#if anyone has tips for shading ESPECIALLY DAMN HAIR

[whoredersupreme]

art is an explosion

[godkilller]

SHE LIED WELL FOR WHAT SHE WAS; A FLOWER CAUGHT IN A STORM, and Gin contemplated her with an eerie tip of his head to one side, as though deciding whether or not to humor her redirect. He saw through it well enough, knew even without the taste of their reiatsu in the air who had done this to her. He could smell the jealousy and spite a mile away, the bitterness and bickering of lowlifes wishing to become the center of Aizen Sousuke's world -- when no one could draw his eye, especially when so pathetic and hasty. As Gin languidly stepped forward, he brushed past Orihime in favor of absently surveying the disarray -- dismissive, seemingly, of her state and as though he falsely needed a closer look to discern what happened.

He saw in her the dislike for conflict, so her lie was predictable enough, the protectiveness of her assailants not necessarily a full bloom of compassion, but a weak dive for control. In another instance perhaps Gin could've taunted her for trying to play him off like a fool, but he wasn't in the combative and cruel mood most perceived him to constantly linger within. Pale fingers picked a stray petal up, flicking it away after the idle gesture served its cause. He watched it flutter to the pale tile flooring at his feet.

Perhaps he was feeling cruel, but not the senseless kind that sought to bite simply to see how the recipient thrashed. There were many veils within Las Noches; deceptive corridors that changed once one turned their backs on them, smoke and mirror tricks -- and then the entirety of Kyoka Suigetsu. But there was another veil lesser known, and he sought to shred it. They played friends -- well, she had, at least, and Gin had played along, dumbing himself down to seem less threatening, slouching to seem smaller, smiling in a less sinister way, playful even, teasing, saying funny things... it was high time she caught a glimpse of validation for her wariness of him, even if she had made a point to bury it as of late.

❝ -- ah, course you tripped. You've always been awfully clumsy, haven't ya? ❞ The air did not lessen its chilling bite. The thrum of his presence remained a slithering shadow, white cloak flowing in his next few swaying steps in a lazy circle around the perimeter of her room. Her cell. Her prison. They were both imprisoned here, though she hardly knew that and Gin held no intention of allowing that sentiment to become known. The ache of homesickness ran deep, a thick sickness that threatened to choke him.

Gin grinned sharply. Disgusting.

❝ A pity Ulquiorra seems so inept at his duty, though, hm? Havin' no sense of security. And lettin' ya have glass like this -- well, maybe you ain't the type to slit throats with a broken shard, or turn it onto yourself to get th' last laugh. Either way, y'could've really gone 'n fucked things up with that whole resolute attitude y'got goin' for ya, steelin' yourself like you're gonna make some big move. Don't tense up so much or pause so long before sayin' whatcha say ---- makes your bullshit stand out more. ❞ A sharp hidden gaze cut whilst still remaining out of sight, a squint half-shaded by a mess of silver strands cast across his brow.

Her ploy tasted familiar, if only because he himself had lied about stray blood in his hair once, laughing it off as though he had struck his head yet healed the wound, forgetting to wash out the blood that most certainly hadn't been his own. She was planning something by the look in those eyes; she reminded him of -- ... all steel-eyed, pouty even, so utterly determined. Part of him felt sick from the comparison, a foul scent of bitter nostalgia, and the other felt an immense pity ---- neither of them could control a damn thing in either of their scenarios.

All of her resolve and power meant nothing when Aizen Sousuke wanted something. In the end, nothing mattered at all when that man decided he wanted to use her, use anyone and everyone, to achieve something. And if Aizen said the command for it now, Gin would have killed her where she stood regardless of any sentimental attachments made thus far. She was, ultimately, not worth ruining his century's worth of plotting. He'd make it quick, relatively painless. His words will sting more.

❝ If you're gonna plan to do somethin'... you oughtta act like you have somethin' else planned instead. Better yet; don't. There ain't nothin' you can do that cap'n Aizen ain't already aware of as a possibility, 'n nothin' you can do to trick him into thinkin' you ain't gonna try. So don't. Or I'll stop ya myself. ❞

Stepping toward her rather than around her, Gin imparted a smooth and lighter tone, as though remembering something pleasing. ❝ Ah... and I'll haveta stop by 'n ask Loly 'n Menoly if they know anythin' bout this lil mishap. I'm sure they must've at least heard ya trip 'n cause this mess given how recently I sense they must've stopped by. ❞

Gin brushed past her again, ghostly and fluid in his swift steps toward the door. He raised a sleeve-draped hand off to his side whilst departing, sparing a peek of slender fingers and thin wrist in a languid wave.

❝ -- see ya 'round, kid. Try not to trip again~! ❞

@rejekshun continued from this.

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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

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

⋅ author’s masterlist

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

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

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

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

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

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

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“Damn it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Joon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Not in the slightest.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you? Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

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

“How did you even-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

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

“It won��t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

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

“I- I”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

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

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he does something about it.

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Joon?”

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

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

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

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

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

Your eyes go wide. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

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

“Namjoon.”

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

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

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

“So my timing wasn’t—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

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

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

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

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

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

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

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

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

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

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

It’s a sobering thought.

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

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

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

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

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

“Is that what you want?” 

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

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

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

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

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

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

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

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

“Or I could join you in the water.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you’re good. 

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

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

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

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

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you even saying down there?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, love?” 

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

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

-fin.

[ddarker-dreams]

Contractual Obligations II. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, general yandere themes. Word count: 2.2k. →Part I. 

The sound of heavy, wooden doors shutting behind you feels like a premonition of what is to come. 

Fiddling with your skirt, your eyes dart around, taking in Liyue’s signature rich architecture. Fatui building or not, they still must abide by Liyue’s aesthetic. You thought being surrounded by your home’s design would bring solace. Warm shades of mahogany with gold motifs are illuminated by paper lanterns, giving a glow that would be otherwise pleasant, if not for the circumstances. 

You had anticipated a long wait. Ekaterina, upon hearing your name, informed that you would be seen without delay. The others in the lobby of Northland Bank grumbled at this, much to your embarrassment. It’s no secret that getting appointments here is a time-consuming endeavor. Sailors, business owners, and Qixing’s personal assistants alike had to wait. 

For whatever reason, you were allowed to skip ahead of the queue. The glaring special treatment is bound to spread rumors. Now, here you stand, unable to quell your nerves. This is no different than strolling into a ravenous lion’s den. The vulnerability you feel now makes you wish you were facing a carnivorous beast, at least then you might have hope to defend yourself. 

Even with the unexpected privilege of not waiting in the lobby, you’ve been standing here in this private room for a while now. Thirty minutes is your guess, impatience creeping up on you. Your shoulders slump, a sigh leaving your lips. There’s lots of work to be done when you’re done here, time a precious resource. Wasting it to get answers from the blight on your life is infuriating. 

Figures, the one time you need to speak with Childe, he’s nowhere to be seen. Every other time he’d show up at the least opportune moments. He has a habit of appearing uninvited and ruining what would’ve been a pleasant day. Lost in thought, you consider all that must be done when you return to your parent’s shop, too occupied with your thoughts to notice a looming figure. Two hands go out to cover your eyes, the world suddenly going dark. Heart pounding against your chest, the touch is too unexpected, heat rising in your body as protection.

“Guess who?” Childe hums into your ear with a singsong tone. His scent reminds you of the ocean, fresh and light. 

You frown, noticing how close he is to you, his chest pressed against your back. Does Childe not know what personal space is? “The source of my problems.” 

He lets out a scandalized gasp and slinks in front of you. Childe boasts a lighthearted demeanor, mirth dancing in his eyes, and a tight-lipped smile on his face. Inauthentic as ever, you note. You’ve seen what lays dormant behind the thin veil of boyish charm. The infinite darkness that you never wish to see again. He’s still closer to your person than you’d prefer, but pointing it out won’t do any good, so you decide to overlook it. Picking your battles wisely is vital when speaking with Childe.

“Is that the greeting I get, after rushing all the way here?” Childe sighs. Before you could respond, you notice a new scent in the air, unmistakably leather. It takes you a moment to identify the source. A thin, wispy trail of smoke rises from Childe’s leather gloves that had been touching you just prior. Does that not hurt? Childe catches you staring and laughs. 

“So you didn’t notice,” Childe sounds amused, lifting his hands to inspect them. Raising his hands to his mouth, he bites the tip of his gloves and pulls them off. “Looks like I caught you.” 

He nods to your necklace which is tucked beneath your blouse, scarlet light shining through the fabric. Instinctually, you cover it with your hand, the jewel warm to the touch. Childe’s abrupt physical touch had activated your Vision. It’s only when you take a few deep breaths that the telling glow fades away, but the damage is already done. Did he plan this on purpose? Whatever the case may be, Childe is the last person you want having this information.

Sensing your apprehension, he speaks up. “Relax, I already assumed as much, but my interest is undeniably piqued. Why hide your Vision? This isn’t Inazuma, I was under the impression Visions were revered in Liyue.” 

You don’t owe Childe an explanation, but your intuition tells you he’s not going to let this go anytime soon. This isn’t what you came here for, you remind yourself. Don’t let him distract you.

“It’s a long story,” comes your dismissive answer, glancing around to see if anyone else had seen, even though it’s only you two in here. “Can I talk about what I came here for, please?” 

Childe closes his eyes, humming while considering your proposition. Instead of walking behind the desk in the room, he sits on a bench against the wall, motioning for you to come over. At your blatant hesitation, he decides to pester you, which doesn’t come as a shock. 

“What’s up with that look? There’s plenty of room,” Childe pats the spot next to him for extra emphasis. A dangerous twinkle shines in his eyes with a mischievous smile to match it. “Though, I wouldn’t complain should you come to sit on my lap instead.” 

Your cheeks flush brightly, a weak glare being sent his way which he laughs at. “I would never…” 

“Sure, sure. Come over already, it’s the least you could do, considering you just scorched a pair of my favorite gloves.” Childe’s carefree tone doesn’t match his scolding words, stretching out his arm on the back of where you were supposed to sit. Gingerly stepping over the smoking gloves on the floor, you wonder if it’s somehow a fire hazard, but assume Childe’s Hydro Vision could put it out if need be. You stop just short of sitting down, gnawing on your bottom lip at this new internal dilemma. Glaring daggers at his outstretched arm doesn’t seem to faze him. 

“The offer still stands.” He teases, leading you to huff and take your seat by him. You try to ignore the close physical proximity, but it’s rather difficult, as your thighs are touching. Is this a common theme for Snezhnayans? Why is Childe so needlessly touchy? Maybe you don’t want to know. Childe drums his fingers, staring at you with dangerous intent. 

You’ve wasted enough time here. Hoping to move on to the pressing issue, your lips part without further delay. “So, as I was--”

Childe places a finger to your lips, in an act that leaves you speechless. What is his problem? Furrowing your eyebrows together, you have half a mind to scorch the finger in front of you, but dismiss the thought when remembering his strength. Damn him for getting you riled up with such ease. 

“Uh uh uh,” Childe chastises with a shake of his head. “Not yet. Business can come later. First, you’re going to tell me about that.” 

You don’t need to look down to see he’s pointing at your hidden necklace. “It’s... personal. I have no reason to tell you.” 

“Oh, sweet [First]. I wasn’t asking. You did just burn my gloves, didn’t you? Instead of charging you Mora, which -- no offense -- you don’t have enough of to replace it, I want an explanation. I think that’s a fair deal.” 

So he is going to hold that mishap over you. Messing around with a debt collector and money seems counterintuitive, giving a quick explanation the plausible option. Whatever it takes to get him to drop the sensitive topic. Childe must have a semblance of tact to have made it this far in life after all. 

“Fine, fine. It’s not really that remarkable a reason. I have a younger sister, Chunghua. We used to be inseparable as kids. More than anything, I just wanted her to be happy. You’d do anything to accomplish that, y’know? It was… all my fault, really. She wanted a Vision like mine more than anything -- hair accessories, Mora, pretty outfits -- she never cared for that. 

I had no idea why I was given a Vision and not her. She was the one who prayed to every Archon at night for it, the one who burnt incense and gave offerings, not me. I could see her gradually losing hope every day that she woke up without one, like a piece of her was breaking off. At meals, she’d just… stare, silently, at the Vision around my neck. I don’t blame her for starting to hate me. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

Taking a deep breath, your eyes fall to your lap. “I only wanted to cheer her up. To see her smile like she used to. When I first got my Vision, Chunghua would ask me to do these little tricks. Forming animals or whatever, stuff kids like. Anyways… I tried doing it again one morning. Needless to say, it didn’t go well, she practically screeched at me. I had no idea that was how she felt. But, yeah. That’s why I hide my Vision. See, not that interesting, right?” 

Childe’s expression feels impossible to read. You’re not sure why you even shared so much, especially with him, but his lack of interruption made you keep going. Maybe you weren’t expecting him to sit perfectly still and listen to every word. Whatever the case, you clear your throat, desperate to clear the gloomy atmosphere. 

“She would’ve reacted the same eventually,” Childe says after a moment of deliberation. You tilt your head, the serious answer was unexpected. “That’s what I think, though only older siblings could understand.”

There’s a brief tenderness in his words that leaves you speechless. If he’s acting, you have to commend his abilities, because right now it almost feels like he’s being genuine. Playing with a strand of your hair, you look past him and clear your throat.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right.” 

Childe’s somber appearance twists into a more impish visage. “Why don’t I give Chunghua a talking to? It’s a shame seeing your cute face so sullen.” 

Mortified, you shake your head. “There’s no need for that.” 

“Hmm… a shame. I could really take care of everything if you just let me.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” you shrug with a frown. “What you could help me with is this ridiculous situation at the shop! Why are there Fatui guards outside the front doors? It’s scaring away customers.” 

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” 

Unbelievable. Childe continues to test your patience at every turn. After your previous conversation outside Liyue, which you’re still hoping was a bad joke, you’d noticed an increased presence of Fatui around the shopping district. That was bad enough for business. Now that they’re stationed right outside your parent’s shop, it’s far worse. Rumors have begun to circulate that you’re somehow involved with the Fatui. This has Childe’s doing written all over it.

“Why else would I be here?” 

He smiles and you immediately regret the rhetorical question. “Because you missed me, of course.” 

“I missed when there weren’t Fatui around the shop. Please, I don’t know what you did, but it’s going to be harder to get money for...” you gulp as if saying it cements the reality of your situation, but power through. “Paying off the loan with this drop in revenue.”

“Tempting as that is, I’m already happy with the results. I got you to come to me and learned more about you. From my position, this is a sizeable gain.” 

Everything from your head to your toes feels hot as if molten lava is stirring inside. He’s not taking you seriously, like the time at the stream and all the times before that. Memories flash in your mind. Your father hunched over letters containing bills, frowning, hair going greyer by the day. Your mother, sneaking out when she thinks you and your sister are asleep to pawn off her old jewelry. Even Chunghua, who offered to take time away from her education to help at the shop. It hits you like a pile of bricks, heart twisting painfully and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“What do I have to do,” Your voice is so low that Childe has to careen his head to hear it. He blinks, incredulous, waiting for further clarification. Each breath you take feels like a losing battle, your composure threatening to shatter. “For you to stop… whatever this is. I’ll do anything. Give anything. Please, just leave my family out of it.” 

Childe crosses his legs and leans in closer to you, arm secured tight around your shoulder.

“Didn’t I tell you already?” 

His breath is warm against you, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. He presses his lips softly against your pulse. Smiling, he notices how it quickens underneath his touch, all too pleased with your physical reactions. 

“That what I want to take is you.” 

[chixkencxrry]

Give In

Pairings: Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have been hiding from him for the past six months, determined to not be shackled by his dangerously possessive nature you went through extreme lengths to sever ties with him – including breaking a piece of your soul. But Loki has only ever been determined to get what was owed to him.

Warnings: dub-con, somewhat dark! Loki, oral (f + m), anal, exhibitionist, misuse of magic. Dirty talk.

DO NOT TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORK!

You closed your eyes and let your body fall back, legs wrapped around the greasy pole. That fucking idiot, you thought, she wore too much oil. Luckily you didn’t fall and hit anything, gracefully sliding until you unwrapped and stood, dancing for the men in the little dark club.

It wasn’t something you enjoyed – sure, you’d be damned if anyone shamed you for it but sex work was far from the best kind of work you imagined. But you had to eat.

Squatting, you twerked your cheeks eliciting a chorus of ohs from the crowd. You kept the same vacant smile on, trying not to cringe as dirty fingers stuffed bills into the strings of your thong.

This was better than having the last job - he’d almost caught you then. You flinched to think of what he’d do if he ever saw what you were doing for money. But dancing for strangers in dark felt less dehumanizing than being his.

The song ended, and you stood, heels clicking as you strode off the stage into the background. The smile left as you got back into the dressing room. A few girls were inside, counting their tips and fixing themselves to either return onstage or go home. You were looking to do the latter of the three.

Too tired to count your tips, you picked all your money up and stuffed it into your duffel bag. You’d lost all shame of dressing in front of the girls a few months back, taking the pasties and thong off. You’d have to wait until you got home to shower the glitter off. But you were grateful for the wipes you kept around.

While wiping off, you saw one of the girls at the corner of your eye. Lovie.

“Hey Dumbass!” You called, tossing the dirty wipe. “Did you bathe in a goddamn oil bucket? I almost broke my damn hip just now.”

Lovie rolled her blue eyes and popped her gum. “All you had to do was get it cleaned.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Right. And miss out on the big tippers that have to get home to their wives? Real smooth, Lovie.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying Y/N.”

“I don’t give a fu–“

“Ladies.”

The two women stilled, the older, professional dancer looked at them shamefully. “You know we try not to fuss too much before heading home. Especially with all the murders lately.”

The murders. Right. Maybe that’s why you were so on edge lately - four girls killed in the last three weeks. Young women. Different races. It was so hauntingly familiar. The only thing they had in common was that they were all found at night, the witching hour at three.

You checked the time, and it was just a little after one. Lauren was right and you did not have the time.

Sighing, you turned your back to them and quickly got dressed. A baggy grey hoodie and sweatpants, with a pair of white running shoes. You took the horrible, cheapass, purple wig you’d worn to match the body glitter and eyeshadow and tossed it.

You cleaned your makeup off and dashed the napkin off into the bin. Cleaning it off as best you could, you put on a pair of shades and some chapstick and headed out into the real world.

It was a long ride back to the cabin you were renting, but it was certainly better than staying in the overpriced city. Plus, no security cameras to track you in the old property - no way for him to track you. You kept your face covered as much as you could outside of the walls of the club. Shades, a neck warmer (or hoodie), with your hair, wrapped up. Most of all, you hid your hands. That obnoxious tattoo you’d gotten with alien ink for him couldn’t be hidden by concealer or anything else.

The property was surrounded by powerful spell-work - a gift from Wanda, to keep you out of his reach. It had only one upkeep. A steady supply of your blood. You weren’t sure if the exact date was time, but you were certain it was near. However, you’d been on your feet for hours and you were as physically exhausted as you were mental. Tomorrow it could be fixed – you could rest a little tonight. Secure in your safety.

Parking your car, you set the alarm in case of a fellow mortal finding their way inside. The cabin was simple, modern two-story with lovely wide, high windows. Thank god you didn’t have neighbors, or else they would’ve seen you running around your home at any odd hour.

Before showering, you braided your hair into two fat, French braids, tying it up in a silk scarf before stepping into your shower. Scrubbing your skin with your loofah, and face with a wash rag until you were clean.

The house echoed the unsettling silence of being alone. Once more you thought of his laughter and poetry, how it filled every part of the spaces you used to occupy with him. How he possessed the very air you breathed, how he demanded every bit of your mind, drowning you in his selfishness.

Yet your soul ached for the part of him you carved out like a mad butcher; aches for his name he’d signed himself into you with his spirit.

You screamed into the silent house filling it with your ache, falling to your knees as you cried onto your bathroom floor for no one to hear. You had not felt this in so long – had not felt so weak for him in months.

No since you –

Wait.

No.

No, no, no.

In a flash of madness, you ran to your kitchen, scrambling the drawers for something to prick your skin with. You could let this happen – you couldn’t let Loki back in again.

Finally, you found a steak knife. Swinging your door open, you knelt on the wet grass and aimed the knife for your palm.

At least, that was the last thing you remembered before you blacked out.

***************

You did not dream, but rather floated. Liquid as you existed, not thinking, not feeling – nothing. Dragging from this, you began to feel the physical first. The softness of your bedsheet. The cool of the ac air on your skin. You became aware of your nakedness before becoming aware of where you were.

With great effort, you opened your eyes to see the lavender ceiling of your room. Furrowing your brows you tried to get up but couldn’t - too weak, too heavy.

Sluggish.

Your mouth could not even open, your lips could not part, and your tongue iron. It was unnatural.

It felt like spell-craft.

More specifically; it felt like Loki’s magic. You knew it all too well, even now.

“Hello, my beautiful love.” His voice crooned, but you didn’t see him – eyes still trapped in a gaze with the ceiling. “You’ve changed.”

Yes. You should try it.

“You’ve cut me out of you – not very good for a wife to do.” Voice deceptively calm, you heard the floorboards squeak as he came closer.

He appeared above you, grinning with malice. Loki was as beautiful as he was when he first manifested himself to you. In college, when you were younger and lost – worst of all arrogant, you’d joined a cult. Somewhere to feel home, and that cult had been one for his honor. You’d been devoted because you had no other God to look to or love to imagine in the world. Loki had come to you to aid him in hiding something at the time – and you did, when he returned you fell in love. And then you left that fucking nightmare. His love was a selfish love that consumed and didn’t blossom. His love was a suffocating one.

Had you been able to scream – you would have. “But no worries, I’ve found a way to fix that. Very messy spell work, but you – you have always been worth it.”

He slinked back into the shadows but was not far as you heard him moving about. When he reappeared he was holding a chalice.

“Open.” He commanded, and your legs slid open, to your mortification, causing him to laugh. “Should be more specific. Open your mouth for your husband.”

You did, but magical manipulation.

He poured the black liquid down your throat, though it smelt metallic like blood whilst its inky flavor bittered your tongue. You had no idea what kind of potion it was, its flavor and smell unlike anything else you’d ever encountered.

He said he was going to fix it, you thought over, was he going to fix the break you’d made? The tear? Panic flooded your bloodstream as your y/e/c clouded over. It would take dark, dark magic to amend a soul tear.

Those girls - all those young women were dead now because of Loki’s insane need to claim ownership over you.

No, my love, his voice floating through the repairing bond, they are dead because you’ve shown me disloyalty.

Please, please just let me go, you pleaded, as the pain began. Searing, burning pain as your soul mended from the lives of those dead girls. Rewriting his claim in awful ritual.

“No.” He said out loud. Appearing in your blurred vision, black and green swirling. “You’ll see my way soon. You are young yet, my lovely.”

Tears spilled down your face as you shivered through the paralysis spell. You can have another – there are so many willing, you begged.

“But none are you, Y/N,” he kissed your lips, softly and bit down to draw blood. When he pulled back his lower teeth were red and pink lips tinged crimson. “Sleep.”

***************

Your favorite song played in the kitchen as you sat at the table. Spooning your Cheerios with a trembling hand.

Before you, Loki danced in front of a stove - bacon sizzling. His dark hair was bouncing and looked a little less greasy than usual. He wore attractive loungewear, that appeared comfortable but looked much posher than anything you’d ever seen before.

The spell had worked its course, and your torn soul had mended. Which meant the emotions and connection had come together as well. You rigidly stared back at him – eyes ablaze with fury at it being undone.

But you felt whole in a way you hadn’t since you’d decided to end things.

That bond didn’t mean you couldn’t make things difficult of course.

“I have to go to work sometime.” You reminded, finishing up your cereal. Slurping the milk from the container – this man had seen your asshole, you didn’t care if he saw you slurp milk.

Loki laughed sharply. “Of course you do. You can go back today.”

You licked your teeth, narrowing your eyes at him as he turned off the stove and dished out his breakfast.

“You’re letting me go back to work?”

Loki shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I want my wife gainfully employed?”

You felt a hot rush fill your cheeks. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

Loki simply ate his breakfast, enjoying the way you squirmed. Getting up, you tossed your bowl into the sink and attempted to stalk out of the kitchen. He grabbed your upper arm and gave you a grin. “Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

All teeth, he responded in that attractive tone of his that made your legs weak. “You’re work has just started.”

His magic filled the room and in an instant, you were in an imitation of the club’s private room. Much cleaner, much more silent – there was only one chair, large and plush. And in it sat Loki, holding his breakfast, munching slowly as he gazed at you with starving green eyes.

You trembled from the stage.

“Well, wife,” he started. “Get to work.”

“Fuck you!”

Canines on display, he bit into a piece of crunchy bacon. “You act like you have a choice. You wouldn’t like me to get mad.”

Frightened, for the life of others and yourself you stiffened your back and rolled your shoulders. Loki had magicked an outfit on you, you found yourself gazing in the mirrored walls at your reflection.

An almost invisible thong with a sparkling corset and tassels on your nipples. Your skin glowed with emerald sparkles, matching the black and green of your rich corset. The heels were black, thin, and high – you’d danced in worst.

“What is this?” You whispered, still not looking at him. “Punishment?”

“You thought you’d get away with flaunting my body like some common whore?” He spewed, passionate but yet his body was unmoving - still – as the plate of breakfast food balanced on his knee.

Green eyes roamed over you. “But I forgive you, I forgive you because I love you. Because love is not limited – but love does not exempt you from punishment. You want to be a whore, then you’ll be mine.” He clicked his fingers, and suddenly music started.

Shivering, you started your dance like you usually did, eyes meeting his as you moved your body to the beat. Manipulating your hips to the beat, before squatting low in front of him and showcasing your plumb womanhood. Raising, you turned and bent - bouncing the cheeks of your ass before you began to work the pole.

You pulled yourself up, legs together and stiff as you swung your body around once - then twice, before wrapping a leg around and leaning back. Your hair tumbled down as your neck bent back.

Graceful, as you spun yourself. Once, then slowly raised your other leg – pointed toe.

In those months of perfecting your moves, you never thought it would lead you back to Loki. But all things did in the end, even though it twisted something inside you to be bare with him, it felt good for him to see you like this again.

Armlessly sliding down the pole - your heels clicked on the smooth floor, on your belly you crawled to him. Ass in the air as it moved side to side, cheeks tempting him as you met the edge.

Loki set the food aside and stood, his hips meet the stage and he knelt one knee in it for balance.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, fingers tracing your face. His pointer finger slipped pass your lips, dampened by your spit, he added a second finger and mimicked fucking with it. After a while, you saw him release his cock from his pants, and without ceremony, he parted your jaw and shoved his cock in.

“How long have you denied me this?” He growled, wrapping your hair around his hand and fisting it tightly. Loki let his cock sit in your mouth, groaning at the feel of it until he finally began moving.

Above you, he moaned at the long-lost sensation. “My dirty fucking whore – how many men have you let sully you since me?”

None.

He grinned, pleased at the nonverbal answer made available by your renewed link. Fucking your mouth slowly with his thick, heavy cock, Loki moved your head to match his need. “I’ve fucked as many women as I could to forget you.”

That hurt. That had really fucking hurt. A possessive part of you hadn’t wanted him with anyone else    

“Killed them all right after – none quite matched up to you, no – you are my perfect cocksucker.” He purred.

Wet sounds filled the make-believe room and Loki used your mouth as he saw fit, slow and steady. “You know what would make this even better?”

You couldn’t answer, mouth full of god cock and thoughts full of lust, you merely hummed as you sucked down on him.

Tightening his grip, he mushed your face against his groin. “Making sure everyone knows your mine.”

You didn’t know what that meant but out of the corner of your eyes, you found the horrifying looks of coworkers and regulars. You tried to scramble from the hold but Loki held an iron grip.

Gone was the slow, steady pace of his previous lovemaking, now he was fucking your mouth. “Dirty whore, you wanted to put on a fucking show – you wanted to work. Well, show them the kind of slut you are; mine.”

He bobbed your head, up and down the length of his dick, sliding it down the hollow, wet cave of your mouth with a patent rhythm.

He kept his motion, fast and hard, tears ruining your mascara. He liked the view of you below him – servicing his cock the way you were meant to. He flexed his cock, and soon without warning, he was coming in your mouth. Slowly, he dragged his cock out painting your lips and chin with his cum. You choked prettily and he waved away the audience once your humiliation was over. Tears and cum on your beautiful face – you would learn your place.

You would learn to love him the way no one else would ever.

Hours after, he still had not let you out of the outfit, though he’d clean you off and dolled you back up again. After breakfast he’d made you follow him about, before deciding to sit you down for a game of checkers - you had not learned to play chess in his absence but he was resigned to teach you it soon. You’d hope to be dead by then.

“Grim thoughts,” he chastised with a click of his tongue. “I’ll have your mind turned back to me like before.”

“I was a twenty-year-old without love,” you muttered, moving your piece forward.

“And you have love now?” Another lover? His mind pushed into yours.

No, you’ve pushed me away from men, you spat at him. “I love myself now. I didn’t before.”

“I love you enough for the both of us.” You have enough love to give me. You’ve always had more than you realized. He told you through the link, voice thick with his magic. 

“To love you is to exhaust me,” You don’t love - you possess, you consume, you argued. 

Loki didn’t respond, mentally or out-loud, merely pushing his piece forward, over yours. Ending your last piece on the board. He’d won - again. 

Frustrated, you tossed the board aside and got up, back to him as you stood at the bar. He laughed before getting up. 

Don’t be a spoilsport. I am superior to you after all.

“Give me a break,” you muttered, retrieving an opened bottle of vodka from behind the dry bar. Grabbing your elbow, he turned you around to face him. So much taller than you, you tried not the mewl at his scent, everything about him conjured a dichotomy of emotions. Hate, love, and discomfort. Loki was imposing but he was there for you more than anyone else in your life had ever been.

It would do you good to remember that.

You narrowed your eyes. You’re so invasive.

Try not to think so loud then. He grinned, lifting you to sit at the bar. You were eye to eye this way; the bare was not as high as it was made for your more average height than his own. 

Swinging back some of the vodka, it went down smooth but as nothing. A side effect of the bond was his fucking tolerance level. Another reason to be pissed at the bond being reconnected. 

“You are an extremely argumentative mortal,” he complained, head dipping to kiss your neck. 

“Find another then.”

He chuckled, nipping your skin with his front teeth. “Don’t be stupid, Y/N.”

His hands rubbed your shoulders and upper arms, before settling on your waist, slowly traveling to your breasts. He massaged then slowly, tugging the tassel which made you hiss. Eventually, he popped them off, bowing his head, he captured a nipple in his mouth. Wet and cool, his tongue swirled around it, before his teeth bit it softly - the act causing a sting of pleasure to shoot straight to your core.

A wandering hand stopped between the space of your crouch and his hips, pulling aside the flimsy crouch of your touch, he touched the freshly shaven dampness of your crouch. Rubbing it before putting work onto your clit. With the combination of his mouth on your breast and finger on your clit, you came quick. No big splashes but a full-body shaking; months since he or anyone else had brought this kind of pleasure to you. 

He moved back, dropping your tit and sucking his finger with lewd beauty. 

Dropping to his knee, he rubbed his nose to your soaked core. Kissing it delicately, he slipped his tongue between the slit, up and down from your swollen clit before slipping his tongue inside. 

The bottle of alcohol dropped as he ate you out, you didn’t even care about the crash and splatter of glass. Closing your eyes, you hummed in pleasure at his ministrations, fingers threading into his black hair as your hips moved against his face to chase your orgasm. 

Just as you were about to come, he pulled back. In a swift motion, he removed you from the bar and pulled you on your side upon the soft couch. Loki pulled his pants down, that angry cock glaring at you before he spat on its tip and rubbed the saliva in, spearing his cock inside your quivering warmth. Sensitive and ready, you whimpered as he proceeded to fuck you. Nothing bigger than your finger had entered you in months, but you felt complete with his thick organ sawing into you.

 “I’ve missed this tight little pussy,” groaned working hips to a tattoo. His hand on your hip squeezed, serving as a balance for him as he fucked you. His eyes stayed on your chest as it bounced from his thrusts.

You tried to grab onto the cushion of the sofa for sort of grip, eyes shut tight as he fucked you raw.

“Take me so good...” he muttered, creating an echoing clapping sound amind the squelching of your moisture taking his battering. Like flesh steel, his smooth length stabbed into your center. 

“Fuck me,” you moaned out, unexpectedly in pleasure.

Loki chuckled at your weakness and sharpened his thrusts, causing you to scream.

A clap on your ass brought caused you to open your eyes as you hollered from the pain, but he didn’t stop - smacking the cheek until a stung. The pain of it coupled with the pleasure of him inside you had you chanting his name. 

Loki. Loki. Loki.

He growled, giving your ass a final sting before exchanging places with his other hand, the idle hand went to your clit and strummed it - eager to send you to completion. “All I had to do to get you to behave was give you some cock? You disobedient little bitch.”

You’re bitch.

That did it, sending you over the edge. You came on his dick, your whole body a liquid nerve of sensitivity afterward. “Fuck, come on your husband’s cock, come on me so I can fuck into you until you cry for mercy.” 

That might be sooner than he realized, he pulled out after you were done - you were it was a sight to see. Quivering, soaking in your juices, and full of greed for more of him. He turned you onto your belly, giving your pussy a harsh slap that made you squirm. He did it again, this time you hollered.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Each one harsher than the other, hitting your abused cilt and swollen lips. “You danced for men and made them think they could own what was mine.” he spat with venom.

Slap!

“You let other men touch a body that had only ever known my imprint.”

Slap!

“I think that deserves some punishment - don’t you?”

“...please..”

He bent down to your ear, his oiled finger (When did he have the time to do that? Magic, it was always magic with him.) already at the rim of your asshole. He slid a finger in, the friction causing you to jerk from the hurt of it. He began to stretch it out slowly, what he was about to do made you squirm. “Too late, my wife.”

Loki fucked a second finger in, stretching as he made scissoring motions. “I’ve got to reclaim every inch of you beloved - reclaimed that mouth, I reclaimed that pussy, and now - ” the sound of him spitting was heard and then you felt the intrusion of his thick head into the ring of your tight asshole.

“Squirming makes it worst,” he mocked, not caring any longer for your comfort and just pressing forward into you until his cock sat fully. Tear prickled your eyes at it. 

Too large.

He chuckled, an arm finding its way around your neck as he pressed his chest to your back. Too bad.

Loki fucked into your asshole with all the anger he had to have been holding in. Vicious and selfish, he did not wean you in, fucking your hole for himself - the two of you weren’t having sex. He was. He was using you in the cruelest of ways, without care and affection. “Such a tight little asshole, I’ll stretch out again - fuck, fuck fuck...”

You tried to fit it, yet your body felt pleasure from his rough handling. Your traitorous body still knew him in ways you’d tried to forget. “H-Harder.”

A question came with sinister glee. “What did my little whore say?”

You repeated in a murmur. 

Loki snapped his hips as a painful punishment, using his arm around your shoulder and neck to raise you to your knees - the pleasure increasing painfully as he fucked you in a new position. “Louder.”

“Harder!” you screamed and he delivered, snaking a hand around your waist to rub your clit as he fucked into your ass with a steady pattern. You could feel when he was losing his rhythm, his orgasm approaching. Already raw from all your previous orgasms, you came with a squirt before he came in your anal canal, filling you with his sperm. 

Loki didn’t exit right away, fucking you until he was soft inside your ass. Flaccid and limp, he exited, letting go and letting you fall into the couch, his spunk leaking out in thick, white clumps onto the nice, black velvet. 

Before you, he was hardening again and you felt yourself hunger for him. A quick flash of worry filled you and you asked a question. “You’re never going to leave me alone.”

Tilting his head to the side, his handsomely ruffled hair moving as well, he smirked at you. Stroking his cock to life. “You’re finally catching on.”

***************

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Wanda greeted with a sigh. “We’ve tried contacting you for the past three days - Thor mentioned there may be some activity from Asgard but he isn’t sure.”

Your eyes caught the visible tattoo on your ring finger before you answered. “Everything is fine on my end - I’m very safe, Wanda.”

“Will you call me again? Tonight?” You smiled at her worry before responding.

“Of course I will,” the two of you talked a bit more before the conversation came to a natural close - Wanda was a good friend, so it made you feel bad for lying. 

“Who was that?”

You turned, tying your robe loosely - you’d run from the shower to answer the phone. “Wanda. I haven’t been in contact for a while and she was worried.”

Loki nodded, planting a kiss on your lips as he undid the string of your robe. His hands finding home in the shape of your body while the kiss deepened. 

“I told her there wasn’t to nothing to worry about,” you told him, giggling into his mouth. Loki planted his hands on your ass, lifting you. He walked you to your shared bed and laid you down, with the robe open he kissed the inner of your knee, your thighs before finally reaching your pussy.

Yes, you thought as he ate you like starved man, there was nothing to worry about.

Masterlist

[alloravondoom]

The Case for Guizhong’s Reincarnation

There’s been a theory floating around, especially on Twitter, that seems to have touched the subreddit but not actually been explained as far as I can tell so I’m going to make a mini dissertation fully explaining it since there seems to be enough evidence at this point that it totally might be real. Quick disclaimer: there’s 1.1 AND 1.2 spoilers in this post. The 1.2 spoilers are actually just Zhongli’s voice lines so nothing huge.

Ninggunag is Guizhong’s reincarnation. If you’re not very familiar with Guizhong and only kinda remember her from this quest someone was wonderful enough to compile info on her here. So, now that we’re all caught up I’m just going to dive straight into the insane amount of “coincidences” that tie Ninggunag to Guizhong.

1. Glaze Lilies: Glaze Lilies were in bloom when Zhongli first met Guizhong and during their final parting. On top of that Zhongli says true wild glaze lilies were found in Dihua Marsh and Guili Plains. The glaze lilies we see in Qingce Village and Liyue are “domesticated”. So there’s really no way around not associating Guizhong with glaze lilies. Ningguang is also associated with glaze lilies because they are her ascension materials as well as the fact that she goes on about how lovely and expensive they are in a voice line as well, in fact she’s the one who tells us in that same voice line that Yujing Terrace (in Liyue) are where they’re grown.

2. Memory of Dust: Another thing glaze lilies are used as an ascension material for is the Memory of Dust catalyst weapon. This weapon was a gift from Guizhong to Zhongli and is a puzzle he’s been unable to solve confirming the association to Guizhong again. Also Dust= Guizhong, goddess of dust. It’s also one of the very few catalyst weapons in the game that mesh perfectly with Ningguang’s talent kit. In fact its passive talent is completely worthless on anyone but Ningguang as she’s the only catalyst user who creates shields. The lines. I’ve connected them.

3. Ideologies: Guizhong has been characteristically kind and deeply understanding of humans and human motives. Her priorities where nurturing her people and bridging the gap in the strength of adepti and humans through wisdom and knowledge. She also gave commandments to her people. At first glance Ningguang seems to be none of these things but her character stories show that she actually goes down and plays with children and values their opinions on the happenings of Liyue so much that she uses them as her “intelligence network.” She also simply enjoys their company, showing that she is not the cold hearted businesswoman people make her out to be. Additionally Ningguang’s character story tells us that she’s always been kind and friendly to her common people and only treats business owners with her ruthless mentalities. Her love of rules is also not be noted. I’ll admit this one is shaky on it’s own but it’s there.

4. Engineering: Stone Tablet Compilations (I) confirms that Guizhong built Guizhong ballista to defend the people of Liyue and Cloud Retainer says herself that she helped.  Cloud Retainer also complains about a certain human who ALSO is a renowned engineer and has a floating abode. She whines and jealously builds her adepti’s abode just to show off how much better adepti ingenuity is, but in reality we’ve seen both and hands down Jade Chamber wins Ningguang 1 Cloud Retainer 0. What I’m getting at is both Guizhong and Ningguang have “adepti level” mechanical engineering prowess to the point that even Cloud Retainer even has to acknowledge them. It should also be noted that both the Guizhong Ballista originally made to protect Liyue and ultimately the Jade Palace were what killed Osial.

5. Mora Meat: Okay, I’m gonna look crazy. But you obtain the Mora Meat recipe during the Cloud retainer quest where you need to serve Matsutake Meat Rolls, Mora Meat, and Jewelry Soup to a table where Cloud Retainer, Morax, and Guizhong would sit and eat. We know the Jewelry Soup is for Cloud Retainer so the Mora Meat is either Guizhong or Morax’s plate BUT Ningguang’s specialty dish is Caelum Terra Mora Meat (meaning Heavenly/Heavenly Ground Mora Meat). Again. The lines. I’ve connected them.

6. Hair: This might be the most damning evidence and quite frankly when I noticed it in game it made me go from “yeah thats a cute theory” to losing my mind for a week and writing this long ass post. We all know one of the many big tip offs of Zhongli being Morax was his ombre hair. No other characters but the archons thus far have this ombre hair EXCEPT ONE. Yes, Ningguang has ombre hair, her hair is white then turns to this gray...ashy...some would say dusty....shade. I’ve checked this over three times. In game the only characters who have ombre hair are archons. In all promotional art this is the same. Even among the upcoming characters only Xiao and Xinyan have colored hair but with Xinyan it’s notably NOT ombre and instead these streaks in her hair that quite frankly looks like she tied red ribbon into her braid for color and dyed the tips orange for a fire aesthetic. It looks totally different from how adepti and archons have their hair BUT what do I know. Xiao...is an adepti. Of course he has ombre. 

6. Lore Implications: All of those things are nice and cool and all but the real reason I’m so obsessed with this theory is how well it ties into the Liyue plot. If Ningguang really is Guizhong’s reincarnation there is no shot in hell Zhongli has not noticed. In Zhongli’s leaked voice lines he refers to Ningguang in an incredibly fond and somber tone calling her a “rare gem”. He even very cryptically says “Time is cruel to humans.” Look. Come on. 

More importantly, you have to consider that the people of Liyue were originally Guizhong’s people and Morax came to rule them with her before sending them south after she died to protect them. For Zhongli to retire NOW in the era when Ningguang reigns and she bears this heavy resemblance to his deceased friend would be a plot masterpiece. FINALLY Zhongli can return the people of Liyue to their original ruler and rest, FINALLY Zhongli can take the time to learn what Guizhong was trying to teach him about humanity by taking a break and embracing humanity, and more importantly FINALLY was Guizhong’s will realized and the gap between humans and adepti bridged. The jade palace, a construction of human intelligence and strength, dealt the killing blow to Osial NOT the Ballista. I cannot stress how impactful and amazing this subtle theming is. If this is never outright confirmed in canon I’d be fine with it as just a theory but I will eat my shoes if its outright debunked.  

TLDR Ningguang and Guizhong share a lot of motifs and character traits to a point where it's too much not to mention or theorycraft also it just makes sense plotwise.

[lazarettta]

I’m Not A Witch

Characters ( Cordelia Goode, Misty Day, and Reader)

Word Count 3k

Warnings (Minor drug use 💨)

You don’t have a bad background, in fact your life is pretty cushy but not without its problems namely...you being able to do things with your mind but you have no control. Thankfully, Cordelia and Misty scoop you up before you head down a path of self-destruction. Platonic af but there could be something if you squint I think 🤔

~~

New Orleans was a world different from New York. A world different. You were born and raised in New York—it was your whole life, and you never really thought about a life outside of the city that never slept. Why would you want to leave the city that everyone wanted to be apart of? Well that's what you thought for twenty-three years.

You lived a comfortable life your entire existence, you didn't have to struggle nor were you ever afraid of your future. Your parents always made sure that you were well taken care of, nothing but the best for you and you knew how fortunate you were especially being a foster kid. You were born to Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, a wealthy couple who couldn't have a baby of their own so they went with the next best thing that money could afford—surrogacy.

It had taken your parents months to find the perfect candidate as Mr. Hawthorne, your father, would use his own semen (yikes dad). But that was all that you knew, you had no idea the identity of the woman they hired to carry you for nine months other than she was the nicest young woman your mother has ever met.

It wasn't a topic that could've been avoided as you got older and noticed that your complexion was a few shades more than theirs. But thankfully your parents were always open and honest with you, even at a young age. Of course you had a nanny growing up, both of your parents were lawyers—their time was always stretched far too thin, but you weren't a neglected child nor were you ungrateful and they loved you so much for it.

Which was why you never told them about your newfound skill when you hit your sweet sixteen—everyone thought the candle that nearly melted your entire birthday cake was a fluke incident but you knew that it wasn't. You had felt the heat of the fire as you watched your father set the tip of the match against the wick of the candle. For a brief moment you wondered what would've happened to your cake if it was on fire, you thought it would look pretty badass. You hadn't exactly expected it to actually happen! But it did and thankfully no one was injured just thoroughly freaked out.

Your parents laughed it off, quite nervously, but you never said anything about it to them and they never really brought it up again anyway. Unbeknownst to them, of course they were always at work and the penthouse housekeeper wasn't required twenty-four seven, you were able to fool around with your newfound hobby with relative peace in your room. Well until you nearly set the place on fire twice in the same month, after that you just went to the roof and googled meditation practices on google.

You only ever couldn't control the fire unless you were an emotional wreck. For two years, you kept that secret to yourself and if you didn't have friends before you sure as shit didn't then. No one really liked you anyway, your parents were richer than most of everyone else's and your parents actually gave a damn about you and not just about how you were going to make them look in the future.

They tried to bully you about your height but you weren't a punk, so that was short lived. Students envied you but that was okay. They didn't have anything to offer you, that's what your mom always told you anyway. Besides there was nothing wrong with being short, it just meant you had more to offer. Of course.

When you turned eighteen, you discovered something else about yourself...and you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to call it but you could always tell if someone was lying to you if you listened hard enough.

You weren't sure how it worked but you never took any real notice to it until your ex girlfriend, and your only girlfriend, lied to you and you felt a bit of a...you wouldn't say it was a jolt but your insides felt the same type of tingle when your foot fell asleep or something.

That's how you figured out your first love (high school, right?) was cheating on you...you hadn't dated anyone after that. How could you when all people did was lie?

And the minute they learned that you were a Hawthorne...it was done. You saved yourself the heartache and just focused on the future. You managed to graduate college a year early and you didn't go to jail for arson, yet.

The older you got and the more you learned about how shitty people could be, meditation and yoga stopped working so well for you and you ended up joining a gym. No martial arts or anything like that, you didn't have the time for it, but you hired a trainer and five days a week that’s what kept you grounded.

Presently...

You weren't currently working, well not anymore. Less than a month ago you were a nurse at Mercy hospital as a CRNA. It was a late night already and an unruly patient was brought in for a gunshot wound. Somehow he managed to slip out of his bonds and before anyone could stop him, the bastard had his hands around your throat and you'd...you just fucking panicked and he ending up burning to death from the inside.

No one knew how it happened they couldn't even prove that you had even done anything, but you were fired on the spot anyway...and your parents had to shovel out a good amount of money and blackmail to keep your name from the papers.

You hadn't searched for a job after that, what was the point? Your name may not have been dragged through the papers but you sure as hell weren't gonna be working at any hospital anytime soon. At least...not in Manhattan.

But after what happened...what you did to that man, the cruelty of it? Why would you? You'd been high strung after that and you picked up a habit you ditched after you left college.

It just helped you regulate your emotions better and to think, plus you just liked the way it made you feel. It also helped with the nightmares that would plague you every night, and the scene was always the same. He was always on top of you screaming to a pain too gruesome for words.

Your parents tried therapy but you were stubborn besides your medicine was better than theirs anyway.

Your father didn't know about your newfound hobby but your mom did, and she wasn't going to tell him either. She was just thankful that it wasn't crack or cocaine—she could deal with her daughter turning into a weed connoisseur. But she would not support an unproductive one.

That was exactly why she was on her way back into the city to your penthouse with two guests in tow. Doing her best not to cry in front of these two women who have proven to her that they could not only help you but take care of you in a way that she couldn't.

But she knew when your birthday cake went up in flames...she had been watching you the entire time, and in that moment...every warning and tale that your birth mother told her came to light. But she made a promise to love you like you were her own, because you were, and she'd love every freaky little tic that came with you.

As a mother it was hard for your mom to accept that this wasn’t something that she could do for you. But she was woman enough not to stand in the way of her daughter's success...whatever it was that you chose to do.

~~

You were sitting out on your balcony wearing your black robe with nothing else on except a pair of panties and your Prince tank top that you should've gotten rid of years ago but it was still one of your favorite—holes and all. You'd been blissfully in your own little world for a few hours now with your iPad sitting in your lap with some Stevie Nicks playing in the background over the speakers coming from inside your penthouse.

It was just the right volume that it wasn't too loud but the city noises didn't drown it out either. You'd just polished off your fourth bowl, something grape...whatever, you were just enjoying your time. You went back to drawing, head bopping softly and you were so lost in your own little world you didn't realize that you were alone in your penthouse. There were three different sets of high heels that you missed though you just about jumped out of your skin when your mother came into view via your peripherals.

“Oh!” you smiled bright and wide, eyes a tad bit low, “Hey mom, what are you...um...who are they?” you sat up quickly, unaware that your robe fell open with the movement and your mom nearly facepalmed. You set your tablet aside, doing a double take at the blonde with the curly hair that was lowkey dancing to Fleetwood playing in the background. You looked at your mom, your smile morphing into a confused frown, “Mom?”

“Sweetheart,” your mom soothed back a long strand of dark hair and cleared her throat softly which worried you even more because your mom was never one to be nervous, ever, “This is Cordelia Goode and Misty Day.”

Subconsciously you reached into your robes pocket and pulled out a bright orange stress ball you got from the bodega for a whopping five bucks. (You had to have been high as fuck not to argue that price down but whatever.) You squeezed it softly, licking your dry lips, “Um...hi? Did I do something to you guys too? If I did I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, baby, no,” your mother sat next to you, quickly fixing your robe and your messy hair and Cordelia's brown eyes shot to Misty, who had immediately stopped dancing, “Just...are you hungry? Orange juice maybe?”

“Mrs. Hawthorne?” you looked up at the blonde woman came up behind your mother with a soft smile, “If I may, in my experience it is always better to just rip it off just like a band-aid.”

“Rip what off?” you pulled away from your mom, scooting away and hated seeing that hurt look on her face but there was something going on, you were not that paranoid.

“Honey, this is just a little intervention and—”

Laughing, you scooted away from your mom again, “What? Mom, it’s just pot—”

Your mom waved away your comment with a roll of her eyes, “Honey, I don’t care about the grass—”

“Then what…”

“Zip!”

You quickly shut your mouth when your mom said that and have you that look, it was one you knew quite well growing up. It baffled you how it was still working on you.

Your mom sighed, “It's just for a little while and I'll make sure that this place is well cared for.”

“Wait what?! You're sending me away??”

“(Y/n).” the blonde, Cordelia, pulled your attention from your mom who was crying, Cordelia sat on the edge of your coffee table carefully while Misty continued to hover in the background curiously, but prepared in case you got jumpy, “We just want to help you, okay? We're not here to kidnap you or harm you in any way.”

“I can't be helped,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tears spilled over, “I—I don't know what you think you know, Miss Goode but...”

“I know quite a bit, (Y/n),” Cordelia held out her hand and suddenly your stash box flew past your head making you flinch but Cordelia caught it just fine and you stared at her wide eyed, “You and I? We aren't so different and at Miss Robichaux's academy for exceptional young ladies...we teach young witches such as yourself how to survive in the modern world.”

“Witches? You think I'm a witch? No way, mom c'mon...the...the stash box trick was cool and all, but witches? Mom! Mom please, you're not buying this are you?” but even as you questioned it, you knew that they were telling the truth and that's what scared you the most. “How do you know they're not trying to use this for your money?”

“We're not, I promise! We don't need your family's money, (Y/n). All we want is to help you.”

“Listen to her, honey, this is for your benefit, okay? And...these women are very nice people, so don't give them trouble, not that you would, right?”

You looked over your mothers shoulder at Misty, the woman offering you a smile and a playful wink.

You exhaled heavily, your eyes sliding back to your mom, “...and you're not getting rid of me right? Because of...what I can do? Or what I've done?”

“No! Absolutely not, it was an accident! If anything it was the faulty bonds they put that monster in! Honestly,” your mother huffed, “your father and I still have half a mind about suing that hospital…”

“But not without having to drag my name through the mud.” You mumbled, sighing heavily.

“I love you, (Y/n), so damn much. Yes, we would’ve gotten millions but you’re worth much more to your father and I, don't you forget that,” Your mom reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently before standing and quickly gathering her Prada bag, “and...don't worry about your father with all of this. I'll break this to him myself but baby...promise me that you will try?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly and holding her hand tighter almost painfully so before surging up and hugging your bother tight, and even though she was in high heels your slight frame made it easy for her to catch most of your weight. She hugged you back just as fiercely, kissing your forehead twice before letting you go.

“And here—for emergencies and whatever you might need, honey.” your mom pushed her black card into your trembling hands, the weight of it denser than you expected it to be and it made you laugh, of course your mom would shove money at you. It was her love language, you stopped questioning it a very long time ago but you never took advantage of it. “I love you so so much.”

Cordelia watched the entire exchange silently with an ever curious eye, even daring to risk raising an eyebrow when she saw your mom push that unmarked card into your hands before skirting off. Your mom reminded her a bit of her own mother...money was Fiona’s love language as well.

But your mom was much more pleasant, her love for you blossomed like a rose rather than a thorn bush.

You exhaled shakily, hands fidgeting in front of you, “I...what now?”

“Now we get down to business,” Misty smiled at you, stepping into the space your mom once occupied and took your hands in both of her own, “Your mama is resourceful, she tracked us down and everything, but it wasn't like it was all that hard since Delia and I were lookin' for you too.”

“You...you were?” you looked over your shoulder at Cordelia still sitting on your coffee table, “Why?”

“We heard about what happened to the man at the hospital and even though you weren't named, it wasn't that hard to track you down and we happened to cross paths with your mother.”

“Figures...” you nodded, sniffling again and you quickly pulled your hands from Misty when a breeze hit your skin—reminding you how indecent you were among two strangers.

You fixed your robe again and quickly sat down and Misty followed you down, bouncing slightly almost a little too close—your high was completely worn off at this point, “Earlier you said that you were helping wit...people like me live in the modern world? What?”

“Yes, we help witches such as yourself avoid situations like the one you currently experienced.”

You raised an eyebrow at her wording and she smiled at you when you met her eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest—appearing unbothered even if you were still sniffling, damn. Your mood swings were going to give you whiplash one of these days.

“You don’t really expect me to go around calling myself a witch do you?”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “What I expect, (Y/n), is for you to actually make an attempt. There will be rules and the sooner you drop the attitude, the easier this will be for all of us—you especially.”

You opened your mouth to argue back but then you quickly shut your mouth, your mom's words bouncing around in your head to stop causing trouble. Along with the promise you made to her.

Misty was sitting still next to you, and though you couldn’t see it—her eyes were darting back and forth between you and Cordelia with a bit of a grin trying to break free.

“Right, and um where is this school of yours again? If I even agree to this at all?”

Cordelia gave you a look that you couldn't really decipher, “Miss Robichaux's academy is in California.”

Your eyes flew back to hers immediately, “I don't wanna go around calling you a liar Miss Goode, I only just met you...but you and I both know that's not true.”

“Ah, so it is true...you do have some form divination.”

She led you right into a trap and you couldn’t even be annoyed by that, Cordelia was proving to be a lot more than she appeared. “Divination? What is that? Is there anything my mom didn't tell you?”

“Well, she didn't tell us ya favorite food.” Misty supplied unhelpfully, attempting to break the building tension with poor humor. And you couldn't hold back your smile, deciding that you liked her a lot.

“You're a walking lie detector, dear. That's quite handy in today's world.”

Misty chuckled before one of her arms came around your shoulders, “Oh yes, and Madison is just gonna love you!”

“Don't worry, you’ll fit right in.” Cordelia chuckled, still sitting directly across from you and there was a bit of a twinkle in her brown eyes, she knew you were going to be trouble and that she would have to keep a close eye on you. But if there was one thing that Cordelia enjoyed, it was a challenge.

~~

I dunno what I’m doing for real lol it’s 1am and I’m in my garage on a tablet 😅😅I thought this was fun

[peralta-guaranteed]

When they met Jake had a mop of hair (still looked cute) but then he got it cut and went from cute to HOT AF wonder what Amy’s reaction to that was 🤔🤔 or what her reaction to first time seeing him in a suit (suit Jake can step on me)

(gonna smush those together and add the awesome triple Ask part 2, "Amy realizing how hot Jake is early in their friendship like a moment of realization and then it won’t get out of her head)

also, Jake’s suit: like this

and Amy’s dress: like this but in blue

for your imagination pleasures :D

He was cute in a dorky kind of way, she had to admit even before she ever dared to think she might like him.

Well, she didn't exactly have to admit that to anyone, because no one really asked (except for Kylie, who only got a shrug and an eye roll when she inquired about her new co-workers). But she kind of admitted it to herself, whenever she caught a glimpse of his mop of hair bobbing past her desk with a new file, or leaning over her when they were discussing a new case. He was kinda cute.

Annoying and childish and boisterous and a pain to work with, but... in a cute way.

It made no difference to admit that, anyway. It didn't matter. They were co-workers, and that's it. She wasn't here to make friends - especially not with someone as wild and career-hobbling as him. She’d made that decision before she even came to the 99, and it wasn’t going to change.

-*-

He came in with no curls left at all six months into their working relationship, about a month after she’d also admitted to herself that maybe she wasn’t intentionally here to make friends, but had accidentally ended up with a strangely loyal one. 

“Good, right?” He grinned at her with a proud double-pointer to his head, sitting or rather plonking down into his chair across from her while she tried to pry her eyes from him. She had been staring the whole way from the elevator to their desks, but maybe it wasn’t too late to hide that.

It was a bit harder to hide the blush that started at the top of her ears, but she cleared her throat quickly to pull his eyes away from that.

“That’s quite a change.”

“Yeah, Gina set me up with one of her stylist friends. Didn’t work out, but, uh, guess I got something out of it. Which is probably what she was planning for anyway.” He shrugged, answered with a resounding “Uh, duh!” from behind Amy before he stuck his tongue out at the childhood friend she was separating him from.

Something in her face twitched at the mention of another one of his dates - he seemed to be going on a lot of those, and he had no qualms telling everyone so, even though he never elaborated. Why it made her stomach drop a bit every time, she wasn’t quite so sure. Probably because it was so unprofessional to discuss at work, and she was already toeing the line too much joining in with some of his jokes and pranks. He swore McGinley didn’t give a damn, but she was sure she’d seen their captain’s disapproving stare through the half open blinds the last two times Jake had pulled her up from her desk for something definitely not police-related.

Jake was still low-key squabbling with Gina over her head, so she could slip out of that conversation easily, focus on the files she was working on before he came in looking like that, disrupting her… everything. 

“It looks good.” She said instead, cursing herself for opening her mouth the second it closed again, but continuing. “Frames your face much better.”

The infighting stopped, and she could feel Gina’s stare burn into the back of her head. But far more pressing was the look Jake was giving her now, a short blink of… surprise, maybe, before his face broke out into a grin that wasn’t half as goading or over-the-top as usual.

“Uh, I, mh, thanks.” He mumbled, quickly staring down at the files he’d left open yesterday before he left, and she almost thought she could see a blush on the tip of his ears now, finally visible without being hidden underneath all that hair.

But that was surely just her imagination.

-*-

A very overactive imagination, she sighs as she stands in the copier room. An imagination that couldn’t stop staring at him throughout the day, at the way his profile had changed so much now without those curls always in the way, at the short hairs on the back of his neck, her fingers itching to run through them to find out if they’d feel soft or bristly. An imagination that refused to go back to the simple description of ‘cute’.

“I see you, Santiago.” A terrifying voice behind her interrupts her, and she’s glad her files are already in the copier so she can’t throw them at Gina in shock as she turns around to face her.

“What?”

“I see you, staring at my boy.” Gina points two fingers from her eyes into Amy’s direction, a grin breaking out on her face that almost rivals the ‘boy’ she’s talking about. “Getting the hots for the class clown? Gonna go smoochtown on my little bro?”

“As if.” Amy scoffs, maybe a bit too loudly, shaking her head a bit too much. “We’re talking about the same guy here? The one who claims that jelly beans have 4 calories each, so eating 500 a day should fulfil his caloric needs?”

“Uhu.” Gina seems bored now, which is not unusual for her whenever she’s talking to Amy, staring at her fingernails instead. “Keep trying to delude yourself with those negatives, poor girl. Just channel all that unfulfilled desire into some boring paperwork. I’ll be waiting for the day you snap and tear his clothes off right at his desk, so I can be out sick that day and not have to witness it.”

“I’m not going to-” Amy tries to protest, but Gina has already hopped out of the room, her hair bouncing behind her as she gives a wave and leaves her behind with a growl.

She’s not. She’s not going to do anything. There’s nothing to do something about. There- it’s- he’s-

She’s allowed to think someone looks attractive without immediately devolving into sexual thoughts or interest. She can think one of her friends is good-looking without making that weird. She can… she can admit that Jake is her friend and that Jake is attractive and it doesn’t change anything.

It doesn’t.

-*-

They’re all standing in front of the precinct, half shivering because of the wind swiping through their legs, and Amy curses whoever’s idea it was to meet up there instead of straight at the NYPD party two blocks down. We’re supposed to show a unified front as a squad, she remembers Terry saying, arriving together will help with that. 

Well, they apparently won’t even start off together, because they’ve been waiting for Jake - of course, who else? - for close to 15 minutes now, and none of their messages were even answered. (Amy duly noted that hers were actually the only ones signed off with a ‘read’ notification, but she couldn’t think too much about that now, not while she was freezing in a dress she was still worried might be too low cut for a work event, even while Rosa next to her was sporting the most amazing little black dress she’d ever seen.)

“I swear to god, if Peralta isn’t here in 5 minutes, I’ll-” Terry is interrupted in his rant by a far too familiar voice sprinting at them.

“I’m here! I’m here.” Jake coughs a little as he comes to a stop and leans forward, hands on his knees, before standing up with a wide grin as if nothing happened. “I’m here! Let’s go! What are we waiting for?!”

Terry gives him the most dead-set stare he can muster before the group starts moving, all eager to finally get to a place that not only offers free drinks and food, but also heating.

Amy falls back a few steps, fighting with some uncomfortable heels she also should’ve rethought as much as her dress, and finds herself next to Jake, who’s apparently still trying to catch his breath from his run to the precinct. At least that’d explain the little gasp and baited breath as she bonks against him in her next stumble, and finds she’d rather like to stay there - on account of him being warm, of course.

“Geez, Santiago.” His arm wraps around her, suddenly, an even warmer hand rubbing up and down the thin sleeves of the stylish yet impractical soft coat she’d picked. “If you know you run cold all the time, why don’t you bundle up for the weather?”

Because bundling up doesn’t look good, she thinks with a sigh. Bundling up doesn’t leave an impression with the captains at that party. And because, maybe, Kylie had been a little too convincing about her online shopping cart after two glasses of wine each and clicked Buy before Amy could stop her. 

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend more than 5 minutes out in the cold today, but we had to wait twice that for you.” She bites back instead, and hates herself for it, because it makes his wonderfully warm arm drop from her side almost immediately.

“Sorry.” He mumbles while staring at the ground. “Hey, you want my coat? It’s fresh dry-cleaned, I promise.”

“I didn’t know you even owned anything but that leatherjacket and at least twenty similar hoodies.”

“Yeah, it’s my grown-up nice jacket I only wear for special events.” He decides to ignore her dig, stroking down the soft grey wool with a strangely proud grin before unbuttoning it. “Here, put it on. Pre-warmed.”

She can’t protest anymore before he slips it over her shoulders, and it is incredibly warm and soft, but that’s not what freezes her mind entirely.

Jake’s in a suit. That much was to be expected, considering the event they were going to specifically asked for it, but it only now dawns on her that she’s never seen him in a suit before, not accounting for his dress blues. And what a suit. It’s dark green, emerald, she thinks it’s called, a colour that works perfect with his light brown curls (slightly grown out again), and there’s- there’s a waistcoat involved, and a pocket square, a  navy blue coloured pocket square, and she realises it’s the exact same shade of blue as her dress, and her mind can’t even focus on how the cut of his suit seems perfectly tailored around his waist while thinking about that, until Charles’ wolf-whistle pulls her out of her fugue.

“Hot damn, Peralta.” Terry nods next to him. “Didn’t expect you to make the effort, to be honest.”

“Gina has this friend who works at a tailor.” He coughs, and yes, there is definitely a blush on his ears now. “Plays himself as a bit of a stylist, but I think he went overboard.”

Charles “Nuh-uh!” mixes with Rosa’s “Why does Gina keep trying to hook you up with horrible people”, and almost overshadows Amy’s “Do you make any fashion choices that aren’t basically Gina-led?”

“Because she’s Gina.” Jake shrugs and seems to answer both Amy and Rosa with that, staunchly ignoring Charles for the moment, which is probably his best bet.

Amy wants to shoot something back, anything, to keep her mind off of that suit and her eyes from staring, but she can’t. She’s glad she has to look forward as they move on, though, focusing more on not stumbling on the uneven pavement with Jake’s warm, heavy coat over her shoulders.

So he looks good in a suit. That’s fine. He cleans up well. Lots of men do. Terry is wearing a nice suit, too. So’s Charles, she has to admit.

But neither of them pull at the seams of her mind like his does. Neither of them makes her wonder how it feels to let her hands slide down his lapels, maybe grab them midway and pull him forward-

The two block walk is far too short to cool her down again, especially with that cursed warm jacket around her, smelling so much like him and his unusual cologne that he’s definitely never worn to work before, but that will be burned into her nose for a while now.

-*-

He helps her slip both his and her jacket off at the coat check, and there seems to be a short moment where he almost drops hers as she turns around again, his eyes rushing up and down her wrap dress, sporting a cleavage and a high slit that really can only be explained by two glasses of wine and Kylie. At least the sleeves are long enough to not make her freeze anymore now that she’s inside.

“Wow.” He mumbles even as she begins pulling at said sleeves, adjusting the collar that already feels like it’s dropped too far.

“I know, it’s too much, my friend-”

“Too much?!” He interrupts with a stare. “Ames, you look-” He seems to be grasping for something to say, and she can see a flash of a lot of words across his mind before he stares at the ground again for a second to find himself. “Good. You look really good.”

She smiles as her eyes drop to the ground as well.

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

He snorts, before lifting his arm in an inviting gesture, and she doesn’t want to rethink it too much as she slips her arm into the hook of his elbow.

“Well, let’s go look good together then.” He says, and yep, she’s definitely rethinking all of that. For the whole evening. Every time he catches her eyes - she’s not staring, she’s not - and smiles at her. The first time he points to his pocket square, mouthing We match! with almost childlike glee in his eyes. The following five times he does it. Even the one time Charles points it out as they find each other in their little group again, met with a round of sighs and a disgruntled “No, Charles” from Jake himself. 

She thinks about it - and about him, and that suit - when he picks up their coats, both swaying and giggling just a little from the free champagne. 

And then she thinks about something a bit more, when he slips his jacket over her shoulders immediately, his hands gliding over her bare neck for just a second, the scent of his cologne from the collar only strengthened by the scent of him right behind her.

So he’s cute. So he’s attractive. So he looks amazing in a suit. 

So she might be a little bit attracted to all that.

It still didn’t change anything.

-*-

what r u wearing 2 NYPD party, he texts her a year later, and she crinkles her nose at his appalling writing.

You know how to write proper English, I’ve seen your reports. She texts back, and then… Why do you want to know?

Thought it would be fun to match again. comes the well-written answer, and she stares at it for a good ten minutes before finally answering.

Green chiffon.

She was going to change her mind about that dress Kylie helped her pick again, but she won’t. Not now.

-*-

What r you gonna wear babeeeee, he pesters her with the 5th message about it in as many days, ever since she sent him the reservations info for their first anniversary dinner.

I told you it’s going to be a surprise.

Not fair! How am I supposed to match?! She grins as she reads it.

Won’t look good on you if you can’t figure that out, detective.

-*-

“I knew it!”, he grins at her wide at the bottom of her stairs as she descends in her navy blue wrap dress, glad it still fits after years in her closet.

“Easy enough for you to say. You probably have a whole colour range of pocket squares ready.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, reaching for her hand on the last step already, his other hand unbuttoning the same ‘grown-up nice jacket’ she knows so well by now. “Look?”

She lets out a happy laugh as she’s met with his emerald green suit jacket, a memory burned into her mind for probably forever.

She’s so glad he never changes.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

How would the DMC brothers (+ V) be with a full demon S/O?

Dante

Demons can have human emotions, Dante knows that better than anyone, he's seen it happen more than once; like devils crying. Demons can learn to love and feel what humans feel, so why should you be any different? Human or not to him it doesn't matter, if he loves you then he loves you and that's it.

But that's not saying that he doesn't find having a demon partner not cool or anything though, the complete opposite of that! It's badass having someone more closer to his level at his side, and deep down it takes away a lot of the stress of having to keep looking over his shoulder to always make sure that a human partner would be safe. With you being a demon and fighting to protect yourself is in your blood, he has nothing to worry about (but still Dante being Dante there's always a tiny bit of worry he keeps hidden away)

He is absolutely blown away at the sight of your devil trigger! His exact word being:

"God damn, baby! And you said my trigger had a great ass?!"

Your sudden clawed hand across his jaw, which in your human form would barely hurt him for a few seconds, stung him for days.

When the rare occasion when no one else is around the shop and customers are guaranteed not to show up during the day Dante lets a bit of his inner demon out and does what normal demon mates do: nesting. Now his bed is not that big, sure it can fit two average human sized people but it struggles to fit two devils. So the two of you, both in trigger (him preferably for your comfort not Sin Trigger) will both squeeze together as comfortably as the two of you can get in bed and just...pet each other. Yeah. It's very common for demon mates to groom each other, not like cats and lick each other (but I mean that's another choice if you want, I'm not judging 👀) but just run your crawled hands up each other and just...take each other in, basically how demons cuddle by feeling each other's power and stuff, it's quite comforting actually.

There have been most definitely instances where the two of you have both been stabbed by the same sword or something

With your demonic blood being more on par with his, Dante can have more of all balls out training sessions, not on the same level as those with Vergil but more than he normally can do with Nero, Lady, or any other more human-like training partners. Training sessions with you are more like those with Trish and Lucia, other demons, and depending on how strong you are possibly even further than that with both of you scrapping and slicing away at each other in the strongest versions of your DT.

Fights are the number one way for demons to calm themselves. So after your (very violent, but somehow friendly and maybe a little flirty?) spars the two of you will faze back into your human forms and flop on the ground (usually the rooftop of Devil May Cry) and lay in each other's arms complementing moves each other did, heads finding their way into chests and hands brushing at whatever previous that were already healed with healing factor before finding yourselves passionately at each other's lips with all the time in the world seemingly meaningless as the two of you lose yourselves for the rest of the night.

Vergil

Vergil is always one who is attracted by strength whether it be physical or mental, so it's no surprise that he would eventually find himself interested in being with a demon partner, he always did find humans to be more complicated anyway.

Like with Dante, Vergil is quite relieved with your instinctive ability to protect yourself so he doesn't have to keep watch over you 24/7, you're perfectly strong to fend for yourself and he 100% respects that.

Of course, given that have demonic power he's going to want to spar with you, that most of his idea of a 'date' anyway knowing him, and you often don't mind given the natural spark that goes through your blood when it comes to a fight. Vergil isn't the one to be mostly focused on looks, although yes he will admit you are very beautiful with your appearance as well, but he finds strength even more beautiful so it's not a surprise that he finds your trigger to be one of the most beautiful things on earth. The very first few spars you had went on for countless hours just because he desperately wanted to learn everything you could do with it and the two of you got some pretty decent bonding out of it as well.

Oh course the whole thing with Mundus is a pretty touchy subject, especially post 5 after him finally in his true and restored self after the whole Nelo Angelo experience and everything that followed it, and with demon having extremely long lifespans the conversation, even before the two of you get together, of where your alliance was is going to come up at some point. Given your status of working alongside Dante and the others at Devil May Cry, the answer should be obvious but to Vergil it means quite a lot to him given that a complete demon such as yourself would be working alongside a bunch of hybrids and humans to defend humanity and defy your master (your master who’d tortured him for decades), just like his father did. He’s heard Trish’s story from bits and pieces she told him as V and the rest Dante shared with him, but your unknown story deeply intrigues him and when you do get around to telling it and how you were hunted down and almost killed hundreds of times for your betrayal for many years I’d like to say that was the point that he truly started to feel a little small something for you. 

He also likes watching when you square off against Dante. Since and his brother have much drastic differences in fighting styles and that it makes sense that you if you’re able to properly stand a match against one brother that you’d be able to fight with the other, so he likes watching how differently that you fight against his brother and even takes notice of you pulling off very different things he would’ve never though of doing against him and you even see him doing new moves similar to yours the next time you see the twins fight.

Vergil has always found human emotions...hard to deal with. So on days he’s feeling frustrated, whether it be because of his brother or his attempts to get connected with Nero being unsuccessful, he likes spending time with you in devil trigger either sparring to just being near one another to let his demon calm himself down.  

V

V, like Vergil, finds strength really attractive. So what if you're a demon? To him that matters very little, not too long after the two of you have met has he already found two of Blake's works that you remind him of (You're a fucking dork, V)

Normally demons he has seen and personally been put up against always seem to fight with this feral clumsiness that has no sense of class to it, you on the other hand seem to fight with all the grace in the world with your devil trigger. V feels taken aback and mesmerized everytime he sees it, how you seem to float effortlessly through air like a leaf in the wind as you dodge and repel every attack sent your way. In these little dazes, it's usually Griffon that has to snap him out of it with a very loud: "Okay! Time to wake up Romeo!" That usually almost makes V lose the grip on his cane and fall before Shadow had to rush over and help him not tip over. Whenever this happens V always gets an interesting shade of pink on his face after he's really taken a moment to realize his fawning over you.

Speaking of his familiars, they sure love being around you! Because their master is in head over heels for you? Eh, partly, but most importantly it's because whenever they're around you they get a power boost off your demon energy, which may be because of the type of demon you are, or it just comes from your emotional bond with V, your choice. So expect most times when Griffon and Shadow are out of their tattoos they swarm over to you and cuddle on over next to you, with Griffon sitting in your lap, Shadow laying up against your leg making the occasional biscuit motion on your thigh, and if V has made his place leaning against your side as he reads his book you might hear the occasional pleased sounding rumble of Nightmare from his hair.

V would never keep secrets from his s/o, human or not, I feel that he would tell you ahead of time during 5 what's going to eventually happen to him and with you being a demon and understanding this more than any human would and I feel like that would be an even more sense of comfort and a little less to worry about and the two of you could just focus on the time that's left.

V is fairly fragile, even in human standards, his body can’t take much making him rely mostly on his familiars to do physically hard tasks for him. So with you being a demon that means you’re without a doubt stronger than him meaning not only can you save his ass in moments that not even his contacted demons can help him that much but also you’re going to have to watch your own strength and make sure you don’t accidentally hurt him doing something like holding too tightly on his hand or something.

Like I said before, V is absolutely entranced by the form of your devil trigger and he likes you in the late hours of the night trigger so he can mindlessly trace the rough or soft feeling of your triggered skin as he finally is able to let himself drift off to sleep.

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

[howdywrites]

Chapter Zero

→ an In The Woods Somewhere excerpt

This is from my zero draft of ITWS that won't be in the new draft I'm starting for Camp NaNo. I still thought it would be fun to share since it gives a little insight into Jackie (park ranger main) and a side character named Benny who works under her. NOTE: there is a lot of info in this that's changed as I've outlined so some of the locations will be inaccurate.

Warnings: brief mention of recreational drug use (mushrooms)

Length: 2.3k words

[ WIP Intro ]

Breath burned aching lungs. Boots stomped in slick, dark mud. The icy mist clung to every hair on bare skin and the drumming of heartbeat became the rhythm in which Jackie fell in time with. She jerked, ducking beneath a low hanging branch. Her hair whipped as she cast a worried glance over her shoulder. It wasn’t following her anymore.

A disgruntled skunk and her litter of kits watched her sprint from the home they made in a thicket of bushes. If she had stuck around for just a second longer, Jackie would have paid dearly for her grave mistake. Up on [the mountain], there wasn’t a proper shower to be had at the lookout. In fact, there was almost no running water to be had at all. That’s exactly how she preferred it - being one with nature in every sense of the word.

“Fuck-” A patch of thick mud sent her sliding into the wooden Trail 46 sign that pointed southeast. Jackie held on to it, leaning over with her chest heaving while she caught her breath. A spring of curled hair fell over her forehead from under the brim of her uniform hat. Taking one last deep breath, she swept it back under and ran her hands along her two thick braids to make sure her rubber bands were still attached to the ends.

Static crackled from the radio on her hip. A voice snickered at her from the other end.

“I didn’t know you could run that fast,” the voice teased her, his laughter turning into crackles. Jackie lifted her head and dragged her eyes along the ridge behind her. Ancient trees and wild brush lined the rocky ledge. She squinted, trying to make sense of the map of greens and browns. Despite her year of working in Wyoming, she struggled making out shapes in the woods that weren’t blocky signs. “Surprised you didn’t lose your hat.”

Jackie unhooked her radio and held it up to her mouth. It trilled and went quiet. “Where are you? I swear to god, Benny, if you scare me again you owe me a cone at Marie Bettie’s on Monday.”

She stood there, a hand on her hip and her radio up by her ear. A crease formed between her brows. Birds flit from tree to tree down Trail 42, drawing her eye. Frowning, she didn’t see Benny there. Nor did he respond on the radio. She hesitantly clicked it again. “Benny I’m not playing. Where the hell are you?” She couldn’t hear herself on the other end. Wherever he was hiding, he had turned off his radio so she couldn’t gauge where he was.

Stepping out into the middle of the trail, Jackie circled around like an uneasy horse, feet pressed firmly into the packed dirt. A small creature of amber red and white darted out from a nearby thicket of prickly bushes and skittered across the trail. She gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin. While distracted, a pair of hands touched down on her shoulders, fingers curling over her uniform.

Jackie screeched, launching herself forwards out of the grip of the intruder. The ranger hat on her head tipped off, rolling and bouncing off the gravel. Her arms barely caught her in time to save her face from getting superficial scratches. Squirming, she rolled onto her back and scrambled into a squat. Benny stood there, cackling loud enough to send a few birds flying from their nests in the trees. His smile took up most of his face. Smile lines deepend and the prominent gap between his teeth was on full display.

“I got you good, didn’t I?” He leaned in, holding a hand out for her. Despite the adrenaline soaring through her veins and the annoyance that tumbled within her, Jackie sighed and grasped at it for help off the ground. Freckles splattered his sun-kissed skin, his cheekbones turning to apples with his grin.

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me two cones, now, Wonderbird. Double scoops.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! You know volunteers don’t make squat here-” Benny stooped down to pick up her hat, dusting it off for her. It was true. When he first joined the park just six months ago, Jackie had been assigned as his mentor. The junior program was offered to any college students pursuing their line of work. To get a taste of life as a ranger. They didn’t make a salary, but their summers spent in action were funded by park leadership in the form of bunks and food. A far better deal than what was offered to her in Tennessee. She took up her hat and repositioned it proudly on top of her head. “But I guess it’s the least I could do for doing that.” He pointed down at her green trousers.

A small tear cut across her knee, thankfully protecting her skin from being lacerated by her fall. Sighing, Jackie lifted her leg and inspected the hole. “Luckily I brought my sewing kit with me to the tower. C’mon, let’s finish our rounds. Think the captain has extra radios for tonight? Last thing I want is to not be able to contact anyone - especially this weekend.”

The end of summer break brought in the most guests outside of the spring season. Mostly college students looking to get out of town, but not willing to commit to the cost of going to the Bahamas or Miami all the way down south. Jackie couldn’t remember most of the breaks from her college days. She crunched to get through with her degree as fast as possible. Any break she got was filled with studying or working wherever she could. She would have liked to go somewhere tropical and warm for her breaks, but she preferred the serenity that usually came with visiting state parks instead.

“How many people usually camp here during breaks?” Benny kicked a pale gray pebble into the grass alongside the pack dirt walking trail.

“Could be hundreds. Maybe even close to a thousand or more. Really depends.” Earlier that day, they had already received an influx of campers eager to stake their claim on the best spots in the park before the hoards arrived. Easily several dozen of them, all scattered between RV hookups, the rentable cabins and clearings for tents. “Just be glad you’re not working at any of the offices this weekend. I’d take firewatch over disgruntled campers any day.”

“I can’t thank you enough, you know.” An elbow bumped Jackie’s arm and she glanced at the grinning young man. “If it weren’t for you, Richards probably would’ve never let me take over tower 24. He told me you put in a good word for me.”

Smiling down at the ground, Jackie shrugged and reached out to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “It wasn’t all me. You’ve got the passion for this. The drive. Can’t say the same for some of the other volunteers-”

A trill of squealing laughter caught her attention. The two of them paused right at the fork. One path remained wide open with wooden signs encouraging guests to stay on the correct path. The other had overgrowth and a dirt path so narrow, one could hardly call it a trail at all. The usual rope gate meant to block it off had been cut. Both ends laid useless on the ground with frayed edges. Another bark of laughter came from the end it shouldn’t have.

“Damn…” Jackie muttered bitterly under her breath. Just when she thought they could wrap up for the afternoon. Benny puffed out his chest and stood up taller.

“C’mon, ranger,” he chirped, marching towards the rocky side path. “No dilly dallying!”

“You just want to write up a citation.” She snorted and followed alongside him. “You’re starting to sound like the captain.”

Snaking down the path, the trees overhead grew thicker and wider. Branches from lowly pines scraped against their arms. Creatures that remained unseen skittered into their hiding places. The closer they got to the three or four voices chattering away up ahead, the more signs they saw. Brand new, the signs were nailed into the untouched bark of the trees along the path or plastered on wooden signs hammered into the thick dirt.

WARNING: do not proceed! This area has been sanctioned for investigation by the State of Wyoming and local police. Any violations will result in a $500 fine.

“Have these signs always been here?” Benny’s voice lowered to a faint whisper. Jackie stepped carefully around a pile of stones gathered around the base of a thick oak. Her boots slid against their jagged surfaces. “I don’t remember them putting these up.

“I don’t either. I remember some feds were here on Wednesday, but they weren’t up for much small talk.” They stood proudly in their dark suits and shade, holding boxes of flyers and paperwork and speaking in hushed tones to her higher ups. The single chance she had to greet one of them was met with silence. Very rude. “I don’t think this was a missing person’s case, otherwise we would have been informed about it.”

Like something out of a sci-fi movie, bright yellow caution signs littered a shady grove at the end of the short path. The sound of water trickling from a nearby stream joined the quiet voices. The blocky lettering on the big yellow signs yelled at them.

DO NOT DRINK THE WATER! Do not disturb local flora as issued by the governor of Wyoming.

“Dude! You’re going to get us in trouble!” A nervous voice murmured beyond the trees. There, by the creek, four college aged kids stood around a mossy puddle. Two girls and two boys, all wearing their UW school colors. Most likely freshmen given their wide eyes and round faces. One of them stood with his jeans rolled up to his knees in the shallow water, a fist full of curling brown mushrooms that looked like kelp. They went silent at the sight of the two rangers.

“This path is restricted.” Benny took the initiative, his voice wavering just a bit at the end of his statement. Jackie let him take the reins. If he really wanted to do this for a living, he would have to get used to this. As he went over what rules they broke being there, she made her way over to a damp patch of tall grass between two moss covered trees.

Squatting, she spied even more kelp-like mushrooms. They stuck out of the grass like limp, decaying fingers out of a grave. Jackie narrowed her eyes and used a pen from her breast pocket to jab at it with as gentle of a touch as she could manage. It released a pussy substance and a musky scent that reminded her of the single frat party she attended her last year in school. Similar to weed, but different. From looks alone, she couldn’t nail down from which family this fungus derived from. In fact, she couldn’t recall anything remotely similar in all her years of study.

“You can’t do that.” The kid in the water whined, trudging out of the water. He tossed the picked mushrooms. “C’mon, man, we’re just trying to have a little fun! I gotta pay for books next week!”

Jackie looked over her shoulder in time to see Benny’s head fall like a disappointed teacher’s. He sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to reply. Tucking her pen back into its spot, she dusted her hands off and stood.

“Here’s what we’re going to do-” She put her hands on her hips and took over for him. She spoke with authority and a rigid stance. “I’ll let you off with a warning, as long as you four keep to the official trails and stay out of trouble. If me or any of my associates catch you out of bounds again, it’ll be a $700 ticket. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The kid slipped his wet feet into his Nike sandals and hung his head. Blonde hair stuck to his pink face and despite his towering height over her, he still looked like a boy. It only made her feel older than she was. The other three murmured in agreement, following behind him. She watched them shuffle up the path until they disappeared behind a thicket of pines.

“I thought I could do it,” Benny sighed, his head swiveling side to side, checking for litter or anything else the rowdy guests may have left behind. Jackie moved to stand beside him and ruffled his mess of red hair. The way his nose scrunched and his shoulders relaxed from the playful exchange reminded her so much of Andre back at home.

“You did better than I did the first time I tried writing a citation - I cried.” Her sidekick blinked, surprised, and chuckled.

“But you’re so good at it. You’ve got a mom voice - in a good way, I mean.”

“Geez, I’m not that old, Wonderbird. First them, and now you? I’m aging by the second. You’ll have to explain to Richards why my knees are bad and my hair is graying when summer’s over, you dingus.”

Benny all but collapsed forward with laughter, holding his stomach and slapping his knee like a cheery grandfather. Jackie smiled so wide her cheeks ached. She had to avert her gaze to not let the homesickness creep in. She would miss him when he had to go back to school. Just like she missed Andre.

The mushrooms among the grass piqued her curiosity again. She stooped down beside them and inspected them without touching. Who knew what they did and who knew why the government and college kids were so interested in them.

“What are they? They were grabbing a lot of them.” Benny squatted next to her, reaching out to touch one. Jackie gently smacked the back of his hand and shook her head.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t touch them. Let’s get to the office, the captain’s waiting for us by now.”

-

ITWS Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @lordkingsmith @celestialbunnistories @aeslin-writes @writinginslowmotion @chayscribbles @theramwrites @tiredlittleoldme @sapphcon-ic @hazard-writes @lookingmuchimproved @themidnxghtwriter @draculinawrites @aetherwrites @svpphicwrites @maxgraybooks @writeherewaiting @sjjsalamanders @thelittlestspider @ashen-crest @writtendevastation @ravesthewriter @adie-dee @christine-thinks @cream-and-tea @reeseweston

[blooeyedtroll]

Home on the Range

Rated PG-13ish Lolz. For occasional cussing and maybe innuendos(?). Lolz. This can also be read on Ao3. Feel free to read it there if you prefer.

More art scattered though out this fic, hope you like it!

Hello friend! Welcome!  

This is a One shot fic that takes place in mine & @messybitch802 ​‘s : 

Efflorescence AU. 

This is the beginning of our tale, I hope you enjoy.

This is in Hickory’s POV. I thought this would be a fun way to introduce Bloo and Messy. It also seemed fitting since Hickory will play a larger part as our tale unfolds.

However, I’d like to think this could be enjoyed as a fun one-shot Hickory & Dickory fic as well. This fandom needs more Yodel Brothers content!

Big thanks to @jade-green-butterfly ​ and her random ask that kicked my butt in gear, giving me the inspiration to finally start writing:

Anyway, let’s get to it. Enjoy!:

HOME ON THE RANGE

"Rock Trolls... no doubt about that.”

The rugged, orange haired Troll put down his hammer and stepped away from the task at hand. Fence work could wait. This needed his immediate attention.  Around this time of day he'd expect to see, at most, a tumbleweed passing by the entrance to the Ranch. Maybe. Nobody ever came out this way. Not since he'd been here anyway. At a good clip, it was about an hour trek away from Lonesome Flats. Which suited his needs perfectly.

The perfect place to lay low and still blend in.

"Bist du sicher?" whispered a muffled voice behind him.

"Of course I am. Now hush, I'm gonna check it out. Stay in character. An’ be ready, just in case."

The orange haired Troll patted the front of his jeans, freeing them of a satisfying amount of dust from the day’s hard work and checked his reflection in a nearby trough. Grinning as he placed a straw of wheat that was kept in the brim of his hat; between his teeth.

Perfection.

Who would guess otherwise, that the reflection in that water, was anything but a genuine Country Troll?

It took a lot of work shopping, trial and error, but he did it.

Well, they did it. The four legged, rugged, handsome, Country Troll was in actuality...two Trolls.

Two brothers to be precise.

Yodel Trolls by the names of Hickory and Dickory. 

The last Yodel Trolls by their accounts, and they happened to be the best damn team of Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all of Trolldom.

For good reason.

The best tool to their disposal was their ability to blend in. So much so, it was only until it was “too late” for their marks, by the time their true colors were revealed. And this disguise has been their best yet.

Hickory, though the youngest brother, was the much taller of the two. So he was the face to this particular get-up. Making Dickory to be left with the tail end. Literally. Understandably, this was not ideal for him. 

And he definitely made it well known on many occasions how he felt about having to play a literal “horse’s ass”.

But by gum, was he the best ass you could ask for.

At this point, Dickory had mastered the art of synchronizing with Hickory's movements, in such a way, it was now practically impossible to spot anything amiss. It was as if they shared one mind while under the guise of this centaur-esk being.

And while Dickory was fairly sour about the whole situation, Hickory found himself more and more, fond of living day to day as a Country Troll. Very much so to his brother’s shagrin. The look, the music, the lifestyle...everything.

It had been two months now since the brothers found themselves here, in Country Music territory. However, last anyone on the outside had heard about them, was that they had "yodelled so hard, an avalanche fell on them"...or something? Which was just what they wanted. For the time being anyway.

The brothers had struck a deal with their last mark. 

For his freedom, he was to spread said rumor, so the Yodelers could lay low for a while.

Queen Barb, of the Hard Rock Trolls, was no stranger to the two brothers. As a matter of fact, she was one of their most frequent clients for the past few years. Which suited them just fine. Well, almost. The last few jobs they did for the young Queen, left a bitter taste in Hickory's mouth. Not so much for the tasks she asked of them, but because of something she said and what he saw on their last few visits to Volcano Rock City. Maps. Marked up. Plans of some sort. Hanging everywhere. The young ruler, looking the most tired he'd ever seen her, yet looking as if ready to burst from being too tightly wound, at any moment.

"Hopefully next time I see you dudes, one way or another, we'll all be singing to a different tune. It's gonna be so Rad."

Whatever was going on, both Yodelers agreed that it was definitely not worth getting caught up in. They could just feel it. Deep down. They were hired to track Trolls down and do what needed to do, to get by.

Both of them could be shady characters at times, but they had decent moral compasses to live by. So they told themselves.

That's why the presence of Rock Trolls at this moment made Hickory's blood run cold. Could it be possible somehow, some way, they had been found out? That whatever Queen Barb was up to, she was looking for them? What is it that she’d need them for anyway?

No. Their plan worked perfectly. Blend in as a Country Troll, lay low for a while, only do the occasional "job" when the opportunity presented itself, just until the Queen of Rock cooled her head or went through with... whatever she is planning.

Not a soul knew about Hickory and Dickory being here.

Well.

Unless you counted, July.

Miss July, the owner of the Ranch. A rather interesting Troll.

A Pop-Country Troll. The only mixed genre Troll around these parts. Unlike her four legged, centaur, Country loving neighbors; she walked on two legs... well, hooves. Her appearance could be compared to a more "Satyr" like build, with a perfect blend of both genres in her appearance. The bright colors of a Pop Troll, but the sturdy build of that of a Country Troll.

A Tough, stern older lady-Troll, with a heart of gold.

Running this place all on her own, while tending to her extremely elderly parents.

That's one of the reasons he never expected any visitors here. Nobody in town wanted anything to do with Miss July or her family. Didn't much like associating with “their kind” if they could help it. Though you'd never hear them say it in polite conversation. But that suited Miss July just fine. That's how she liked it. Ever since Miss July and her folks suffered a terrible loss to their family, decades ago, she rarely went into town if she could help it.

Which on one such occasion, is when she stumbled upon the Yodelers, in their first attempts at putting together their  “Country Persona”.

They had been camping not too far from her Ranch and the Town, when she found them both, struggling to even walk in time together, in a pair of poorly made four legged pants.

July took their word as Gospel. That they were just fulfilling a lifelong dream of wanting to, in some way, be a Country Troll. So she offered them a place to stay and to show them the ropes on what it meant to be a Country Troll. If they agreed to work for her at her family’s Ranch.

"Until you feel you can stand on yer own four hooves!' She teased.

It could be easily wagered that July being an outcast in her own community, could be a factor of sympathy she felt towards them, making her wanting to help any way she could, and possibly what made her not judgmental in the least. That, and as tough as she put herself on as, she was sweet as apple pie, through and through.

Which did make Hickory especially, feel guilty about not being more upfront with her. As much as he could be anyhow.

Especially so, when the occasional “job opportunity" presented itself around Lonesome Flats during the Yodelers free time. Turns out, there were plenty of Trolls who had a bone to pick with others, or needed matters settled around these parts. Not to mention, crooks-a-plenty to turn in.

But both brothers always repented.  By being very diligent working for Miss July on the Ranch. Anything she needed done, got done. It was the least they could do for what she had done for them for these last two months. So the last thing needed was for anything to get ugly around here.

As Hickory approached closer and closer, he could feel his brother tensing up.

"Easy.” He whispered under his breath, smirking, patting behind him in attempts to calm his hotheaded companion. While still maintaining a nonchalant and calm demeanor.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Volcano Rock City for past jobs, and even on several occasions for other clients; needing to spend time incognito as Rock Trolls, it was fairly easy to recognize them from afar.

Upon closer inspection, it did come across as rather curious to see them wearing Country attire. They couldn't be trying to blend in, could they?

No. Not by the way these two held themselves.  

One Troll in various shades of blue in appearance, the other in peculiar shades of green from toe to tip. Both faces, still covered by wide brimmed hats. The blue Troll's demeanor was nervous right from the jump. Their green companion, holding them by the hand, grounding them. As if to keep them from sprinting away at a moment's notice. Both looking tired from the trek they must have taken from town to get to the Ranch property and from the sun's unforgiving afternoon rays.

Nothing but what seemed to be electric guitars and simple backpacks on their backs. However, these were definitely the most impressive guitars Hickory had seen in all his life.

The blue Troll’s, from what he could make out, was sage in color and looked as if it was made of some large critter's battered wing. Almost bat or reptilian in nature. The green Troll’s guitar, an imposing, venomous violet, crafted by what could only could be guessed as being once the claw and stinger of some scorpion-type critter. One he certainly wouldn't want to tango with. 

Lackeys of Queen Barb’s? No... couldn't be.

"Nobody knows we're here"

"We've been so careful."

He repeated over and over to himself. Almost mantra-like. He really had no reason to be this paranoid he kept reminding himself.

“Who are the most feared Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all Trolldom?”

“The Yodel brothers. That's who.” He smirked at that last thought. Puffing his broad chest a bit more, in response to his inner pep-talk.

And no Troll, no matter now--

"H--Howdy!" The blue Troll, clearing their voice, shakily called out.

"Right fine day, isn't it?"

The traveler seemed to ease into the drawl like putting on an old pair of comfy shoes, and with each word, their confidence seemed to boost. Stepping forward from their green companion, they removed their wide brim hat and gandered up at Hickory, with a small smile that damn near made his heart leap through his throat. In a good way?

That was...unexpected.

His usual quick witted mind and tongue, on the spot turned into a train that just left the station.

Those eyes. Absolutely pierced him right through. Large, inquisitive, pale, cerulean eyes. Staring right at him under dark lashes, and surrounded by a cascade of cobalt freckles.

The closest shade of color he could compare those eyes to were a color he hadn't thought of in ages. Snow. Snow that as a Trolling he played in. Usually when you found yourself making forts or laying in heeps that came up so high, you would look, and you'd catch the glimmering sunlight, shining through it. A shade of blue that just melted you to the core and drew out a smile, without you being the wiser.

"Right fine.”  he responded. Recovering from his wandering mind.

No time to be side tracked by an adorable, freckled, blue-eyed Troll. With sweet, curvy features, who has solid looking muscles that look they could easily crush--

"How can I help you? You folks seem a bit far away from home. Don't get a lot of Rock Trolls around these parts.”

Thank goodness his voice seemed to be the one on track; at the task at hand.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

The green Troll stepped forward, hotly, removing their own hat, as to glare directly at him. Sizing him up. Only a tad taller, but much more lithe in figure to their companion. Definitely much more fierce. Not just in attitude, but in appearance. Their eyes, deep as sapphires. Teeth, the bottom row protruding two large tusk-like lower canines. Ears, pointed back and just as sharp as their claws, which he found himself one the other end of, being pointed at. Just as he felt his hair prickle, preparing himself for what was bound to happen next, the tension was immediately neutralized.

"It's okay Mess” The blue Troll cooed, calming the green one.

"Sorry to just come on over uninvited, but uh, does a Troll named July still live here?"

"You mean Miss July? Sure does. Why, if You don't mind my askin’?"

"Well you see, she's my... can--can I please talk to her? If she's around here today?”

A good long pause washed over the three.

Hickory could feel the trepidation radiating from Dickory behind him as he swished "their tail' in annoyance. Normally, if this was any other situation, it'd be too bad for these two. He'd send them right on their way, or worse if it came to it. They seemed capable. They had guitars, they were Rock Trolls. Random Rock Trolls, showing up, asking for not himself or his brother, but Miss July. Out of all the Country Trolls in Lonesome Flats.

But the waves of anxiety radiating from this freckled Troll were massive; and when their friend wasn't staring daggers at his direction, they were gazing so tenderly and sympathetically at them. These weren't agents of Queen Barbs. These seemed like folks on a sad mission of delivering news, or something of the like. They looked as though this was the last place they would ever want to be.

Dickory always insisted that Hickory was too quick to let his heart think first before his head when it came to their line of work. He didn't see it that way though. Hickory thought himself a good judge of character. Hell, that's why they found themselves in this situation now. Tipping his hat in a friendly manner, he smiled at the two.

"Well, why dontcha follow me then. I'm sure Miss July is making lunch right about now. You folks are just in time. Name's Hickory"

"Messy." replied the green.

The blue Troll remained silent.

"Adorabull got yer tongue cutie?" he teased

Those freckled cheeks lit up in seconds, a flushed lavender. Too cute.

"Somethin' like that' They smiled sheepishly.

All the while, as Hickory walked with the two up to the main building on the property, they stuck to idle chit-chat. About the weather or the nearby town. They passed by many of the fences that housed just some of Miss July's critters. As well as a few stables, paddocks, a decent sized workshed, and the small house the Yodelers had been staying in since they arrived here. It was once they passed that particular building, the blue Rocker stopped in their tracks momentarily. Just staring. Almost trance-like. They only moved again once Messy had firmly grabbed their hand and they followed.

Finally, they reached the main building's porch. The family home. Without any prompting, the two travelers waited at the bottom steps of the porch. Hickory nodded, thinking that might be best. He walked up to the open door. The wafting aroma of today's lunch filling his nostrils. Chili with sweet rolls? If he wasn't mistaken, he could smell fresh squeezed lemonade too. Knowing better to barge in while she was in the Kitchen...

"Pardon me, Miss July?" he called out.

"Dammit Hic, I told ya once, I'll tell ya again. Lunch is on when I ring the damn bell, that's when it’s good and ready!"

Hickory couldn't help but chuckle. That July was a firecracker.

"It's got nothin' to do with that Miss. You see, You've got yourself some visitors."

"For the last time Hic, just call me Jul--"

July emerged from the doorway, holding in each hand a glass of lemonade with mint garnish. No doubt as something to appease the Yodelers until lunch was done. As soon as her eyes met the two travelers, she stopped dead in her tracks. Glaring at them something fierce.

"These two are the visitors I was talkin' about."

"Rock Trolls, huh? Here? Whaddya want?"

The blue traveler, clearing their throat, voice cracking; they smiled, eyes glazed and sparkling with unshed tears. Staring at July as if a secret wish had been granted.

"Aunty Ju-Ju? It's m-me. It's Bloo. I'm home."

Bloo? That Bloo? Could it really be? Hickory didn't need to dwell on that too long though. July suddenly yelped out loud, in such a way that it startled absolutely everyone. Including herself apparently because those glasses in her hands dropped and shattered to bits.

"You couldn't be-- w-what kind of game are ya playin’ at?!"

July at a loss for words. This was serious. There she stood, knees buckling, lip quivering, tail thrashing. Unable to look away from the Troll in front of them at the end of her porch. A look of torment across their face.

Slowly, the freckled Troll smiled sadly, and reached behind their back for their instrument. Hickory acted quickly, putting himself between the two. Staring intently at the Rocker. They stared back, as they slowly brought the instrument forward.

"Please. Let me play?"

Hickory's nostrils flared, biting down hard on the straw in his mouth. How was he so stupid? Well, he wouldn't be fooled this time.

*~strum~*

Though the guitar was imposing and electric, with a stroke of their hand, it played a long, twangy, unmistakable, Country cord.

Silence.

Laying a hand on Hickory's shower, July gently moved him aside, her attention almost trance-like on the player. Waiting.

As if they understood, they shifted and picked up their guitar in earnest. Strumming again, but to a much more upbeat melody. Much more upbeat than most Country music Hickory had heard around town that he grew to enjoy. This sounded more... Pop? Much more like something he'd hear July singing on a day she was in a particularly good mood. Or something July’s elderly mother, the Pop Troll of the family might hum.

That's when they began to sing along, starting off slowly and gaining strength with each note. A large smile on their face as tears cascaded down their round cheeks. As if putting on the show of their lives. It was raw, and beautiful.

"She loves rock ‘n’ roll,

they said it's demons’ tongue,

She thinks they're too old.

They think she's too young,

And the battle lines are clearly drawn.”

“She's a wild one,

with an angel's face,

She's a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy's knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She's a wild one.

Runnin' free."

“She has future plans,

and dreams at night,

they tell her life is hard,

she smiles, sayin’ “that’s alright”, yeah!”

“She’s a wild one,

With an angel’s face,

She’s a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy’s knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She’s a wild one.

Runnin’ free.”

"She's a wild one”~~

"~~Runnin' free.”  July finished and sobbed the last line.

"That was the song I wrote for your Mama... all them years ago..My Bloo. My little ‘Bloo-Jay’ came home!"

Hickory stood fully aside now, allowing the two to embrace, for what he now had realized had been the first time in more than two decades. An embrace that both warmed and broke your heart, all at the same time. This was July's pride and joy. Her niece. Bloo, the only child of July's older sister June.

June and July were extremely close sisters. Best friends even.

June was a very free spirited Troll who fancied herself a part-time singer at one of the local bars in town. On one of these trips to town, she met a traveling Rock Troll by the name of Ziggy. Busking for food and drink. Let's just say, it didn't take long at all until wedding bells were ringing and Ziggy was part of the happy family here on the Ranch. The couple waited a while before having a Trolling. The two were busy enjoying married life, Ziggy took June traveling, fulfilling her dreams of seeing life outside Lonesome Flats. And wherever they went, they were singing up a storm. When they returned home to settle down, at any bar or club, or bingo hall that would have them, they continued singing their hearts out. Occasionally even dragging July along. The three of them became inseparable. Especially after Bloo was born. The townsfolk even seemed to warm up to the entire, oddball family. It was all turning up roses for the family finally, after what felt like ages of trying to live in harmony. But it all came to a crushing end. 

Shortly after Bloo turned five years old, a serious, contagious illness spread throughout Lonesome Flats. Most folks who caught it, eventually recovered, but there were eight fatalities in the end. June was one of them. The family was torn to pieces by June’s passing. Ziggy just wasn't the same Troll after. A year passed and just as they thought things might slowly start looking up, Ziggy and Bloo were gone.

Apparently he had packed himself and Bloo up one night, and just left without a word. July knew he had family back home in Volcano Rock City, and figured that is where he would take Bloo to raise them. But July dared not go there. For good reason. A Pop-Country Troll, travel to Volcano Rock City?  Demand her niece back from a heartbroken father? While leaving her extremely elderly parents to fend for themselves? No. July would be turned away or torn to pieces. King Thrash at the time was feared for good reason in those days and most Trolls feared Rock Trolls the most out of all the other Tribes.

July and her folks basically moved on by learning to mourn the loss of June, Bloo, and Ziggy. They never expected to ever see Bloo or Ziggy again. Yet here Bloo was. Embracing their aunt, while Hickory and Messy looked on fondly. His smile grew wider as he realized how overjoyed July's folks: Clay and May, would be to see their grand-baby again. Something they thought they'd never live to see.

He could see it now that he got a better look at Bloo, as they were bombarded with kisses and hugs, that they did share a little resemblance to their Pop-Country Aunt. Though without a doubt, they took after their father Ziggy the most. No wonder Bloo wasn't easily recognizable at first glance, they looked so different in comparison to how they looked back then as a Trolling.

Who would have thought that he'd meet the Troll who's childhood pictures adorned the home he and his brother were staying in? Which happened to be Bloo's Old family home on the Ranch. The same house they had stopped to stare at on their way to the main house.

"Small world we live in!” He barked with laughter.

"Welcome home Miss Bloo, glad to meetcha." And he meant it, whole heartedly.

"Glad to be home again.”

END.

(Song used was Faith Hill’s ‘Wild One’. Tweaked for this story)

[lovelyirony]

@ironmanspussy​ here we are, directly inspired by your wonderful texpost! 

King Rhodes needed a partner to rule. It was ancient law, something he hadn’t really desired to follow. But unfortunately, the lawyers are assholes and want to create a monopoly of power that he just simply hasn’t the time to dismantle if he’s to follow his ten-year policy plan.

His partner should be well-mannered, aware of high society dress codes as well as how to navigate regular, everyday wear, and be calm in times of crisis.

So begins the search.

“You’re not going to find someone you like like that,” his advisor, Carol says, laughing. “I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see,” Rhodes decides.

Oh, they saw.

They saw a lot.

Almost every single candidate is bad. Or just off, in some way.

“Rogers seemed like a nice fit,” Carol says, tapping on her clipboard.

"He was nice, not for me. A bit too much.”

“What, muscle?”

“You could say that’s a factor. He’s also just a little too take-charge-of-everything.”

“Mm, that could pose a problem later. Well, the candidates who most matched your requirements are all out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re a very particular kind of guy, Jim. So here are the rest.”

“Send in the clowns,” Rhodes says, waving his hand in dismissal and drawing the other one to his forehead to signal a headache about to come on.

“You just sent Barnes out,” Danvers reminds him, grinning.

“Asshole.”

“I’m still getting paid!” Carol sing-songs.

-

It’s almost better. Almost. Prince Clint Barton is an impossibly good marksman, and...that’s about it. His leadership style is far different from the Rhodes kingdom needs and he admits that he almost showed up in jeans.

Well, at least there’s honesty. Rhodes could find that forgivable.

But the jeans. Good god.

-

Bruce Banner is a total sweetheart, but his constitution is quite poor and again with the fashion choices. He shows up in a very nice outfit and has a nice wit about him.

They talk at length, and Carol swears that it will go well and perhaps there will actually be a wedding by June, all things said and considered.

This is until Rhodes leads Dr. Banner out to the gardens to meet Thor, their part-time warrior and full-time gardener.

Thor is completely gone on the scientist-ruler, and there it is.

“This is supposed to be your matchmaking,” Carol reminds him, scowling. “It was going well.”

“Once he met Thor anyways, it would have been all over. You know Thor’s type. The scientists that could ruin the earth if they truly had the thought to.”

“I suppose you’re right. Next person, then. She looks promising, Empress Romanov?”

-

Natasha Romanov is a terrifying figure. Very, very terrifying.

That being said, she has excellent taste in fashion and promised to send Rhodes some reviews, but “unfortunately has her heart spoken for.”

(It’s not very unfortunate. Rhodes feared for his life.)

-

He’s about to lose it, to be completely honest. Is there seriously no one out there?

“Your last candidate, at least for this month, is Tony Stark. High-profile inventor.”

“Not royalty?”

“Essentially, he is. Dad helped create weapons, he followed with protection and medical detail. He usually doesn’t agree to meet, so you’ll have to ask him why.”

“Refuse to meet royalty?”

“People.”

-

Tony Stark did, in fact, refuse to meet people. In general, people were not his strong suit and he saw no point to marriage.

“If you marry well, you get more access to resources for your reacting thing,” Pepper says.

“My reactor. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’ve forgotten it a million and one. But if you meet Rhodes, he’s probably your best chance of not marrying a total shit royal.”

“And why is that?”

“Searching online for your answer is free, I am not. Your bill will be sent to your inbox.”

Tony stares after Pepper. She’s too damn capable.

He sighs to himself.

He does need more funding for his projects. His father cut him off completely and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, Tony’s not going to charge obscene prices just to keep himself afloat.

So...marrying a royal. Not the best plan in the world, especially given Tony’s track record with people. Sure, he can play the part. But he just...won’t.

-

This is why Tony’s about five minutes late, cursing up a blue streak at a guard that has followed him into the hall because due to his appearance he thinks he needs to have a “check-in” with the people at the front desk for appointments, and in general? The day has been bad.

Also, Pepper forced him into “nice” clothes. While Tony can and has worn his nice clothing before, he does not like the ones that Pepper chose because they are uncomfortable, stiff, and absolutely a bit too long.

So he trips on the carpet.

“Motherfucker!”

Rhodes’ head pops away from his conversation with the chef regarding the dinner menu.

Here is a man with probably the most intricately embroidered robes he’s ever seen on, hair that looks like it was probably not even styled, just brushed through, and had about the entirety of the guard behind him asking him about an appointment time.

Obviously, he’s the most attractive man Rhodes has ever seen in his life.

“And who are you?” he asks.

“Tony. Stark. Mechanic and inventor. Um, you talked to Pepper about me? I think I’m in your circle of potential candidates for ruling. It’s totally fine if you kick me out, I kind of scuffed your carpet.”

“We need new carpet anyway,” Carol says. “We’ll disregard your entrance for now, Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony,” Carol says slowly, smiling. “You will be walking around the gardens with King Rhodes, pausing for dinner.”

“Cool.”

Rhodes has to stop from laughing. Cool. He’s already a fan of this.

Carol leans over to him, whispering in his ear.

“I thought you wanted someone who had a cool head, not someone like that.”

“Well, I can be wrong every once in a while.”

“Or more.”

“Every once in a while,” Rhodes reiterates. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Hm.”

-

Walking through a garden with a stranger is not as smooth as one would expect. Rhodes isn’t exactly well-versed in asking people what their plans are for the future, and if they are amenable to perhaps marriage.

“What do you do for fun?” Tony asks.

He’s sort of taken aback at the question.

“Pardon me?”

“What do you do for fun?” he repeats. “Like, do you cook? Sew? Duel with your rivals? What do you do for fun?”

Well. He has to think for a moment.

“I go on runs.”

“That is not fun. Don’t tell me that that’s what’s fun for you.”

“What, can’t run?”

“I don’t run, there’s a difference. I’ll run when something’s chasing me.”

“And yet you won’t have training, like I will.”

“Did you forget my trade, Your Imminence?” Tony asks, voice mocking him.

It’s honestly refreshing. Rhodes doesn’t like it when people are so serious around him, so afraid to disappoint.

“An inventor? You’re going to invent a way to run better?”

“To fly, honey. Honestly...”

-

After that, it’s a dead-set decision from Rhodes.

He offers his hand in marriage, as well as the crown. Tony blinks.

“You haven’t even seen me take a turn in the ballroom.”

“It’s either going to be wildly entertaining or surprising, and I can’t wait for either.”

-

Tony enters his own room, in a panic.

This has to go well. He has to dress to impress.

“Pepper, he’s holding a party for our engagement. I have to dress nicely.”

“You know how to do that, I don’t know why you’re telling me that.”

“There are so many factors. Do you know anyone who can embroider his family crest on any shoes? What colors I’m meant to do? Oh my god, we have to fuse the colors together. This is going to be a disgrace. I’ll be exiled to be a hermit in the forest who relies on bark for sustenance, and this--”

“Can you. Potentially, maybe, chill? It’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but right now I’m imagining having to go to war because I didn’t wear the right color of red, so...”

“You are literally the worst person alive.”

“False, we both know Justin Hammer and out of the two of us, I think you’d want to date me more.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Just practical, Pep. Just practical. Now help me shade match Rhodey’s red.”

“He’s Rhodey now?”

“In my head? Yes. I don’t like Rhodes, I absolutely will not call him Jim until we both hit seventy years old.”

“Better let him know that.”

-

Rhodes gets a text from Tony.

so a.) your new nickname from me is rhodey. don’t question it, honeybear. Anyways, would you say your royal family color is closer to garnet-red or blood-red?

Rhodey blinks. He likes the nickname. It’s different. He has to show the text to Carol.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Let me google it.”

She analyzes the results, frowning.

“I’m thinking blood-red.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why does he want to know the color?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

we’ve decided it matches closer to blood-red, Tones. Why do you ask?

Tony blinks. Other nickname. Interesting. He likes it.

my outfit choice relies heavily on this.

He leaves it at that, grinning as he puts his phone away.

Rhodey is laughing. He’s excited to see his husband-to-be.

-

Tony knows he looks damned good. The whole outfit is incredible. Red with gold stitching throughout, and he got his hair to cooperate to be artfully messy instead of just messy.

“I’m surprised at you, you clean up well,” Pepper teases. “You ready to go and make your debut?”

“As ready as ever,” Tony says, fixing the chain around his neck. The gold glints off the lights, and he knows he’s about to be the best dressed person in the room, with perhaps the exception of Rhodey.

He knows that most people are surprised that he’s the one that King Rhodes has decided to marry. He’s not known for being a particularly polite royal. In fact, he has told multiple members of royalty to “get fucked or get out of my way” when they want him to build something that he refuses to build.

So he’s not exactly the perfect choice. But his outfit is still the best in the room.

“Hi gorgeous,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You look incredible.”

“Well I do know how to make an entrance, after all,” Tony says. “You’ll find out this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Well then, I’m in for treats all my life,” Rhodey says. “How are you tonight, Tones?”

“Doing well, finished up working on one of the cars for Thor today.”

“Wait, you’re the one who’s refinishing it? He hasn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks! I was the one who used to look at it.”

“You like fixing up cars?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

-

From there, conversation flows. They understand each other well, laugh at the same jokes, and agree on cake flavors.

It’s not love, not yet. But they’re getting there.

-

It is officially love when Tony steals Rhodey from his royal duties to get a cheeseburger.

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of the throne, don’t you think?” Tony says, grinning over his sunglasses.

“For a cheeseburger? Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re all fancy and posh, I bet you don’t even know the f-word,” Tony says.

“Fuck you,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony gasps. “The king knows a curse word? Oh my lord! What...shame you bring to your family!”

Rhodey laughs, and it’s in this moment that he realizes that spending the rest of his days with Tony is potentially the best possible option in the world.

“I’m so glad we’re getting married,” he says. Tony stills.

“You...you are?”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me, I think,” Rhodey says, taking a sip of water as if he hasn’t just said the sweetest thing Tony’s ever heard. “And I hope that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I mean I don’t know, the AC/DC reunion tour was pretty sick...” Tony says, grinning. “I’m kidding. Rhodey, I think we’re gonna be a good team. And I’m glad that I get to be with you.”

-

Their wedding is the talk of the year. Literally no one can shut up about it, but maybe that’s because Tony accidentally showed up late because he was inventing and had wild hair and maybe a stray grease-stain on his forehead.

Rhodey just grinned.

“You better not be late to the reception.”

“I’ll try my best. You know how I am.”

They kiss, and Rhodey sends him into a deep dip. Tony laughs into the kiss, and it becomes one of the most well-known photographs of the year.

-

Sure, Rhodey didn’t exactly get all of the qualifications that he wanted out of his ruling partner. Tony is absolutely not calm in times of crisis, and stress-bought novelty socks.

He more than once told a difficult business partner to “absolutely get fucked up on a Thursday, see if I give a singular shit when my husband is ten times better than you,” and also has a certain unawareness of some of his public outfit choices. (Hello sweatpants with holes in them and a striped hoodie.)

But Tony makes the best coffee ever, always gets Rhodey flowers from the supermarket, and is perhaps the most compassionate man he’s ever met.

So not a bad trade-off.

They lay in bed together, Rhodey looking over his obscenely trashy detective novels with his reading glasses, and Tony battling Pepper in a word search competition online.

“I love you,” Tony says out of nowhere, smiling. He presses a kiss to Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Rhodey responds, patting Tony’s thigh.

He makes a squawk of outrage as Rhodey’s head turns from his book, grinning.

“You better give me a kiss to make up for that,” Tony demands. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Of course, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? I was told by the love of my life that I was ‘okay’ after one year of marriage? And I am supposed to be unaffected? Absolutely unacceptable, I think I will fling myself into a pit in the ocean, and--”

Rhodey cuts him off with a kiss.

“Or not. Not could definitely work.”

[wholesomemendes]

Meet The Parents

Mendes Triplets Au (Peter Mendes)

Summary: After a small slip up at the Mendes’ family dinner one night, Peter decides it’s about time that he brought you home to his parents.

Author’s Note: This is part of the Your Teddy Bear universe (the fic is linked here) but it can also be read on it’s own. You might appreciate some of the time stamps and wording better if you have read my other fic already, but it is still adorable and fluffy if you didn’t read it and it will still make sense. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did rereading it and as always please leave me some feedback, I love hearing what you guys have to say!

The mouthwatering smell of dinner filled the home of the Mendes family, the six of them all taking their respective seats at the kitchen table. The triplets had all decided that it was time they came home from college for a weekend, all of them wanting to watch another one of Aaliyah’s hockey games and have their mother’s home cooked meals.

“So Shawn, how are things going with Ellie?” Shawn’s face lit up at the thought of his girlfriend and he swallowed his food before responding to his mother.

“Absolutely amazing. We finally went out to dinner this week because with my hockey practices and her work schedule, and school of course, it’s been really hard to get together. But I mean it always gets tricky around hockey season and we both know it, it’s been over a year which is crazy. She’s incredible though and things are going really well.”

“That’s great to hear. Why don’t you bring her up for dinner soon? We haven’t seen her in forever,” their mother beamed, their father sharing an approving look next to her.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her, I’d bet she’d love that,” Shawn replies, not even thinking before he’s nudging his brother that’s seated next to him, “Peter, you should bring Y/n, too.”

The once energy filled room turned silent, both of their parents' mouths hung wide open while Aaliyah looked at the youngest triplet skeptically. Suddenly incredibly interested in his food, Peter began pushing the meat on his plate around, head dropping to hide the nervous blush on his cheeks.

“Um, Peter is um,” Karen cleared her throat, trying to find the right words when she knew her son was panicking on the inside, “Is this Y/n your, um, your girlfriend?”

Peter’s face burned brighter at his mother’s words. “Shit dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it,” Shawn whispered, guilt eating him up inside over exposing his brother’s relationship.

“It’s ok,” Peter whispered before lifting his head up to meet his parents' confused stares. “Yeah, um, she’s my girlfriend. But it’s only been like 4 months so…”

“4 months?!”

“Karen, let the poor boy talk,” Manny sighed, noticing the anxious look in Peter’s eyes.

“Damn, Pete. I’ve never even seen you talk to a girl.”

“Aaliyah, stop. Now how about you tell us a little about her, son.”

“Oh um,” Peter cleared his throat, running his sweaty palms along his jean covered thighs, “Well she’s really nice and extremely beautiful. Um, she’s funny, too. I don’t really-I don’t really know what else to say.” He let out a nervous chuckle, heart racing inside of his chest.

“I think it’s wonderful that you have a girlfriend, Peter,” his mother told him softly, heart bursting with joy that her bashful son had found someone of his own, “How did the two of you meet?”

If it was possible for Peter’s cheeks to get any redder, they would have as he mumbled out his response, “At a party.”

Aaliyah scoffed at her brother’s response, “He’s making this up. There’s no way she’s real.”

“Aaliyah!”

“What? You’re trying to tell me that first, Peter, PETER, goes to a party? Since when does that happen? And then second of all, he talks to a girl there? So in one night he managed to not only go to a party, but also score a girlfriend? I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t want to go to the party, Raul and Shawn dragged me there,” Peter muttered, “Besides, she approached me, it wasn’t like I went up to her.”

“See, I don’t believe that either.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Raul chimed in, swallowing a large piece of steak before continuing, “She’s hot, too. Unlike all the nerds in his classes.”

“Raul, be nice,” his mother warns, sending a disapproving mom glance his way causing him to raise his hands up in surrender. “Well, Peter I think I speak for all of us when we say we’d love to meet her. That is if you feel comfortable with it.”

“I’ll talk to her, it’s just- I don’t want her to be uncomfortable at all. We haven’t talked about meeting each other’s parents yet and it’s the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, I don’t want to mess anything up. Especially not with her.”

“We understand. No pressure at all, just talk to her.” Peter nods with a small smile on his face, relieved when his father begins to ask Raul about his love life.

“You know, nothing serious right now, just a couple dates here and there.”

“There’s really no one you’re interested in right now?”

“Oh, I’m interested in a lot of girls right now, but I doubt anything serious will come out of it. I’m just not really looking for a relationship at the moment.”

Aaliyah lets out a little snort of laughter at Raul’s words, “Stay safe. I’m not ready to be an aunt yet.”

“Aaliyah!” _______________

The commotion from the rest of the family in the living room could be heard from the kitchen where Peter and his mother were cleaning up dinner. Peter had always been a momma’s boy, so it was no surprise when he offered to help her with the dishes. “So, do you want to tell me more about this girlfriend of yours?”

Karen watches as her son turns a bright shade of pink, but also doesn’t miss the hint of something other than nerves in his eyes. “I, um, what do you want to know?”

She places a comforting hand on his upper back, knowing the wheels are spinning inside of that intelligent head of his, “Whatever you want to tell me. Or if you don’t want to tell me anything at all that’s ok, too.”

“Well, she’s so different than me, Mom.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no not at all,” he smiles at the thought of his girlfriend, knowing that she’s probably munching on some random takeout she ordered while watching netflix as he speaks, “She’s extremely outgoing and is really well known around school, but not in a bad way. She’s just so social that everyone seems to know her. Her personality just evens me out, you know? Like she helps me get out of my comfort zone sometimes, little by little, and she’s always there next to me every step of the way. And she has this soft side that I’ve only seen her use around me. It makes me feel special, Mom. No girl has ever thought of me as anything other than Shawn and Raul’s brother. Then she comes around, takes one look at me and starts a full on conversation with me. And I’ll be honest I had a secret crush on her before we had even met, but how could I not? She’s just-she’s incredible, I don’t know.” He shakes his head with that lovesick grin on his face, Karen’s heart growing over how fondly her boy was talking about this girl that was obviously incredibly important in his life.

“Have you told her yet?” she asks cautiously, not wanting to overstep if he hadn’t even admitted it to himself.

“Told her what?”

“That you love her?”

“Oh, um, yeah actually. Just last week.” Karen’s smile grows even wider as she brings Peter into her arms, his head automatically coming to rest in the crook over her neck.

“Peter, I’m so happy for you. You know I would love to meet her, but if you don’t think either of you are ready for that, that’s perfectly fine, too.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he sighed, melting more into his mother’s embrace even though he towered over her by at least half a foot. “I’ll talk to her about it, but I’m scared. I’ve never brought a girl home before and I don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“You brought a girl home for dinner before? Oh what was her name, was it Jasmine?”

Peter groaned, releasing his mother from his grasp, “I was only a sophomore in high school, that doesn’t count. Besides, we only dated for like 2 months or something, I don’t even think it was that long.”

“Still, you have nothing to worry about, I’m sure she’d love to come,” Karen assured him as she placed a light kiss to his cheek before turning back to the dishes.

“I know, it’s just, I love her. I’ve never loved anyone like this before and it’s frightening. For one of the first times in my life I don’t know what to do and I can’t come up with a logical answer behind it.”

“You’ve gotta stop thinking with that brilliant head of yours and start thinking with this-” she stabs his chest lightly with the tip of her finger- “This is what will get you far with that girl, ok? You’ve got the kindest heart of anyone I know, Peter, and I have a feeling Y/n sees that, too. Just talk to her and if it helps, invite her over when Shawn brings Ellie, maybe it’d make her feel better. But talk to her, see what she needs.”

“Ok I will. I love you Mom, thank you.”

“I love you, too Peter, but it seems like I’ve got to share your love with someone else now. And I couldn’t be happier about it.” _______________

“What are you doing next weekend?” You look over at Peter from where you were finishing your nightly routine in the bathroom, seeing him staring up at you with hopeful eyes while laying on his bed.

“I don’t know, I don’t think anything. Why, what’s up?” you asked as you shut the light off in the bathroom before making your way towards your handsome boyfriend. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you turned to face him, running your fingers through his hair enough to make him lean into your touch. “It’s nothing, I mean it’s something, but it’s not that big of a deal, unless you think it’s a big deal then I guess…”

“Peter,” you chuckled, watching his frightened eyes look up at you, “Take a deep breath. There’s no need to worry, you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, it’s just…” he paused, not knowing how to actually bring it up. He wondered how pathetic you would think he was when you found out he was worrying himself over asking you to meet his parents, “It’s just, my parents want to meet you.”

“Oh, they do?” You’d be lying if you said your heart rate didn’t increase a little bit at his words. You obviously had met a boyfriend’s parents before, but that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking, especially because this was Peter’s parents you were talking about, the people who gave birth to the only person you had ever proclaimed your love to outside of your family. You may have won over the hearts of his brothers, but if you didn’t win over the hearts of his parents as well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

“Yeah, um, Shawn might have accidentally brought you up when we visited them two weeks ago and they seemed really excited to meet you. My mom especially, she invited you to dinner right after hearing about you. If you don’t want to go it’s fine, I don’t know if it’s too early or anything but…”

You shut his ramble up with a kiss on his lips, hovering over his body slightly to reach him. “I’d love to meet your parents bubs,” you mumbled against his lips, watching a wide grin form on his face when you pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You could feel his heart beating frantically under his t-shirt and you knew that even though your heart was beating equally as fast, you had to be the calm one in the relationship unless you wanted him to have a heart attack. Swinging a leg over his body, you straddled his waist, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. A smirk formed on your face as you leaned in to place a string of gentle kisses onto the base of his collarbones leading up to his jaw, wanting nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend, who looked especially hot in his grey sweatpants tonight, rather than worrying about screwing everything up with his parents.

“Mom said, um,” Peter’s words were caught in his throat as his brain began to fog up from the way your lips felt on him, his breathing beginning to quicken for a completely different reason then before, “She said you can, you can come to dinner with Shawn’s girlfriend if you-shit- if you don’t want to go alone.”

“I’m a big girl, I can go alone,” you muttered into his neck, beginning to suck hard enough on the soft skin on his neck that you knew it would leave a mark in the morning. His hands that had been basically frozen at his sides all night found purchase on your hips from your actions, a satisfied smirk growing larger on your face as a result. You brought a hand to rest on his chest, feeling his quick heartbeat under your palm while you pulled away from his neck to look into his wide eyes, “Pete, your heart’s racing.”

“Yeah, it kinda does that when I’m around you,” he whispered, averting your gaze in an attempt to hide his blushing cheeks. It was crazy how your mood could go from wanting to kiss every inch of him and leave marks behind in every place, to wanting to hug the shit out of him and squish his cheeks. So that’s exactly what you did. You laid your body on top of his, wrapping your arms around his neck as you inhaled his signature scent, “I love you so much, Peter Mendes.”

Peter wasted no time collecting you in his strong arms, pulling the blanket up to cover the two of you. “I love you too, angel. So-” he emphasized each word with a kiss on your head- “so, so much.”

Your heart burst at his words and you cuddled tighter into his warmth, “Let’s talk more in the morning, ok? But there is no doubt in my mind that I want to meet the people that created my favorite person.”

“You’re amazing, how’d I get so lucky?” he mumbled into your hair, “I already know they are going to love you as much as I do.” _______________

“Peter calm down, you’re more nervous than I am,” you laughed, placing your hand on his jittering leg. He averted his eyes quickly from the road to look at you and you could see the fear bubbling inside of them. “Bubs, what’s got you so worried? Do you not think they’ll like me?”

Moving one of his hands from where it was fidgeting against the steering wheel, he placed it over yours on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles onto your skin. “No, that’s not it at all, angel. They’re going to love you so much, there’s no fear in my mind about that. It’s just,” he sighed, squeezing your hand lovingly, “I’ve never taken a girl home before. I mean I did once when I was a sophomore in high school, but it wasn’t anything serious so it doesn’t feel the same. I just don’t know what to expect because I’m really serious about this, about us.”

“I don’t know what to expect either and that’s ok. Everything is going to be fine.” You brought his hand up to your lips and a smile graced his face at your actions. “And Peter...I’m very serious about this, too. I think now was the right time to take the next step for us.”

“I love you,” he whispered, eyes tearing away from the road for a slight moment to look you in the eyes.

“I love you too, bubs.” _______________

“Ok, ok, this is fine. We’re fine.”

“Peter, breathe. It’s going to be-”

“Peter! I’m so glad you made it,” Karen exclaimed, wrapping her son up in her arms. You stayed to the back, not wanting to interrupt their tender mother-son moment. You saw Karen whisper something into your boyfriend’s ear, allowing you to take a deep breath to calm your nerves before they broke apart. When the two separated, she turned to you with a wide smile on her face, “You, my dear, must be Y/n! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” You returned the smile immediately, offering a hand for her to shake, but she dodged it completely, choosing to bring you in for a hug just as she did with Peter.

It was strange how comforting it felt to be with her, you had known her for all of one minute and you already felt calmer in her grasp. Must be her special mom talent, “Thank you for having me tonight, Mrs. Mendes.”

“Oh please, no need for formalities. Call me Karen. Now why don’t the two of you come on in, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” Karen ushered the two of you inside and you were met with one of the most delicious smelling scents you ever had the pleasure of smelling. It was very clear that Peter got his cooking skills from his mother, even if you didn’t know his father’s cooking this scent easily mimicked one you’d find in the boy’s apartment.

“Hey son,” Manny greeted, pulling Peter in for a hug just as his mother did, “When are your brothers getting here?”

“They were right behind us when we were driving down. I assume they’ll be here in a couple minutes.”

“Perfect, just in time for dinner.” His father patted his shoulder lovingly before moving to face you, “Y/n right? I’m Manny, Peter’s father.”

He enveloped you in a hug as well and you could see the loving personality Peter had in both of his parents. “It’s so nice to meet you, thank you for letting me join you for dinner,” you smiled, watching Manny’s eyes crinkle beneath his glasses.

“Of course, I must say we’ve all been looking forward to meeting you. Peter has said some great things about you.”

“Dad…” Peter whined as he came closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “She doesn’t need to know.”

“Oh stop worrying, like I said, all good things.” With one last smile, Manny left the two of you, choosing to head towards the door where Shawn and Raul had just loudly made themselves known instead.

“Hey, we’re here!” You immediately recognized the voice as Shawn’s and for some reason, knowing that the two other triplets were here brought you a sense of comfort. Suddenly, you felt an arm sling around your shoulders, lightly bringing you into a playful chokehold, causing you to jump slightly from the fright. “Welcome to dinner at the Mendes’ house, newbie,” a husky voice whispered in your ear and you rolled your eyes, slapping the arm around you hard enough to make them release it without hurting them.

“Get out of here, Raul.”

Raul held his arm gingerly, a smug smirk on his face, “Hey, I’m a Mendes, you can’t kick me out. You on the other hand better watch it, missy, and stop injuring family members, you don’t have the superior last name to keep you safe.”

“Raul, stop.” You could tell by the sternness in your boyfriend’s voice that he was trying to assert some form of dominance over his slightly older brother as he pulled you tighter to his body, but Peter’s soft boy persona didn’t put a dent in Raul’s smirk.

“Hey, it’s your girlfriend you’ve got to control. She’s in the house for all of five minutes and she’s already breaking my arm.”

“Please, I barely touched you. I feel bad for all of the girls you’ve been with if your body is so fragile.”

“Damn, dishing it right back. I always knew you had a keeper, Pete.” Raul ruffled the curls on Peter’s head as the younger triplet tried to swat his hand away. Pleased with his work, Raul stepped away, shooting a teasing grin both of your ways before heading off to pester his poor mother. Peter sighed, scrunching up his glasses higher up his nose as he desperately tried to fix the mess of curls on his head to no avail.

“Come here,” you cooed, soft hands replacing his own on his head. Running your fingers gently through his hair a couple of times, you smiled to yourself when you felt his hands go instinctively to your hips, applying such little pressure that you wouldn’t have known they were there if you hadn’t already trained your body to sense Peter’s light touches. “I hope winning over your parents is as easy as winning over your brothers,” you whispered as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He blushed from your touch, leaning slightly into your hands that were placed delicately on his jaw, “I already know they love you. I can see it in their eyes.”

“And I love you.” You placed one last kiss on the tip of his nose as his mother announced that dinner was ready before heading towards the kitchen to offer your help. Peter watched from his seat at the table while you carried in dishes with his mother, his younger sister coming downstairs and following suit to grab some plates. He was typically the one that helped his mother, but when he saw you head over there on your own, he figured he should take a small step back and let you replace his help for a night.

Dinner went by without a hitch, both of his parents asking you basic questions about school, your interests, and your hobbies as you all ate. You were sat between Peter and Shawn, your boyfriend’s hand intertwined with yours under the table at all times. This caused a few comical moments when he would be so focused on what you were saying that his nondominant hand he was using to eat with would completely miss his mouth, but the embarrassment was short lived once you squeezed his hand reassuringly with a loving smile on your face. Karen and Manny absolutely adored you. They saw the way Peter looked at you and you returned that look every time, telling them everything they needed to know about the two of you without either of you uttering a single word. Aaliyah was more interested in what mascara you used (she claimed hers was always drying out and getting clumpy and apparently you had the greatest eyelashes she had ever seen) than how her brother was looking at you, but you were grateful all the same that she was comfortable enough to talk to you.

As the plates became bare on the table, the boys began to stand up to make their way towards the couch to pick a movie as they always did when they came back home. You stood up alongside Karen, moving to grab some plates before Peter grabbed your wrist to stop you, “It’s ok, angel, I always help Mom with the dishes. You can go pick out a movie with Raul and Shawn if you want to.”

You shook his hand off lightly, offering him a reassuring smile, “I’m fine. I’m more than happy to help.”

“But-”

“Peter, why don’t you go with your brothers. Y/n and I can have some nice girl talk while we clean up,” Karen suggested as she took some plates to the sink, leaving the two of them alone.

“Are you sure, angel? I do it every time it’s not a problem-”

“Bubs, it’s ok, I want to help. Go, I’ll meet you in there when we’re done.” You kissed the curls on top of his head before picking up more dishes on the table.

You and Karen cleaned in silence for a few moments, only speaking when she told you her preferred way of cleaning, until she spoke up, “You know it’s so wonderful that you were able to come out tonight. I’ve been wanting to meet you since he first told me about you at our last dinner.” “I’m so glad I could come. Thank you for dinner, it was so delicious, I know where Peter gets his cooking skills from,” you laughed, earning a sincere chuckle to leave Karen’s lips as well.

“Yeah, well I’m lucky one of them can cook. I don’t know how they’d live if that boy couldn’t make his way around the kitchen. Those other two troublemakers are hopeless,” she sighed with a disapproving shake of her head.

“You’re telling me, one time when I came over Raul almost burned down the place just trying to make pancakes.”

“Oh those boys, they are a handful aren’t they.”

“They are, but in the best way possible. You can tell they were raised right, they are some of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“Well thank you, I tried. Imagine trying to run after three little gremlins, that was my life 24/7 when they were kids.” You grinned at the thought of three little boys, all with an identical mop of curls on their head that bounced around while they ran away giggling from their worried mother. “Peter was always the calmer of the bunch though, always a big momma’s boy. I’m just so happy that he’s found someone like you.”

“I’m so happy to have found him. I honestly don’t think I deserve him sometimes, he’s just such a beautiful soul.” Your eyes found their way to your handsome boyfriend on the loveseat in the living room, head thrown back in laughter over something his brother had said. You admired the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled and the crease lines on his cheeks from his evident happiness.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey. I may not have known you long, but just by talking to you tonight and the way Peter has talked so highly about you, I can tell you’re a wonderful person as well. And you know what they say, a mother’s intuition never lies.” Her focus went back to the dishes for a moment as she pondered her next words carefully, “You know, even though I never told anyone this, I always had a slight fear that Peter wouldn’t be able to experience young love like his brother’s have.”

You paused your movements for a moment, your attention fully on her now, “What made you think that?”

“Well, Peter has always had his goals set straight. It was always school and grades and a job, which is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but he never let himself stray from that path even if it meant he could be happier. He never had the courage to talk to a girl either, he’s always been my shy little boy, and I don’t know. I was just worried that he might be too in his head to let himself be open with someone like he is with you.”

Tears were beginning to well in your eyes at her words and you quietly sniffled to yourself to try to tame the emotions that were threatening to spill from your chest, “That means a lot to me that Peter chose to open up to me. I haven’t prioritized dating either since I’ve been in college, so we’re learning together, but I’m willing to take whatever he will give me. I think very highly of your son and I’m very serious about this with him.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” she told you sincerely, placing the last clean dish in the cupboard before bringing you in for a tight hug, “I know the two of you haven’t been dating awfully long, but you are always welcome to come over for dinner. We’d all love to have such a kind hearted person at our table.”

“Thank you, I truly can’t thank you enough.”

“No need to thank me. I should be thanking you for bringing so much joy to my son.” She pulled away with a smile as she motioned to the living room, “Now let’s go see what those troublemakers are up to.”

Upon approaching the boys, Peter’s eyes immediately caught yours and he motioned for you to join him, lifting the blanket so you could snuggle up next to him. “How’d it go in there?’ he asked, hand coming up to play with your fingers, “Did she scare you away yet?”

“No,” you laughed lightly, “She definitely didn’t scare me away. I don’t plan on going anywhere for a long time. You’re stuck with me, loser.”

“I don’t know, being stuck with you? Sounds to me like I’m a winner.” He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a light kiss before wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him. The loud chatter of voices came to a minimum as Manny pressed play and you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to be welcomed into the Mendes household.

[tsuzuruchipalace]

rating mankai company based on character design

Note: I will take into account hair, color scheme, sprite poses, mostly outfits that are not from plays or scouts, and memorability. This is half an objective view and half my personal opinion.

Disclaimer: I curse a lot for comedic effort. I am mean because I am funny. No, you cannot disagree.

Spring 🌸

sakuya: you get what you see. a literal spring babey. his hair and color scheme’s a little generic, but he’s mankai’s poster boy, so that’s understandable. speaking of generic, his main pose is just this emoji 🧍‍♂️ his outfits tend to be kinda basic, but any outfit with a mostly pink top gets him bonus points. 6/10

masumi: okay his hair is elite. probably one of the most memorable character design aspects among the cast. his mole and eyes also make him very pretty. love my boy’s dark color scheme. unfortunately, points must be docked for baiting us with the emo fit, then as the story progresses, he starts dressing like the trust fund kid he is smh. 9/10

tsuzuru: i love you tsuzu but. my mans is so basic. if he didn’t have such a great personality, he’d be as bland as untoasted white bread. the saya of a3. his best design aspect is the fact that he doesn’t dye his roots. his outfits look comfy, but not necessarily eye-catching. 4/10

itaru: everyone who starts a3! with no knowledge of these characters has one (1) thought about itaru. sec sea man. so obviously there’s something appealing/good about his character design. i think part of the appeal is his fuck-all demeanor. obviously, his eyes and hairstyle are attractive, but the way the artists draw him gives him an air of not caring, which is also attractive in a way. his dyed tips are also nice. he looks kinda lame when he dresses professionally, but his casual outfits hit. especially the ones with light pink. 8/10

citron: although i’m not a big fan of the “character is foreign and therefore must talk and dress different and be funny” trope in these types of media, his fashion does make him stand out from the other characters who tend to have more basic clothes. citron’s summer, travel, and autumn outfits SLAP and anyone who says otherwise has bad taste. his hair and eyes are interesting, but his overall color scheme can be a bit repetitive. 7/10

chikage: i hate this guy’s fucking bowlcut. fucking salad bowl lookin ass. every outfit is the same turtleneck and sneakers in two alternate colors. his outfits are so plain. only thing i like is his casual outfit glasses. HOWEVER. that’s the point. he’s supposed to look boring and blend in because he’s a spy. it’s a smart design, i just don’t like it so im docking points. stay mad about it. 5/10

Summer ☀️

tenma: im yawning. you think tsuzu was boring? this guy has orange hair and i still find his design boring. that’s how you know he’s basic. he’s got generic messy shounen protag hair. he could be from any property. if i drew fanart of him, people would ask where he’s from. he either dresses like your slightly homophobic frat boy classmate or a grandfather who gets his shit stolen by the asshole kids next door. 2/10

yuki: he has the r a n g e. all of yuki’s casual outfits hit. they’re all different, but cute in their own way. to no one’s surprise, one of the best styled characters. though i like his general color scheme, i’m personally not the biggest fan of his hairstyle. it’s okay, but a little plain at times. but i think it suits him well. 7/10

muku: i love him. muku’s design is what i love about this game. you see him, and you immediately know what his character archtype is supposed to be. he’s the soft, cute boy. and if this was a mediocre series, that’d be all muku is. but since this is a3, he’s so much more than that. he’s smart, passionate, sensitive to others’ feelings, and protective. a3 does a great job designing characters that look exactly like their archtype, but having a much more developed personality than that. getting back to the actual subject at hand, i love his hairstyle and color, as well as his outfits. you can never go wrong with light pink hair. i may be biased but fuck you. 10/10

misumi: another great memorable design. his eye shape and hair style are really unique. his outfits also elevate his design. street fashion is always a plus for me. though sumi’s design is special in the world of a3! where most of the characters are just. guys. regular lookin dudes. i think that outside of the game, his design would not be as unique. 8/10

kazunari: personally, im a fan. maybe it’s cause i have an affinity for blonde anime boys. but his hairstyle is pretty unique and his trendy looks set him apart from most characters, even outside this game. and he has a pretty lovable expression in his sprites. his fatal flaw is that his fits are either a hit or miss. they’re either really cute or wtf. at least he’s memorable. 8/10

kumon: i love that he reminds me of an owl. his hair and eyes are very cute and his color scheme is great. and i think they did a great job making him look related to juza, but still very much his own character. but he dresses like your classmate from middle school that looks like a nike-sponsored highlighter. yeah, he’s the sporty one, and i like the windbreakers but... i cannot excuse his summer fit. also, i find his design a little tame compared to some of the other characters in the game. 6/10

Autumn 🍂

banri: i hate his hair. i hate it so much. i know in canon it’s nice and he takes good care of it, but it looks so fucking greasy. the style makes him look so greasy and it makes me mad. he looks like an asshole. i mean, he is, so it fits. if this dumb bitch changed his hair more often, i’d like his design so much more. you saw this coming; his love for cheetah print is fucking repulsive. BUT, maybe unpopular opinion, minus the animal print, his sense of fashion is not bad. why do yall clown on it. if the fit is fresh, the fit is fresh. anyway, he looks like an ass, but objectively his design is kinda eh. 5/10

juza: im sorry im DEADLY fucking biased when it comes to juza, but he’s so handsome. his hair is a such a rich, pretty shade of purple and his eyes are so mesmerizing. his hairstyle is so attractive. his face is so pretty. yeah his design isn’t crazy unique, but the simplicity just works. im so sorry im this man’s whore i didn’t choose this life... but i can stop being a simp for one second to say that he has a boring fashion sense. i mean it’s kinda hot how simple his outfits are but his travel fit is good-- wait a minute i just remembered the fucking sandals. docking one point. 9/10

taichi: okay shut the fuck up i LOVE taichi’s design. so eye-catching and fun. as i’ve said i love street fashion, and taichi’s lil e-boy fits are right up my alley. that shade of bright red goes so well with his fashion sense, making a really cohesive design. with his main outfit, you can tell he purposely dresses like that to be trendy and it’s so smart. 10/10

omi: im sorry omi stans but his design is kinda,, boring. i legit had such a hard time identifying him when i first got into this game. the scar saves it a bit. but... only a bit. he’s just got. hair. and a dad outfit. i mean his tits are huge, but i don’t think i can call that a character design aspect. kinda forgettable design. i don’t dislike it though, so he ranks higher than tenma did. 3/10

sakyo: im not sure why but i really like sakyo’s design?? the contrast of his light hair and his dark clothes is nice. also, megane rights. even when i thought he was an npc during my first playthrough, i really dug his design and thought he was memorable. i actually cannot pinpoint a reason why. i wish i had more constructive things to say... but upon thinking about it, he has a karen haircut, which kinda dampers my thoughts on his design. i like his moles, but i honestly did not notice them until the game pointed them out. 7/10

azami: azami has a damn good design. i don’t think anyone can deny that. the long hair, the contrast of black hair and bright blue eyes, his eye shape. all very eye-catching design aspects. and the street fashion style strikes again. the color scheme matches well with everything. this review is lame, but there’s really only good things i can say about his design so. 10/10

Winter ❄️

tsumugi: it’s so late and im so tired of looking at these sprites. anyway, tsumugi’s design is okay. i think his color scheme’s a bit limited and his outfits are a bit meh. he has a more respectable bowlcut than chikage, but it’s still a bowlcut and it’s still boring. i think the best part of his design is his eyes, they’re very soft and kind. but other than that, tsumugi looks pretty basic. 5/10

tasuku: tbh, i didn’t even realize that the godza member tasuku was the same character as the winter troupe guy in the game’s opening until the middle of episode 3... yeah. im slow. ooooooor... tasuku has the worst fucking design in the game. yeah i said it. come at me, but tasuku’s design fucking sucks. i literally thought he was a minor character until they forced me to realize he wasn’t. his fashion sense is... questionable at best. i look at that man’s hair and think he doesn’t shampoo. he looks so bland i could dry up from looking at him. im sorry but his tits do not make up for the sheer fucking snorefest of his character design. he’s so boring i won’t elaborate anymore. 1/10

hisoka: ya get what ya see part 2. i like that i can tell he’s the sleepy and mysterious character just by his design, but honestly, that’s a character trope im generally not a big fan of. so i wasn’t thrilled by hisoka’s design at first. but it’s effective. i like the hairstyle with the white hair, but i’m not too fond of his color scheme. his outfits look comfy and soft though. it makes sense, but it’s nothing too memorable if you compare him to characters outside the game. 5/10.

homare: ah, now this is a memorable character design. his hairstyle annoyed me in the beginning, but now i love it. it’s so unique and fun. and i like the purple. i also like his outfits. very classy. but honestly, most of his charisma lies in his face. i think that the pure eccentricity of the hairstyle is enough to put him in the top tier without considering any other element. you really could not find this design in any other media. fuck it. i don’t need to consider anything else. 9/10

azuma: i’ll be honest. im not a fan of long-haired anime men. especially the pretty, flirty types. i don’t know, i just don’t vibe with them. originally, i didn’t like azuma’s design, but now i do. i don’t know how, but i think it’s because azuma is just that powerful. his ponytail makes it more bearable for me and i like the way his bangs frame his face. he just has pretty eyes and face. unfortunately his color scheme is a little too repetitive for me and his casual outfits are a little boring. 6/10

guy: maybe it’s because he looks dead inside, but i love him. i don’t even know this character that well yet, but i think his deadass expression is great. the darker under-eyeline sets him apart from the other characters and i love how he dresses. i think his hair is kinda eh. i personally like it, but objectively, it’s meh. it’s a solid design, but ngl it’s nothing special when i really think about it. 6/10

[thiswasinevitableid]

if you're in the mood for requests i would absolutely LOVE something from the hidebehind au? (maybe including blindfold sex??)

Here you go! I decided to do this for monster march. We’ll figure this counts as prompt 18: claws.

All things considered, Duck is lucky. He’s employed which, given when the newspapers are calling the great depression raging across the country, is a blessing. His days are spent among the mighty trees of the Pacific Coast, he has a small cabin all to himself, and a cat to keep the mice away. 

He just wishes he wasn’t working for a fucking logging company hundreds of miles away from anyone he’s ever known. 

Winthrop Logging needed someone with an arborist or botanists training to make sure the woods stayed healthy before they were chopped down. So they pay Duck a fine sum to make sure diseases or pests don’t send their prospects toppling like dominos. As he traverses his usual route between the trees, he wonders if there will ever be a way to convince them to preserve some of the land rather than profit from it. 

He stops, studying a pine. There it is again, the feeling that someone, or something, is behind him. Watching. Waiting. 

It started three weeks ago, when he was deeper in the woods than usual, humming to himself and occasionally talking to the trees. The skin on his neck prickled, all his senses forcing him from his thoughts and into the present moment; something was there, tracking him as he moved. Not a bear, our a cougar, as the birds still called and the insects chorused. Whatever it was stood directly behind him, yet when he turned to look, there was nothing but the path. 

For the first few days he tried to spot it, never got more than a flicker in the corner of his eye. He came home exhausted, the day spent on high alert as the primal part of his mind demanded he remain on guard for the moment his hunter decided to strike. 

The moment hasn’t come, and Duck is growing used to the gaze crawling up his spine. He decided to ignore it, pretend it was just his imagination and some days that worked. 

Today, there’s no getting around the fact that something is peering over his shoulder. Twice now he’s felt fingers millimeters from his neck. When he feels them again, he reaches his arm back, eyes firmly on his notes, and grabs hold of his stalker.

----------------------------------------------

Humans are not known for their speed. Indrid’s foresight showed this one as no exception, so when the man is fast enough to grab his leg, he chirps in surprise. 

“Fuckin knew it, there is someone back there.” Warm fingers smooth across the short down of his leg.

Indrid appreciates being called a someone instead of a thing, but not the position of Duck’s hand. 

“Please let go. That is my thigh you are grabbing. My upper thigh.”

The hand stays put, “Anyone ever tell you it’s mighty rude to stand right behind a fella when he’s tryin to work?”

“I cannot stand anywhere else, though the proximity is due to-”

“Uh huh, sure, just like you can’t help but play and hide and seek whenever I try to figure out what’s goin on. Lemme guess, you’re one of the other fellas from the loggin camp playin tricks on the new guy?”

“I am nothing of the kind.” Indrid contemplates moving the hand himself, but it feels so very nice.

“One of the locals then? I keep tellin you, I’m a country boy, I’m not gonna get scared by campfire tales or weird noises in the woods. Try that government fella instead.”

“What about the part of me you are touching suggests I am human?”

“Probably a left-over monkey suit or somethin’ from Halloween.”

“I am not a costume, I am a Hidebehind.”

The human pauses, then shakes his head, “No such thing.”

“You are literally touching one.” Indrid stamps his foot, frustrated by the turn this is taking and the fact that futures do not show the human believing him any time soon. 

“Don’t believe I am.” The human turns his head. Indrid’s body whips sideways, keeping him from view. The human holds on, tries again from the opposite direction, only for Indrid to be wrenched back the way he came. 

“Stop movin!”

“Stop trying to look at me!” He’s twisted to the side once more, wrenching the humans arm in the process. 

“Ow!” The grip on him tightens, “quit this fuckin game right now. You don’t lemme see you, I’ll drag you right back to camp with me.”

“I can’t!” Indrid chirps, panicked, the noise continuing into a wail of alarm at what might happen if he’s surrounded with nowhere to hide. 

His fear must register as genuine, as the human releases him with a sigh. After a moment he removes his hat, running his fingers through his hair but not turning around. 

“You still there?” 

“Yes.”

“Why are you even followin me in the first place?”

A peek at the futures says the truth will be most effective, though almost all timelines end with the human telling him to “get gone.”

“I find you intriguing. You do not chop or hack at my home, you study it. You speak to the trees when you think you are alone. You look soft to touch, especially the fur on your head. I like looking at you and being near you. That was why I stood so close.”

“...You been followin me because you’re sweet on me?” The drawl, as soothing as movement of water through plant limbs, seems confused. 

“I do not find you sweet. I could only do that if I ate you. Which I do not want to do.

A chuckle, “Not quite what I meant. You been hangin around me because you think I’m swell and wanna get to know me. Guess I can’t fault you for that, I'm a decent fella to know if I do say so myself.  You got a name?”

“Indrid.” This is an unexpected turn of the timelines. 

“Nice to meet you, Indrid. I’m-”

“-Duck” Indrid says along with him, “apologies, I can see the future and am thus a bit ahead in conversations.”

“Huh. Well, I gotta head back to town. If you wanna talk again, I won’t mind. Just tell me you want to instead of lurkin, you hear?”

Indrid grins, “Yes. I hear you perfectly.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Fuck” Duck picks himself up from the dirt where he fell, brushing pine needles from his coat. He’d been angling for a better look at a set of roots and tripped over a different set in the process. 

“Are you alright?” A now familiar voice asks from behind a tree to his left. 

“Depends. You see me make a fool of myself by fallin on my face?”

“Yes.”

“Then my body is fine but my dignity is real wounded.”

A laugh like spring breeze through new leaves, “I suspect it will recover. You do have quite a deal of leaves in your hair. May I help you with them?”

Duck nods. Slender fingers pluck at his hair.

“Ohhh, it is just as soft as I thought it would be.” Indrid murmurs, “does it feel nice?”

“Don’t feel like much--oh, uh, fuck, that does though. Feels damn good.” Duck groans as claws scritch his scalp. The first time he felt them on his shoulder when Indrid was talking, he tensed; The hidebehind isn’t small, and the claws suggest he could shred Duck to bits and scatter him across the woods. But after weeks of keeping him company, Duck knows the worst Indrid might do to him is steal too much of his lunch. 

The hidebehind, endlessly fascinated by Duck’s job, will sit out of sight as he works. Duck asked him if he only watched Duck the entire time. It turns out the creature draws as well, and Duck now recognizes the sound of a pencil under the rustle of leaves and calls of wildlife. Indrid also spares Duck dangerous climbs into the trees, offering to look at marks or discoloration and describe them if they’re too high for the human to see. 

Turns out he also gives a mean rubdown, his claws moving from Duck’s head to his neck, banishing the knot that’s been bothering him all morning. 

“I like touching you.” Indrid chirps. Duck hasn’t forgotten their first meeting; if a man had come to him with such flattering shyness in his voice and an interest in Ducks body, he’d have been in Duck’s bed by the end of the night. 

He’s not ready to take a hidebehind home, but he’s ready to tease one.

“Seems mighty unfair that you get to touch and I don’t.”

“You would have to close your eyes to so much as shake my hand. My form does not care how little of me you would see, it will pull me into hiding regardless.”

“Then I’ll close my eyes.” Duck does just that, tips his head back so Indrid can see it’s safe. One hand continues massaging his head, while a spindly arm reaches around his chest.

“Bring your arms up, towards you a bit more, yes, there we are.” 

Duck runs his hands over the limb; it reminds him of Manzanita bark he saw in the Sierra Nevadas, smooth but unmistakably of the woods. Towards the elbow the texture changes to soft, short feathers, like the ones on Indrids leg. 

The hidebehind tightens his hold, pulling Duck to his torso. More feathers prickle the back of his neck and the creature shudders. 

“You alright back there?”

“I...it has been so very long since anyone or anything touched me. I foresaw my body being sensitive to it but the intensity is, is-” he lets go so suddenly Duck stumbles, “I am sorry, it was too much and yet I wanted, wanted more.”

Images of Indrid surrounding him, chirping and purring as Duck touches him all over, flood his mind. The embarrassment in his voice keeps the arborist from acting on them. 

“You, uh, gonna show me that Saw-Whet Owl nest?”

“Of course, sweet human. Take the right fork of that deer trail just ahead, and we shall go from there.”

------------------------------------------

“I have something for you. Close your eyes.” 

Duck, still perching on the stump he was using as a lunch chair, does as instructed. Indrid sets a piece of paper in his right hand. 

“You may now look.”

An illustration fills the entire page. It shows a being with stick-like arms and legs leading to a narrow body covered in short, leaf shaped feathers in mottled browns and greens. The face is angular, shaded to suggest it’s dusted with fuzz, and leads to several stick-shaped horns. The eyes are wide and black, the claws long, and there are short, triangular shapes behind its shoulders. 

“Holy fuck, you’ve got wings?”

“Indeed. I do not use them much. I believe they help my kind migrate when our habitats dwindle.”

Duck traces the face on the paper, “How long did it take you to make this?”

“Two days, as the lakes I use to study my reflection tend to attract townspeople and loggers looking to take a break from their toil.”

“You did all this just ‘cause I said I wished I knew what you looked like.”

“Not solely. I...I wanted to show you it as well. So you might know the face of the one who, ah, whose days you brighten.”

Carefully, Duck folds the portrait and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat, “Find I like my work even better with your company too, ‘Drid. Would you, uh, be okay if I tried to match what you showed me to what I can feel?”

An intrigued chirr floats through the air as Duck shuts his eyes and waves to the ground in front of him. A scuff and rustle of dirt and leaves, and then he feels Indrid in front of him. Cool hands guide his own onto the multicolored feathers.

“Shoulders?”

“Correct.” Indrid moves their joined hands upwards, stopping on velvet-dusted cheeks, “oh, oh goodness, I have always wanted to be held like this.”

“Yeah?” Duck’s heartbeat is in his fingertips, “what else have you always wanted?”

“To, to be touched, to be known, toMMMphohh” a rough tongue laps at his lips as he pulls Indrid into an awkward, bowed kiss. 

“How’s that, darlin?” Duck kisses along what he thinks is Indrids’ jaw, “that the kind of knowin’ you in the mood for?”

“Yes, oh my sweet human you spoil me, oh” claws grab his shoulders, “I, do you really wish this, with me? This was in so few timelines I assumedAH” he squirms adorably as Duck gropes the feathers of his chest.

“You better believe it, sugar. It’s the weirdest goddamn thing I ever wanted and I want it, want you, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long fuckin time.” Curious and eager to fill every one of his senses with Indrid, he buries his face against his upper chest, finds skin beneath all the camouflage and bites down. The hidebehind keens, pulling Duck from his seat into his lap. Duck laughs, bites down once more and gets a nose full of fluff. 

“AhCHOO!” His eyes pop open on reflex after he sneezes, sending the hidebehind out of view and Duck flat on the ground. 

“Blasted physiology” Indrid chirrs, frustrated. 

Duck sits up, Indrid’s cries of pleasure ringing in his ears and giving him all kinds of reckless ideas. 

“Don’t worry, darlin. If my hidebehind wants to romancin’, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

-------------------------------------------------

He takes to wearing a kerchief around his neck at work. The loggers and company pencil pushers assume it’s an affectation, not a tool for covering his eyes for some uninterrupted kisses while deep in the woods.  Today, he’s not sure kisses will be enough. 

Duck woke up hard, dream of Indrid looming above him in bed fading into the morning sun. His hidebehind has yet to show himself, so the humans mind has nothing but his fantasies to distract him on his trek through the woods. 

He’s ahead on his tasks for the day. He’s five miles deep in the woods. And he’s got an idea. 

After rinsing his hands with water from his canteen, he leans back against a tree and undoes his suspenders, followed by his fly. Closing his eyes, he slips his fingers into his underwear, teasing himself and sending soft moans into the air. It doesn’t take long before he’s wet enough to push two up into himself with ease.

“‘Drid” he gasps, letting his head loll back, “‘Drid, fuck, that feels so fuckin good.”

A single leaf crunches in front of him, and his kerchief slowly slides up his face to shield his eyes. 

“It is about to feel much better, dear one.” Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Shall I take this shameless display as evidence that you wish for me to, ah, fuck you?”

“That it does. And I’ll have you know I got plenty of shaAAmeWHoah.” Duck flails as his pants fall down and his body flies up in one smooth motion. Indrids claws prick his thighs as he spreads them open, holding him against the trunk with ease. 

“So very polite of my sweet one to prepare himself for me. It makes this all the easier.” A round, bumpy cock teases his folds, pressing in with a stretch that makes Duck twist in his lovers hold. 

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so fucking good but holy fuck, are you packin a fuckin pine tree down thereOH, ohfuckdarlin, that’s, that’s as far as it’s gonna go.”

“Half of it? My, who knew my human could take so much? Wait, it is not too much, correct?”

“N-nope, just the right amount” the bumps rub every inch inside him, one on the shaft catching his cock as Indrid thrusts and wiggles his hips. 

“Wonderful” Indrid purrs, “I have dreamed of this all dayAHnnncareful” he chides after Duck bites the part of his arm he’s able to reach, “or I shall take you so roughly your back will wear imprints of bark for days.”

Duck whimpers excitedly, very aware of thick pre-cum dripping into him, “Yeah lets do that.”

He can hear the grin.

“If you insist.”

“FUCKohfuckohfuck” his hands scrabble at the tree and at Indrid’s arms, “that’s it darlin, that’s it, fuck, gonna give you the best goddamn rub-down after this, touch you until your body forgets what it’s like to be without my fuckin hands on it.” Leaves scatter in his hair and down the back of his shirt as Indrids fucking turns frantic. 

“I, I shall hold you to that AHhnn, sweet one, you are so tight, so deliciously slick and inviting, I, I am not going to last long, you are too perfect, just touching you makes me burn like wildfire” His thrusts sharpen, never pushing too deep but making Duck feel like a log split beneath an axe of ecstasy, “Duck, sweetheart, yes, yesyesyes” Indrid spills into him, cum running out of Ducks body and back down his shaft. 

For a minute, Duck is nothing more than a pinned specimen, spread eagle on the tree as Indrid shudders, purrs, and drags fuzzy kisses along his throat. Then his shirt rides up as he slips down the tree, but Indrid doesn’t put him down. Instead, a rough tongue glides up one thigh and then the other. The human gasps, gripping Indrid’s horns for balance as Indrid buries his face between his legs.

“Ohhhhhh, oh I do so love tasting how we mingle together.” Indrid’s breath is ragged and hot against his dick, “I am going to do this every day.”

“Please” Duck squeezes his horns, his orgasm painfully close, “please ‘Drid, wanna cum on your tongue, want you holdin me up while I, I-ohfuck.” His legs kick weakly as Indrid sucks him off, tongue lavishing his cock with so much friction he goes hoarse from moaning. The fact he cannot see makes it all the better, makes his world nothing more than Indrids mouth, his claws, his desire that wraps around Duck like vines. 

He cums, arching his hips into the “thank yous” Indrid presses to his legs. 

When his boots touch the ground, deft claws begin pulling his clothes into order, Indrid kissing and caressing him as he does. 

“Y’know, I can get my own britches up.” Duck ruffles a nearby patch of feathers. 

“I know, but I wish to take care of you. Hidebehinds are attentive to our mates, and while I cannot build you a nest, and I can least clean you up after you let me do something so wonderful with you.”

Duck wraps his arms around the cryptid, resting his cheek against him, “Would you wanna do this, uh, wonderful somethin again?”

“Of course.”

The human smiles, reaches his hand up to stroke Indrids cheek. This means he feels the hidebehind smile when Duck says, “Glad to hear it. But I’ll have you know, one of these days I’m gonna expect a nest.”

[bubblesuga]

By My Side

Summary|| Kim Namjoon- Teacher’s Assistant, Sex God, and the last thing you expected to have in your mouth. Name or otherwise. When Namjoon offers to tutor you, you couldn’t pass up that offer even though he didn’t give you much of a choice. 

Word Count: 8,892

Warnings: smut, fluff, and everything in between

Part 3 of my College!AU series

Astrophysics wasn’t top of your list on things to minor in. 

You could have chosen Literature, Creative Writing, hell you would have even been happy in Art. However, you took Astrophysics. Of all fucking things. 

For a while you wanted to drop the class, change your minor or just solely try to focus on your major which was Business Marketing. You hear you have a higher chance of obtaining a job in that field anyway, and you got a real ass chewing from your friend when they found out you signed up for Astrophysics. 

The problem was that the day you planned on dropping the course, Kim Namjoon of all people convinced you not to. 

It’s not like you had a reason to listen to him, and he wasn’t talking directly to you but instead offered his reasons to the class as to why he stuck through it and decided to become a TA the following year. He loved space that much. 

So now, every time you walked into the lecture room you couldn’t help but look to see if Mr. TA was at the front of the class. 

The thing about Namjoon was that he was smart, beyond what you believed anyone could be at your age and although he was only a little older than you, you still felt like he had the knowledge of the entire universe in the palm of his hand. 

You suddenly became much more interested in Astrophysics after that. 

“...and that makes a bit of you as old as time. While the heavier bits in your body were formed in the hearts of stars, the hydrogen in your body was formed a mere three minutes after the initial Big Bang,” you professor spoke, your pen scrawling across the paper, “but the protons in your body was made a millionth of a second after the Big Bang. Some of the protons that formed in the earliest parts of the universe, are in you today.” 

As he continued to speak, you watched Namjoon with a red pen, marking various papers. He gnawed on his nails, then looked up, sensing his eyes on you. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat quietly and looking down at your paper.

Your professor glanced up to the clock, “Okay. I want to go home early today so get out of my classroom please. Everyone except for Miss. (Y/L/N).” 

Confused, you stayed seated while you watched everyone else pack up and walk out of the classroom. The professor made his way up to your seat, sitting on the desk with a sigh. “So, I really don’t want to have to fail you. Your last two terms showed 67% on both of your finals.” 

“U-uhm, yeah I’ve been struggling a little bit.” You noticed Namjoon watching you, his eyes peaking softly out from his glasses. His hair was done so well, gelled up with the lilac color framing his face nicely. 

“Do you want to be in this class? Because I’d rather you drop it if you feel like it’s a waste of your time.” The professor came off harsh, but you knew his intentions were kind. 

“No! I love this class! I’ll work harder, I’m so sorry. I promise by the end of this term I’ll give you an A.” You explained, your voice coming off both apologetic and defensive at the same time. 

“Okay, I’m looking forward to giving you that A then. You may go.” 

You stood abruptly, trying to ignore the embarrassment you felt from Namjoon hearing that conversation. He didn’t seem to react to the things the professor said, and you were sure that he was used to hearing conversations like these but that didn’t take away your embarrassment nonetheless. 

As you were about to walk out, you heard your name. When you turned around, Namjoon was stood from his desk. 

“You know, I could tutor you if you want.” His hands gestured picking up and dropping the pen on the table. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was nervous. 

“Oh, no thanks. I can’t afford a tutor.” You gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging and slipping your arms through the straps of your back pack. Mostly filled with math text books, you felt the weight take an immediately shift on your shoulders. 

Namjoon returned the smile, “I’ll do it for free.” 

“Really?” Your eyes went wide, “You don’t have to. I’m sure you have a busy enough schedule as it is.” 

“Not really, I’m ahead in all of my classes. I think by the time I have to start worrying about them again I can have you up to par in here.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

You pondered for a moment, wondering if it was really worth it to have the hottest guy you had ever seen tutoring you in a subject you had no idea about. He seemed to notice your ponder, chuckling softly. 

“I don’t bite.” 

Finally, you nodded. “Okay, when?” 

“I’m free right now.” He picked up his things, walking towards you. You allowed him to pass you, leading you out of the doors. He stopped walking in the center of the grass in front of the science building. Plopping down, he waited for you to sit. 

You raised an eyebrow, the grassy area shaded just well enough with trees but the warmth of the sun still hitting your skin. The grass was damp underneath your mostly bare legs, your shorts short enough for you to have to sit on your feet otherwise you would have a flashing situation that you really didn’t want to have to deal with. 

“Okay so the main test you need to worry about is the General Exam. A lot of the questions are on ancient science, more specifically how the Greeks began the human ascent into our knowledge of the stars and space itself.” Namjoon began, and already you felt your brain being clouded over with blank thoughts. 

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to follow along to the best of your ability. 

“How did the Greeks determine the size of the Earth?” 

You stared at him, your eye twitching while you dug around your brain for the answer. You knew the answer was there somewhere, so you open your notebook and flip through the notes from last week. 

“Uhm... They waited until a lunar eclipse and measured the shadow that the Earth cast on the moon.” The tip of your pen clicked against the notebook. Namjoon met your eyes, kindness lacing them while his eyebrow raised. He genuinely wanted to help you, and you prayed you didn’t become too enchanted by the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Correct. What did they study specifically though?” 

You stared down at your notes again, “The diameter of Earth’s conical shadow, which they found that shadow’s diameter was about two and a half times the moon’s diameter.” 

“Good again.” Namjoon said, encouraging you while he continued to ask you questions. 

When it got to parts that were particularly hard to remember, he was patient while you sifted through your notes and textbooks to find the answer. Although your conversation with him previously was limited to asking him for a pencil, you found yourself comfortable with him quickly. 

Namjoon finally reached into his bag, pulling out an older textbook and opening it to a bookmarked page. Carefully, he explained Maxwell’s equations as if he was born to teach. You admired his intelligence, seeing a blush grow on his face once he noticed that you weren’t looking at where his finger’s were pointing on the page. 

“Uh, (Y/N)? Focus.” He snapped in your face, breaking you out of your trance and causing you to flip your eyes down to the paper. 

“S- sorry. You just have cute dimples.” As the words left your mouth you wanted desperately to swallow them back up and then sink into the ground in embarrassment. 

You expect him to laugh, but you didn’t expect him to laugh this hard. 

“H- holy shit, that was out of nowhere!” He hollered, clutching his stomach as he fell back into the tall grass. People around you two were beginning to stare, each holding a smirk of their own while you covered your face and fell backward into the grass yourself. 

Still laughing, he uttered his next sentence, “I mean, I knew you liked me but damn. I thought I would have to work you a little longer to get you to admit it.” 

“What?” You pulled yourself onto your elbows, staring at him with a gaunt expression, “who said I liked you? I just said you have cute dimples! I say that to everyone who has dimples!” 

“Don’t bullshit yourself, babe. I see the way you stare at me in class, you can’t deny it. Especially with how obvious you are about it.” He rolled his eyes, his laughter finally calming down while he reopened his book. 

“Whatever. Just tutor me.” Your voice came out in a growl, grabbing your pencil. Namjoon’s dimples deepened, deciding not to press the issue any further as he noticed your. . . agitation? Embarrassment? He couldn’t tell exactly. 

~*~*~

“Joon!” Namjoon’s head whipped towards the direction of his name, spotting Taehyung running towards him in his apron. Blue paint dripped from the ends of his hair, a trail of different colors in his wake while he rushed towards Namjoon. 

“What happened to you?” He couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Taehyung’s usually bright demeanor had been replaced with one of annoyance. 

“She happened!” Taehyung cried out, pointing to a girl across the campus yard with equally bright amounts of orange paint on her. She shot a middle finger his way and turned towards the girl’s dance hall. 

He turned back to Namjoon, “Can I shower at your place? I really don’t want to walk all the way to mine.” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ll give you my key, I’ve got a date.” Namjoon said, pulling out his keys and slipping his house key off the key ring. He dropped it into Taehyung’s red colored hands, sighing and rubbing his face from annoyance once he realized the apartment would be messy when he got home. 

“A date, huh?” 

“Well not really,” Namjoon and Taehyung walked somewhat briskly, ignoring the stares of passerby, “I’m tutoring her, but she likes me.” 

“And you like her?” Taehyung, ever so curious, walked passed the turn to Namjoon’s apartment to get an answer. 

“Go get cleaned up before the Dean spots you.” Namjoon turned back with a smirk, watching his younger friend roll his eyes. His shoes squelched as he walked, signaling the paint had made it’s way down into his socks. 

After the first tutoring session ended, Namjoon was sure to set up the next. Then the next, then the next. He found your reluctance to continue with tutoring sessions after he called your crush out somewhat cute. 

He had yet to bring it up again, instead opting to watch you while you drank way more water than you needed and stared at his lips while he explained formulas. Whether you believed it or not, he did intend on teaching you what you needed to know to pass the class. He knew you were absorbing the information, so he didn’t necessarily mind when he saw you licking your lips subconsciously while he slipped his jacket off his broad shoulders. 

Nonetheless, he felt that you were doing well. 

As far as class went, both of you always seemed to know when to look at each other. The professor would be droning on about topics that you and Namjoon had already covered, so you rested your head on the desk. Namjoon would mouth words to you, usually ‘pay attention’, but you knew he was always making sure you were okay. 

One particular class, Namjoon tapped his leg impatiently while he waited for you to enter the room. His favorite part of the day was seeing what you were wearing, because everything you wore seemed to compliment your shape in the best way. Not that he didn’t look before, but now that he knows you on a bit more personal level, he didn’t constantly tell himself it was wrong to look. 

When you finally did enter the room, your tight leggings and red heels made you look like a goddess. After that, his feelings were set in stone.

His plan today was to tutor you, as always, but then he wanted to make you feel good. After having spent so much time with you over the past couple weeks, he saw your personality blossom and suddenly he liked more than just your body. As he got to know you, he wanted you. More and more. 

He just had to make you beg for it. 

Namjoon knocked on your door, hearing squealing from behind the thick metal. A girl he didn’t recognize opened the door, leaning against the door frame. “Well hello there, I’ve heard so much about-” 

Just as she was about to finish her sentence, your hands snaked up from behind her and covered her mouth, yanking her backward and away from the door. 

“You said you’re leaving, Tamara. So leave.” You gestured, pointing out the door. Namjoon slid to the side, seeing her friend leave while sending a wink his way. He chuckled, waiting for you to invite him in. 

Your house was small, quaint, and old. It felt like you, though. Namjoon could tell you decorated, bits and pieces of things he learned you liked scattered throughout each room. 

He took a moment to look around while you told him to sit at the table, his finger running along the pictures on the walls. When you reentered the room, your hair was now pulled up and the bright blue fluffy pajama pants donned on your waist with a black tank top. 

“Sorry, it’s my house and I hate not wearing comfortable clothes in it.” You explained, crossing your leg and sitting on the chair across from him. 

You knew what Namjoon was playing at. After your third tutoring session, you noticed he became increasingly. . . sexy. Not that he wasn’t sexy before because you couldn’t deny your attraction, but the shirts became tighter, the hair was always styled, and his smirk. That damn smirk.

It was there, on his face. All the time. It was driving you absolutely insane. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and everything he said was so smart. 

Namjoon saw your wardrobe change, ignoring your skin peaking out from your tank top. “I can’t fault you for wanting to be comfortable.” He finally manages. 

You two got right to work, your eyes reading the numbers on the page. Namjoon leaned on the table, getting right into tutor mode and explaining a book he read that helped him understand advanced equations. 

You wrote down the book name, rubbing your forehead to get rid of your headache. Despite finally beginning to understand everything, your head still hurt at the prospect of taking the test in a few weeks. 

A couple hours later, your notebook was officially full. You tossed the pen onto the table, stretching your arms, “Yay! Done for the day!” 

Namjoon shut his own book, “I think we’re done forever.” 

“What?” You suddenly began to panic, did you do something to scare him away? Sure offering for him to tutor at your house was nerve-racking, but you didn’t think that he wouldn’t like it. 

“We’ve covered pretty much everything on the test. All you have to do is remember what I taught you, and then you’ll be good.” Namjoon stood, sliding his books haphazardly into his back pack. He slung it over his shoulder, giving you that same dimpled smile you had grown to love. 

“Wait- I know everything?” 

“Well not everything, but enough,” He grinned, “I’ll see you in class, (Y/N).” 

Namjoon turned to walk away and suddenly he was paranoid. He wanted you to call after him, to stop him and tell him to stay. However, as he made it closer to the door and began to slip his shoes on, he still hadn’t heard your call. 

He paused for a moment, a sigh leaving his lips while he turned his back and squeezed the doorknob in his hands. 

“Wait!” 

There you were.

“Let me make you dinner! You know, as a thanks for teaching me so well.” You said, coming into view. Namjoon turned around, “Dinner?” 

“Yes! I- I have steak that I was saving for Friday but I could make it now.” Your words became quieter as your spoke, your hand rubbing your arm nervously. There was no way that you wanted him to leave yet, and you weren’t sure how else to thank him. 

“I like steak.” Namjoon said, slipping his shoes back off and laying his back pack on the recliner beside the door. You grinned, letting out a nervous laugh, beckoning him into the living room. 

“Make yourself comfy and I’ll cook for you.” 

“Why don’t I help you?” Namjoon offered, following you while you walked out. You tilted your head to the side, “You can cook?” 

Namjoon, for the first time in a while, felt a blush creep on his cheek. The way you looked up at him, expectant and suddenly excited, made his head spin. He actually had to admit something that he couldn’t do to someone who he was trying to impress, “I didn’t say I could cook. I said I would help.” 

You giggled, “I’ll have you toss the salad.” 

“I like the sound of that.” Namjoon teased, following you into the kitchen. You began to prep everything, Namjoon watching in awe while you moved around the kitchen with ease. 

After setting a pan onto the open flame, you turned and connected your phone to the speaker and flipped on your cooking playlist. Namjoon, impressed with your taste in music, continued to watch you as you started dancing along to the beat. 

The sear of the steak against the hot pan was a welcoming sound, Namjoon’s mouth suddenly watering as he saw you toss butter and thyme into the pan. Your voice sang along with the song, your movements fluid. 

“You have a beautiful voice!” Namjoon called over the music, watching your face turn red. He sat on the other side of the island, waiting patiently for instruction. As the steaks cooked, you reached into the fridge and pulled out a head of lettuce, setting it down in front of Namjoon and rummaging through the lower cabinet for a bowl. 

Namjoon leaned over the counter, admiring your curves as your back peaked out from your tank top. The shirt you wore hugged you perfectly, he could see your heart-shaped ass squeezed into your pajama pants. Once he saw you stand up, he sat back down quickly but over corrected and managed to slip right off the stool. 

With a loud crash, he toppled over the stool beside him and let out a groan. 

“Are you okay?” You yelled, pausing your music and rushing around the counter. Namjoon’s eyes were shut tight, “I’m good.” 

“What were you doing?” You question, reaching your hand out. His large hand dwarfed yours, and you knew you weren’t any help to pull him up but you still tugged on his arm nonetheless. 

He smiled sheepishly, “I was just trying to see what kind of bowl you were grabbing.” 

“Oh?” you watched him dust himself off, “why are you so interested in bowls?” 

“More like the girl who was holding the bowl.” 

“I knew you weren’t tutoring me just to help me,” you roll your eyes, the feeling you had in the pit of your stomach finally coming true, “so is making you steak a dumb idea? Would you prefer I suck your dick as thanks?” 

Namjoon was somewhat shocked by your cool tone, watching you flip the steaks and almost cringing at the loud searing returning. Although he liked the words that came out of your mouth, he would have preferred if it came out in a moan. Something about the way you refused to look him in the eye caused him to swallow nervously. 

“N- no, I didn’t expect an extravagant thanks. The steaks will be fine.” He explained, sighing softly and allowing his face to fall into his hands. 

Silence fell over the two of you, Namjoon suddenly missing the blaring music that filled his ears 10 minutes ago. He nervously listened as you explained how to make the salad. He did so quietly, his hands carefully shredding the lettuce then mixing the ingredients to make the vinaigrette. 

You rolled your neck, exhaling through your nose. When you heard him admit his interest in you, you immediately wanted to hide yours. Sure, your feelings were reciprocated but he was a TA, he was basically your teacher. You couldn’t do anything with him, he’s likely the one to by grading your test. If anyone found out, favoritism would be called even if you did get everything right. 

“I’m sorry, I must have read you wrong earlier.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the silence. His hands held the whisk loosely, dipping his pinky in to make sure the vinaigrette tasted good. 

“No, you didn’t.” You spoke carefully, pulling out plates and setting the steaks on each plate. 

“Would you be upset if I said I was confused?” Namjoon felt like he had to walk on eggshells. Sure, you didn’t necessarily yell at him earlier but he was much more careful of every word he said. 

“We can’t do anything, Namjoon,” you cut up a couple of hard boiled eggs and threw it into the bowl of salad, “you’re my TA. It’d be inappropriate. Believe me, I’ve been imagining going down on you for ages but it’s just not in the cards.” 

This whole conversation was so mature, Namjoon wasn’t used to so much honesty from women and he certainly didn’t expect it from you. Especially since you denied your interest in him so vehemently on the first day. It was new territory, he never had a problem waning women in his direction before.  

“Teacher’s Assistant or not, I still feel like we’d be good. Besides, I’m only your TA for a couple more months.” Namjoon said, finally tossing the salad together. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because I like you. Genuinely. You’re smart, funny, and one hell of a gorgeous girl.” Namjoon explained, using tongs to lay the salad on the plate beside the steak. 

You smiled at his compliment, grabbing forks and knives out of the drawer. Initially you planned on eating at the table but you decided to stand at the island, sliding a plate over to Namjoon and watching him cut his steak and eat. He moaned at the taste, gesturing wildly at his plate while he chewed. 

“This shit is immaculate.” 

After a few moments, Namjoon had eaten half his steak and you finished your salad. You found a good moment to speak again, “You’re saying you want something more than sex?” 

“The sex would be nice, but I’d like to take you out on a date as well,” he takes another bite, “dinner and dessert.” 

You chewed slowly, thinking over his words carefully. It was true, you’d only have to hide it for a couple months. That is if everything lasted that long. You looked him up and down, weighing the pros and cons. As far as you were concerned, there couldn’t be a con. 

If anything, dating him even briefly would be fun. A college romance. 

“What would be the dessert?” You questioned, taking his now empty plate and slipping it into the sink. 

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, revealing a devilish smirk when he was done. “Well, you of course.” 

You inhaled, watching him stand from his stool and walk around the island. “That is, if you want to be my dessert.” 

Finally, you nodded. Namjoon took your nod as permission, leaning down carefully and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You could taste the raspberry vinaigrette on his tongue when he slipped it gently between your lips. His hand held the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your soft exposed skin. 

Nothing about how he looked could prepare you for the sudden arousal you felt just at his touch. His hands were large, you wanted them all over your body but the stayed at the back of your neck. 

He gave no hint of taking it any further, pulling away just as softly as he started. His lips pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose before pulling away completely. 

Your eyes fluttered back open once you felt his touch leave your body, and then you felt cold everywhere but where he once held you. “Thank you for the dinner, (Y/N).” 

“Wait! You don’t get to get me all hot and bothered and then leave after kissing me!” You yelled, calling after him while he once again made his way to your front door. He paused, turned, and grinned, “Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to bend you over the counter and fuck you into oblivion. I just- I don’t want to mess it up before it even starts.” 

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying desperately to find the words you wanted to say. Your mind was reeling with him, even though it was only a few seconds, his kiss was the most sensual thing you had ever experienced in your entire life. 

“I don’t think fucking me over the counter would mess anything up.” You replied, both shy and ready to rip your clothes off at the same time. 

Namjoon’s cock twitched in his pants at your words, swallowing. “So you’re okay with me fucking you before I take you on a date?” 

“Namjoon,” the way you said his name, desperation rolling off the tip of your tongue, turned him on more than anyone ever has, “I’m begging you to fuck me.” 

That’s what he wanted to hear. 

Namjoon rushed back over to you, his hands at your hips and gripping them roughly in his fingers. His lips were much more rushed, hard against yours. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tugging it gently. 

You grinned at the feeling building in your core, his strong hands lifting you onto the counter. He rested between your legs, only pulling away to take his shirt off of his body. His golden skin shined beneath the lights of your kitchen, your eyes scanning him for just a moment before bringing him down to your lips again. 

You lifted your hips enough for him to slide your pants down your legs. You wrapped them around his hips, grinding softly against him. The whines that left your mouth were sinful and it took everything in Namjoon not to cum just to the sound of your voice.

You pulled away, breathless. Your lips latched onto his neck, biting and sucking harshly.

“Still want to go down on me?” Namjoon grinned. 

You didn’t hesitate in dropping off the counter and onto your knees, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them down his legs. Before moving on, you removed your Tank top from your body, your chest bouncing while you excitedly moved. 

Namjoon’s mouth went dry as he spotted your hard nipples, wanting desperately to latch his lips around them. 

Urgency was felt between the two of you, both of you waiting to feel the rush of pleasure. You pulled his cock out from his jeans, already hard and ready for your lips to wrap around it. You pumped it a few times, smearing precum across the tip before looking up at him through your lashes. 

His hand stroked your hair softly, giving you a subtle nod and urging you to continue. Finally, you licked a long stripe on the underside of his pulsing cock and hearing him moan loudly. You couldn’t help but moan back, watching him throw his head back. 

It was the perfect size, you were able to swallow his cock with ease. Your eyes began to water when he held your head all the way down, burying your nose in his pelvic bone. 

His chest was heaving, and you had never felt sexier. 

Even though you were only going down on him, you still felt pleasure in giving him pleasure. The way his hips tutted into your mouth, shoving his member further down your throat, had you reeling. You slipped your free hand between your legs, rubbing harshly on your clothed clit. 

Your hips lifted and dropped while you tried to find the best angle, you knew you could come just from sucking Namjoon dry. 

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” Namjoon cried out, watching as his cock thrust in and out of your swollen lips. He continued to guide your head, your other hand dropping as he began to fully fuck your mouth. 

He noticed where your hands were, electrifying pleasure rushing through his body at the sight of you rubbing your clit beneath him. “If you don’t want me to cum on your tongue then I suggest stopping now.” 

There was no way you were stopping now, you felt yourself grow closer and closer to your release. As your movements sped up on your clit, you sucked harder. 

“Ah, ah! Princess please-” Namjoon pleaded, “(Y/N)...” Your name rolled off the tip of his tongue with a grunt.

As you felt your release wash over your body, cum sputtered out of Namjoon’s cock, coating your tongue and the back of your throat. He pulled out until the tip of his cock rested on your tongue, finishing off his orgasm. 

You knew you had soaked through your panties, but you had never came so hard just from touching someone. As Namjoon pulled away, you swallowed the bitter taste and looked up at his completely fucked out expression. 

“Holy shit.” He pulled you up, capturing your lips yet again. It shocked you, as every other man you had been with refused to kiss you after they had cum in your throat. “You are amazing.” 

“S- same to you.” You stuttered, your legs still weak from your release. 

Namjoon dipped his hand down your panties, shocked by the wetness enveloping his fingers. “You’re so wet.” He grinned, he knew he had an affect on you but he didn’t know it was this strong. 

He slid onto his knees, panic rushing over your features, “What are you doing?” 

“Well you made me feel good, now it’s your turn.” He explained, pulling your leg over his shoulder and slipping your panties to the side. 

“I already came...” You said shyly, Namjoon’s pupil’s blown at the sight of your soaked slit. 

“Really? Just from-” you nodded, seeing his shocked expression, “well you get to come again.” 

Before you had a second to gather your thoughts, Namjoon buried his face between your legs. Already weak from before, you felt yourself lean back on the counter for support while his tongue attacked your entrance. You gasped at the sudden feeling of his warmth, his fingers holding open your lips as he moved against you fervently. You don’t think you had ever came so quickly after another, but in seconds you found yourself releasing on his lips, feeling them turn into a smirk while he excitedly lapped up your juices. 

As you tried to gather yourself, you heard your front door unlock. Both of you shared a panicked look, Namjoon slipping his jeans back up his legs and doing the belt up quickly. You looked around, noticing your pants on the other side of the kitchen, and it was too late. 

You heard footsteps approach on the wooden floor, and Namjoon slid you behind him, hiding your unclothed torso. 

“Hey (Y/N) did your hot tutor le- oh my god.” Tamara was cut off by the scene in front of her, Namjoon pushing you to his back while you hid behind him. Peaking your head out, you let out an embarrassed laugh, “I thought you were spending the night at your boyfriend’s.” 

“You said he was just tutoring you and you had sex in our kitchen?” Tamara’s mouth dropped open as she looked around at various items of clothes thrown around. 

“That’s my bad,” Namjoon spoke up, his face warm. From the sex or the embarrassment, he wasn’t sure, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Tamara only raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head and turning away. 

You let out a breath, sighing and hugging Namjoon’s back. He chuckled, turning in your arms and hugging you back. “Well that was a fun ride.” 

“Joon,” you still hid your face from him, his laugh filling your ears, “we can’t have sex in my kitchen again.” 

“Awe,” he pouted, grabbing your chin and lifting to meet your eyes, “but I still haven’t bent you over the counter.” 

You gasped at his words, slapping his chest playfully before leaning away and slipping your shirt back on. He dressed himself as well, handing you your pants and watching you cover your gorgeous body. 

“Are you going to stay the night?” You question innocently, most wondering if you needed to grab more pillows for your bed. Namjoon smiled softly, his hands yearning to hold you again but he held himself back, opting to scratch his neck to keep himself busy instead.

“Do you want me to?” 

“It’d be nice.” You grinned, excited at the prospect of falling asleep in his arms. 

Namjoon nodded, following you to your bedroom. 

~*~*~ 

The next morning was busy. You both woke up late, mostly because every time Namjoon’s alarm went off he snoozed it. 

The rest of the night was spent in your bedroom, talking about your aspirations while a movie played in the background. Your fingers clasped together, your heads on the same pillow. He never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you, and for that he was grateful. Never has a woman been so intellectually stimulating to him. 

When you did finally manage to tear yourself out of bed, Namjoon reached out for you in his half-asleep state. “Come back,” his voice was deep but still came out in a whine, “we can skip today.” 

“No we can’t,” you murmur, laying down beside him and pushing his hair from his face, “I already missed my first two classes. The next one is the one we both have to go to, if you and I miss it on the same day it’ll be suspicious.” 

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. You pulled an outfit out from your closet, undressing and changing. Namjoon still sat on the bed, watching you in awe while he learned your morning routine. 

“What’s that perfume you use?” He asked after a moment, remembering the distinct strawberry scent that he always smelled radiating off of your clothes. You held up a perfume, “Gucci flora, it’s my favorite.” You smiled. 

Finally, he got up and slipped his clothes from yesterday on. You cringed, “You’re gonna have to go to class in the same clothes as yesterday.” 

He shrugged, “I’m sure no one will notice.” 

Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, fluffing up the back of your hair for you. 

So quickly did he fall into you. Everything about you was so captivating, down to the way you brushed your teeth. He knew from the first day you walked into that classroom that you were a heartbreaker, and he just prayed every day since he started tutoring you that he was an exception. He wondered how deeply you felt about him, or whether it was on a surface level. Trying not to think about negative things, he shook his head and followed you out of your house. 

When you both made it to the science building, Namjoon waited a moment to walk in after you did. As you sat down at your seat, you couldn’t help but watch Namjoon as he slipped into TA mode. Ready for him was a stack of papers to grade, and you knew you weren’t getting much of a look from him today. Either way, you were happy with the progress the two of you had made in one short night, not that you were expecting any of it to happen. 

The class went by a lot slower than you wanted, and it wasn’t until the professor dismissed you did you realize you had almost fallen asleep while you watched yet another video on Tycho Brahe. 

Everyone filed out of the classroom, and as you got up to leave you stole a glance to Namjoon. He dawned a pair of glasses and read intently on whatever he had in his hand. 

As the professor spoke to a student at the door, you made your way over to Namjoon, tapping your finger on the desk quietly to get his attention. He looked up, slipping off the glasses from his face and grinned, “Well hello gorgeous.” 

You blushed at his words, “I’m going to head back home, you can come if you want?” 

“Hm, I think I’m going to the arcade with my friend. I can come by after that?” He suggested, and you tried to hide your disappointment. Namjoon could sense it, “I’ll come by tonight for sure. Do you like take out?” 

You nodded, “I’d like that.” 

“Miss (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen your improvement and I’m glad, Namjoon has certainly helped you.” The professor walked over to you to, pulling you out of the trance that was Namjoon’s deep brown eyes. 

“Uh, yeah he’s certain good at teaching,” you stuttered, “I’m glad he offered to tutor me.” 

The professor nodded, “Well like I said before, I can’t wait to give you that A.” He patted your shoulder, and you took that as an opportunity to slip out of the room. Namjoon waved to you before discussing something with the professor. You watched for a moment, biting your lip then walking down the hallway and out the door. 

When you made it back to your house, your roommate sat on the couch in her pajamas. You rose an eyebrow, “I thought you had a lecture at 2 today.” 

“I skipped it,” She shrugged, “where’s your boytoy?” 

“At the arcade with a friend of his,” you explained, plopping down beside her and cringing at some reality show she watched. She paused occasionally to explain why some person was yelling at another and you tried to listen to the best of your ability but you couldn’t help but think back to last night. 

Sure, you enjoyed the physicality of everything but once you two began talking about things other than Astrophysics, you learned a whole lot more about him than you expected to. 

His love for rap and music in general was heart-warming, mentioning briefly on how he wished to one day drop a mixtape and maybe get signed. You encouraged him even though you hadn’t heard a single second of anything he’s ever written. Either way, you knew that he could do it because there wasn’t anything in the world you could imagine him being bad at. 

When he asked you about your dreams, you weren’t sure how to answer. You had always taken a, ‘it is what it is’ approach to everything. Yes, you did preemptively take Business Marketing as a gateway into adulthood, but as far as everything else went, you were unsure. 

Eventually you managed a small, “I’m happy to be alive.” 

Namjoon smiled, enjoying the simplicity of your answer. 

You shook your head from thoughts of last night, wiping the grin off your face. 

Just as you saw Tamara drift off to sleep, your phone lit up. 

friend is being lame, can I come over? 

Your heart was giddy, excited to see the man who couldn’t leave your mind. Quickly, you responded. 

please do

You locked your phone and waited on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through the TV while Tamara snored softly. You sighed, wondering if you should tell her to leave for a bit. You decided against it, knowing that he has had men over many times when you were just a thin wall away. 

You hopped up at the sound of a gentle knock on the door, practically throwing the door open to see Namjoon. His smile stretched across his face, “Hi baby.” 

You pulled him into the house, shushing him when you walked passed the living room. He chuckled softly, and when you were down the hall and in your room, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders. 

“Soo,” you were suddenly shy, realizing you weren’t sure how tonight was going to go, “how was the arcade.” 

“Dumb,” Namjoon replied honestly. You noticed he went home and finally changed from yesterday’s clothes, a tight black T-shirt now hugging his skin. He hopped on the bed beside you, “my friend refuses to let anyone ruin his high score.” 

You giggled, “Ah KSJ? Some girl in my Marketing Research class has been talking about him a lot.” 

Namjoon nodded, “That man has more of an affect than he realizes.” 

It was quiet for a moment, and you watched while he adjusted himself onto your bed. He closed his eyes, and it amazed you at how quickly he became comfortable with you. He was already treating you like you had been together for a while, and you couldn’t complain. You enjoyed skipping the ‘get to know me’ phase, because you know as time goes on you will learn more about each other and in better ways than the standard first date. 

Still, even though you had already done some of the most intimate things with the man, you found yourself in awe of him. His chest rose and fell softly, and you realized that you hadn’t kissed him since this morning. You yearned for his touch but tried desperately not to come off as needy. 

You laid beside him, just far enough away for him to notice. Namjoon opened an eye, “You okay?” 

“I’m good, yeah.” You smiled, swallowing nervously. 

“How come you’re not touching me?” His question was loaded, though it came off innocent. His eyes were closed again, waiting for your verbal response. His hands, clasped behind his head, made his biceps flex beneath the tight black fabric. 

Earlier hesitation gone, you leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling his arm move and fall around you as if he had been doing this for years. 

You snuggled into him, your eyes growing heavy. 

“Did I really come over here just to nap?” Namjoon asked outloud, more to himself than you. You nodded against him, feeling yourself fall asleep on his chest. 

~*~*~ 

Namjoon hadn’t been around since he fell asleep with you, and you assumed with everything going on that he was busy. He was sure to send a few texts your way a day, being sure to let you know that he can’t stop thinking about you. Even in class, you didn’t talk much but you didn’t mind, focusing on things that you needed to. 

Now it was Saturday night, your legs crossed on your bed and copious amounts of homework and papers surrounding you. Almost finishing, your hands filled out each question when you heard your ringtone throughout the room. 

“Hello?” You answered without looking, putting on your customer service voice out of habit from many years ago. 

“I still haven’t bent you over the table.” Namjoon sounded through, music coming through the speaker. You gasped at his words, immediately dropping your pencil, “Are you drunk?” 

“No,” he giggles, shushing someone else beside him, “I just want you. This bar is boring without you.” 

“You haven’t drank with me though?” You tease, questioning his motives for calling you. He shouted to someone in the corner, telling them to stop talking shit, “I bet you’re sexy when you’re drunk. Not that you aren’t sexy all the time, but I think you’d be even more wet than before if you drank a little with me.” 

“I really hope you aren’t saying these things in front of people, Joon.” You scold, but you can’t help but feel the heat between your legs at his words. You imagined him at a table with his friends, his hand over the speaker while he spoke dirty words into your ears. 

“I’m coming over.” Namjoon said, and he hung up without another word. 

You look around, quickly cleaning up your papers and books, sliding them onto your night stand. You rushed to the bathroom, brushing your teeth quickly. You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, so you changed from your sweats and into a satin nightgown. You studied your reflection carefully, shaking your head and changing into something else. 

Black and red lingerie rested on your body, and you knew you were finally ready. As if expecting that you were ready, Namjoon knocked on the door. You rushed to the door, the knocking not stopping until you were opening it. He took a moment to look at your scantily clad body, an audible groan slipping from his lips. 

He was drunk, or at least tipsy. He’s eyes were clouded over and every inch of your body only turned him on.

No words were exchanged, only Namjoon grabbing your face in his large hands and kissing you passionately. He pushed you into your house, his lips not leaving yours. You silently thanked your roommate for leaving, not having to worry about be walked in on until the morning. He already had the layout of your house memorized, carefully navigating through your hallway until he reached your bathroom. 

Confused, you pulled away when you heard the door creek, “What are you-” 

“I want you in the shower,” Namjoon said, already ripping off his shirt, “and as much as I would love to fuck you in that tiny little outfit, I like when you’re naked even more.” 

It didn’t take much to convince you. He stumbled out of his jeans, no boxers to be seen underneath. You watched him with a smirk on your face, his hand turning the shower on and testing the temperature. 

When he turned back to you, it felt like something switched in him, “Why aren’t you undressed?” 

Your core twitched at the demanding tone of his voice. He wasn’t hard yet, he held himself off from stroking himself until he saw that you were wet and ready. 

You unclasped your bra, slipping it from around your shoulders. He grabbed your arm, guiding you to the water and silently asking for you to test it. When you felt the warm liquid surround your hand, you nodded and stepped out of your panties. 

Without giving you much time to adjust, Namjoon was behind you, pulling the shower head off of the mount and switching it to massage mode. 

“I thought you wanted to fuck me?” You questioned, such dirty words falling from your sinful mouth. Namjoon smiled down at you, his cock rutting against your backside in anticipation, “I do, but I want to make you feel good as well.” 

He brought the shower head over the front of your body, running the water over everywhere he would kiss if he were in bed. Your tits were perky, a perfect handful for Namjoon to grab and tug at while the water moved down lower. 

His feet kicked yours apart, spreading your legs ever-so-slightly and allowing the harsh water jets to hit your clit directly. Immediately, your legs grew weak. Namjoon wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up while the jets pounded against your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, Namjoon’s cock twitching from behind you, “more.” 

Suddenly, he felt much more sober than previously, “What was that, baby?” 

“More, please. More.” Was all you could manage out, your head thrown back onto his shoulder while you clawed backward, desperate to touch him in any way you possibly could. When your hands settled on the back of your neck, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. 

Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Namjoon pulled away, his lips attacking your neck while you whined from the lack of sensation against you. The water jets was replaced with his fingers, “I can’t take it anymore. I have to be inside you.” 

Catching your breath, you turned to him and kissed him harshly. Your nails raked down his abs, feeling the muscles clench at every touch against him. You gripped his now hard cock in your manicured hand, pumping it up and down quickly. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” If he could tease you, you could tease him right back, “you might cum too quickly. I don’t know if you could last inside of me.” 

“Cocky, huh? Bend over. Now.” Namjoon demanded, not having any of it. As you turned around, your head under the water, Namjoon rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, collecting up your wetness and groaning at the feeling of you finally so close to him. 

He didn’t ask if you were ready like he wanted to, but the feeling was overwhelming, just running his cock over you was enough to send him into the most intense rush of pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life and he forgot how to move his tongue to create the words running through his head. 

All he could do was slowly sink into you, earning a delicious moan from you. You gripped onto the railing in front of you, his length filling you and stretching you out in the best way possible. Even with the water running over both of you, you were numb to everything that wasn’t him. His fingertips digging into your hips, his length moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. In that moment, your entire being was consumed by him and him alone. 

“More.” You moaned, much like earlier except your voice was filled with much more need than before. Namjoon couldn’t help himself, though, continuing his slow thrusts. Whines, glorious and loud, filled the shower, echoing off of the walls. Namjoon was quiet, just listening to you while your knuckles turned white from gripping the handles. 

“Fuck!” you shout, letting go of the railing and leaning up, just enough for Namjoon’s hands to return to your breasts, massaging them as he finally began to speed up his motions. 

“I love that you’re so loud,” Namjoon manages, grunting while he spoke, “tell me more. Tell me how much you like it.” 

“You feel so good, Namjoon,” you look back at him, his eyes screwed shut and his hair soaked, droplets of water dripping from the ends of his hair, “you’re so big, I love your- I love-” your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You weren’t able to form anymore words as Namjoon’s cock hit just the right place to have you rolling in pleasure. 

“Come on, babygirl. You have to tell me.” His thrusts were faster, sloppier, and his fingers found their way back down to your clit. His calloused fingers spread your lips, moving in a figure 8 while he timed his thrusts with each twist of his finger. 

“I want you to fill me up!” You cry out, and you knew you weren’t helping Namjoon in anyway from the way your legs gave out. His arms held you close though, keeping you up so easily.

Namjoon buried his face in your shoulder, “You’re so fucking hot, please tell me you’re close.” His words were muffled but you could understand him loud and clear.

“Mmhmm.” You managed, biting your lip. 

“Say it.” 

“I’m going to come,” you moan, and then your release washed over your body in waves. Everything was too much, the way you came undone beneath him and the feeling of you squeezing his cock. He was a mess, and after a few more thrusts, he pulled his cock out of you and released onto your ass, letting you go in the process. 

You fall forward, grabbing the railing yet again for support and feeling his hot cum drench your lower half. With your orgasm still running its course, you felt your knees buckle while you dropped. 

Namjoon was quick to reach forward and catch you, setting you down on the ledge of the top and moving the hair out of your face. “Are you okay baby?” 

You nodded, “I’m more than okay.” 

Namjoon grinned, leaning down and kissing your cheeks, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

After cleaning you up, Namjoon massaged shampoo and conditioner throughout your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of coconut. Afterward, he even brushed your hair while you were wrapped in a towel, then finally handing you his shirt to sleep in. 

“So,” you said later that night, stroking his hair while you listened to music, “we going to go on that date you said you wanted to take me out on?”

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He looks up at you, that dimpled smirk stretching across his face. 

“I’d like that.” You grin, leaning down and giving him one of many kisses.