around the full moon and to a lesser extent the new moon. Such practices are common among adherents of neopagan and witchcraft systems such as Wicca. Witches in Greek and Roman literature, particularly those from Thessaly, were regularly accused of "drawing down the Moon" by use of a magic spell. The trick serves to demonstrate their powers, to perform a love spell or to extract a magical juice from the Moon. These beliefs would seem to be consistent with many other cultures traditions, for instance; casting of the i ching is often done during the full moon's apex.

The following are correspondences with the moon’s phases.

Phase 1: New Moon

The new moon is a fresh start. When the moon is in this phase, you can barely see it, and the sky can appear black. Sometimes magick can be quite literal, and with the moon out of sight, this can be an ideal time to do shadow work or acknowledge our dark sides, or shadow selves, that we typically like to keep hidden.

For instance, perhaps you have a manipulative side you tend to insist doesn't exist when called out. Are there healthy ways you could use these skills, such as to get ahead in your career without hurting others in the process? Or you could use your ability to read others to encourage your partner to communicate together rather than to control them? New moons are great for exploring our shadow sides and finding ways to work positively with them.

Additionally, as new moons are new beginnings, the new moon is a wonderful time to set goals and intentions for the forthcoming cycle. What do you want the next month to look like? Is there a toxic lover you're finally ready to cut out of your life to make room for the person of your dreams? The new moon is a great time to encourage beginnings, especially in love. And you know what beginnings require: letting go of the past. If you want to clear bad energy in your love life to attract an ideal mate, the new moon has your back.

Magick for this Time Includes;

Bath Magick

Cleansing Magick

Acquiring New Things Magick

Shadow Magick

Phase 2: Waxing Moon

The waxing moon phase is when the moon is visually getting bigger and brighter, shifting from a new moon to a full moon. During the waxing moon, the moon is growing, becoming brighter, and creating an ideal phase for sympathetic magick around growth. Sympathetic magick means magick that works through symbolic resemblance. The moon is getting brighter, so let's use that energy to make your career, self-esteem, and love life brighter, too.

Magick for this Time Includes;

Persuasion Magick

Intention Magick

Manifesting Magick

Seeking Magick

Candle Magick

Journal Magick

Love Magick

Phase 3: Full Moon

Emotions run high on full moons, and everything is extra intense. You can use this intensity and apply it to basically any spell you like, with the knowledge you'll have a bright ball of shining power to aid you. Many people charge their crystals during full moons by placing them somewhere they'll be exposed to the light. Another trick is to make full moon water, by placing a goblet of water under the light of the full moon on top of a letter of intention. Let the full moon charge the water, and then utilize it in potions or spells. Any magick can be done under a full moon with extra potency, but it's also a time in which psychic abilities are heightened. Trust your instincts under a full moon, even if emotions are running high. One of the simplest and best uses of full moon energy is to meditate in its light for clarity on a situation.

Magick for this Time Includes;

Sex Magick

Strength Magick

Confidence Magick

Physic Magick

Higher-self Magick

Tarot Magick

Familiar Magick

Spirit Guide Magick

Phase 4: Waning Moon

The waning moon is the time period in which the moon is getting darker again, moving from a full moon back to new. Remembering sympathetic magick, the waning moon is great for banishing work, or cutting cords with a past lover. However, you don't always need to banish a person from your life entirely — some of the most powerful banishing work you can do is spells to rid yourself of feelings for someone you know is bad for you, insecurity or self-doubt. Empowering yourself works better (and some would argue more ethical) than trying to change the will of another. Banish unfair treatment at work, banish your impostor syndrome. Remove unwanted negativeness that is keeping you from living the life you deserve.

Magick for this Time Includes;

Banishment Magick

Insecurity Magick

Positive Mentality Magick

Lunar Cheat Sheet (basic)

New Moon: Renew, Cleanse, Purify

Waxing Moon: Attract, Gain, Love

Full Moon: Manifest, Enlighten, Heal

Waning Moon: Banish, Negate

Blue Moon: Wish, Dream, Achieve

Lunar Cheat Sheet (advanced)

New Moon: 

Blank Page, New Beginnings, Planting Seeds of Intention, Money Spells, Manifestation For The Month, Blessing of a New Project

Crescent Moon: 

Fresh Energy, Form New Ideas, Focus on Details

First Quarter Moon: 

Momentum, Challenges, Paying Attention

Gibbons Moon: 

Patience, Edit, Refine

Full Moon: 

Peak Energy, Gratitude, Blossoming, Psychic Energy, Connection, Love/Soulmate Spells, Banishing Negative Energy or Influences, Divination, Protection Magick, Thanking Deities and The Universe

Disseminating Moon: 

Release, Receive, Harvest

Last Quarter Moon: 

Breakdown, Forgiveness, Let Go

Balsamic Moon:

Rest, Restoration, Reflection

Blue Moon:

Protection, Energy Boost, Positivity

Blood Moon:

Transformation, Banishing, Prophecy

A Halo Around The Moon (A Sign Of Disruption)

A Change in The Weather, A Fever To Come, A Streak of Bad Fortune

Alas a double ring means anything can happen, the more tangled it is the worst the outcome will be.

Uses of Moon Water

Moon water has many uses and is very common in spells that involve liquid or elixirs. The following are a few examples of their uses;

Bathing or Cleaning One Self, incorporating Moon Water into Bath Magick is a very expensive use of a large quantity of water but will undoubtedly boost the power of the magick in use.

Energizing/Charging and Cleaning Crystals, Moonlight can charge and clean your crystals but so can your water, although you do have to check if your crystals can go in water. Selenite is a brilliant example of one that cannot.

Tea’s or Beverages, this is a very direct way to empower yourself with the power of the moon for daily use. If you do intend on using your moon water as a drink please be sure to use clean water, prevent insects or animals of the like for coming into contact with it and make sure the container is clean.

Making Potions, Or sprays. It is very common to find Moon Water as an ingredient for cleansing sprays and potion bases. As a potion base Moon Water depends on the moon phase it’s associated with, meaning that the Moon Water is already imbued with the power and meaning of that specific Moon Phase. Make sure they correspond accordingly!

Watering Plants and Flowers, adding Moon Water to your plants can influence them to grow better and develop a further connection between the two of you.

Making Fragrances or Perfumes, Moon Water is extremely popular in Glamour spells and sprays, as it is a pure form of gentle power. The Moon is commonly associated with femininity and a boost of this can help influence your feminine side. Not to say that Men can’t use Moon Water, every person has a feminine side, no matter what’s in their pants!

Diffuser Water, placing Moon Water in your diffuser can help empower the fragrance and boost the Magickal energy of the area it’s placed by.

Being A Symbol of Your Moon Goddess/God. A jar or bottle of Moon Water on your altar can help symbolize your Moon related deities.

Moon Deities

In mythology, a lunar deity is a god or goddess of the Moon, sometimes as a personification. These deities can have a variety of functions and traditions depending upon the culture, but they are often related. Some form of Moon worship can be found in most ancient religions.

The following is a list of Moon related Deities I could find, if things are incorrect please let me know! I will be writing their name and then the mythology/religion they originate from.

African Moon Deities

Ala, Igbo

Gleti, Dahomean

Mawu, Dahomean

Iah, Egyptian

iNyanga, Zulu

Khonsu, Egyptian

Thoth, Egyptian

Ela-Opitan, Yoruba

European Moon Deities

Arianrhod, Welsh

Artemis, Greek

Artuma, Etruscan

Ataegina, Lusitanian

Bendis, Thracian

Cynthia, Greek and Roman

Diana, Roman

Elatha, Irish

Hecate, Greek

Hors, Slavic

Hjúki and Bil, Norse

Ilargi, Basque

Kuu, Finnish

Losna, Etruscan

Luna, Roman

Mano, Sámi

Máni, Norse

Meness, Lativan

Phoebe, Greek

Selene, Greek

Triple Goddess, Wicca

Asian Moon Deities

Kunnechup Kamui, Ainu

Kaskuh, Hittie

Men, Phrygian

Jie Lin, Chinese

Chang Xi, Chinese

Chang’e, Chinese

Tai yin xing jun, Chinese

Tu’er Ye, Chinese

Wu Gang, Chinese

Napir, Elamite

Chandra or Soma, Hindu

Kusuh, Hurrian

Selardi, Urartian

Ratih, Indonesian

Silewe Nazarate, Indonesian

Tsukuyomi, Japanese

Tõlze, Mari

Myeongwol, Korean

Bulan/Libulan, Visayan

Mayari, Philippine

Aglibol, Palmarene

Baal-hamon, Carthaginian

Sin, Mesopotamian

Ta’lab, Arabian

Wadd, Minaen

Yarikh, Canaanite

Ay Ata, Turkic

Austronesian Deities

Andriambahomanana, Malagasy

Lona, Hawaiian

Avatea, Polynesian

Fati, Polynesian

Hina, Polynesian

Mahina, Polynesian

Marama, Polynesian

Australian Deities

Bahloo, Australian Aboriginal

Kidili, Mandjindia

Ngalindi, Yolngu

American Deities

Coyolxauhqui, Aztec

Metztli, Aztec

Tecciztecatl, Aztec

Menily, Cahuilla

Muuya, Hopi

Mama Killa, Incan

Ka-Ata-Killa, Incan

Coniraya, Incan

Alignak, Inuit

Igaluk, Inuit

Tarqiup Inua, Inuit

Hanwi, Lakota

Awillix, Maya

Huitaca, Muisca

Chia, Muisca

Pah, Pawnee

Abaangui, Tupi Guarani

Arasy, Tupi Guarani

Jasy, Tupi Guarani

Kalfu, Voodoo

My apologies if I have missed any or spelled them incorrectly as my knowledge was limited to a few websites.

Spells That Use The Moon

A Spell To Increase Communication

Increase Psychic Abilities

Cleansing Spray

Filtering Moon Water

Glow Like The Moon

Simple Full Moon Ritual

Full Moon Tea

Sea Knot Magick: a Wish Bracelet Spell

Self-Love Moon Spell

Full Moon Attraction Jar Spell

Cleansing of The Mind Spell

Moon Cloud Meditation

New Moon Manifestation Ritual

A Spell To Increase Wealth

Strength and Luck Bath Spell

New Moon Jar Spell

Sailor Mercury Study Spell

Blood Moon Blood Spell

Moment of Peace Spell

Solitary Moon Ritual

Cold Moon Intuition Magic

Full Moon Release Spell

Full Moon Enchantment Spell

The Banishing Bottle: A Spell to Thrust Away Banes and Stresses

Divining by Clouds

Thank You For Reading!

-Blessed Be, Circe