#i wantie one now

[larry-ben-kenobi]

Whatchu sayin about night lord players òwó

😱 That they're all very scary and masculine, and nothing like what one would expect an emperor's children player to be like! Very very different, obviously!

[medicinemane]

My stomach sounds like some manner of beast right now, just kind of "mhhhrmmhhbbhh"ing, like some sort of creature snuffling and grumbling

[theexorcistiii]

Is there 123 movies for audio books

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )

JADED | AARON PIERRE.

Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.

summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.

tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.

tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.

Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.

The backseat.

The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.

And why were you sad about that?

You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.

Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.

"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.

"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"

"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."

You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.

Private Ryan: Just rung the bell

Private Ryan: Come out.

Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u

It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.

But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.

It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?

"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!

But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—

"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.

"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"

And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.

"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."

"Pea..”

"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.

Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.

You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.

"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?

"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.

Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."

Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.

"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."

He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.

You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.

And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.

He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.

"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.

"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.

He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.

"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.

"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.

"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.

His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."

It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.

"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"

"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"

"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.

"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.

"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.

"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.

"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.

"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.

"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.

"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.

—

cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[angstywaifu]

Shower Masturbation - Bodhi Durran

Bodhi Durran x Reader Summary: Reader think's she's running late for patrol with Bodhi and rushes to his room. Instead of finding Bodhi ready and waiting for her like he normally would be, she instead finds her friend doing something else. Before she can walk away a single word leaves his lips that changes everything. warnings: nsfw 18+, m masturbation, fem reader, smut

Kinktober MasterList

I was running late. Again. Though I knew Bodhi wouldn’t be surprised. He’d probably be waiting for me as per usual. I rush around the corner, nearly barrelling into Xaden and Garrick who are leaning up against the wall.

”Late again Y/N?” Garrick muses as he smirks down at me.

I roll my eyes at him before moving past them. “You should be use to it by now Tavis,” I call over my shoulder as I continue to rush down the hallway towards Bodhi’s room.

I hear their laughter behind me, no doubt shaking their heads at me as I rush away. I slow my pace, coming to a stop outside Bodhi’s room. I raise my hand and knock on his door as I always do. If I knocked any other way Bodhi got annoyed because he couldn’t tell it was me outside. But after a few seconds I hear no Bodhi rushing to the door. I knock again in my familiar pattern. Still nothing. Maybe he was late as well? I turn the handle, finding the door unlocked. Meaning he’d most likely fallen asleep.

I push open the door, but the bed in the middle of the room is empty bar some of his flight gear strewn across the top. I close the door quietly behind me, walking further in the room. He’d definitely been here recently. Or had to be nearby. It was unlike him to leave his door unlocked if he wasn’t here. And my answer comes moments later, the sound of running water meeting my ears.

I turn my head towards his bathroom, the source of the noise of running water. My eyes going wide with what I see, freezing myself in place. The bathroom door is wide open. Giving me the perfect view of what the mirror catches. Bodhi. Water cascading down his bare back. One hand resting on the wall above his head, the other washing the remains of shampoo from his hair.

I can’t help but watch as the remnants of shampoo cascade down his back, travelling along the ridges of muscle before rolling over hard round ass cheeks. My mouth drops open at the sight. I shouldn’t be watching this. I can’t be watching this. But I am. I’m frozen to the spot as my eyes roam over the bare back of Bodhi. My closest friend Bodhi. Bodhi who I could not deny was attractive as hell. Bodhi who I often caught myself looking at if I let my mind wander too far before tearing my gaze from him.

And right now I should be tearing my gaze from him, and I almost succeed until he turns around. I swear my mouth hits the floor as my eyes now take in the front on view of Bodhi. His bowed head causing his black curls to drop over his forehead. Water cascading over his shoulders and a very sculpted chest I had never seen before due to Bodhi keeping his shirt on unlike the other boys in our friend group during training. He shifts his stance, legs spread wide showing me all of him. Including the very hard and rigid cock, stretching upwards towards his navel and almost reaching it.

The sight has me clamping my thighs together, pulling my bottom through my teeth as I take him all in. My eyes following the hand that reaches down and fists the base of his cock before sliding up and down at a controlled pace. Fuck.

His hand keeps working his length, up and down, his jaw ticking when his hips jut forward as he runs his thumb over the tip. He tips his head back, a guttural groan slipping from his lips as he picks up his pace. The sound sending a shiver down my spine, my teeth clamping shut to stop the moan that wants to escape my lips. But the rest of my body responds. Goosebumps forming under my flight leathers, my pussy aching and clenching around nothing at the sight before me. My fingers ghosting over the waistband of my pants, wanting to dip between them and give into the arousal taking over me as I watching Bodhi come undone. Desperately wanting to be the reason he comes undone. To feel those hands grasp onto me as he fucks me senseless.

I slowly step back, trying to snap out of my trance. To leave and pretend as if none of this happened. To pretend I didn’t stand here and watch my closest friend masturbate in the shower. I manage to turn and grasp the handle. And in the split second that I turn and grasp the handle, a single word leaves Bodhi’s lips. A single world that changes everything.

I’ve heard him say that word a thousand times. But never in the way it leaves his lips now. A sinful moan escapes his lips before he utters the word, barely above a whisper, but I hear it clear as day.

”Y/N”

My head whips around to see Bodhi starting right at me. His onyx eyes locking with me, captivating me under a spell. I can see the panic in his eyes at being caught. But slowly it changes, a slight confidence sneaking in as his eyes trail over me. At the hand lingering at the waistband of my pants. At the way I’ve squeezed my legs together. And how I’m still biting my bottom lip to hold in the moans and gasps that want to break free.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk I rarely get to see, but love so much. He cocks his head to the side, resting it on the arm that now grips the top of the shower, his knuckles turning white. I can’t help but cast my gaze back to the hand that is now pumping his cock faster and faster. His hips now rocking back and forth into his hand. I can tell he’s close. The tip now looking angry and red, while the veins running up and down his length look ready to burst. I hear his breathing pick up as he nears his climax.

My name falls from Bodhi’s lips again, louder than before, but still with the same lust filled tone. I look up, meeting his gaze again. His eyes blown wide as his chest rises and falls quickly. Bodhi’s lips part as he lets out a series of guttural moans, his body tensing as he reaches his climax, pulling his bottom lip through his teeth as he continues to look at me.

Bodhi’s hand slows as he milks himself, his body relaxing as he comes down from his high. Not once do his eyes leave mine. Both locked in a trance over what has just happened. Over what I’ve just watched happened. He takes a step forward, breaking me from the spell his eyes have me under. My body finally reacting how it should have the moment I realised what was happening.

I tear open the door, a loud bang echoing down the hall causing Garrick and Xaden to turn their attention to me as I bolt down the hallway as Bodhi calls out to me from his room. Xaden opens his mouth to most likely ask what’s happened, but the door banging open a second time draws his attention back to Bodhi’s room, his eyes going wide. As I turn the corner I catch a glimpse of Bodhi standing outside his door with a towel barely covering his lower half as he calls out to me.

@violent-little-thing @softodettes @marrianena @idkimjusthere100 @strangeeaglepost @puttyly @kyl13sm1l3y @wildflowermooon @oliviajm21

[bonniepop]

Hiiiiiiiii! Can I request a tsukishima kei hurt to comfort fic?

everybody thank @paper-bag-boy for reminding me to finish and post this

—

fuck, you think miserably. fuck. how am i going to tell my parents this?

his figure casts a shadow over you when he approaches, and when you look up, your face morphs from aguish to utter rage. you're crouched on the floor, back against the wall, and you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

your legs ache when you push yourself to stand. you feel pathetic, yes, but you're not about to roll with that narrative in front of one of the most infuriating people in your class.

"what do you want?" you try and lace as much venom in your words as possible, but you don't sound as menacing all choked up. your red, wet eyes meet his blank ones.

“stop crying,” tsukishima tells you lowly, standing tall with his hands in his pockets. his head is tipped forward to look you in the eye—you only reach until his chest—and thankfully his shadow blocks out the sun, because you wouldn't be as intimidating if you squinted. "and the pillar that is his stature casting darkness over your face. “i can hear you blubbering from a mile away. stop crying.”

you bristle. “fuck off,” you snap, once more roughly wiping at your eyes for good measure. “i already know that you don’t think very highly of me. at least let me cry in peace.”

as soon as you round the corner towards the dark side of the building, something grips your wrist. you jerk your hand away, but the years of volleyball has given him stronger hands. that’s the only logical explanation. “what the f—let go of me!”

“no,” he drawls, stepping into the shadow, tugging at you again so you face him. “why did you leave? class isn't over."

your stomach coils in nervous dread. you remember your class adviser's voice. your name, coming in second. his name, coming in first.

it was humiliating.

“because you’re an asshole and i wanted to get away from you,” you spit, pulling away again, but he doesn't let go. "if you don't let me go, i'm going to fucking scream."

still, he keeps his hand wrapped around your wrist. “why are you acting this way? it's just a class.”

your spine tingles with an emotion you can't explain. he won't understand what it's like, you think to yourself, full of misery. he won't understand. he won't understand coming home to parents who expect so much from you, who push you to your wits' end, who make you feel small because you didn't make it to the top of the class.

he won't understand, because he does it so fucking effortlessly, while you're up late memorizing theories and formulas and practically making yourself sick just to be the perfect person, perfect student, perfect child.

his statement—just a class—makes you livid. you snatch your hand away, thankfully breaking free.

“you don't get it," you tell him venomously. "you don't—fucking–get it."

"then explain it to me," he snaps, his voice ugly. "can your pathetic little brain handle that?"

heat pricks the back of your eyes, but you blink to keep them at bay. as much as you don't want to admit it, what he said hurt.

you shake your head and look at your feet. "look, i don't need this right now, okay? i already know you think i’m a useless piece of shit, just—not now."

he's quiet. you look up at him can't see the look in his eyes past the gleam of his glasses.

you take a deep breath and walk away.

—

you avoid him for as long as you can.

as expected, the conversation with your parents went horribly. more hours studying at home. even less hours in clubs, when you barely even dedicated any. less time with your friends. you'd even taking to skipping lunch in favor of studying that it didn't take long for the reputation of being a hermit to be attached to your name, because each time anyone looked for you, they ended up in the same corner of the library—exactly where you found yourself now.

your head was bowed as you furiously scribbled down notes from class, trying not to entertain the thought of not wanting to do this by forcing yourself to focus on the lecture you didn't quite get. drowning out the desire to just do something else seemed to be working—your grades have been picking up over the past few weeks.

and when your teacher calls you to the front to hand you your paper, proudly declaring that you have the highest score in the class, you try and convince yourself it was all worth it—the late nights spent trying to get ahead in the class that the exhaustion was starting to give you sleep paralysis, being so isolated from your friends in favor of schoolwork that you barely eat lunch with a human being anymore—but when you turn back to see the rest of your classmates who seem to barely even care, your self-satisfied smile dissolves into nothing.

you clutch your paper in your hand and stare at the floor as you trudge back to your seat, feeling empty.

so distracted were you in your thoughts that you didn't even register tsukishima angle his head to look at you as you walked past him.

—

indigestion, you told your teacher during last period, as an excuse to head to the nurse's office. you walked past the clinic without even a knock.

you wander. your parents would kill you if they found out you skipped, but you can't bring yourself to care. you don't even know where you're headed—you recall visiting the roof, the back of the school, even the walkway to the gym, but ultimately you find yourself in the courtyard, and sit aimlessly on one of the tree benches.

you stare off into the distance, watching the soccer team practice; the sun is now a brilliant orange, signaling that class had been over quite some time ago.

"oh, hey," someone says. "you're in class four, right?"

you turn, trying not to pay attention to the ache in your neck (how long were you watching the soccer team, exactly?), and blink.

"kage... yama, right?" you ask.

he nods, crumpling the milk carton in his hand. "yeah. hi."

you nod, feeling at a loss of what to say. you never really spoke to him; you knew he was the hotshot of the boys' volleyball team, and you knew tsukishima was on the team, but that was... it.

"kageyama!" someone called behind him, and soon came the shortest player on the team (not meant as a slight, but more of a marker—you knew this guy could jump), orange hair as bright as the sky. "kage—oh, hi!"

"hello," you say.

"i don't think we've met," the sunny guy says. "i'm hinata."

"hello, hinata. i'm—"

"you're in tsukishima's class, right? yeah, i remember; you'd be near where he sat when we came in for lunch. you know, so he could tutor us." he blinks and his smile falters. "hey, uh, are you okay? sorry if this seems rude, but you..." he tilts his head.

"what?" you blink, a little self-conscious. the weeks spent solitude had turned you more aware of not just your grades, but also yourself. you wrap your arms around yourself in an effort to hide.

hinata's face falls and he looks away. "um, nothing. sorry i said anything."

you didn't know how to respond to that. "hmm."

"oi," someone says, and hinata livens up when he sees who it is.

"hey, tsukishima, yamaguchi!"

you bristle. the last thing you want is for him to see you like this. you try and make your escape but tsukishima's legs are so fucking long you barely had the chance.

yamaguchi greets you first, and you can tell it's a little strained. tsukishima just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking down at you. the sunset casts a shadow on his face.

"huh?" you hear hinata say, "is something...?"

yamaguchi ushers the two away (but you can hear kageyama go, "way to be obvious, idiot.") and you're left in a sort of stare down (up?) with tsukishima.

he doesn't talk, and you roll your eyes. as you turn to leave, he goes, "where were you." he doesn't ask it; he says it.

his tone irks you. "none of your business."

"you weren't in the nurse's office."

you checked? was the first thought the sprang into your head. that irked you even more, and you can feel your desire to pick a fight rise within you. "and? so?"

"your stuff's still in the classroom."

"okay?"

tsukishima clicks his tongue. "no need to get defensive."

your hackles rise. "i'm not—" you release a violent huff and turn to leave. "whatever. rat me out, i don't care."

his hand is on your person almost immediately, his long legs closing the distance before you could even move. his fingers are long, his thumb lightly overlapping the tips of his fingers as he holds your arm.

"let me—" you start, but your words die in your throat when he steps closer—so much closer that you can smell him. you tell yourself that his sudden close proximity is what's frying your brain instead of his scent (clean clothes, and something... woody? you can't place it).

"i'm not picking a fight, okay?" he murmurs lowly; he's leaned down to say it close to your ear. "you just... you look like shit."

you bristle, heat prickling the backs of your eyes against your will. you open your mouth to retort when you feel him gently take your hand and press something warm against it.

when he pulls away, you look down at the onigiri he placed in your palm.

"i noticed you've been skipping lunch," he says calmly, eyes averted. he places his hands in his pockets.

you're so dumbfounded it takes you minutes before you mutter a, "uh."

when he realizes that that's all he's gonna get out of you, he clears his throat and turns around. "i don't mean anything by it," he declares as he walks away, his face hidden in the shadow of the bright sunset. "don't get the wrong idea."

you try not to, you really do. but that doesn't stop the heat in your cheeks anyway.

[vixstarria]

Sweat

Astarion, Halsin and Tav become a triad after the fall of the Netherbrain. This is a story of how it begins, progresses, and eventually ends.

Astarion x named F!Tav x Halsin

porn with (!) plot / character study, but through smut

18+, smut, threesome, double penetration, lots of dirty talk, what else... you know what, just refer to the AO3 tags, link below

In my headcanon, Halsin approaches both Asmodea and Astarion together, rather than just Asmodea alone.

This fic picks up their story where I left it in A Night at the Inn, and is a companion for Chapter 10 of Bloodbang Chronicles (in which Astarion is the one receiving - you can read that chapter as a standalone if you want). All three pieces are threesome smut.

Or, if you want more of Astarion's dynamic with Asmodea, check out Bloodbang Chronicles generally.

Anyway, enjoy!

Approx. 7.9k words

AO3

Each section break signifies a jump forward in time.

Of course the bloody druid was after her too - just about everyone else in this blasted group had been at one point or another. Astarion sighed inwardly as he observed the druid conversing with his lover.

Halsin hadn’t been with them long. He hadn’t mingled much with the rest of the group during the journey from the Emerald Grove, and then, on reaching the Shadowcursed Lands, he had stayed back at Last Light, having only rejoined them recently. 

But ever since, the druid had been giving Asmodea increasing amounts of attention. Even now, having just finished talking with her, Halsin's eyes trailed her as he drew on his pipe. 

Why should he be any different - just about everyone else had made some advances on their de facto ‘leader’ by then. Only Karlach had always stayed on friendly terms with her – Astarion had worried that might change after that blacksmith Dammon sorted her little tactile problem, but it appeared their bond had remained sister-like.

As for his own claim on the woman – it seemed he was widely disregarded as a rake. Taken for a temporary thing she and anyone else would discard without a moment’s hesitation, if anything more tangible came along. Never mind that his feelings had been growing each day, despite his efforts to the contrary. As had her own, towards him, unless he was blind.

Was she even aware of any of this..? She had to be.

As Astarion pondered this, Asmodea sat down next to him, pressing her thigh against his and leaning against him; as though just a small fragile thing seeking protection or warmth from him – despite the fact she barely needed the former anymore, and he couldn’t provide the latter. Still, it made for an excellent and obvious display for everyone around them. Without thinking, he pulled her against him by her waist, pressing his lips against her temple. 

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling in lighthearted glee. 

“I know,” she whispered, inclining her head slightly towards the druid.

“I know you know,” Astarion murmured back. Well, now he did, anyway.

“Good,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips and turning her attention to the food in front of her. 

Astarion glanced at Halsin, who sat across the fire. The druid met his gaze. Not in challenge, but rather with... open curiosity. The druid’s lips curled in a genuine smile, his eyes lingering on Astarion’s longer than generally acceptable.

…Oh. …Hah!

Astarion looked away, amused, smirking into his wine goblet. It seemed he had misread the druid, somewhat. Yes, he knew that look very well.

Godsdamned wood elves…

“Could you go ask Lae’zel for one of her training swords?” 

“Why?” 

“I’ll show you. ...But also I think she will be less inclined to murder me for wasting everyone’s time, if she’s curious about me needing a sword with my morning bath.” 

“She’ll have to murder me and Halsin first.” Astarion grumbled, but left the inn’s bathing room to retrieve the sword. 

Him and Halsin… A debaucherous night spent with both of them, lasting well into the morning. Astarion had mostly watched or directed her and Halsin, still not wanting to be touched himself, but it was, undoubtedly, the most they had done since before the night they had their heart to heart in the Shadowcursed Lands.

Halsin hesitated at the door.   

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of them, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” She knew the druid would have accepted whichever answer he was given, but she could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.

She exchanged a look with Astarion. It was he who finally spoke.   

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realise,” he said, with a grin. “But let’s talk about that later.”   

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving. 

What in the hells had they just started..? 

Astarion returned with the blunted practice weapon.

“Most of the others have gone out into the city. And you were right, the moment I asked Lae’zel for a sword, she swapped all murderous intent to curiosity.”

Asmodea took the sword and submerged most if it in the lukewarm water in the tub, channelling a Heat Metal spell through it.

“Old bard trick,” she explained to Astarion, waiting for the water to heat up. “So,” she added, looking up at Astarion. “Halsin.”

“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully. “Halsin.”

They exchanged and held equally incredulous looks, before breaking out into laughter.

“I told you he wanted both of us!” Asmodea exclaimed amid the tittering. “So… What do you think? Truly?” she asked once the laughter had died down a bit.

“It… It was certainly entertaining, sharing you with him,” Astarion snickered.

“And you..? Do you think you would be comfortable..? Being ‘shared’?”

“I’m not averse to the idea... But, for now, he might be more than I can handle.”

“...Well, with enough patience, determination and grease...”

“Why do I even like you...” Astarion muttered, heaving a massive, exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. “That is not how I meant that!” he exclaimed. “...Although that too, most likely.”

They broke into another fit of laughter.

“But I… I don’t see any harm in it. I think it could be good, even,” Astarion said, softly this time, once they had both calmed down. “What about you..?”

Astarion sat on the roof of the Elfsong, watching the streets below. He was most certainly not on the lookout for two figures - a slender one with a disarray of locs on her head, and a robust-looking one that would tower over the first. How long had they been gone now, anyway?

He sipped his wine, straight from the bottle. It was pleasant, but lacked the kick he had grown used to from adding blood to it. Wyll would have agreed to donate some, if he’d only asked, but he couldn’t bear to go downstairs and be seen by anyone. He knew what they were all thinking.

Asmodea and Halsin had been eager to explore whatever it was they had set in motion. As for Astarion, after the initial elation had subsided, he just wanted time to himself to think, and so he had all but shoved them out the door together. Halsin had made it abundantly clear he wanted to include Astarion. Astarion, in turn, assured them both that he was happy for them to spend some time alone that night. And Asmodea… Asmodea had been visibly conflicted, but listened to him in the end.

And now he was hiding out on the roof, not being in the mood to explain to anyone why his lover had suddenly taken off with another. They had tried to be discreet, but you couldn’t sneeze without everyone in camp knowing about it and making it their business, much less have a little… arrangement.

Was that all it was?

He probed at his own feelings as he swirled the wine in his mouth, and found them to be a nonsensical potpourri of jealousy, relief, doubt, giddiness, inadequacy, excitement, fear and hope. The emotions mixed and swirled, constantly replacing one another at the forefront of his mind.

Astarion found himself, once again, contemplating how he himself felt about the druid.

There was a physical attraction, certainly. But also an admiration. A certain peace and serenity was to be found in his company - something Astarion hadn’t felt in centuries. Astarion often found himself discarding all his usual masks with Halsin, disarmed by the druid’s own earnestness.

Above all, he felt safe.

What would it be like..? Having this… gentle giant, to share with Asmodea.

Sweet pondering thoughts switched abruptly to more mundane and grounded ones.

What were they doing now? Talking about him, perhaps? Resolving that he wasn’t necessary after all? Or maybe just happily fucking each other’s brains out, not giving him a single thought to begin with?

Was all this just a massive, stupid mistake?

Thoughts spiralling and racing, Astarion gulped down more of the wine. He could go for more of that herb, whatever it was, that Halsin had given him the other night, Astarion thought - he refused to believe it was really catnip. He surveyed the street below, again. How long could it possibly take?!

Karlach appeared on the roof, holding a bottle of her own by the neck.

Ah, here comes the envoy of the pity committee…

“Hey Fangs. You alright..? Do I need to knock some sense into anyone?”

“I’ll have you know, I had their invitation, and they had my blessing,” he all but snarled, choosing to cut straight to the point.

“Right, whatever,” she said, sitting down next to him. “You elves are fucking weird, you know.”

“Yes, well, after a few centuries you change your perspective on some trivialities,” he snapped.

Karlach only emitted a brief, bitter laugh.

…Shit.

Astarion belatedly realised she was the last person to whom he should have said anything about longevity or life expectancy. He turned to look at her. Her forehead, he now noticed, bore a sheen of perspiration despite the pleasantly cool weather, her breathing was more laboured than usual.

“How’s your engine?” he asked, softly.

“Shit,” she said, taking a swig from her bottle, and drawing her knees up against her chest.

Another nail for his proverbial coffin.

He reached out, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, letting her lean against himself. He didn’t know what to say, but this - this was close enough to what he had done countless times for drunk and newly single women seeking a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride on, before whisking them to their demise - though he truly meant the gesture this time.

“Saw an old friend of mine today,” Karlach said, quietly. “She’s having a baby. I told her I’d go see her once all this was over.” She sniffed, masking it as a chuckle. “Never going to happen, is it?”

Cazador’s presence still looming over him, tadpole still in his brain, his lover in another’s arms (at his own insistence, no less), AND he could lose his friend any day.

Astarion said nothing and rubbed her shoulder.

He lay in bed when Asmodea finally returned. She seemed hesitant, only giving him a worried look when she realised he was still awake. He wordlessly lifted the edge of the blanket in invitation. With some relief writ on her face, she joined him under the covers. She fidgeted, as though unsure just how to settle down, until he pulled her tightly against himself.

“Do you want to know..?” she asked.

He thought she would smell of the druid. Instead, she smelled like she just bathed.

“Not really,” he answered.

She snuggled against him as she would ordinarily, to go to sleep, but the silence between them was pregnant, and before long, she sighed and leaned away from him, reclining on her elbow.

“Star…”

Astarion opened his eyes and met her gaze.

Gods, but he didn’t want to talk about anything just then.

He pressed a finger to her lips, then stroked her face, gently, looking into her eyes. What was it he read in them..? Concern, maybe. Worry. Pleading? Was that… fear..?

Something twisted in his chest. He couldn’t bear to have her look at him like that.

He pulled her back against himself, pressing his lips against hers, as she melted into him, her tension beginning to dissipate. She wanted to say something, but he kissed her again and again, hands beginning to roam her. If only he could show her all his love... He caressed reassurance into her body, as he knew words would fail him now. Pulled her clothes off so he could feel her, all of her, and be felt. She did the same for him, also having given up on saying anything, turning instead to conveying her affection and longing through touch alone, just as they had done all that time ago, when their blossoming love for one another was still an open but unspoken secret.

But what had happened to this same body earlier..?

Even through the tenderness that had just overtaken him, he found that the thought intrigued him. His mind wandered to images of her writhing with the druid, coming undone in ecstasy, the way he had already witnessed them do earlier. The images caused a warm coil to tighten at the bottom of his stomach. How close were they to reality, he wondered.

As her clothes came off and her body wrapped around his, his fingers probed and sought evidence of her evening. Was she too tender? Too swollen? Did she seem sore? Was she bruised anywhere? The druid had been mindful of his proportions and movements in the night that they all shared together, but who knew, maybe Halsin lost his restraint and had simply healed any damage he had done after.

Perhaps he did want to know.

Lewd thoughts turned to outrage at the very idea that anyone might have possibly hurt what was his. Even if he willingly shared some part of her. She was his.

Astarion’s arms tightened around her, and he deepened his kiss, moaning into her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and whimpered, softly.

“Ugh, gross…” Astarion heard Karlach saying a few beds over. “Hey Gale… Gale!”

The wizard produced something between a snore and a disgruntled salutation, and cast a habitual sphere of silence around the pair’s bed, before presumably immediately falling back asleep somewhere beyond the privacy screens.

Astarion’s fingers slipped between Asmodea’s legs, earning him a moan as she spread wider for him. Wet, so wet. For him. As she should be.

He wanted to fuck her hard into the bed, lay his claim on her, but he didn’t want to be compared with the druid so soon after whatever had happened between him and her. Instead, he slipped his fingers inside her, twisting and curling them, digging into the sweet spot within her - where she told him no one before him had ever pleasured her properly. This was his and his only. He pressed his fingers into it rougher than usual, until she panted and whined. Had she made these same sounds for Halsin earlier this night?

“Gods… Please don’t stop,” she gasped.

“Oh I’m not stopping anytime soon, darling,” he whispered in her ear.

Perhaps sensing something different in his voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at him as he leaned over her, his fingers still working inside her.

“How many times did you come for him?”

“Ast-” she began.

“How many?” he asked again, punctuating his words by rolling her clit with his thumb.

She swallowed hard, her cunt already starting to pulse in little pre-orgasm contractions around his fingers.

“Twice,” she said, wetting her lips.

“Then you owe me three.”

He moved his hand faster, mercilessly building more and more pressure.

Mine… Before anyone else’s, mine. Not the druid’s. Not her bloody patron’s. Not the godsdamned Emperor’s. Not that devil’s. No one’s. Only mine.

Her moans were mounting, almost turning into screams. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows, stilling, looking into his eyes and accepting what he was giving her. Just as she threw her head back and released a desperate groan, he sank his fangs into her neck.

Mine, mine, mine, mine…

She came all over his hand, completely losing all control, legs shaking as he stroked her more gently through her orgasm, even as he drank from her.

He broke away from her neck, humming soothingly as she gasped and sobbed quietly in the aftershocks of her orgasm. He kissed up her neck until his lips were at her ear again.

“One.”

Astarion watched Asmodea and Karlach toppling over one another, laughing, as they swapped stories of living in Avernus and living on the road travelling inn to inn (which at times sounded to have been rougher than Avernus). Halsin shared their table. He had been nursing the same tankard of mead for the past few hours, Astarion noticed, probably having gotten the drink solely to avoid anyone else inevitably forcing one on him.

A semi-decent bardic troupe had taken stage, playing something raucous but catchy.

“Come on, Halsin, come dance with me!” Karlach offered.

“I’m afraid I have two left legs, and a bear’s grace besides,” he declined with a smile and firm shake of his head.

“Aww,” Karlach pouted. “What about you, Fangs? Dance with me?”

“Darling, you have to wine and dine me before you get to dance me, and I’ve been carrying your tab ever since we got to the city.”

“Please??”

“No.”

“Ever seen a cat on a leash?” Asmodea butted in. “When it just plops down on the ground and refuses to move, even as you drag it? That’s Astarion when he doesn’t want to do something,” she laughed. “Let’s go, I’ll dance with you.”

And just like that, Astarion found himself left alone at the table with Halsin.

“Perhaps something needs to be said,” Halsin remarked with a coy grin, once the silence stretched too long for comfort. If Astarion hadn’t known any better, he might even have thought that the druid was teasing him.

Oh for hells’ sake…

Without a word, Astarion turned towards the druid, grasped his face with both hands, and pulled him down to kiss him.

Somewhere in the back of Astarion’s mind, he thought that if he had been a poet, he would have said that the kiss tasted something like honey and the warmth of a hearth on a rainy night. But no, the kiss mostly tasted like Halsin’s tobacco mixture, with a subtle hint of the cheap mead he had been pretending to drink. By no means repugnant, but not earth-shattering either.

But then he was pulled against a broad chest by strong but gentle hands, his kiss returned with tender passion and reverence, and something inside him fluttered.

They had taken to sleeping together, tiring of the game of musical chairs when it came to the large bed at their disposal, and the necessity to continuously move their things around.

They hadn’t had another night as debauched as their very first one - a kind of subdued modesty had replaced open lust once feelings were laid bare, their lovemaking treated with delicacy.

It hadn’t yet been long since Astarion had begun allowing himself to fully indulge in sex again, and thus far it had only been with Asmodea, and only privately.

That night, they both happened to find themselves awake next to the sleeping druid. Unassuming embraces led to tender kisses, led to sensual touches, led to unabashed groping and stroking, until they became a tangle of limbs, giggling and shushing at each other, a sheet pulled over their heads as though it would hide or muffle anything they had been doing.

Astarion had been leaving a trail of kisses down Asmodea’s neck when she realised that the sheet was slowly but steadily slipping off to one side. She turned her now uncovered head to see Halsin tugging on the covers, until she and Astarion were laid completely bare before the druid.

Astarion glanced at the other elf but only went right back to kissing and caressing her, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to do so before an audience.

Asmodea’s breath hitched as Astarion’s fingers, which had been playing with a nipple, slid lower, to stroke her slit, gliding with no resistance, spreading her slick.

“Hmm, already..?” he purred in her ear. “You like being watched, don’t you?” He grinned and continued to caress between her legs, dipping his fingers inside her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she said, innocently.

Astarion simply brought his fingers up to her mouth in response, letting her lick and suck her own juices off them, groaning softly. He continued to move his fingers in and out of her mouth, letting her suck and nibble on them.

“Should we show him more, my love?” he murmured, loud enough that he was sure that Halsin heard as well. “Should we show him how I make you come?”

An assenting hum had barely left Asmodea, when Astarion sat up between her legs, reaching to rub and slide his erection between her legs, coating it in her slick.

“My wanton minx… Always so eager,” he purred, before burying his cock inside her.

He plunged deep inside, but only gave her a few cursory thrusts, before leaning over her and beginning to roll his hips against her in hard, rhythmical, circular motions. He kept her stretched and full with his cock, but didn’t give her much inner friction, instead focusing the pressure on her clit. Persistent, knowing, unrelenting. But also gentle and loving. He could keep going like this as long as she needed - not that this ever took long.

Asmodea moaned and sighed in pleasure, the sensation gently but steadily bringing her closer and closer to her peak. She relaxed into it, beginning to pulse and squeeze around Astarion’s length before long, her moans building.

“That’s it, show him…” he purred. “Show him how you come on my cock.”

The sound of his voice brought her over the edge, melting helplessly under him in soft, keening moans. Only then did he really begin thrusting, perhaps being unable to withstand any more of this tease himself.

She doubted it had been much of a display, but the druid stirred next to them with a throaty groan,

“Beautiful…” he whispered.

Asmodea drew Astarion in a kiss, before rolling on top of him, dismounting, and kissing down his neck and torso towards his cock, rock-hard with his own unreleased need.

He breathed hard as she kissed and licked around it, perhaps not entirely unaffected by the presence of another in their bed either.

“Do you want me to do this,” she purred, regarding him from beneath her lashes, as she kissed the tender skin of his inner thighs, “or Halsin?”

Astarion hesitated, cock twitching in desperation to be pleasured by anyone.

“You,” he breathed, finally. She eagerly licked up his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head, and Astarion fell back against the pillows, shutting his eyes and tangling his fingers in her hair. “…This time,” he added.

It was Halsin’s decision to return to Reithwin after the fall of the Netherbrain. He sought to rebuild the city, gathering orphans, misfits and others who were displaced by the Absolute’s army. Astarion and Asmodea chose to go with him, not wanting to be separated, and not having any better ideas or plans besides.

It was a strange time in their lives. Elation at newfound freedom, mixed with the grief for the loss of Astarion’s ability to walk in the sun, and the overall uncertainty of their future. Neither were accustomed to what they had found themselves in.

Asmodea had returned to what she knew best, providing entertainment for the residents of the settlement. The children adored her, to her bemusement, bringing her small gifts: drawings, wreaths made of flowers that now grew throughout what used to be cursed and barren lands, beads they insisted she braid and tie into her hair.

Astarion in turn had been talked by Halsin into giving literacy and history lessons to the orphans. In part because there weren’t many others willing or able to do it, and in part, Asmodea suspected, simply to give him something to occupy himself with - he tried to hide it, but he had been miserable ever since the tadpole was removed from his brain along with all its benefits.

She walked in at the end of one such lesson, the makeshift classroom illuminated by candles and magelights, curtains and shutters drawn securely against the daylight.

“You’re very patient with them,” Asmodea noted with a smile, once the classroom cleared.

“I have an entire eternity to wait while they figure out the difference between ‘d’ and ‘b’,” Astarion sighed.

“Another group arrived today. Lots of kids. They’ll be joining these before long.”

“If they must,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “But can you do me a favour?” he asked. “No more teenage girls - someone else can deal with them. In fact, you take them.”

Asmodea lifted an eyebrow in question.

“They come in here, painted with rouge and charcoal, and try to make eyes at me instead of listening,” Astarion explained. “It’s disconcerting.”

The three lounged on a sofa in the house they had claimed for themselves. At one end, Halsin was busy with some ledgers that had been dumped on him - gods only knew why, he didn’t have a head for this kind of work. At the other, Astarion was likewise quietly busy with some novel, biding his time until the last rays of the sun hid. He would be out the door for a hunt the moment it was safe for him. Asmodea sprawled between them, her head on Astarion’s lap, her legs thrown over one of Halsin’s thighs.

Gods, but she was bored.

She regarded Halsin and the open misery written on his face as he tried to reconcile… What was it? Purchase orders of masonry and tools, against what had actually been recorded as delivered, against what had been charged.

Her bare foot slid between Halsin’s legs and pressed into his crotch, through his breeches.

“Could it be one of the missing hammers is here..?”

“Not now, my heart,” was his response.

She continued to lightly rub her foot against the bulge.

“Or is this one of the pillars..?”

“I must finish this before tomorrow,” he said, though he did not shift away from her, and had indeed begun to harden beneath her prodding.

“My, it’s erecting all by itself, why have we bothered to order any supplies at all when we have such marvels at hand?”

“You are truly testing my patience today,” he said in a low growl.

The ledger went flying across the room as she kicked it out of Halsin’s hands. The druid’s nostrils flared and he gave her a smouldering look.

“I warned you.”

She squealed as she found herself suddenly yanked by her leg down the sofa, off Astarion’s lap.

“Astarion!!” she laughed, reaching for him.

“No, no darling, you poked the bear and brought this upon yourself,” he said, unaffected, turning a page. “Now you must face the consequences.”

Halsin pulled her onto his own lap, flipping her onto her stomach, holding her down firmly with one hand, and pulling her pants down with the other.

“You brute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she cried out, trying not to laugh.

Halsin, though a generous, attentive and passionate lover, was not ordinarily one for such games, and getting him into a state of mind for one was a rare treat.

A loud sound resonated through the room, as a smack landed on one of her ass cheeks.

“I am teaching you a lesson.”

It could have been much harder, the druid was holding back, as per usual.

“How dare you?! Release me at once, you savage,” she cried, her voice faltering on the last word, as Halsin delivered another smack.

Astarion shifted where he lounged, now watching them through lidded eyes.

“It’s no use, you know - you’re just throwing more oil on the flames.”

Asmodea gasped as Halsin’s hand slid between her legs, stroking her.

“You’re right. Should I cease?”

She struggled and kicked but remained securely restrained by the druid, his digits now slipping inside her rapidly moistening hole.

“Absolutely not. You must remain steadfast and determined. Perhaps double down on your efforts until you see a result.”

The hand between her legs left and delivered a series of blows on her rear, the slaps now having a sting to them. Asmodea moaned between each one.

She looked at Astarion with her best round-eyed pleading face. His own book had been discarded as well.

“Star? My love? My sweet? Are you just - ah! - going to let him do this to me?!”

“There there, my love… I’ll kiss it better once he’s done with you.”

They lay beneath the stars, bathed in moonlight, the night warm and serene. Asmodea’s head rested on Astarion’s shoulder, their fingers entwined.

“What is the difference between me and him, for you?” Astarion asked, softly. “In the way you feel about us?”

She paused to consider her words before responding.

“With you, I feel like I can take on the entire world. Like we could set it ablaze and stand atop a pile of rubble, holding hands and watching it all burn,” she answered, before growing quiet again for some moments.

“And with him, I feel like maybe the world doesn’t need to burn. ...Or if it does, no matter what, he would be an undisturbed, peaceful grove. A place where one would be protected and nourished. Where they could forget about everything outside. ...Only they couldn’t stay in that grove forever.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Astarion chuckled quietly. “I think I feel more or less the same way. It’s that, and…” he began to say something, but cut himself short, and shook his head, not finishing the sentence.

“And what?” Asmodea encouraged him, smiling. “Tell me!”

“It’s going to sound completely idiotic after what you just said,” he explained, before sighing and continuing, at her insistence. “…And sometimes, it… feels nice, for me, to be the small and delicate one,” he explained, coyly.

Halsin’s cock filled her, thrusting into her in short, rhythmic strokes - he was always so conscious of not hurting anyone, even when they wanted him to simply let go.

She arched her back, legs spread wide, ass raised to meet his hips, and bucked back into him wantonly, sliding on his length. Her back would hurt later, but for now she didn’t have a care in the world.

Astarion’s cock filled her mouth. She worked it with the rhythm of Halsin’s thrusts from behind her, keeping a hand firmly on the base of his shaft, in case any sudden surprises came from Halsin.

“Good girl…” groaned Astarion. “My good, dirty girl…”

“She’s like a wildcat in heat,” followed from Halsin, his voice heavy with lust.

She moaned at the praise and curved her back further, trying to open herself up even more, urging Halsin further, deeper.

He gripped her hips harder with one of his hands, continuing to thrust into her, and dragged the fingertips of the other along and up her ass cheek, until they brushed over her puckered hole.

She groaned around Astarion’s cock as Halsin’s thumb teased around the edge of her asshole, hoping he would do more, trying to buck and grind her hips against his cock and hand harder.

“Careful, it’s me she’ll bite if you make her too desperate,” warned Astarion.

Halsin applied more pressure, rubbing her hole, as she mewled and whined around Astarion’s cock, trying to continue sucking it, but losing any finesse or rhythm. It only made him gasp and bury his fingers in her hair, tugging on it and holding her in place, as he started to fuck her mouth himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” said Halsin. Fucking hilarious, she thought, considering the things that were happening to her mouth at that moment. Well, they did have other ways of communicating set in place, for just this type of situation.

“She doesn’t want you to stop one bit,” purred Astarion. “Do you, pet?” He tugged on her hair and tilted her head, keeping his cock deep in her mouth. “Look at me,” he whispered. She met his eyes as he continued to slide his cock between her lips. His pupils were blown with lust and want. “Do you like what he’s doing?”

Asmodea could only hum in assent. The pressure from Halsin’s finger told her he was just on the cusp of dipping inside, and it was driving her mad.

“Think your tight little hole is ready for more today..?” Astarion purred, stroking her face as he fucked it. “Tell me.”

His dick slipped out of her mouth.

“Yes, for hells’ sake,” she gasped.

But, to her dismay, the druid slid out of her entirely, leaving her frustrated and empty. Before she could react, Astarion lifted her up on her knees from her position on all fours, and kissed her, caressing and teasing her tongue with his own.

“Do you want to try something new with us?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her own, before leaning away.

Off to her side, Halsin had laid on his back, lazily stroking his cock, which had remained at full mast for her. He beckoned her with his free hand, and, released by Astarion, she crawled on top of him. She wanted to taste him then, but he kept leading her up, until their hips were level, and then impatiently plunged back inside her.

Astarion’s arm wrapped around her from behind, and brought her back up into a sitting position on Halsin’s cock. He kissed and nibbled on her neck as the druid thrusted shallowly inside her. 

Had they orchestrated this..?

“Hmm,” Asmodea hummed, with a sly smile. “What was that about tight holes?”

“Oh, this?” Astarion said, distractedly, sliding his fingers along her hip and the cleft of her ass until it reached her asshole and rubbed, teasing. “Why, is there something you want me to do with it..?”

She nearly hissed at him for his gloating, but Halsin chose that moment to pinch one of her nipples, and the noise that came out of her instead was closer to a whimper.

“You’re the one who said something about… wanting to try something new.” she managed, as Astarion continued to rub her hole, smirking. “So what is it?”

“Guess,” he purred against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Astarion had fucked her ass before. He wasn’t the first person she’d tried that with, but he was the one who managed to teach her to actually enjoy it. It wouldn’t be that, not exactly, but given Halsin’s presence and their obvious smugness - even Halsin appeared cocksure and brash…

“Are you both going to fuck me at once?” she grinned, biting her lip.

“Do you want us to?” he asked, his voice pure velvet. “Say it.”

Gods, this fucking man... Fine, two could play this game. Three, if Halsin was in the mood to go along with it - he usually wasn’t vocal, a contrast to Astarion, who simply wouldn’t ever shut up.

She leaned back, twisting and grinding hard against Halsin, and caught Astarion’s earlobe between her teeth, nipping at it, before murmuring back to him.

“I want to feel both of you, at once, fucking me, filling me. Now will you stop dallying? I want you inside me.”

Astarion let out what sounded like an involuntary groan, but before Asmodea could claim moral victory, she found herself thrown against Halsin’s chest, still stuffed with his cock, ass up.

“Inside you..? Where? Here?” Astarion asked, innocently, just before crouching down to tongue her asshole.

She gasped and laughed, squirming at the sudden sensation. But at last, it appeared Astarion had had enough of teasing her, as he retrieved a vial of oil, and hastily but generously coated his fingers with it, spreading it over her puckered hole as well.

She ground lightly against Halsin as Astarion inserted one finger, and then, at her obvious ease and eagerness, another. The druid was holding her down, not giving her much friction, and she mewled in protest at being restrained so.

“I thought you’d like that…” Astarion breathed in her ear. “More..?”

His fingers were a teasing promise of everything he was about to do to her, and she found she simply could not wait, and could not allow Astarion to find any reason to keep holding back.

“Please…” she begged.

“Please what?” he rasped.

“Please fuck me.”

She heard his breath hitch at her pleading. His fingers slipped out, and moments later, at last, she felt the tip of his cock against her entrance, slowly but insistently pushing its way in. She gasped as the sensation became overwhelming. There was no possible way that she could fit a single millimetre more of him, couldn’t be stretched even a hair’s width wider - and yet he kept going, cooing at her wide-eyed whimpers, until he filled her completely, pressing his chest against her back.

“Well look at you, filled to the brim with elf cock…” Astarion’s taunt didn’t carry its usual edge, given the way his voice trembled. 

“I think she’s earned a little reward for that,” said Halsin, reaching up to cup and tenderly caress her breasts.

“I think so too,” said Astarion.

Astarion’s fingers, still covered in some of the oil, snaked down her stomach to her clit, and began drawing circles around it. Asmodea shut her eyes and threw her head back against Astarion’s shoulder, moaning.

The sensation, starting off as a building warmth, quickly grew more intense as his fingers sped up, gliding over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips began to twitch, but were held down securely by Halsin, as he started to thrust up into her.

“This is your reward for being such a good girl,” Astarion whispered in her ear, his fingers now flicking her clit quickly.

She was caught off-guard by how quickly an orgasm overtook her, suddenly finding herself melting, helplessly pulsing and clenching around the hard lengths inside her. The sheer force of it had both Astarion and Halsin groaning and gasping, in short order.

“Gods… We have to make her do that again,” laughed Astarion.

“You’ve read my mind,” the druid said in agreement.

They both began to thrust into her, gently but persistently, rhythmically, and all she could do was pant and whimper at the stretch of both their cocks inside her, even as they talked around her.

“She’s so incredibly tight like this,” Astarion groaned. He paused, briefly, with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “I can feel you through her,” he gasped. “I can feel you thrusting.”

“Can you..?” Halsin rasped, and sped up, gripping her hips tightly, making both Asmodea and Astarion pant. Astarion swore through his teeth and picked up his own pace, unable to hold back any longer.

Asmodea found herself thrown atop the druid’s chest once again, as her lovers lost their reserve and began fucking her vigorously.

Good, it felt so fucking good, this intense pounding in both her holes, and she tried to voice as much, knowing how much Astarion loved it when she talked or praised him during their lovemaking, but any words she tried to say came out as unintelligible babbling.

It was a wonder how easily they’d found this maddening rhythm, working seamlessly to bring her and each other over the edge with their thrusting - but she supposed they had a combined 500 years of experience on her, at least.

She gave up on trying to say anything and simply moaned into Halsin’s neck.

“Is our little vixen going to come for us again..?” Astarion had crouched over her, keeping her sandwiched between himself and Halsin.

Her clit was pressed tightly against Halsin’s pelvis, and between that, the way the head of his impressive cock dragged against all her most sensitive parts with each thrust, as well as the sensation of Astarion’s hips mercilessly snapping against her ass, burying himself in her again and again, another orgasm began to wash over her.

Feeling her walls throb, nearing another climax, the elves also lost all control, chasing their own release within her body with reckless abandon. Her world became nought but bucking hips and the sound of grunts and smacking flesh. She could no longer tell where her body ended and theirs began. Her legs shook as everything between them convulsed in shockwaves resonating through her entire body. Astarion bit down on her shoulder with a strangled groan just as Halsin gave her a final hard thrust with an animalistic growl.

Asmodea’s vision blurred, and she must have passed for some moments, as she came to, to find that the frantic pounding had once again been replaced by gentle rocking, as final orgasmic aftershocks were ridden out.

Astarion slipped out of her first, leaving a trail of tender kisses down her shoulders and back, as Halsin simply embraced her, pressing his lips against the crown of her head, while she continued to lie on his chest.

“Did you like that, darling?” Astarion whispered, as though he had any doubt about the answer.

“Uh-huh,” she managed, remaining on top of Halsin as Astarion got up, somewhat shaky, in search of a towel.

“Are you well, my heart?” Halsin murmured to her.

“Yep,” she susurrated. “I’m just going to stay right here for now - I don’t think my legs are willing to listen to me yet.”

The druid chuckled and held her closer.

A bead of sweat rolled from Halsin’s forehead, down his nose, and dropped right into Asmodea’s eye.

She blinked and rubbed at it, trying to do it quickly, without drawing any attention to it, so it wouldn’t break the mood. It wasn’t a big deal, but gods was it irritating when it happened... …Gah, she had been so close, too.

The sex was great, truly, but this - the godsdamned sweat - was an area where Astarion won by a landslide - his body being much cooler, he simply did not perspire anywhere near as much as Halsin. His body would heat up from exertion, or from absorbing the warmth of his surroundings, but it was rare for his skin to even grow damp. Meanwhile, a prolonged cuddle session with Halsin, not to mention laying with him, inevitably ended with Asmodea lying or sliding in a puddle. 

Astarion didn’t mind the heat radiating from the druid, and in fact preferred to wrap himself around Halsin when sleeping, but not possessing his own body heat, this only served to cool the druid down. Asmodea could not boast the same.

A multitude of other little things that once seemed endearing had begun to grate on her nerves as well, of late.

Halsin’s insistence on the orphans being welcome to run rampant through their home, including when she just wanted some peace and quiet. The ever-present aroma of tobacco - she enjoyed it when it was fresh, but after living together it seemed to permeate everything, including all of her possessions. The silent but disapproving sadness in his eyes when he brewed her fertility suppressant teas. The way he always forgot that the automatic pens did not need to be dipped in ink, or his blatant refusal to believe that their wall clock was accurate and reliable, instead opting to judge the time of day by the position of the moon or sun.

Astarion didn’t seem to mind most of that. In fact, his connection with the druid had only grown since their little triad had become official.

At wasn’t as sexual for the two of them – that aspect had always seemed to mostly hinge on Asmodea’s presence. Rather, they took on roles not unlike an old married couple’s - not necessarily approving of, but being resigned to each other’s routines and ways, and finding a quiet comfort in each other’s company.

And a comfort there was, for all of them. Serenity in their closeness. The pleasure of long, fascinating conversations about anything and everything, held over cozy nights. The simple security of being with those who would never cause harm or disrespect (unless they were asked to very nicely, anyway). The sheer strength of sexual attraction. Even if, for Asmodea, it all had never held quite the same spark as it had with Astarion. The same desperate need to love and be loved, needing the other the way one needed air. That part of her had always been Astarion’s.

Though Astarion hadn’t voiced any complaints about the druid, he had taken to frequently grumbling about their surroundings, saying his blades and wits had been growing dull. 

He had been losing his mind from boredom. Being confined within a small settlement grated on him. Though reluctantly accepted by the residents, he was viewed as an oddity and was generally avoided. In turn, he was completely disinterested in the town’s affairs and its success. The teaching had become a joyless chore. He was stagnating.

Asmodea lay contemplating all of this in his arms later that morning, once Halsin had gotten up for the day. Increasingly, these thoughts wouldn’t leave her mind. Instead, they had become a constant haunting presence.

“Is everything okay..?” came a murmur from Astarion.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s just… I think…” She hesitated, not knowing how to even begin putting any of it into words.

“You’re no longer happy,” Astarion said quietly.

“Mmhmm,” was all she managed, suddenly finding herself choked up.

Astarion went silent for a short while, before speaking.

“Is it me?” he asked. “Please just be honest.”

“What? No! It’s just… It’s the…” she paused, sighing, before words began spilling out of her. “Halsin, for instance. He’s just so damned good. And so certain in his knowledge, so set in his ways, so adamant about everything he feels needs to be done… And he’s so damned patient, too.”

“All his virtues are an absolute travesty, yes.”

“And in his patience,” Asmodea continued, “he makes me feel like I’m a child that he’s waiting to grow up. And I won’t. Because I’m not. …Does that make sense? ...Fuck, I don’t even know where I’m going with this. And then there’s all this,” she said, gesturing around them, “it was always his. It never became mine, or yours, I don’t think.”

“No,” Astarion whispered.

“I think… I think I just don’t want to be here, and as long as I stay here, I feel like no matter what I do, I’m being unfair to him, or to you, or to both. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes watered. “I only know how not to be unfair to myself, and that means leaving,” she whispered.

“It’s not working anymore, is it, darling?” Astarion said, giving her a sad smile that made her heart clench.

“You can stay here, if you want,” she said, uselessly. “I can see how close you are.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I want to stay here, much less stay here without you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him.

“Where to, then? Back to Baldur’s Gate..?” he asked.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“I think that’s the best option. It’s not that far, we could always write and visit.”

“We could,” said Astarion.

“I’ve had enough of tramping around, I want a place of my own, without any screaming children. And with proper walls. Locked doors. And plumbing.”

Astarion chuckled.

“And whatever shall we do in Baldur’s Gate, besides anything we damn well please?”

“I’ve been thinking about that… We could see just how far our ‘hero’ status can take us, capitalise on that…” Asmodea said, beginning to relax.

“And then? You’re grinning like you already have a plan.”

“More a dream than a plan. Promise not to laugh?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. So I’ve always wanted to open and run my own theatre...”

~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, check out A Night at the Inn and Bloodbang Chronicles!

Find the fic on AO3 as well.

Series masterlist

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo @twirlywhirlywriting

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hello, Author-san! I hope you're doing well. I'm not sure if my last request was sent, but that's okay! I have another idea, though 👀 It's a poly!Marauders scenario where the Slytherin!Reader isn't accustomed to physical contact or doesn't show emotions much, leading the boys to believe they're overwhelming them since the boys enjoy being affectionate. So they begin to avoid the reader (sadge), and now the reader will be the one to initiate affection. I'd like it to be a bit angsty with a fluffy ending, please. Thank you!!!

💀🌻

Hi baby! Thank you so much! I'm not sure if this is as angsty as you were wanting but I hope it's okay!

cw: slight angst

893 words

Goosebumps rose over your skin, triggered by the gentle hand on your thigh. You looked to your side at James, who was still stuck in discussion with the other two boys. You were stony-faced as you listened to the conversation, keeping all of your body to yourself, as per usual. Sirius glanced at you, face lighting with affection. He extended a hand across the table, wiggling his fingers invitingly. 

“Wanna hold my hand, babydoll?” Smile peeking into his tone. You just shook your head, looking down into your lap. Sirius tried to keep the disappointment form his face, but the two boys noticed it. James pulled his hand from your thigh. You noticed that he didn’t squeeze your thigh before letting go like he normally did and your heart clenched, but you didn’t say anything, just going back to your schoolwork. You were checked into the conversation, even though you didn’t participate.

“Have you finished your potions essay yet, Pads?” Remus questioned gently. 

“No, I haven't even started.” He sighed, slumping back into his chair. You glanced up at Remus, looking at him longingly, wishing you could easily express how you feel about him.

 Over the time the four of you had been dating, the boys’ affection towards you had dwindled, and you only had yourself to blame. Whenever they tried to express their affection or casually loved on you, you visibly tensed. Not necessarily out of discomfort, but rather because you liked it too much for your own comfort. Nevertheless, their affections were now few and far between. It only made it worse that all the boys were so comfortable in their love. You sighed and dropped your pen, playing with your green tie in an attempt to subdue your hankering for contact. It didn’t work. This apparently caught Remus’ attention.

“You doing okay, Y/N? Stuck on something?” The use of your name caused you physical pain. At the beginning of the relationship you didn’t hear your given name at all, the boys opting to use a variety of sickly-sweet pet names. Another thing that you had to grieve. You looked up at Remus and Sirius, eyes round and glossy and heartbreaking. 

“No, I’m okay.” You muttered. Sirius searched your face, clearly itching to reach out and touch you but resisting. You wrapped your arms around your torso, hugging yourself. 

“Are you sure?” James asked from beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder before quickly retreating. “Sorry…” He said, shamefully. 

“No, it’s okay Jamie” You looked up at him, pouting in a way that broke his heart. “I- I’m sorry.” You looked back down at your lap, bouncing your knee rapidly. 

“Sorry for what?” Remus quired, much more gently than you deserved. 

“I’ve… I’ve been really weird. About like, touch and stuff. And I can’t talk as well as you three do.” You cut yourself off before you spilled more of your misery. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N.” Sirius ducked his head, trying to see your face. 

“Not everyone is okay with that kind of stuff, it’s okay.” Remus said, clearly thinking they were being reassuring. 

“No but…” You pressed your lips together, trying to get the words out. “I- I don’t not want it.” Your face flamed. You hated this. You hated admitting you wanted anything. It felt weird and wrong. They all looked confused. “I do want it.” Your voice was barely above a breath. “I do, I just… don't like wanting it.” You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, avoiding their gaze again. 

James cooed at you, going all soft inside. “Baby,” He pulled you into his side. “Is this okay?” You nodded rapidly, making Sirius’ heart swell at your clear wanting. He could understand that, not growing up with any expressions of love. Craving something so foreign. 

“It’s okay to want love, you know?” Remus asked, reaching a long arm across the table to grab your hand. You nodded again. 

“I really am sorry I’ve been so weird. It’s only because I want it, I just… don’t know how to handle it.” You chuckled sadly. James could cry from seeing you look so self-deprecating. 

“Well,” James leaned the side of his head into the top of yours, making you shiver. “Maybe we can help you? Seems like you’re just not used to it.” 

Sirius chuckled. “We can get you used to it, babydoll.” You looked up at him, smiling. 

“You can?” You mumbled. 

“I think we can, very easily actually. What do you think, lads?” He looked at the other two boys, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Remus’ was similarly cheeky. “I think that can be arranged.” Something in his tone made the hairs on your neck stand up. He was being unusually coy. You shrunk at his hungry expression. 

“Careful, Moons.” James giggled. “I think they’re about to turn to ash.” He pet the side of your head. 

“I’m okay with that.” Remus smirked, leaning over the table to grab your face. You squeaked as he pressed a hungry kiss to your lips, pulling a desperate sound from your throat that made the other two boys chuckle. He pulled away, kissing your cheek again. Your whole face was on fire, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“I think you’re getting better already.” James kissed the top of your head.

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (4)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part summary: Y/n and Spencer's unexpected reunion ends in a quarrel. wc: 4k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, blood, graphic details of murder

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER CONSIDERED HIMSELF AS A GOOD PROFILER. His background in psychology was a strong contribution to becoming the expert that he was now. He also believed he had a very strong sense of detail in his work, especially when it came to assessing body language. It took a lot of careful observation and attention to interpret it correctly, and with all the experiences he went through this past decade, it came to him naturally.

But to observe meant to be focused and right now he was anything but that.

"Ms. L/n, this is Dr. Spencer Reid."

How could he focus when he couldn’t believe what he was seeing? Spencer had always been fascinated by the concept of the afterlife, the mystery and unknown of what went beyond death. Granted, he had never encountered anything superstitious, but maybe this was as close as he could get to ever experiencing that because right now it felt as if he was seeing a ghost.

The idea of meeting the stranger he tried to forget never crossed his mind, especially in a situation he least expected. While he wouldn't completely deny the possibility of coincidence, he tended to be more skeptical and cautious about things that push the bounds of rationality and reason. But now that she was right here in the flesh, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

She had the kind of face that made you stop to look, the sudden pause in a person's natural mind when they glanced her way. Delicate face, high cheekbones, full luscious lips. But beyond the appeal of her beauty, there was deep exhaustion in her eyes. Her shoulders were tense. Her cheeks were flushed. Her chest rose in rapid movements as the pace of her breathing increased.

There was a sense of agitation in her posture, a clear sign of anxiousness. He could decipher that all too well because it was exactly what he was experiencing now. A storm of panic suddenly rose inside him, a sense of overwhelming dread and anxiety taking over his body and mind, leaving him feeling as if he was trapped in a fight-or-flight mode.

Y/n opened her mouth, closed it again, then tilted her head. His eyes scanned the crease on her forehead as if she was deep in thought before she threw Morgan a hesitant look.

His panic intensified.

"Well, actually—"

"Nice to meet you!"

Both of their heads snapped at him. He couldn't blame the way they were gawking, because between the panic and the shock still lingering in his system, his vocal cords managed to change his voice into a higher pitch. He cleared his throat and smoothed down the suit he was wearing, calmed his breathing, and carefully lifted his other hand.

He gave her a wave.

"It's nice to meet you."

He saw her looking at him warily before she calmed herself, crossing her arms against her chest in an act of defense. She eyed his hand as it settled back to his side.

"Let me guess," she started, quirking an eyebrow. "The number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering?"

There was a heavy pause as they both held their gaze. Morgan glanced between the two. "Do you know each other?"

The air suddenly charged with tension, a thick weight that settled in her chest before she looked away. "I suppose not." She walked towards the door, pushing it ajar. "After you, boys."

Morgan threw her a skeptical look before stepping into the room. The moment Spencer stepped forward, her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. An overwhelming sense of anxiety, coupled with a feeling of wanting to hide took over him as he shuffled past her, looking straight ahead.

The two agents sat by the table. She watched as Morgan observed her with an immense amount of curiosity while the man sitting beside him finally had the courage to look at her. The moment he lifted his eyes and settled them on her own, she couldn't help but notice a slight shift in his demeanor. It was as if in the midst of trying to calm his nerves, a switch suddenly clicked inside him, showcasing a very focused and intent look that commanded attention and respect.

She took the seat right in front of him.

Morgan's eyes swept over to her. "Ms. L/n—"

"Y/n is fine."

"Y/n," Morgan started again. "Can you tell us what happened?"

She gave Spencer one last look before focusing her attention on the other man. "I don't understand why I have to repeat this process again."

"People's recollections and perceptions of things can often change over time. It also helps us better to understand the situation," he explained. "What happened before you found Mr. Lynch?"

"Technically, Eric was the one who found him." She placed her hands on the table, intertwining them as she recalled what had happened a few hours ago for the second time. "Jamison called me before everything happened. It was a short, desperate call and it ended too quickly after he asked for help. I ran back to his office after that."

"What exactly did you hear on that call?"

"Heavy breathing. He sounded..." She trailed off, a look of forlorn set in her eyes. "He sounded as if he was in pain. There was also a loud crash in the back."

"Was there any other voice besides him?"

"I didn't hear anyone else."

"And you're the only one he called?"

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully, shrugging her shoulders. "He might've called Eric as well."

The two men shared a look. She waited for either of them to respond and was taken aback when Spencer regarded her the next question. "What were you doing prior to the call?"

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Something about the way he was watching her vexed her. One moment he was scurrying off trying to diminish any relation he had with her, the next thing she knew he was addressing her with a keen interest, and not in the way he had on that eventful night. There was wonder and excitement on their first encounter, but all she could notice now was the intensity of him assessing her as if he was trying to analyze her.

She wondered whether he had two different personalities.

"Ms. L/n?"

She steadied her gaze before correcting him, "Y/n."

Then she tried to think back on what happened before the rush of panic took over her body. She remembered recalling her conversation with Oliver and how declining his obvious interest was the right thing to do. And then somehow her mind manage to reminisce about the last man she was involved with, who ironically, was sitting right in front of her.

So basically, I was thinking of you.

"I was walking to my car in the parking lot," she finally said.

"Did you see anything suspicious before you got the call? Or when you ran back to his office?"

"Not that I was aware of—" There was a moment of sudden clarity. It was like a rush of insight and understanding, and everything clicked into focus like a puzzle or a riddle. The sudden realization made her heart race with disbelief and fear at the same time, and her mind started to race with all the possibilities and connections it had discovered. "Someone did push me in the parking lot."

Morgan frowned at her. "Push you?"

"Somebody accidentally brushed me and I lost my balance," she explained, her brows knitting in concentration as she tried to recall that exact memory. "He was tall and... fit? He wore everything black and when I called out on his lack of manner, he ran away."

"Did you see his face?"

She shook her head. "It was pretty much covered with his clothes. He was wearing a hoodie, I think."

"Was there any other thing that stood out from him?"

"No, I don't remember anything significant. After that Jamison called, then everything happened so fast." She gave them a resigned look. "I'm not even sure if it has anything to do with what happened."

Morgan gave her a reassuring smile. "It's fine. Any information might help us with this investigation."

She nodded, and before they could ask further questions, she inquired about a curiosity of her own. "May I ask why the FBI is investigating this case?"

There was a feeling of great importance and a weight of significance as Spencer clarified, "We suspect Mr. Lynch's murder is linked to another case that happened not long ago."

She blinked her eyes in bewilderment. "You're telling me there's a possible serial killer behind these two murders?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his words seeming very heavy. "The nature of these deaths are very similar, we think that the Unsub has a motive behind all the killings."

"Unsub?"

"It's an abbreviation for Unknown Subject, and it's mainly just a code word that represents the suspect."

She nodded once again, then eyed both of the agents sitting across from her.

"Is the death of my boss linked to Kevin Marshall?" When the two men narrowed their eyes suspiciously, she stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm a journalist, I was working on that case—well, before it got assigned to someone else."

"What do you know of Mr. Marshall's case?" Morgan asked cautiously.

"Nothing much, really. I simply knew he was found dead with some kind of writing on his body." She looked away. "I saw a glimpse of something written on Jamison's arm, it's not that hard to put two and two together."

Morgan regarded her with a nod. "We do suspect these deaths are done by the same Unsub."

Spencer then gave her a look, one that clearly indicated his opinion of her. "And we highly appreciate it if you could keep this information confidential," he requested. "We don't want the media to compromise our investigation until we have further information."

She frowned at the charge behind his words. "You think I'm going to write a story about what happened?"

"Isn’t that what you do for a living?"

It took a lot of self-control for her not to throw the pen sitting in front of her across the room.

"With all due respect, Dr. Reid, I find it offending that you think I would write a story on the murder of someone I personally know."

"I—Ms. L/n, I wasn't trying to accuse you of being inconsiderate."

"Well it seemed exactly like that to me."

The silence after that was deafening. It was a sort of heavy, oppressive stillness that hung in the air that it was so brittle it could practically snap, and if it didn't, one of them might. It was terribly uncomfortable that Morgan could feel the tension building as the seconds dragged by without a sound. "Are you sure you don't know each other?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Doubt was written across his face. There was a sense of discomfort that came along with the uneasiness from the escalating tension as he glanced between the other two people in the room. He gladly let out a sigh when his discomfort was saved by the sudden call coming from his phone.

"Saved by the bell," he muttered under his breath, which didn't go unnoticed by the two people who were now glaring at him. He simply stood up from his chair and moved toward the door, pulling it open before answering his call with a firm yet flirtatious voice. "Talk to me, baby girl."

She wrinkled her nose at the pet name as the door closed behind him. "Was that his girlfriend?"

"No," Spencer responded. "That's the technical analyst in our team. They have a unique way of addressing each other."

The sound of his gruff voice suddenly pierced her, and it was then that she realized she was left alone with the man she never thought of ever seeing again. Her attention went back to him as her eyes slowly wandered across his face, noticing the way he was observing her.

One of the things that had always caught her interest was his disheveled hair. It was untamed, the mass of wild, chocolate-colored curls brushing against the collar of his shirt was something that often caught her attention. Then there was his attire, wearing a nice fitting dark suit over an even darker button-down and a tie wrapped around his slender neck made him look very professional.

But it was his eyes that stood out the most.

There was something in his gaze that seemed to unnerve her tonight. The warm, hazel orbs that greeted her in the dim light of the bar seemed darker now with a certain intensity engraved in their depth. The man in front of her was different from the man she had left that night. The man who sat alone at the bar didn't have the same air of authority he had at this moment. Spencer Reid after hours was adorable, awkwardly charming, and very much easy to approach.

Dr. Spencer Reid, on the other hand, still managed to keep his calm while being very serious, even after his flustered episode from their unexpected encounter. The soft stubble on his jaw also helped the somber look he was going after, which if she was being completely honest, made him look even more handsome than he already was.

It was a good thing he couldn't read her mind.

"So," she started, crossing a leg on top of the other. "FBI agent, huh?"

He addressed her with a nod. "A profiler, to be exact."

"And what does a profiler do?"

He looked surprised by her interest but managed to explain the nature of his job. "We study and analyze crimes and criminals through an analysis of their behavior to understand the reasoning and motive behind them."

She hummed in response. "You know, I thought you were a medical doctor." Confusion passed across his face before she continued, "You have a lot of certificates."

"...so you do know my name."

"It's hard not to when it's plastered everywhere on your wall."

He paused for a moment, assessing the weight behind her words. "Then why did you call me by the wrong name that night?"

She went completely still. She knew the best way to avoid a question was to throw in another one, so she uncrossed her arms and leaned over the table.

"Why did you pretend like we didn't know each other?"

His body tensed as he felt the discomfort crawling on his skin. The overwhelming feeling of uneasiness and tension wrapped inside him was so intense it was smothering him.

"It is true though," he defended. "We don't know each other very well."

She couldn't stop the scoff slipping out of her mouth. "Ah, yes. I may not know the city you grew up in but I do know what position you like in bed."

"How could you even conclude that?" He choked, clearly dumbfounded by the crude and unexpected comment. "We've only been together once."

"In which you put me on your lap the whole time."

She knew there was a truth in her notion by the way his cheeks slightly flared in embarrassment. He simply cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Listen, I think it's best we keep what happened that night between us."

"And why is that?"

He finally tore his eyes off her.

How could he explain that something in this occurrence never happened to him without feeling self-conscious? That she was the first person he was sexually involved with no relation whatsoever? That sleeping with a stranger never happened to him in his thirty-five years of life?

And how could he explain he preferred not to share one of the most unforgettable nights of his life with his colleagues? How could he explain he wanted to keep his personal life private without offending her?

But before he could explain himself, she was already jumping to conclusions at his lack of an answer.

"Is it because you're ashamed that a smart, hot-shot FBI agent like you spent a night with a mere journalist like me?"

His eyes went wide. "What? No—"

"Are we done here?" She quickly cut in, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the weight of his gaze. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Of course, I do—"

"Regarding my witness."

"I..." He frowned, then shook his head. "No, I suppose I don't."

"Great. It was nice talking to you, Dr. Reid."

The bottom of her chair scraped against the hardwood floor as she got up, staggering toward the door. One might say she needed to work on her pettiness, but she had always been stubborn when it came to feeling unreasonable. So before she could leave, she turned on her heel, pointed a finger at him, and narrowed her eyes before she sneered, "And just so you know, do not flatter yourself. You weren't even that good in bed."

She threw him one last glare before stalking toward the door, tugging it with utmost force only to find Morgan standing in the way. "Agent Morgan." A rush of heat coursed through her body. "I believe I can go now?"

He looked between the two of them with curiosity. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your time, Ms. L/n." The menacing look in her eyes beneath her embarrassment urged him to correct himself, "Y/n."

She then left the two men behind with the last thread of dignity she had. It didn't take a trained profiler to understand she left the room fuming with anger.

Spencer watched her leave. A sudden overwhelming sense of shock and disbelief flew through him, leaving him in a state of surprise and confusion. He was so stunned he didn't know how to respond while the woman he wanted nothing more than to follow behind had practically tarnished his self-esteem and bruised his ego.

And to make things worst, his teammate was watching him with intense interest, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned against the door frame.

He expected a lot of things to happen tonight, but he did not expect it would end the way it did. Suddenly feeling drained, he slowly got up in a daze. It felt as if he had recently gone through the most amount of emotions he had ever experienced in just one night.

The only way he could forget what had happened—albeit momentarily—was to put his mind on other matters. Like the current case at hand. Like the crime scene a few rooms away. He needed to focus on more important things and he couldn't do that with his friend constantly finding amusement in his misery.

"There are a lot of questions in my head right now, pretty boy."

He stalked toward the door with a newfound resentment. "Good, keep them to yourself."

Morgan's laughter followed him out of the room.

>> NEXT PART

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@comboboo @sebastiansstanswhore

a/n: i am today’s years old on finding out that having a taglist is a thing😭 tell me if you want to be added please i am such an amateur on this app.

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Threesome | Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin

Pairing: Husband!Kim Namjoon x Wife!Fem!Reader x Kim Seokjin

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), established relationship

Summary: Namjoon isn't one for sharing, but Seokjin is his best friend, and there's a lot of things he'd consider trying out with Jin by his side

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: homoeroticism, pet names (Princess, pretty/pretty girl), threesome, multiple orgasms, light cum play/cum eating, fingering, oral (Fem receiving), creampie, heavy subspace implications, Reader passes out, light aftercare

A/N: Yall this is a bit rocky but I love it, best of luck. If you like it, please consider reblogging and checking out my links below. Appreciate your reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

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This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

You hated Namjoon's damn work events. They were boring, and stuffy, and the drinks weren't as strong as they should have been if they were going to taste so awful. You sipped your champagne anyway, hand tucked carefully into the crook of his elbow while he talked to...well, you couldn't remember their names, but they were some higher ups that Namjoon was keen on impressing. So you stood next to him, and you giggled at their ridiculous anecdotes, and you played up being the pretty little wife that he so deserved to show off. That was something that you could never tire of.

When the conversation finally ended, you slumped against him, chin propped on his shoulder and a pout sitting pretty on your lips.

"Joonie, why do you hate me?" You asked him. He laughed, his dimples showing and his eyes curving into crescents. He had that lovesick look that he saved just for you, and you basked in the sunshiney feel of it.

"If I hated you, I would have made you do all the talking." He argued back, tipping your chin up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. One that you desperately wished would linger, but you knew better. Not when you were surrounded by his coworkers and bosses and so subject to judgment. Namjoon wasn't one for PDA, preferring to keep his worshiping of you behind closed doors where he could make sure he was showing you sufficient adoration.

"Well if it isn't my favorite lovebirds." A smooth voice wrapped around the two of you, and you looked up, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight in front of you. Seokjin was one of Namjoon's closest friends, he'd been a groomsman at your wedding, and you'd gotten reasonably close with him over your years with Namjoon. They had been friends since college, now working at the same company, though in different departments. You had to admit that seeing him was always one of the highlights of these dreaded parties.

"Jin, wondered where you were at." Namjoon grinned, the two pulling each other into a quick embrace before Jin did the same with you, pressing a polite kiss to your cheek that made you go warm.

"Socializing. It's what we're being forced to be here for, right?" He laughed, taking a swig from whatever was in his glass. You nodded, making note of the fact that he seemed to want to get out of there just as much as the two of you did. "Are you two having fun?"

You hummed noncommittally, smoothing out the orchid fabric of your dress against your thighs. It was the best you had, especially when you didn't want to blatantly say no. This most definitely was not the sort of thing that you'd consider fun, but you appreciated the invitation extended to you, and you definitely appreciated seeing the boys get all dressed up.

Namjoon looked like sin on legs, brown-blonde hair pushed back neatly and his damned turtleneck hugging his chest and sculpting his waist, all covered in a dark purple blazer that you'd been wanting to take off of him since the moment he'd put it on. And Jin standing opposite him, looking neat as ever in his steel gray button down stretching across the endless planes of his shoulders and his black tie looking like it was begging to be tugged on, his jacket presumably left on a hanger in the front closets.

"She's been asking to go home since we got here." Namjoon answered, large hand settling on your waist and pulling you close to his side. The proximity, and the warm, dark scent of his cologne did nothing for the pool of warmth swirling in your lower stomach. Damn your mind and its ability to wander so freely. You wondered how hard it would be to get Namjoon to take you into the bathroom of this overpriced venue and take care of your growing problem.

"How could you want to go home? Free drinks, and you get to show off that pretty dress. You do look beautiful by the way." Jin leaned closer as he laid out his compliment, voice as smooth and light as his fingers were as they dragged down your bare arm. You shivered, a tiny gasp slipping from your mouth followed by a hardly convincing clearing of your throat.

"You're too nice, Jinnie. You look amazing yourself." You said, reaching out to smooth his shirt. Namjoon chuckled, low and dangerous and you knew he saw exactly what you were doing. He wasn't the sharing type, but he knew well enough about your little attraction to his best friend, and he knew that Jin had his eyes on you too. He wasn't the sharing type, but it was you, and it was Seokjin, and he couldn't imagine anything being more appealing.

His hands traveled to your hips, pulling you close to his front and looking up at his older friend. His eyes were dark, hands warm even through the fabric of your dress. You weren't sure if they exchanged words at all, or if they just spoke with their eyes, but it was hardly another few minutes before Namjoon was suggesting the three of you be on your way before it got too terribly late.

You whined, breath coming out ragged and your eyes squeezing shut. With your body trapped between the two of them, you felt like you could hardly move, Namjoon's hands pulling you back against him, his lips on your neck while Jin's long fingers slid into your hair, guiding your head back so his lips could descend against yours, plush and hungry and tasting like champagne and peach chapstick. Your lips parted against him, the tiniest noise being swallowed by him as his tongue dipped to explore the new terrain.

His kisses weren't like Namjoon's, Joon was much slower with his, taking his time to savor the feeling and reveling in how easy it was to get you worked up and desperate for him. His mouth against your neck was the same way, tongue dragging lazily against your jugular and nipping at the skin there until a tiny mark bloomed under his lips. You wiggled, pressing your ass back against the growing bulge in his pants, trying to draw him in, urging him to touch you more, to make you feel good.

Jin pulled away from you, and you chased his lips, only for him to gently tug you back with a small tut. Namjoon looked up at him, still working over your delicate skin. Jin stood in front of you, still looking so goddamn put together except for his spit slicked, swollen lips that were curling into a self-satisfied little grin.

"Waited so long to see you like this, pretty girl." He hummed, carefully undoing his tie and tossing it in the general direction of your bedside stand. You reached up, brushing his hands out of the way to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. And then it was falling away, sliding off his shoulders and leaving him so bare and so goddamn pretty in front of you. You reach out, hands exploring his toned chest, skating up his broad shoulders where you dug your nails in and dragged them back down just to hear the way his breath hitched. And it did hitch, just like you'd always imagined, and the warmth pooled heavily in your stomach.

"Enough of that," Namjoon said, pulling you away from his best friend and sliding the zip on the back of your dress until the fabric began to pool. He guided it off of you, and Jin held a hand out to help you step out of the puddle of fabric. With you standing there, braless and wearing only the tiniest silk pair of panties that left hardly anything to the imagination, you felt so entirely vulnerable, and so desperately wanted that you couldn't help but bloom under the attention. Your nipples prickled in the cool air, growing hard and desperate for attention. Namjoon nudged you towards the bed, firm but gentle in his touch just like always, and then he was taking Jin's tie, winding it carefully around your wrists and knotting them together.

Jin let out a dark laugh, one of awe and lust and pure amusement as you sat there, propped against the numerous pillows that decorated the bed, and looking up at the two of them so innocently.

"We should entertain our guest first, right angel? It's only fair," Namjoon hummed, his fingers sliding down to tweak your nipples. You jolted lightly, chest pressing towards his hands and you nodded.

"Please. Wanna take such good care of him. Promise I'll be perfect for you, Jinnie, I swear." You said, voice like velvet and lips curling into an irresistible smile. Jin palmed himself through his dress pants, his cock aching already just from the feeling of your mouth against his and the way you laid yourself out for him.

He undid the button on his pants, kicking them off to climb onto the bed with you in only his boxer briefs, his length straining the fabric and his precum leaving a wet spot on the front as he leaked into them. You batted your eyelashes at him, spreading your thighs and letting himself crawl between them like he belonged there. He leaned down, lips finding yours again, and the only sound in the room being the sound of your lips smacking against each other desperately and Namjoon's belt coming undone, his clothes sliding off and landing dully against the carpet.

The bed dipped next to you as Namjoon sat on his knees there, his hand stroking along your bare side, kneading against the plush of your thighs as you and Jin kissed until eventually Jin was pulling away, his mouth being replaced by Namjoon's much softer kisses, and his hands busying themselves with pushing your soaked panties aside. Jin thumbed at your clit, rubbing slow circles against it and coaxing even more arousal out of you. Your legs twitched shut, stopped by his hips and easily spread again, one of his hands on your knee, Namjoon pulling at your opposite thigh to open you up for them. It was almost intimidating how well they worked together without a word of communication passing between them.

Jin's fingers returned to your core, dipping between your folds to slide through your wetness, then back up to pass back and forth over your aching clit. You needed more, a desperate emptiness growing between your legs. You squirmed, gasping out a tiny plea into the kiss that Namjoon was still guiding you through. Jin hummed, his fingers speeding up against your clit until your hips were rocking to meet his movements. His touch was hot, burning and yet somehow not igniting you as a whole and you wanted to wail with need.

"Jin, please," You gasped out, head falling back and forcing Namjoon's mouth to detach from yours and drag down the slope of your jaw.

"Please what?" Jin practically cooed, and you huffed, giving your hips a wiggle to emphasize your displeasure at his teasing, but it didn't do anything to wipe the proud look off his face. "Use your words, babygirl."

"Please, want your fingers in me." You answered, too far gone already to worry about how you sounded. You heard Namjoon groan, shifting so he was laying alongside you, his hips pressing desperately into your thigh as Jin eagerly fulfilled your wish. He sunk one long finger into you, curling it slowly and searching until he found the spongy spot at the top of your walls, drawing out a gasping moan from you. "There,"

"So bossy, aren't we," He hummed, but he gave you what you asked for, pulling out and sliding a second finger into you before grinding his fingertips firmly against the spot. You arched harshly, nails digging into the flesh of your palms as the waves of pleasure started to take over, rippling through your lower body and raising your body temperature by a good few degrees. You turned your head, burying your face as deep into the pillow as you could as Jin sped up, his thumb flicking and swirling around your clit being almost too much to handle. However, Joon was having none of your hiding, gripping your chin firmly and turning it so your sounds weren't muffled.

"Wanna hear you. Gotta make sure Jin hyung knows how good he makes you feel. Not polite to hide from him." He cooed in your ear, and you shakily hummed a reply. He tutted, sliding his hand up, pinching at your nipple on the way, giving your throat a barely there squeeze, before he settled on sliding two of his fingers into your mouth, tugging your jaw open and forcing out all the sounds you'd been holding back.

Jin groaned, his fingers faltering for a moment before finding their rhythm again, fucking into you and pressing into the spot that had you gushing around his fingers.

"Close," You said, though the word came out slurred and nearly indistinguishable, but you were sure that they understood with the way you writhed between them, your thighs shaking and squeezing around Jin's hips, and your walls pulsing and clenching around his fingers. But if they did, neither of them said anything, just letting you release on his hand, a broken cry filling the room as the tension building in your body snapped and sent you careening into pleasure untethered.

Jin slowed his movements then, letting you breathe and adjust as your muscles relaxed and you melted against the bed. He brought his hand up to his mouth, making a show of sucking his fingers clean and looking entirely too pleased with himself when your pussy clenched around nothing and a tiny whimper slipped out of your mouth.

"Feel good, babygirl?" He asked gently, stroking along your thigh and very kindly not pointing out the way that your body tensed and flexed and fluttered under his touch. You nodded, still basking in the afterglow of your long awaited orgasm. Then his shit eating grin was back and he squeezed your thighs. "Good, guess you don't need another then,"

He was teasing, you knew he was, but that didn't stop your eyes from going wide and your lips from curling into a little pout. Namjoon tried not to laugh, which led to you turning your pout and puppy dog eyes combo back on him.

"Don't be mean, hyung," He said, pecking your lips. "She's wanted your cock since she met you, you can't tease her like that." He said. You nodded along, too far gone to be embarrassed by the confession you were confirming.

"Want it so bad, Jinnie, please. Wanna feel you inside me. Want you to make me dumb." You rambled on, your tied hands flexing and clenching between your breasts as you looked up at him. He groaned, reaching down to rub at his aching cock, still confined and straining to get out.

"How can I say no when you ask so pretty," He cooed, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock, his length rivaling Namjoon's, though not as thick and with a pretty curve to it. He tapped the tip of his cock against your dripping folds, easily sliding between then to tease you and chuckling at the desperate way your hips canted up against his, chasing the friction.

You didn't have to beg again, because beneath all the teasing, he was just as desperate as you were. He pressed into you slow and steady, feeling your walls eagerly open up around his cock, sucking him in deeper. He fought off a groan, eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the feeling. It wasn't like Seokjin didn't get laid, he had people falling at his feet, but this was better than any pussy he'd had before, maybe just because it was yours.

You purred at the pressure of being full, and Namjoon pressed closer to you, his mouth running up and down your shoulder before dipping low enough to catch your nipple in his mouth. Your breath came out stuttered and shaky and you tugged at your binds, desperate to touch one of them and ground yourself. But Namjoon brought his hand up, gripping your wrists and guiding them above your head and out of his way gently.

You gave in, opting instead to clench around Seokjin's cock and admire the way his grip on your thighs tightened. Then he pulled back, leaving you with a glaring emptiness inside of you before he was thrusting back into you firmly. He didn't pick up his pace fast, seemingly contented to roll his hips slowly, the friction setting you alight all over again.

"Faster," You begged, blinking up at him. "Need more, need you to use me."

The words made his pace falter, his hips slamming forward just a little harder and then staying there a moment longer. You could see it in the clench of his jaw that he wanted that too, so you whined his name, high and long, more a frustrated huff than anything, and watched his hesitation fade away.

"Say it again," He demanded, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding deeper into you and grazing exactly where you wanted him. "Say my name, princess."

You obeyed, letting strings of his names flutter off your tongue, long and sweet and whiny enough to have Namjoon rutting against your hip. You almost could have forgotten that he was there if it weren't for the wet warmth of his mouth on your tits, worshipping them as he always did and adding just a little more to the overwhelming pleasure you were being washed in.

"Jinnie, please," You nearly sobbed, squirming so hard that Namjoon had to hook his leg over yours to keep the friction against his barely covered cock, and Jin pushed the other up, spreading you open and fucking into you harder, chasing the sound of your voice curling around his name.

Namjoon's hand slid down, pressing between you and Jin's body to strum at your clit, harsh, messy movements that were immediately overwhelming to your senses.

"Can't," You nearly sobbed, body trying to thrash against the two men but immediately being overpowered.

"You can." Namjoon cooed sweetly. "Can cum as many times as we want, I know you can. Just gotta let go. You wanna do that, wanna cum on his dick?"

His words clouded your mind and any doubts holding your body back. You came hard enough to make your vision fade black, your sobs and moans sounding so distant to your own ears that you weren't entirely sure if you'd made a sound at all. But once you were coming down, you noted the emptiness between your thighs, blinking to find Jin stroking himself, brows furrowed together and his lips pressed tight before he came, painting the inside of your thighs with his seed.

You hummed, not entirely back in your body but absolutely delighted to see how pretty he looked when he finished, to have him mark you with his pleasure. Namjoon sat up then, untying your hands and rubbing at your wrists, worried about how hard you'd been tugging on them.

"Joonie," You mumbled, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. He turned back to you immediately, always so attentive. "Want you to cum too. Want you to feel good."

"Baby," He half laughed, and Jin didn't answer, too busy scooping his cum onto his fingers from your plush thighs.

"Please? Want you to fuck me too. Been good, you promised you'd fuck me after your dumb party if I was good." You huffed, pulling at Seokjin's wrist to bring his hand to your mouth, dutifully cleaning his seed off of his skin. He stared at you in awe, then looked at your husband who was watching you with dark eyes.

"Greedy," He huffed. You just giggled, watching him strip his underwear off and setting his painfully hard cock free. He took Seokjin's spot which the older of the two willingly gave. He leaned down, dragging his tongue over your inner thigh to clean off the rest of his hyung's cum before leaning forward, slotting his mouth over your sensitive cunt and lapping up your juices.

You writhed, hands finding purchase in his hair as he ate you out slow and steady, lapping between your folds and swallowing down your juices. You hummed, letting him suck at your clit the way that you loved. He knew you inside and out, knew exactly how to make you feel good.

Jin had sat down beside you, his fingers stroking your hair and brushing against your cheek as Namjoon ate you up and brought you back to your high. This one was intense, but less sharp, the orgasm washing over you like crashing waves that pulled you under instead of electric shocks. Namjoon was gracious, using his tongue to gently work you through it before pulling back and lining up with your weeping hole.

"You sure you want another one, pretty? Don't wanna hurt you," He hummed, hands rubbing grounding strokes along your sides and back down to your hips. You nodded.

"Want it. Need you. Don't care if it hurts, need you to take me." You said, voice airy and lost in the pleasure in a way he recognized. He hummed his agreement, giving in easier than he'd really planned to.

He guided himself into you on sheer muscle memory. The new experience of having Seokjin fill you up was amazing, but nothing could beat the absolute familiarity of Namjoon's cock splitting you open. He wasn't as long as Jin, but he girth was enough to have tears pricking at your eyes, aided by the oversensitivity of your previous three orgasms.

You reached down, fingers catching with Namjoon's and tangling together as if searching for a lifeline. He gave it to you, holding your hand and letting you adjust to his size before setting a steady pace, folding your legs out of the way and spreading you open.

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his free hand coming up to push through his hair, loosening it from the gel he'd used and letting a few locks fall around his face. He looked ethereal, so consumed by the feeling of your walls around him, so tight and warm like you'd been molded just for his cock.

"So pretty," He hummed, reaching up to brush the few overstimulated tears starting to fall from your eyes. "Take me so well, don't you? Doing so good for both of us."

Seokjin took his place, stroking your cheek and pressing chaste kisses to your parted lips. You melted against the bed, losing all ability to think, or doing much of anything besides let Namjoon take care of you. He was hitting the spot that turned you to a whiny mess, one hand still holding onto yours, and the other one rubbing at your clit while he pounded into you.

His words were fading straight to the back of your mind, washing over you and dragging you deeper into your floaty mindset. You could barely process what he was saying, but you didn't mind, not with Seokjin's praise going in the other ear, his voice muffled against the skin of your neck. You were surrounded, held so close that you couldn't move if you wanted to.

Then you were tipping over the edge again, your orgasm tinged with pain as he chased his own pleasure. It only took a few more thrusts into you before he fell with you. He pumped his load into you with a broken growl, his head falling low as he chased the feeling, pushing through as many thrusts as possible, trying to ride you both through the pleasure before it became too much.

It took a good few minutes for you to come back to consciousness, long enough for Namjoon to pull out of you and grab a rag to clean you up while Jin held you close, pressing kisses to your head. You blinked slowly, registering the ache between your thighs and thee tenseness in your muscles.

"Welcome back, princess," Seokjin said with a grin. You smiled back, though a bit groggily. Then Namjoon was back, kissing your cheek.

"Feeling okay? You were out for a minute there," He said, hands pressed against your sides in the grounding way that you always needed. You nodded slowly.

"Good. I'm good." You said, registering that everything had really happened and hadn't been another one of your overdeveloped fantasies. "Stay?"

You turned to Jin, your hand seeking his. You didn't know what this meant for the three of you now, and you couldn't comprehend figuring it out now, but you desperately wanted him to stay so you could figure it out come morning.

Jin opened his mouth to argue, not sure if that was something that was really acceptable, but Namjoon repeated your word a little more firmly.

"Stay. You can sleep in here, or the guest room is open." He said, finishing cleaning you up for the time being. Jin looked at you, at your sleepy, pleading eyes, then at Namjoon's with his sincere expression.

"Okay. Yeah, I'll stay." He agreed, and then you were curling into him like it was where he belonged, wrapping around him and nuzzling into his shoulder."Thank you for this," You mumbled, and before he could even turn the sentiment back on you, you were asleep in his arms. With your weight against him, and Namjoon turning off the lights to join the two of you, Jin wondered if maybe this was right where he belonged.

[hd-junglebook]

Falling For It

Part 7 - Word Count 5647

This is kind of a longer one than normal, but I have served a late-night snack that should keep you occupied.

Y/N walked into the patient's room, a warm smile on her face as she greeted the elderly woman lying in the bed. "Good morning, Mrs. Johnson. How are we feeling today?"

The woman, who had to be at least 80 years old, squinted up at Y/N, her wrinkled face scrunching into a scowl. "How do you think I'm feeling? I'm stuck in this godforsaken hospital with a bunch of people poking and prodding at me all day long."

Y/N bit back a laugh, used to Mrs. Johnson's cantankerous demeanor. "Well, I'm here to check your vitals and make sure everything is looking good. Can you sit up for me, please?"

Mrs. Johnson grumbled under her breath but complied, pushing herself up into a sitting position. As Y/N wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, the old woman eyed her suspiciously.

"You're too pretty to be a doctor," she said bluntly, her gaze sweeping over Y/N's face. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "I'm a nurse aide, actually. And yes, I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this for a few years now."

Mrs. Johnson harrumphed, clearly unconvinced. "Well, just don't go trying to set me up with any of those young whippersnappers you call doctors. I'm too old for that nonsense."

Y/N nearly choked on her laughter, her eyes widening in surprise. "I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Johnson. Your heart belongs to Mr. Johnson, I'm sure."

The old woman's face softened, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Damn right it does. He may be gone, but he's still the only man for me."

Y/N felt a pang of envy at the love and devotion in Mrs. Johnson's voice. She wondered if she would ever find that kind of love, the kind that lasted a lifetime and beyond.

Shaking off the thought, she finished taking Mrs. Johnson's vitals and jotted down the numbers on her chart. "Everything looks good, Mrs. Johnson. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?"

The old woman thought for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Well, you could find me a decent cup of coffee in this place. The stuff they serve here tastes like dishwater."

Y/N laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can smuggle in a cup from the cafeteria for you."

Mrs. Johnson's face lit up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I knew I liked you, kid. Just don't let those doctors catch you. They're a bunch of sticks in the mud."

Y/N grinned, giving the old woman a conspiratorial wink. "Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Johnson. I'll be back later with that coffee."

With that, she turned and headed out of the room, a smile still playing on her lips. Despite Mrs. Johnson's gruff exterior, Y/N had a soft spot for the old woman. She reminded her of her own grandmother, with her sharp wit and no-nonsense attitude.

Y/N pulled her hair out of its bun, running her hands down the sides to slick it back before she walked down the sterile hallway of the hospital, her footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors.

As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with one of her coworkers, a handsome doctor named Ethan. He reached out to steady her, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment longer than necessary.

"Whoa there," he said, a charming smile spreading across his face. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck at his touch. "Yeah, sorry about that. Just lost in thought, I guess."

Ethan chuckled, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. "No worries. It happens to the best of us." He paused, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. "You look stunning today, by the way." Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at the compliment, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Thanks," she said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his courage, before speaking again. "Listen, I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. "Would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe grab dinner or a drink after work?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling at the unexpected invitation. A part of her wanted to say yes, to throw caution to the wind and take a chance on something new. But even as she opened her mouth to respond, an image of Jack flashed through her mind, his piercing blue eyes and crooked smile sending a pang of longing through her chest.

She hesitated, torn between the desire to move on and the lingering feelings she still held for Jack. It had been a week since that fateful night at the lake house, a week since she had watched him kiss Lexi and felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. But despite her best efforts to forget him, to push him out of her mind and her heart, she found that he was still there, lurking in the shadows of her thoughts.

"I..." she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. "I'm flattered, really. But I don't think it's a good idea."

Ethan's smile faltered, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "Oh. Okay, no problem. I understand."

Y/N felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt in his voice, but she knew she was making the right decision. She couldn't lead him on, couldn't pretend to be interested when her heart belonged to someone else.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "It's not you, I promise. I'm just... not ready for something like that right now."

Ethan nodded, his smile returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No worries. I get it." He glanced at his watch, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips. "I should probably get back to my rounds anyway. I'll see you around, Y/N."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone in the hallway, her thoughts swirling with confusion and regret. She knew she had done the right thing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing out on something, that by holding onto her feelings for Jack, she was letting life pass her by.

But even as she tried to push the thought away, she knew that it was no use. Jack had left an indelible mark on her heart, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to erase it. With a sigh, she turned and headed back to her patients, determined to focus on her work and push all thoughts of Jack and Ethan out of her mind.

…

Y/N walked out of the hospital, her mind still reeling from her encounter with Ethan. She made her way to the parking garage, her footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The garage was mostly empty at this time of day, with only a few scattered cars parked here and there. Y/N reached her own car, a small, sensible sedan that had seen better days, and unlocked the door with a sigh.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she closed the door behind her and leaned back against the headrest, her eyes fluttering shut. It had been a long day, and she could feel the exhaustion settling into her bones. She knew she should start the car and head home, but for a moment, she just wanted to sit and breathe.

Her phone buzzed from inside her lunch bag, startling her out of her reverie. She reached for the bag, rummaging through its contents until she found her phone. When she saw who the message was from, she felt her heart sink.

It was from Quinn, and she could already guess what it was about. He had been texting her all week, ever since the disastrous night at the lake house. He was still furious about what had happened between Jack and Lexi, and he had been taking out his anger on anyone who would listen.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before opening the message, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of anger and frustration.

"I can't believe he did that to you," the message read. "After everything you two have been through together. He's a fool if he thinks Lexi is better than you."

Y/N sighed, her fingers hovering over the screen as she tried to think of a response. She knew Quinn meant well, but his constant reminders of that night were starting to wear down on her. She just wanted to move on, to forget about Jack and Lexi and everything that had happened.

But she knew it wasn't that simple.

She typed out a quick response, thanking Quinn for his support. As she hit send, she leaned back in her seat once more, her gaze drifting out the window. The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow over the parking garage. It was a beautiful sight, but Y/N couldn't seem to appreciate it.

With a sigh, she started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

…

Hugo's relentless purring filled the room, a comforting background noise to y/n's blissful slumber. Curled up in her blanket cocoon, she snored softly, oblivious to the world around her. Meanwhile, Hugo, the brown tabby cat, lay at the foot of her bed, methodically grooming himself for the third time that evening.

Outside y/n's bedroom, shuffling footsteps and muttered curses echoed through the quiet house, signaling the start of another restless night. Y/n peeked out from under her blanket, her one eye cracked open as she surveyed the empty room. With a grumble, she readjusted herself, sinking deeper into the warmth of her cocoon.

Y/N's peaceful slumber was suddenly interrupted by the loud bang of her bedroom door slamming against the wall. She jolted awake, her heart racing as she let out a startled squeal. Hugo leaped off the bed in a blur of brown fur, alarmed by the sudden commotion.

As Y/N's sleep-addled brain tried to make sense of what was happening, she heard familiar voices filling the room. Peeking out from her cozy blanket cocoon, Heather and Angie, standing in the doorway with grins on their faces.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Angie exclaimed, her voice far too chipper for whatever ungodly hour it was. "We've got plans today, and you're not going to waste away in bed!"

Y/N groaned, pulling the blanket back over her head in a futile attempt to block out the intrusion. "Go away," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the layers of fabric. "I'm hibernating."

Heather laughed, the sound far too gleeful for Y/N's liking. "Oh no, you don't," she said, marching over to the bed and yanking the blanket away. "You've been rotting and doom scrolling for a week and it's time to get out and have some fun."

Y/N squinted up at her friends, her eyes still bleary with sleep. "I don't want to have fun," she whined, making a grab for the blanket. "I want to stay here and wallow in my misery." Her friends exchanged amused glances, clearly used to her morning grumpiness. Angie chuckled.

"Come on, Y/N, you can't spend all day in bed. We've got plans!"

With a dramatic sigh, Y/N reluctantly pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She glanced over at Hugo, who was peeking out from under the dresser with wide, curious eyes. Smiling, she scooped him up and gave him a quick cuddle before setting him back down on the bed.

"Wish Jack luck, buddy," she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. "I think he’s going to need it."

…

The bass thumped through the soles of Y/N's strappy heels as she stepped into the dimly lit club, Angie and Heather flanking her sides. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, alcohol, and expensive perfume, and the dance floor was already packed with writhing bodies moving to the pulsing beat.

Y/N tugged at the hem of her skintight mini skirt, the black leather barely grazing her upper thighs. She had paired it with a deep red corset top that cinched her waist and pushed up her cleavage, the lacy fabric and her makeup smoky and seductive.

"Damn, girl!" Angie whistled appreciatively, her eyes raking over Y/N's curves. "You look like you're ready to break some hearts tonight."

Y/N grinned, striking a playful pose. "That's the plan, babe.” Heather laughed, linking her arm through Y/N's. The trio made their way to the bar after saying hello to the boys, Y/N could feel the eyes of the other clubgoers on them, appreciative glances and envious stares following their every move.

It was a heady feeling, knowing that she was turning heads and commanding attention. As they reached the bar, Y/N leaned forward, flagging down the bartender with a coy smile. "Three vodka cranberries, please," she purred, batting her lashes for good measure.

The bartender, a handsome man with a chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes, grinned back at her. "Coming right up.” Y/N preened at the attention, feeling a rush of confidence surge through her.

As the bartender slid their drinks across the counter, Y/N took a sip, savoring the tart burst of cranberry on her tongue. She turned to her friends, raising her glass in a toast. They downed their drinks in unison, the alcohol buzzing through their veins and adding an extra shimmer to their already glowing skin.

As they set their empty glasses back on the bar, a new song came on, the beat even more infectious than the last. Y/N felt it thrumming through her body, urging her to move, to lose herself in the music and the moment.

She grabbed Heather's hand, tugging her towards the dance floor. "Come on, let's dance!" Heather laughed, allowing herself to be pulled into the fray. Angie followed close behind, her hips already swaying to the rhythm.

y/n raised her arms above her head, her hips swiveling and rolling in time with the beat. She could feel the eyes of the men around her, could sense their hunger and appreciation, but she paid them no mind.

…

Once the song came to an end, Y/N, Angie, and Heather made their way off the dance floor, their skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. They weaved through the crowd, heading towards the table where their friends were seated.

Nico, Jack, Marino, and Dawson were already deep in conversation, a collection of empty glasses scattered across the tabletop. They looked up as the girls approached, their eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of them.

"Well, well, well," Nico drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Look what the cat dragged in." Y/N rolled her eyes, sliding into the booth beside him. Y/N couldn't help but smirk at Nico's playful banter.

 "Shut up, Nico. You know you missed us." She stated, shooting him a teasing glare before turning her attention to the others, her gaze meeting Jack's across the table. Marino chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast.

"To the beautiful ladies of the evening," he declared, his words slightly slurred. "May they never leave us lonely again."

Angie snorted, snatching the glass from his hand and taking a sip. "Thanks, Marino," Y/N replied with a laugh, raising her own glass in response. "But I make no promises about future loneliness." Jack chuckled, his voice low and warm as he leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he said, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Nico and Marino exchanged knowing glances, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they observed the interaction. Heather nudged Y/N discreetly, her eyebrows raised in silent encouragement.

Everyone fell into easy conversation, Y/N couldn't help but notice Jack's eyes on her, his gaze intense and unwavering. She tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the story Dawson was telling about his latest game. She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, but she held his gaze steadily, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

But Jack was persistent, leaning across the table to catch her attention. "Can we talk?" Jack's voice was soft, almost pleading, his eyes searching hers for an answer. Y/N felt a rush of emotions swirling inside her, uncertainty mingled with a hint of anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, a frown tugging at her lips. She glanced around the table, noticing for the first time that a certain blonde was conspicuously absent. "Where's Lexi?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I told her not to come."

Y/N's eyebrow arched higher, a skeptical expression crossing her features as she processed Jack's words. "Interesting," she mused, her tone laced with skepticism. "So, what? You're playing mediator now?"

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of remorse flashing in his eyes. "Not exactly," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "She was your best friend, and she hurt Quinn's feelings."

Y/N couldn't help but scoff, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Mhmm."

Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he fixed her with an imploring look. "I know you're mad at me. Just let me fix this, let me talk to you. I know I don't deserve that tonight, and maybe I shouldn't be here either, but..."

Y/N held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. A wicked idea had taken root in her mind, a way to make Jack squirm, to make him feel even a fraction of the hurt and confusion she had been grappling with.

She leaned back in her seat, a devious smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "No, you should stay," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Jack blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. "Really?"

Y/N nodded, picking up her glass and taking a long, deliberate sip. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on her, could sense their confusion and anticipation. But she paid them no mind, her focus solely on Jack. She stood up from the table, her movements slow and sinuous, her hips swaying with every step.

"Enjoy your night, Jack," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "I know I will."

With that, she turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving a stunned Jack in her wake. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, could sense the weight of his gaze on her every curve and sway.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her waist, a strong grip steadying her as she stumbled. She looked up, her eyes meeting a pair of deep brown ones, a mischievous glint sparkling in their depths. "Careful there, gorgeous," the stranger said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Wouldn't want you to fall for anyone else tonight."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "You look like fun," she said, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer.

The stranger grinned, his hands tightening on her waist as he allowed her to pull him into the center of the dance floor. The crowd parted around them, the sea of bodies closing in once more as they found their rhythm.

From his spot at the table, Jack watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched tight. He saw the way the stranger's hands lingered on Y/N's curves, the way he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck.

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to march over there and tear the guy away from her, to finish the conversation they had started earlier. But Marinos hand on his shoulder held him back, a silent reminder that he had lost the right to interfere in Y/N's life.

Still, he couldn't tear his gaze away, couldn't ignore the jealousy burning in his gut as he watched Y/N dance with the stranger. Her hips swayed to the beat, her arms raised above her head as she lost herself in the music. The stranger's hands roamed her body, sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him.

Y/N didn't seem to mind, a coy smile playing at her lips as she ground her hips against his. She ran her fingers through the stranger's hair, tugging lightly at the strands as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Jack's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave marks. He knew he had no right to be angry, no right to feel possessive over a woman he had hurt so deeply.

But seeing her with someone else, watching her give herself over to the heat and the passion of the moment, it was a special kind of torture, a punishment he knew he deserved. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around him. But his mind was miles away, lost in memories of the way Y/N's body had once moved against his own, the way her lips had tasted, the sound of her laughter in his ear.

He had taken it all for granted, had thrown it away for a fleeting moment of temptation. And now, watching her dance with a stranger, watching her come alive in a way he hadn't seen in weeks, he knew that he would do anything to win her back.

Even if it meant swallowing his pride and admitting the truth.

Jack sat at the table, his eyes glued to Y/N and the stranger on the dance floor. He couldn't help but scoff as he watched the guy's hands roam over her body, his lips curled in a sneer. "Who does this guy think he is?" he muttered, taking a swig of his beer. "He's all over her like some kind of octopus."

Nico leaned in, squinting at the dance floor. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes widening in recognition. "Isn't that Matt Rempe? From the Rangers?"

Jack's head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in on the stranger's face. Sure enough, it was none other than his longtime rival, the star player of the Rangers hockey team.

A surge of anger coursed through his veins, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. The Jersey Devils and the Rangers had been at each other's throats for years, their rivalry the stuff of legend. And now, seeing Matt Rempe with his hands all over Y/N, it was like a slap in the face, a personal insult he couldn't ignore.

Jack stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His eyes scanned the club, searching for something, anything to take his mind off the sight of Y/N in Matt's arms.

And then he saw her.

A girl, standing at the edge of the dance floor, her hair the same rich shade as Y/N's, her body curved in all the right places. She was a dead ringer for the woman he liked, a doppelganger in every sense of the word.

Without a second thought, Jack made his way over to her, his strides purposeful and determined. He tapped her on the shoulder, flashing his most charming smile when she turned around. "Hey there," he said, his voice low and inviting. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. wanna dance?"

The girl's eyes widened, a flattered smile spreading across her face. "I'd love to," she said, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. Jack pulled her close, his hands settling on her hips as they began to move to the music. He made sure to position them in Y/N's line of sight, his eyes locking with hers over the girl's shoulder.

Y/N was still dancing with Matt, her back pressed against his chest, his hands splayed across her stomach. But her gaze was fixed on Jack, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Jack smirked, leaning down to whisper something in the girl's ear. She giggled, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body melting into his. He could feel Y/N's stare boring into him, could sense the anger and jealousy radiating off her in waves. And he reveled in it, a twisted sense of satisfaction unfurling in his chest.

Two could play at this game.

He spun the girl around, dipping her low, his hand splayed across the small of her back. She gasped, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching into his. Y/N couldn't take it anymore. The sight of Jack with that girl, his hands all over her, his eyes locked on Y/N's with a cruel, taunting gleam, it was too much to bear. She mumbled a quick excuse to Matt, pulling away from his embrace and making a beeline for the exit.

She burst through the doors, the cool night air hitting her flushed skin like a balm. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her.

Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps, and she spun around to see Jack rushing out after her. He had a panicked look on his face, as if he had just realized the gravity of what he had done.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice desperate.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Explain what, Jack? How you were just using that poor girl to get back at me? How you couldn't stand to see me happy, even for a moment?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. His shoulders were tense, hunched up to his ears as if he were bracing himself for a blow. "That's not what I was doing," he argued, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

"I was just..." He trailed off, his eyes searching Y/N's face, pleading for understanding. "I saw you with Matt, and I couldn't stand it. It was like something inside me snapped. I lost control."

He took a step closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he were fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Y/N. I swear, that was never my intention. I just..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I miss you. I miss us. And seeing you with him, seeing you in his arms, laughing at his jokes... it made me crazy. It made me feel like I was losing you all over again."

Y/N sighed, the anger that had been burning in her chest sputtering out like a candle flame deprived of oxygen. "I miss you too, Jack," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."

Jack hung his head, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his shame were physically pressing down on him. "I know," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so damn sorry. I never meant for things to get this twisted, this messed up. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Y/N took a step forward, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her skin. Slowly, tentatively, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble that shadowed his jaw. "I know you didn't," she said softly, her eyes searching his.

Jack leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if he were savoring the feel of her skin against his. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I want to make things right between us. I want to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve, the man you need me to be."

Y/N's heart clenched in her chest, a lump rising in her throat at the raw honesty in his words. She knew that he meant it, that he truly wanted to make things work between them. But she also knew that it wouldn't be easy, that they had a long road ahead of them if they wanted to rebuild what they had lost.

Still, looking into his eyes, seeing the love and the longing that shone there, she knew that she was willing to try. Because a life without Jack, a life without his laughter and his infuriating stubbornness... that wasn't a life she wanted to live.

"I want that too, Jack,” she whispered, her lips curving into a small, hopeful smile.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, they stood there, lost in each other's eyes, the rest of the world falling away. But the spell was broken by the sound of sarcastic laughter, and they turned to see Matt and his friends sauntering out of the club.

"Well, well, well," Matt sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as his eyes raked over Y/N's form, lingering on her curves with a lecherous gleam. "If it isn't the Jersey Devil's sloppy seconds."

Jack's entire body tensed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as a wave of rage crashed over him. "Watch your fucking mouth, Rempe," he yelled back.

Matt scoffed, his friends snickering behind him. "Please. She was grinding on me like a bitch in heat back there. Face it, Jack, your girl's nothing but a filthy little tease." Y/N's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Shut up, Matt. You don't know what you're talking about."

Matt took a step forward, his towering frame looming over Y/N in a blatant attempt at intimidation. "I know a slut when I see one, sweetheart,” he leered, his eyes traveling the length of her body with a nauseating hunger. "And sweetheart, you've got 'fuck me' written all over you."

That was the final straw.

Jack lunged forward, his fist connecting with Matt's jaw with a sickening crack. Matt stumbled back, his hand flying to his face, his eyes wide with shock. Matt was quick to recover, charging at Jack with a primal snarl, his own fists flying with brutal precision.

His friends joined in, their fists flying as they tried to defend their teammate.

Y/N watched in horror as the fight escalated, Jack and Matt trading blows, their bodies slamming into the walls of the alleyway. She turned to run back inside, to get help, but she was stopped by the sight of Nico, Marino, and Dawson rushing out of the club, their faces contorted with anger.

They threw themselves into the fray, their fists flying as they tried to defend their friend. Y/N watched helplessly as the fight turned into an all-out brawl, bodies slamming into each other, blood splattering the pavement.

She knew she should do something, should try to break it up, but she was frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind reeling with the shock of it all. How had things escalated so quickly? How had a night of fun and flirtation turned into a brutal street fight?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she needed to get Jack out of there, needed to get him somewhere safe.

Heather and Angie burst through the club doors, their eyes widening at the chaotic scene before them. Without hesitation, they threw themselves into the fray, their high heels and manicured nails proving to be surprisingly effective weapons.

Heather grabbed one of the Rangers by the collar, yanking him off of Marino with a snarl. "Get your hands off him, you creep, he’s too small!" she yelled, her knee slamming into his groin with a satisfying crunch.

The Ranger howled in pain, doubling over and stumbling away, his hands cupping his injured pride. Heather dusted off her hands with a smirk, turning to help Angie, who was currently grappling with another one of Matt's cronies.

Y/N, meanwhile, had finally snapped out of her daze, her eyes locking onto Jack's form in the center of the melee. He was holding his own, his fists flying as he traded blows with Matt, but she could see the blood streaming from his nose, the bruises blooming on his cheekbones.

Without a second thought, she lunged forward, shoving her way through the crowd of brawling men. She reached Jack just as he landed a particularly vicious punch to Matt's ribs, sending the Ranger stumbling back with a grunt of pain.

"Jack!" she cried out, her hands reaching for him, desperate to pull him away from the fight. Jack turned to her, his eyes wild with adrenaline and rage. But as he took in the concern on her face, the fear in her eyes, his expression softened, the fight draining out of him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, heedless of the blood staining his knuckles.

"Enough!" Heather barked, her voice ringing with authority. "Break it up, now, or I'm calling the cops." For a moment, no one moved, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. But then, slowly, reluctantly, the Rangers began to disengage, their faces twisted with resentment and barely suppressed rage.

Matt was the last to back down, his chest heaving with exertion as he glared at Jack with pure, unadulterated hatred. "See you at the next game Jack," he snarled, his split lip dripping with blood.

But Jack just smiled, the gesture cold and humorless. "I'll be waiting." he said, his voice calm.

...

@clairezegras @rebelatbay @ivy-34

[nvoirs]

At the bar

18+ content below! Nsfw Warning!

Disclaimers: Missionary, praising kink, fingering, handjob, slight blowjob, slight degradation (use of whore) cussing, M + F receiving, age gap, RE6 leon is older by around 10 years.

I gave up on my punctuation half way into this, so if there's no capital letters that's why.

The bar was more crowded tonight. It being a Saturday night and bystanders stood drinking and playing table pool while others danced to the late night tunes.

Honestly you were out of control. You had been coming back to this same bar almost every night to drink away your sorrows. Life was miserable and alcohol just made it more enduring.

Pulling down the black dress you wore, and clutching your purse you made your way to where they sold your temporary happiness.

"Hey how you doing, just one thanks" you nodded at the bartender.

You could say you were rather known here as you had been coming here multiple times a week, so your usual was already known by now.

You put your purse on the countertop, and took a seat in the corner. There was also another person here, you didn't realise and thought you might be an irritating presence being so close. You got up to leave when the man spoke.

"You can stay here, don't worry I don't bite" He chuckled wholeheartedly.

You slowly sank back onto the seat, "Sorry I just thought maybe you wanted to sit in this area alone"

"Oh no you're mistaken" Smiling, he sipped his drink eloquently.

"I see.." You took another proper look at him. He was older. Much older than you, maybe in his late 30s? His blonde hair was parted in the middle, and you could see his eyes. They were blue. A very mesmerising blue that you so happened to find attractive, which made you shake your head slightly.

"Checking me out?" Your face shot back up to his eyes, and your face turned hot and your mouth turning dry. "No I um-"

"Here's your drink missus" the bartender ambled over to your side, and slid the drink to you.

"Ah, thank you so much"

He nodded, walking back to the serving area.

You looked away from the man that was sat next to you, and raised your glass to your lips.

Fuck. We're you that obvious? you didn't think he was watching you ogle him.

You turned back to face him, and saw that he was staring at you already. His gaze lowering to your youthful appearance. You looked young, reminding him of his own self back when he was in his 20s.

Licking your lips out of nervousness, you opened your mouth.

"Well I just wanted to mention that.. well your quiet handsome aren't you?" Ah shit. Well now he knew what you thought of him.

He was surprised at your boldness, his eyebrows etching upwards.

"Well I'm honoured you think that" a deep rumble of laughter erupted from his chest.

His voice. It made your stomach turn, you felt aroused by him and his presence. it almost disgusted you, that you thought about this about a mere stranger but you couldn't help yourself.

You silently stared at him, your mouth agape somewhat like a fish. Redness seeped colour into your cheeks, and you exhaled slightly.

"I'm sorry about that I'm not sure what came over me" you apologised.

"There's really nothing to be sorry about sweetheart, if it makes you feel better i think you're stunning, don't see a lot of gems like you nowadays"

The butterflies in your stomach swished around, and you could feel your panties getting wet with your arousal.

You didn't know how long it would take before you crumbled, and succumbed to your lust.

-

Your back slammed into the plush backseat of this mans car. You'd exchanged names back in the bar, his name was Leon. When you said it aloud, the name practically rolled of your tongue with ease. Guess you were practicing for this moment.

Your dress hitched upwards and your cleavage showed more visible then before. Lying on your back you looked up at the man. You wanted this, you wanted it so badly, wanted him to fuck you. You could tell he wanted the same, his blue eyes becoming the colour of a dark abyss. Him wanting to destroy you plaguing your mind.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, he was eating you up slowly. The man knew how to kiss, and you let out a little moan that riled him up even more. His stubble was prickling you, as he kissed you even more deeply. He moved back and looked at you. Your lips were wet with saliva, swollen and pink begging for more.

"May I?" He indicated towards the little dress that was barely covering you now. You nodded slowly, and he pulled down the thin straps of your dress, he smirked when he saw your black lacy bra the cute little bow nestled in the middle. Leon tugged at it teasingly before swiftly unclasping it by pulling you upwards slowly. You gasped when the cold air hit your now hardened nipples. Leon groped your tits, massaging them with his large hands. Letting go of one, his hot mouth hovered of one of your nipples. He dived for it, taking the gentle bud into his mouth and lightly sucking. The electrifying pleasure coursed through your body, and you gripped onto the nape of his neck your hands beginning to course through his soft blonde locks.

"Fuck, touch me here leon" you patted your thigh and he understood. Finishing up on your nipples, he pulled up your dress seeing the matching lace panties you had on.

"God damn, your cute" he groaned, his hard on becoming visible through his jeans. That made you clench your thighs together, trying to keep the wetness together. He slowly pulled your legs back apart, he was slow with his movements pulling your panties to one side. His index finger stroked your pussy from your clit to your entrance. You shivered from the sensitivity.

"Shit, your so fucking wet. This all for me hm?" Leon teased.

"Yes! mmh.. leon, all for you I need you to touch me there please" your begging increased, your hair messily covered half your face.

Leon pulled your hair back, "Of course darling, I'll make you a happy girl don't you worry your pretty little head"

gathering your wetness, leon inserted his first finger into your cunt moving it slowly, trying to find the spots that had you seeing stars. the stimulation felt amazing but it wasn't enough.

you grabbed the sleeve of his arm that was still massaging your chest.

"i need.. more" exclaiming you stared at him, looking at his dazzling blues.

"my little angel isn't so patient now is she? but i'm feeling generous.."

leon inserted his second finger into your cunt, causing you to let out a breathy gasp which turned into a moan. His double fingers moving inside you expertly hitting all the right spots that would have you cumming in moments if he continued like this.

"shh angel, your so loud the whole streets gonna hear you" he shoved your panties into your own mouth muffling your little whines and mewls. without warning you squirted so hard you were blinded by a hot white light, your legs thrashed and twitched from the aftermath of the orgasm. you breathed deeply, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead and chest. no one had ever made you cum that hard before, let alone squirt.

"holy shit angel, your a squirter hm? that's hot"

you pulled your panties out of your mouth, tossing them to the side. "I've actually never done that before, i guess i just never chose the right guy to please me, now leon let me help you with that problem you have" you indicated to his errection which was probably painfully hard right now. you didn't want him to wait any longer as you crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs.

you rubbed him through his jeans, and he groaned "sweetheart don't you dare tease me" you glanced up at him innocently. "i'm not sure what you mean" you teased, blinking through your lashes. unzipping his jeans and letting them hang around his mid thighs, you could see his precum that had left a big stain on his boxers. you pulled the front of his boxers down, and let his cock spring free. he was delightfully larger than you had interpreted, which took you aback but you took him in your hands anyways. you started to stroke from the base of his cock to the very tip using his precum as a lube, slower then faster. you stopped and spat on your hands before going back to business, using your spit to coat his cock fully.

"ah faster, angel" leon demanded. before doing anything else you shoved your own panties back into his mouth. "your gonna alert the whole street baby" you said winking.

you went faster and knowing he was about to cum, you put the tip of his cock into your warm wet mouth and started to suck him hard. this caused him to cum right into your wet cavern.

he pulled your panties out of his mouth, "swallow it now."

you complied and swallowed all of it, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

this broke leon, he'd have enough of your teasing. "when i saw you for the first time, i had no idea you were this much of a whore, how many men have seen you like this hm?" diving for your neck, leon took the supple skin into his mouth and started to suck and bite you in your most sensitive spots.

"ah not many have, shit." You clicked your tongue when leon started blossoming new love marks on your lower chest. Bite, then suck, the stinging sensation hurt a little but he made sure to sooth it with his rough tongue which made it comforting.

he proceeded to get of your chest to admire his handiwork of purple and red marks that were scattered all over your neck and chest.

"gonna fuck you now" mumbling to himself, he held his cock in his hand. stroking it slightly and prodding the tip at your needy entrance.

"leon please fuck me, i need you inside me so bad" you begged him, being drunk over the fact you wanted to fuck this older man so god damn badly, you were getting light headed just thinking about it.

"this pussy is all mine, you hear me?"

"yeh ah its all yours" you peered down to see leon poking your entrance almost penetrating the tip fully inside. then without warning he slowly and completely disappeared inside you, bottoming out completely he started to thrust mid pace.

your muffled cries and moans were hidden by you digging your face into his neck, your tears beginning to soak your now ruined makeup and wetting leon's neck.

"faster faster. fuck me faster leon" you whined incoherently.

leon was a private man, and when it came to sex he'd like it to be somewhere private. but because he was so entranced by you he couldn't help himself and just had to have you his way in the back of his car. at this point, leon was so pussy drunk he didn't mind anyone in the area hearing you two getting at it like a bunch of sex addicts, that couldn't possibly wait till you got through the front door.

he thrusted more rapid, groaning into your ear that had you clenching your pussy around his cock.

"fuck baby, squeezing me s'hard, gonna cum at this rate"

he started to pound the shit out of you, closing in for a sincere but hasty kiss that had you trembling. your fingernails dug into his exposed back, leaving little red marks marking him as yours for tonight.

the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against his was heard in the breezy night, making you gasp for more. his strong hold on your hips keeping you in place.

letting out a particularly loud moan, while leon obeyed your body by giving you chaste, hot open-mouthed kisses along your neck, you cummed harder than you'd ever done with anyone else. your love juices quickly mixing with his as he also cummed moments later as he continued to overstimulate fuck you. his warm, thick creamy ropes of cum painting your insides an innocently white colour

"you know how to please ah.. a girl, don't you?" you forced the words out as the overstimulation had gotten to your head.

"it's always ladies first in my eyes, sweetheart."

he pulled out, watching your tight pussy oozing with his cum. with two fingers he swiftly pushed it back in, wanting to claim you as his for tonight. finding your underwear that had been strewn to the side, he snapped it back into place so non of his cum would leak out.

"how was that my darling? i hope i made your night" he winked, continuing to kiss the spots under your eyes where your now dry tears sat.

"that was.. amazing" your heaving breathing being under control now, as you sat up facing leon.

Leon's inner gentleman shone, "i can take you home for round two if you want, baby?"

"I'd fucking love that" you sighed deeply, the car still smelling like sex you leaned forward and left a teasing light kiss to his lips.

[melinoelliones]

Ban - NSFW Alphabet

I did a Ban aswell so here ya’ll go

I am not a Ban lover so if our opinions are different DON’T JUMP ME

I am open to doing any other SDS’s characters

This is being queued up for after Meliodas drops so I hope this posts

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he’d probably cook you something fast, make sure you’re fed and hydrated after all he put your body through. Also strokes your back as you lay on his chest, just enjoying the silence,

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This is a hard one but for you your waist/torso. He doesn’t care the size, he just wants to have his arms around it at all times. He will legit lay in your lap with his arms around you.

On himself he loves his abs, dude has em out 24/7 anyway.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He enjoys cumming on your ass and back, your breathless body moving up and down while he coats it in it. I think he’d also love to see it on your face, making a mess of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes it when your body takes over, like when he’s eating you out and you slowly push his head down, or when he’s fucking you and you play with yourself for extra stimulation. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He wasn’t like the most experienced but he knew what he was doing, now he works with you to find what you both like.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

69 for SUREEEEE. He gets to eat you and and feel you struggle to suck him off due to how well he’s doing with you.

Any where he gets to pick you up, putting his crazy strength to good use. Seeing your face contort as he fucks into you with everything he’s got.

Also missionary, I feel like he loves to kiss you as he slides in and out, smirking as you struggle to kiss back. Pulling your ankles above his shoulders to get even deeper into you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not so much during, but maybe after.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I'm torn between absolutely wild down there and/or well kept. We saw how he kept himself in that prison….

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate!!! Lots of sweet talk, lots of kisses and major eye contact. He wants to take in everything you do and praise you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Barely, maybe even never. He’d prefer to wait till you’re around. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink 100%. Wants to fuck a baby into you so bad, going round after round to make sure he’s filled you enough to guarantee you’re pregnant. 

Dacryphilia. Your tear stained cheeks look so pretty when he’s fucking you to the point where your mind is only on him and his cock.

Cockwarming. Wants to be inside of you at all times. Feeling your warm walls smother his cock is heaven.

Restraints. He loves to be tied up and let you have free reign of his body.

Marking up. He loves to cover you from head to toe in hickeys but mostly in places he can see. He’ll leave like one or two in an obvious spot so people know who you belong too. He also loves when you leave him little ones, as his jacket is wide open he always asks for one right in the centre so people can see it.

Facefucking. Enjoys fucking your face while you gag on it, tears in your eyes as you’re running your tongue and mouth along it. He thinks you look absolutely adorable with the mix of cum and saliva running down the corners of your mouth as you look up at him for approval.

“Yeah thats it, you’re doing so well” he’d moan out while pushing the back of your head further into his cock. His head rolling back as his crown hits the back of your throat repeatedly. 

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

Prefers closed spaces like bedrooms, however after seeing Meliodas n his partner doin it everywhere he’s definitely lowkey wanting to try it in a more public place atleast once.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your moans and whines. You begging for him makes him almost feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything that could seriously hurt you. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The mans tongue is long, he loves to use it on you. Don’t get me wrong, he enjoys watching you on your knees attempting to take him all in your mouth but he loves to give. Would eat you out whenever you ask him too, he’d probably ask sometimes too as he enjoys it that much. He can do all sorts with that tongue of his and you love it. 

“HEY, come over here and let me eat you out, i'm starving over here” he’d chuckle with a smirk on his face, arms out for you to come to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both equally. Sometimes you like it rough and he’ll push your body to extremes. Other times he’ll keep it slow to savour the moment.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I think he prefers to take his time with you and hates to be rushed. But desperate times call of desperate measures.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not a massive risk taker in terms of like public stuff but he is always down to experiment. If there is something you want to try he is more than happy to oblige.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I don’t think he’d have a limit to be honest, could go till the sun comes up. But realistically maybe 3 to 4 rounds consistently to not break you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like he isn't the biggest fan of them as he can do anything they can do. Need a gag, use his fingers. Need a choker, his hands are right there. Need a vibe, he’s got stamina. However if you insisted he would get you one, like maybe when he’s on trips he’d get you something close to his size.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Only teases slightly, doesn’t take it too far as he wants to fuck you just as much as you want him to. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

His volume isn't too high as it only really consists of grunts and moans, along with his dirty words. He doesn’t mind if you make noise but if people are around he will kiss you in an attempt to swallow your moans. 

Maybe says “So loud, it’s almost like you want them to hear how well i’m fucking you”.

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

Likes to fuck you clothed then make you keep the soiled underwear on. Watching you squirm and you uncomfortably try to act as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out and fill you to the point where it’s dripping down your inner thighs.

Also loves to make out with you and tease to the point where you’re begging him to fuck you. But not too often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is TALL. He is 6’11 so I know he is hiding something large under them pants. Maybe 8 or 9 inches, curved slightly and has some nice girth to it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I wanna say average/high. He could defo fuck you like 3 or 4 times a week but it’s not super necessary. Loves oral though and making you feel good without sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He gets tired a bit after but he won’t sleep until you’re hydrated, fed and asleep. He’ll sit with you in his arms until you do.

[steddieas-shegoes]

take my hand, we'll make it i swear

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is a hand reaching out'

rated m | 2,343 words | cw: blood, injury, temporary character death, nightmares | tags: coming back barely right, post-vecna, realizing feelings, getting together

🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻

Hawkins has been torn apart for eight days. Eddie's been dead for eight days.

Everyone's been mourning for eight days.

A week doesn't seem like a long time until you're in the throes of the world ending and a group of teenagers mourning one of their friends. A week starts to feel like a year when all you've done is cry and hope for any other ending than the one you got.

Steve was just trying to be there for them, be there for the people who didn't run from Hawkins, and somehow still take care of himself. It wasn't going well.

He'd barely slept more than a few hours at a time, and that sleep was anything but restful, nightmares invading his mind from the moment he closed his eyes to the time he woke up in a cold sweat with gory images seared into his brain.

One in particular had happened three times in a row now: Steve was walking in the Upside Down, searching for something but he didn't know what. He'd be surrounded by demodogs and demobats, but none would attack him. He'd keep walking and walking, yelling something he was unable to decipher. Eventually, he'd see a hand sticking out of the ground. A very recognizable hand, one that he'd last seen covered in blood, his rings no longer a shiny metallic, but a dirty and dull gray. When he tried to reach for the hand, it disappeared. He woke up.

And then he pretended he hadn't just had a nightmare about Eddie.

Robin saw through it. She made him talk about it, said the only way to get through it was to talk and actually receive comfort.

But so far, it wasn't helping.

The nightmares got worse.

By day 12, he was convinced Vecna had managed to get into his head.

By day 18, he was so sleep deprived, he started sleep walking. Robin insisted on staying with him to make sure he didn't try to drive or walk into the road or something.

It was bad.

And then suddenly, on day 19, they just. Stopped.

He didn't dream at all. In fact, he slept for nearly seven hours with no movement at all.

Robin figured maybe his body was just so exhausted, it finally gave up on torturing him. He figured she might be right.

But on day 20, things got weird.

He was awake, he knew he was.

He was sitting in his car with the radio on low, staring out at the only place not touched by Vecna and the Upside Down: the quarry.

It was quiet other than the radio, which is why he jumped when the radio suddenly flipped to a different station. White noise filled the car as he tried to put it back to his usual station, but then the car just...shut off.

His keys were still in the ignition, but the car wasn't running.

A technical problem was the last thing he needed right now; All the mechanics had left town and he wasn't very handy with anything except changing a tire.

But then it started up again, the radio on the right station, and nothing seemed to sound or look wrong.

"Okay then," Steve said to himself. He gave it a minute to make sure it wouldn't shut off again before putting it in reverse and leaving the parking area. He could try to take a look at it at home.

But when he got home, Dustin and Mike were in his driveway waiting for him, pacing, looking far too worried.

"Where've you been?" Mike asked.

"We've tried to get you on the walkie for an hour!" Dustin whined.

"I was busy," Steve said. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"El said she felt something," Mike spit out. "She said it's not Vecna, but it's powerful, or at least seems to be."

"Mindflayer?" Steve asked.

"Don't think so. Will didn't feel it."

Steve gestured for them to throw their bikes into his trunk so they could go back to El and find out more of what was going on. He decided not to say anything about the weird incident with his radio for now, wanting to hear what El suspected about things before he worried people for no reason.

When they got to Hopper's cabin, still in quite a bit of disrepair, but livable, El was drinking a glass of water on the couch, pale and eyes constantly moving from person to person.

"Sorry, we had to wait on Steve to get back from whatever he was doing," Mike rolled his eyes as he sat next to El and reached for her hand.

"It is Eddie."

The room was silent as everyone processed what El said.

"It can't be," Hopper said, though softer than he would normally. He knew the kids were still having a hard time. "Steve checked his pulse. Nancy checked his pulse. He lost so much blood. It's-"

"You know better than to say impossible," Joyce spoke up from her spot next to Will. "With everything we've seen, impossible is an impossible word."

"But he wouldn't be human if he was alive. And we couldn't really know if he was on our side," Hopper said to her. "We can't trust anything that comes out of that place, even if they have the face of our friends."

"So you do not trust me?" El asked.

"Or me?" Will asked.

Hopper sighed. "No, that's different."

"It's not that different," Will said. "I was down there for a week and everyone thought I was dead. We all know I have a connection to the place. Eddie may just be like me."

El suddenly stood. "We must go to him. He needs our help."

"El-"

"I am going. Steve?"

Everyone's eyes shot to him, his face turning a bright red.

"You have seen him in your dreams. You know where to find him."

"Uh..."

"You can take me and Hopper to him. I can't see him, I can only sense him."

"Uh." Robin shoved at his shoulder. "Okay, yeah. I can try. But they were just dreams. They might be wrong."

"They are not wrong."

So, despite Steve's promise to himself that he would never go back into the Upside Down without the help of the entire military, Steve held his bat in one hand and El's hand in the other while Hopper walked behind them with a flamethrower ready to go.

He didn't think about where he was going, he just walked.

They had a walkie with them for communication, but told everyone to stay silent unless there was an emergency topside. El assured them there wouldn't be, but she wasn't always right.

Steve felt goosebumps on his skin as they approached a more dense wooded area. If you looked hard enough, you could see the trailer through the trees, but it was unrecognizable, somehow even more dilapidated and gross than the last time they were down here.

El squeezed his hand, but nobody spoke.

They walked further.

It started to feel like one of his nightmares, the darkness and thickness in the air starting to weigh heavy on his chest.

But a small movement caught his eye, and before he could even think it through, he pulled away from El and ran towards it.

A hand.

It was his hand.

Eddie's hand was reaching over a fallen tree, just as bloody and dirty as Steve's nightmares showed.

God, why hadn't he said something to El? Why had he thought they were only nightmares? He knew better.

"Eddie!" Steve said as he cleared the trunk of the tree, nearly landing on Eddie's body. "Shit, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Steve wasn't think about this being a trap, wouldn't even care if it was. It was Eddie. He was alive, or at least a form of alive that they could get him out of there, and that was the only positive thing that happened for weeks now.

"Steve." Hopper's voice was right behind him, and El was standing just on the other side of the tree. "Back up. He could be dangerous."

"Shut up! He's barely alive, Hop! He needs help."

Steve was working quickly to check over where the injuries looked the worst. But everything seemed healed, all the blood on him dried and some of the smaller bites already scarring over. But he looked incredibly thin, dangerously thin, and there were dark circles under his eyes as his hand started to reach for Steve shakily.

Steve grabbed it, didn't want him doing more than he could handle. "It's okay. You're okay. We're taking you home, okay? I'm not letting you die here again."

"Didn't die the first time, Stevie," he whispered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh that tried so hard to be a sob. "I guess not, huh?"

"Don't know if I can walk," Eddie said.

Steve looked to Hopper, who gave one small nod.

He turned back to Eddie. "Anything bleeding?"

"No."

"This probably won't be fun."

"What-"

But Steve's arms were under him, lifting him, carrying him before he could finish his question.

"Didn't think you'd sweep me off my feet like this," Eddie joked breathlessly.

"How else would I have?" Steve played along.

Or maybe he wasn't playing. Maybe the reason he couldn't get Eddie out of his head even in his sleep was because there was a connection. Maybe he was here because he actually cared about Eddie, not about the way the kids mourned him. Maybe Robin was right about expanding his horizons.

"I dunno. Kinda figured I'd actually die before you got here."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see me in dreams?"

El was following right behind them, probably listening to everything. Steve nodded as he kept walking the way they came.

"I felt this pull. I dunno how to explain it, man." Eddie coughed and it wracked through his entire body, almost causing Steve to lose his balance. "Sorry. Um, but like, I kept seeing flashes of you. Not anyone else. Just you. And if I thought about you hard enough, I could almost like...sense you?"

"Me? Why me?" Steve looked to El for an explanation.

"I do not know," she replied.

"I thought I was just crazy. Like, the crush I had on you shouldn't be enough to cause this."

"You had a crush on me?"

"Have, present tense, Stevie. Kinda hard not to when you're carrying me out of here like a bride on her wedding day," Eddie's eyes closed as they got closer to the gate in the road they used before. It was the only one marked safe by the entire group. "Hurts."

"What hurts?" Steve ignored everything else for now.

"Everything."

"I'll fix it, okay? Just a bit longer."

Eddie passed out less than a minute later after a whine left his mouth and his hand curled into Steve's shirt against his chest.

******

When he woke up again, Eddie was certain he died for real.

20 days in an alternate dimension puts things into a different perspective.

Steve Harrington was next to him, in a large bed, a bed that was definitely not his in a home that was not his. He wasn't in a hospital, at least not the one in Hawkins.

"Shit, Eds. Hi. Hey." Steve scrambled to sit up as quickly and carefully as possible. "How are you? I mean, obviously not great, but like, does anything hurt more than anything else? Are you bleeding? Shit, I was supposed to check while you slept and didn't."

"Steve. Jesus, man, it's okay." Eddie huffed a laugh. "I feel better than I have in a while."

"Good. That's probably the fluids and drugs we've been pumping into you for two days," Steve smiled apologetically at him, like he had to apologize for taking care of him. "You were out of it when we made it back. Hopper made the kids leave."

"Did I say something?" Eddie had no memory of getting back to... "Where are we?"

"Oh, this is my house. Safest place for you right now. Close enough to everyone if there's an emergency, but far away from where most people who stuck around Hawkins are living that no one will see you." Steve shrugged. "Joyce comes three times a day to check on you. I stick around the rest of the time."

"You've been here for almost two full days just...watching me?" Eddie should be uncomfortable with that, at least a little. But he should be a lot of things that he isn't.

"Making sure you don't die, mostly. Keeping the IV fluids switched around at night. Um, changing the bag," Steve looked down at his lap, face bright red.

Eddie realized exactly what he was talking about the moment he moved. "Jesus Christ. You've changed my pee bags? Just let me die. I can't go on like this."

Steve giggled. "It's not a big deal, Eds. Just part of taking care of you right now. Since you're awake, maybe Joyce can get rid of that on her next visit."

"Maybe she would do me the honor of killing me so I don't die of embarrassment."

"Eddie-"

Something about Steve's voice made him look up.

He reached his hand towards Steve's, suddenly not caring about the embarrassment at all.

"Steve, I'm okay. I promise. My pride may be wounded, but I will survive," Eddie said quietly. "You got me out of there. You did what I needed you to do. You did good."

It was easy to hold hands for the next hour while Steve caught him up on what happened.

It was easy to hold hands when Joyce came by and Eddie experienced more embarrassment at the realization of what she'd have to do to remove the pee bag.

It was even easier to hold hands as they both fell asleep in Steve's bed, finally finding rest without nightmares and without the threat of the Upside Down immediately surrounding them.

[soobnny]

the things we define as love — kim seungmin.

trope. strangers to lovers. college au. just fluff and a rly shy side of seungmin.

synopsis. a study of love through the lens of a tired photography student who has long given up on romance

word count. 2.4k words

warnings. none

note. i thought of this idea during one of my art classes n the stars aligned cuz when i opened pinterest .. low and behold a photo of seungmin with a camera. that’s what birthed this fic basically

What are the things most thought of when asked about love?

Is it the colors you use to paint its beauty in your head? Is it the taste of old chapstick you don’t quite remember the brand of anymore? Is it the reminder of something more painful that left you in resentment?

There are many things Kim Seungmin associates with love – oranges and strawberries freshly picked from the market, the way autumn leaves fall after having held on its tree for so long, the sunrise that greets him when he wakes up, lingering just long enough for him to finish his morning routine, and the way sand falls beneath his feet when he visits the beach.

There are other things too, like photography and its ability to capture moments that otherwise would’ve been gone forever, and like the old couple in front of him.

Seungmin feels a spark in his fingertips, aching to snap a photo of the purest, unadulterated definition of love right before his eyes. He thinks it would be a lovely addition to the project he’s working on for his major subject in photography.

Clearing his throat, he approaches the couple sitting peacefully together by the bench.

They smile up at him, and Seungmin scrunches his face at the thought that he had disturbed their time together.

“Hi. I wanted to… ask permission to take a photo of you two? It’s for a project in my class, we’re supposed to take photographs of the things we define as love, so I was… yeah, I was hoping, if that was alright?”

Seungmin brings a hand at the back of his neck, scratching shyly at his request to which the old woman just smiles fondly at.

“Of course! Honey, did you hear that? This lovely young boy says he wants to take a photo of us.”

She turns to her husband, and Seungmin bites back the urge to take a photo right now – of their excitement, of their sparkling eyes, and of the way they try to fix up the wrinkles of their shirts. The old woman sets her purse down, posture straightening as she loops an arm around her partner. He has a matching grin on his face, actions slightly delayed as they move to angle themselves better.

“Is this alright?” A smile paints their lips and Seungmin nods, sending a thumbs up before grabbing the camera hanging from his neck.

The click of the camera sounds, and Seungmin sneaks in a few shots of them eagerly waiting at a view of the photo.

When he steps forward, they’re already making space for him in between them, and he takes the seat politely. With his camera out to show the picture, he can’t help the way his heart squeezes at their sweet mumbling and the way they thank him for such a lovely photograph.

“This is for your project?” Seungmin nods abashedly at the question, growing even more shy when they ask to see the photos he had taken so far.

While Seungmin has been fairly confident in his skills, he’s suffered through quite a bit of burnout recently. He’s not quite sure he’s escaped it yet which is why he had urged himself to come out today, willed himself to work on his project. He bites down at his lower lip while skimming through the photos on his camera.

There are some of his friend’s pets, the tranquility of the ocean, the stars littering the night sky accompanied by the moon. They shower him in compliments at the sheer beauty of how the images are captured.

“No partner?” A blush sports the boy’s cheeks with the question asked, shaking his head and staring down at the camera in his hands.

In all honesty, Seungmin has long given up on the idea of romantic love for himself. He had the urge of wanting to fall in love years ago – back when he had so much love to give. This had stemmed from the stories and movies where he had caught a glimpse of the love he wished that he had. However, longing and patience can only go so far together, and with years of no one by his side, he’s bound to lose a little bit of hope.

So, he busied himself in his studies.

He finds comfort in believing that someday he’ll know of love that way, but he had long given up on it at present.

As if having read his mind, the old lady places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll know when you meet them. It will sound like… a train whistle.”

Seungmin is a little lost, a puzzled smile on his lips as he nods his head to urge her to continue.

“There’s this old story by Haruki Murakami of a train whistle in the night. Imagine waking up completely alone in the darkness, and you can’t hear anything, and you don’t know the time. It’s like… like having sunk at the very bottom of the ocean. Have you felt this way before?”

While the old lady speaks in riddles, this is a feeling Seungmin is far too familiar with. He knows all too well the claws of loneliness and the heavy weight of aching hearts and drowning lungs. It has forced its fingers down his throat far too many times, making him believe that if he disappeared right now, no one would even notice.

“But you hear the sound of a train whistle, even if it’s far away in the distance. The clock starts ticking again, and you fall back on the ground. It brings you back to reality, makes you feel heard.”

Seungmin’s fingers pause from fiddling with the shutter, turning to look at the lady. There’s something in her expression… of understanding that he’s never quite fallen into contact with before. Like she’s so sure of it.

He looks back down at his camera, but he makes no move to take another photo.

“It’ll come.” With that, she stands from her seat, flattening down her dress. Her hand comes in contact with her husband’s almost immediately, and they turn on their step to walk back to where they came from.

With a final wave and bright smiles, they disappear into the distance. Huh, how strange.

He emerges back to reality with the sound of his ringtone, and he fishes for his phone tucked in the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey, I have that film you need to develop your photos. I’m at the Soul Cup cafe right now, maybe you can drop by to get them?”

“Ah, thanks Hyunjin. I’ll be right there!”

He gets up from the bench himself, having already forgotten of his earlier interactions as he trots back to his university. With his camera safely packed in his camera bag, Seungmin hurries his steps to catch Hyunjin before he leaves.

The sun hasn’t gone yet by the time Seungmin arrives, and he quickly walks into the cafe in search of his friend.

It isn’t difficult to find the silhouette of a man with long pink hair, especially when the coffee shop he liked to frequent wasn’t the most popular among the campus. Although, it seems that someone is with his friend, sitting at the same table with papers strewn around.

“Seungmin, my photographer, you made it!” Hyunjin gets up from his seat, greeting him with a smile and a side hug before directing his attention to you. “Ah, this is (name). (Name), this is Seungmin.”

Seungmin’s breath gets caught in his throat the moment you turn around to exchange pleasantries. His eyes travel around your face, studying your features.

Seungmin isn’t dense, never judges anyone for their looks, but he finds your beauty to be the type subjected to photographs in art galleries. It’s one someone can spend forever admiring and analyzing and never get tired of.

Really pretty, he thinks as he extends a hand to shake yours.

A certain warmth envelopes him when he meets your hand.

“Here’s your film.” A bag is shoved in his general direction, and he grabs it and hugs it by his chest. And then, he’s forced to say his goodbye’s when Hyunjin’s attention shifts back to his own project.

Kim Seungmin sees you again a few weeks after your first encounter.

You’re crouched down on the sidewalk, paint smeared on your hands and clothes. You must be in the art department with Hyunjin, and something about that makes so much sense as Seungmin looks at you. You’re just the type of person to attract art, whether it’s because you create it or because you inspire it.

A closer look at you reveals your messy hair, blown-out by the wind, and a lopsided grin on your face as you call out to the small puppy just by the distance.

He feels the familiar twitch in his fingertips to take a photo. The sight he’s subjected to is too beautiful to not capture. If he took one quick enough, maybe you wouldn’t notice at all.

Seungmin seems to underestimate the actual distance between you and the loud shutter of his camera when he takes the photo. It’s not one of his best moments, and in the moment, he wishes the ground would just swallow him up so he didn’t have to deal with the consequences of his stupid behavior.

His face is already flush with embarrassment the moment you turn around to catch whatever had made that sound.

“Seungmin?” You remember his name, you actually remember his name, and god it couldn’t have sounded any sweeter. Does honey usually drip down the tone of your voice?

When you walk towards him with confusion etched in your face, Seungmin double backs. In the moment, he seriously considers standing in the middle of the road to meet his death instead of facing the embarrassment of explaining to you that he had just taken a photo of you because he thought the moment looked too pretty not to last forever.

He is all nervous laughter when you stop to stand in front of him, head tilted as you stare down at his camera. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

His own words tumble out of his mouth as he tries to explain himself. “Yes, and I’m sorry, I know I should’ve asked for per—“

“Can I see?”

“What?”

“The photo! Can I see it?” You look up at him with a smile, hands behind your back as you sway back and forth while waiting for his response. Only now does he notice the paint on your cheek and the flutter of your eyelashes and the specs of light in your eyes.

Oh god, his stomach doesn’t feel so great, having you look at him like that.

“Uh, sure. Of course!” He fumbles with his camera, clicking on a few buttons before pushing the camera towards you so you can see better. You nod your head, studying the photo before lifting your head back to look at him curiously.

“What’s this for?”

He gulps. “A project… for my class. I’m… I’m in the Photography Department.”

Nodding your head, you flash him another lopsided smile. “You take really pretty pictures. Photography suits you.”

He sends his own boyish, shy smile directed to you at your compliment, bowing slightly in thanks. You simply giggle, shaking your head and telling him you were just telling the truth.

“Can you take another one? I wasn’t aware you were gonna take one so my hair looked a little funny.” You point out, immediately flashing him a grin and a show of a peace sign as if waiting for him to snap a photo in that moment.

He does.

And since then, he has taken multiple photographs of you.

When you would see each other around, you would jokingly strike a pose, and he would take a photo. It’s one of the moments Seungmin treasures and looks forward to.

Usually, he would simply float through the days, unable to feel the ground beneath him, unable to quite tell the time. However, while his days were usually downcast, he finds a little ray of silver lining in the way you smile at him goofily while you readily pose for the camera.

The habit remains even when you meet each other at the Soul Cafe again, Hyunjin as the common friend.

He takes multiple photos of you and Hyunjin that day, some candid and some planned – but when you laugh with your head pulled back and your eyes tearing up just a little at a stupid joke, Seungmin has his camera down.

This sight, of you laughing wholeheartedly, is something he has to see with his own two eyes. He doesn’t think any lens or any photo could do the sight justice.

Hyunjin asks him to walk you home since your dorms are closer to each other, and he happily obliges.

The walk back is short, but it’s still time together, and that was enough for Seungmin.

“Goodnight, Seungmin. Let’s meet each other again!”

Seungmin blinks, unmoving from his position with his hand still lifted in the air from waving at you prior. Your words echo in his head again and again.

Let’s meet each other again.

You want to see him again soon, intentionally this time. You genuinely enjoy his company that you would like to meet him again. Somehow, it’s something Seungmin can’t fathom.

And then you laugh, and it’s a sound that cuts through years of loneliness.

Blood rushes to the tip of his ears, heat engulfing his entire being – a warmth similar to that when he had first met you. He can’t help but stare at you, unable to do or say anything by how dumbfounded he was at such simple words.

When you smile at him one last time, Seungmin can’t help but think that, of all the things that can be associated with love in this world, he thinks none of them quite does it justice like you do.

Seungmin ponders over your words and your shared interactions for the past few weeks on his way home. A gentle smile sits on his face, all because of you and your pretty smile and the brilliance that encompasses the entirety of you.

And then he hears it – quiet, and from a distance. The sound of a train whistle in the night, one so faint he can barely hear it. The clock starts ticking again, and he feels the ground he’s walking on beneath him.

“Oh.” Realization dawns on him, the nudge in his heart visible in his face.

“I see what the old lady means now.”