#in a sweater dress and designer tights that barely cover her ass

[pearl-blue-musings]

I have!!!! Untapped rage!!!! Well anger I guess!!!! Cause I remembered things!!!! I felt!!!! About certain events!!! And I am!!!! Mad!!!!!

Story and whatever I’m the tags

[biteyoubiteme]

fit check

fem!reader x choi yeonjun x huening kai

synopsis: yeonjun buys you some new clothes and wants you to try them on for him and huening.

warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, threesome, praise, nipple play, oral (f!rec), fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), overstim, unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, she/her used. prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3k

an:  this is kinda a part two of busy signal but you don't need to read that to read this or the other way around. feedback appreciated :)) [m.list]

“Did one of you order something huge?” you ask using your foot to push in the box that you had to sign for. it was heavy enough that you didn’t even want to try and carry it in your arms. 

Kai and Yeonjun are laid out on the couch, both of them paying no attention to the TV in front of them as they scroll on their phones. you had been studying in the office coming out for a second to grab some water when the knock came for the delivery. 

“I didn’t,” Kai pipes up his phone illuminating him from the nose up, he is clutching one of the oversized stuffies he keeps on the couch. 

you push the box into their view and Yeonjun sits up a grin taking over his face. “I did,” he tosses his phone down on the couch forgetting about it as he moves to pick up his keys from the hook by the door. the little fox charm dangling from his fist as he uses the key to cut the tape open. 

inside is another box, matte black and tied with a bow. Yeonjun hands you his keys to replace as he pulls this box out to set down on the coffee table. 

The three of us are now only interested in seeing the contents inside. it wasn’t unusual for any one of us to receive a box but usually not this big. Yeonjun sits back down waving at you to follow suit and take your usual seat between the two of them, placing the box right in front of you. huening pulled himself up to give you room so as not to sit on his outstretched legs. 

“Open it,” Yeonjun says, bumping his shoulder with yours. 

“me?” and he chuckles. “I got you a gift, open it,” 

you can’t help but grin as you grab the end of the ribbon on the front, “it’s not something that will jump out and scare me is it?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, at least not without recording your reaction,” you roll your eyes flipping the lid of the box up. you’re met with tissue paper folded neatly and secured with a sticker the label for a designer brand. the size of the box meaning it wasn’t a small bill. “Go on,” he nudged you after you paused. you try to tear the paper as little as possible folding it back to see the folded garments inside. 

there had to be about three full outfits in there, your fingers dragging over the fabrics. “oooo” Kai hums as you pull out a pleated skirt dark gray and heavy. 

“I saw a campaign for their new collection and all I could think about was you wearing all this,” he pulls out a soft sweater as Kai reaches in and pulls out a sheer pair of tights. “go try it on,” 

you take the sweater from him standing to take it into the other room. “don’t forget these,” Kai says, passing over the tights. 

Yeonjun loves to dress you up, picking outfits, and having a little fashion show in the living room wasn’t uncommon but it still always made you nervous to know they were waiting in the other room for you. All their attention ready to be placed on you. 

you were currently dressed in your pajamas nearly ready to turn in for bed after your studying. when you pull off your sleep shirt to replace it with the sweater you don’t move to put on a bra. your gentle pulling on the thin tights making sure not to snag them with your nails. and when you pull on the skirt you realize how short it is. it only just barely covers your ass if you leaned over you would flash anyone behind you. 

when you make it back out to the living room your hands are laced in front of you a bit shy. Yeonjun is leaning back with his arm thrown over the back of the sofa, Kai holding his stuffie to his stomach, hands on his elbows hugging it. their gaze makes your cheeks heat, “come here,” Yeonjun beacons leaning forward so he can lean his elbows on his knees. 

your stockinged feet feel cold against the hardwood as you try not to slip from how silky the tights are. Yeonjun reaches out once you’re close enough, his hot hand sliding from the back of your knee up your thigh until it cups the flesh of your ass under the skirt. you shiver, reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders. “It's kinda short,” you whisper, not realizing it would come out so breathy but Yeonjuns fingers are long enough to brush your inner thigh, high enough to almost graze your center. 

“I like it,” Kai’s voice is throaty and he swallows to try and clear it. when you look at him he’s pink from his cheeks to his ears. 

“do you?” you twist your hips just enough to make the fabric sway but the move makes Yeonjuns fingers slip right against your clothed core. Yeonjuns smirk cocky as he squeezed your inner thigh. He knows that look on your face like the back of his hand. that gleam in your eyes telling him everything he needs to know, kai noticed it too. the way you were pressing your knees together trying to trap Yeonjuns hand from moving further up, to the way your grip on his shoulders was tightening. 

If Yeonjun did inch higher he would find that you were growing wet under their inspection. Yeonjuns free hand cups your hip, thumb pressing hard into you. “open,” 

The single word is a demand that makes your knees weak. you shake your head and Yeonjun raises his eyebrows. “worried to make a mess all over your new tights?” if you could blush harder you would. “because I don’t care,” his fingers slip higher even without you opening your legs for him. you want to be embarrassed by how wet you are and he has barely touched you at all because you know he can feel your arousal through the thin material of the tights and your panties. The grin he gives while running his tongue along the inside of his cheek only makes it worse.  

“huening how wet do you think she already is?” he doesn’t need to look over to know Kai’s watching the two of you. Yeonjun is too busy gauging your reaction to the painstakingly slow drags of his fingers. 

“soaking,” the word a breath in the room. Someone had turned off the TV before you came back in after changing. 

“why don’t you let huening feel hum?” and then his hands are gone. Your whine is unnoticed as he taps your ass to tell you to listen to him. 

you walk over to Kai who’s biting his inner lip ready to draw blood. “Do you want to touch me hyuka?” 

he doesn’t answer before he reaches out for you. thumb sliding under the skirt and circling your clit. the sensation races up your spine and you grab his forearm to still yourself. 

Yeonjun stands behind you pushing your hair to the side to kiss behind your ear. you can feel how hard he is as he leans into you, his hands going under your sweater to cup your breasts. 

At the same time he pinches your nipples Kai flicks your clit. you jump nails digging into Kai’s arm, Yeonjun kissing down your neck to your shoulder. Kai goes back to rubbing soft circles in apology. 

Yeonjun lifts the sweater off of you, tossing it back into the box still filled with the forgotten outfits you hadn’t tried yet. Yeonjun takes all your hair into a ponytail before tugging your head back onto his shoulder giving Kai full access to your uncovered tits. Kai has no hesitation before wetting his lips and sucking marks on your skin, his teeth grazing your nipples. Yeonjuns voice hot in your ear, “Lay down on huening and I’ll take care of you okay?” 

you nod hurriedly as he lets you go, Kai leaning back against the armrest of the couch. He opens his legs to fit you against him, your back to his chest, his lips to your temple. 

he’s achingly hard wedged under you, hands cupping your breasts and tugging your nipples as Yeonjun takes off his shirt. he leans down on the couch between your legs pushing up your skirt and when you think he’s going to tug down your tights and panties he instead hooks his fingers in at the crotch of the fabric and rips the thin material. 

“jjunie!” your hand shoots out to grab him but the damage is done. “I liked those,” you pout but Yeonjun only laughs lips on your thigh and the reverberation is a direct link to your clit. “I bought you three pairs,” 

“it’s wasteful-“ but you can’t finish your sentence when he pushes your panties aside and gives a hard suck to your clit. your head lobs back and you moan into Kai’s ear. 

“Look at you, so responsive to our touch,” Kai kisses your throat, “and you sound so pretty,” another whimper leaves you as Yeonjun flicks his tongue. 

Yeonjun pulls away and you try to raise your hips to follow him but Kai reaches out a hand to lay flat against your stomach pushing you down. you whimper wiggling against his hold but it only makes him moan in response to the feel of you rubbing against his cock, almost painful. 

Yeonjun lets his tongue barely touch you, bushing your folds up and down before ghosting his lips in the same way. you’re squirming and he grips your thighs hard. “patience baby or do I need to stop?” 

“no please jjunie I need you,” and you twitch as he leans back down to give a feather-light kiss to your clit. Your cry in frustration makes them both chuckle. 

Yeonjuns teeth brush against your inner thigh as he cups the back of your knee pushing your legs wider. He nips on your skin right over the ripped fabric of the tights before his fingers shock you by gathering your slick. 

He's gentle as he rubs you tracing your entrance before going back up to your clit. the moment he puts his mouth back on you, you know you’re going to cum. he knows it too and it’s why he’s not doing it yet. “please junnie,” you rock your hips forward as best as you can with Kai holding you in place. 

Yeonjun ignores you circling your entrance before plunging in. You’re breathless as he pumps in slowly trying to get you used to the feeling before he curls his fingers tapping against the spot that makes your brain stop working. one of your hands reaches up to twist your fingers in Kai’s hair the other reaches down to grip Kai’s wrist. the way that he’s pushing down on your pelvis makes Yeonjuns fingers feel incredible. 

Yeonjun gives slow strokes stopping every once in a while to press on your magic gummy spot until he finally latches onto your clit again, sucking until you see stars. 

you’re completely trembling and weak as you cum, Kai tugging on your left nipple his mouth behind your ear. Yeonjun doesn’t stop until you’re tearing up and when he does he gives each mark he made on your thigh a kiss. 

you’re breathing hard as Kai rubs up and down your ribs with his right hand. you hear the sound of Yeonjuns belt buckle being undone and you lazily watch as he strips. 

veiny cock already leaking precum as he takes it into his hand still wet from your juices. your legs instantly widen at the sight, pussy clenching around nothing. 

yeonjun drinks in the sight of you spread out and ready for him, he won’t last long. 

He climbs over you and Kai presses his face into your neck. “you’re going to take everything I give you right?” 

“yes,” your breathy response is lost in a moan as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. 

he pushes in without warning completely bottoming out in one thrust stilling as he gives a guttural moan against your skin. kai’s hand snakes down between you and Yeonjun, tapping your clit making you clench around Yeonjun. “if you keep doing that I won’t be able to move,” and you don’t know who he’s talking about and you don’t care because he pulls out slowly before slamming right back in. 

Your body jolting against Kai’s cock makes him whine the hold he has on your nipple is sharp and painful but it’s a direct line to your impending orgasm. 

yeonjun doesn’t slow his pace for a second, his hands on the sides of both you and Kai’s heads as he drills into you. 

kai rubs at your clit and you’re shaking all over again, tears leaking from the overstimulation. you cum in a silent gasp yeonjun pressing his mouth on yours to catch your breath. the feeling of you milking him sending him over the edge stilling all movement as he shoots hot cum deep inside you. He moans into your mouth giving weak strokes as he rides out his high. 

When he finally pulls out you can feel your combined release slipping down your folds and onto Kai’s sweatpants. 

you feel limp but yeonjun picks you up to let Kai move from underneath you. He pulls himself up to sit against the couch properly, yeonjun brushing your hair back from your face. your legs are completely weak and trembling as you try to weigh down on them but yeonjun guides you to straddle huening. “You can’t neglect Kai, I'm sure you can take one more load can’t you?” but when your knees hit the couch you fall over kai wrapping your arms around his head and tangling your fingers into his hair. you’re still dripping onto his pants as you give a nod. 

Kai's hands are wrapped around your waist holding you up before he reaches down to tug his cock free. when it bumps your clit you jolt up your cry pressed right into his ear. 

“I’ll take good care of you, baby, I promise,” he kisses your bicep before notching himself at your entrance and pushing upwards as slowly as possible, your pussy already swollen. Yeonjun and Kai are nearly the same size, only Kai is slightly girthier making the stretch noticeable. you’re holding onto Kai for dear life but once he fully settles into you you’re vibrating, trembling, and ready to cum in a breath of a second. 

Kai holds your hips steady before pulling out all the way. He inches back in and your head lobs back in a moan from the corner of your eye you see yeonjun fisting himself already hard again. 

huening feels like he’s pressed right against your cervix, brushing so deep you want to just sit still because even without thrusting you could cum from the feel of him. 

kai’s fingers are digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as he tries to keep his steady pace but you know he wants to go faster. “it’s okay hyuka I can take it,” you try to nod to make yourself believe your words but you don’t know if your legs can take it. 

“Can you?” because he’s not sure he believes it but when you give him another okay he can’t resist any longer. 

without pulling out he flips the two of you so that you’re on your back, head resting on the plushie he had been using to hide his hard on the second you walked out in that tiny skirt. he leans back to tug off his sweatshirt balling it up to tuck under your lower back. The movement sends him deeper into you and he folds a choked moan leaving him as he feels your hot warm walls surrounding him, his pelvis pressed into yours. 

feeling yeonjun fuck you was almost torture if you had moved anymore against Kai’s cock he would have cum instantly. and now you’re looking over huening shoulder to see yeonjun trying to restrain himself from cumming again. 

you’re so easy to slip in and out of, so wet and slippery Kai gets lost in pounding into you. the room is filled with the choir of your combined moans. kai ravages your pussy chasing his orgasm, pumping over and over again like it’s the last thing he will do. you’re so sensitive and full that you’re falling over the edge again in seconds. 

The scratching down Kai’s back and the feel of your orgasm makes him stutter in his thrusts before he unloads his warmth in you. he grabs the back of your knee lifting your leg making you cry as he sinks his hips deeper before stilling completely inside you. 

when he pulls out you’re so beaten you hadn’t noticed yeonjun had followed the two of you to your climax and was laid back with cum all over his stomach. 

kai keeps your leg raised as he prods at your still throbbing pussy, dragging your lips aside to watch as your combined arousal spills out with each residual pulse. with one long finger he scoops up the cream before shoving it back inside you. “the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,”  

yeonjun stands gazing over you, “the prettiest,” he agrees before dragging his finger through the mess he made on himself. kai pulls his finger out before yeonjun shoves his in. You jerk back as he pumps in his cum as if he wasn’t already staining your insides. He takes his hand away tugging your panties into place. 

“Let's get you cleaned up and then we can see the rest of the outfits I picked out for you, yeah?”

[dayseternal-blog]

Summary: Hinata gives Naruto candy on Valentine’s, and he develops a crush early-on. An Alpha/Omega fic.

Pairing: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto

Written for @naruto-smut-monday​ 2021 - February Prompt: Sweet as Candy / Love Bites.

(This is many months late, so I carry no expectations for the event moderators to reblog this 😓)

Rated E for really explicit, kinky smut!

Sweet and rich.

Her usual milkiness pitching lower and bolder.

The familiar scent of her heat fills his lungs with each gasp against her lips, tugging at his heart, enticing each shove of himself into her soft folds.

She breaks the kiss with a tortured moan that rolls through his heightened, rutting senses.  Her face turns, exposing the broken, shining gland at her neck once more.

His mark still looks fresh from their aggressive first round.  He had awoken from their fitful rest with Hinata eagerly sucking him off in the dead of the night.  The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when they finally fell back asleep in cuddling, knotted exhaustion.

His tongue catches the liquid caramel at her gland, just as sweet as her scent, and gently, he gnaws into her sensitive neck to release more for him to drink as she squeals, slick flowing around his swelling piece, nudging deeper and deeper.

“Hinata…”  Clawing pleasure skips along his skin, shimmering in his veins with each suck against the abused claim.

“Ah...Alpha...”

He doesn’t need her breathy Omega voice to encourage him, not when her snug passage is readily opening up to accommodate his urgent thrusts, his hands gripping her flared hips still as he impales her hurriedly until she’s wrapped entirely around his knot, stuck and breathlessly screaming for him.  “You wanted this again, yeah?”

She nods enthusiastically, the bob of her chin frantic like the shake of her large breasts.  Tears of pain and pleasure glint along her dark lashes and pink cheeks, her little tongue teases him as she gasps from puffy lips, tracks of his saliva and her leaking scent gland glimmer in the mid-morning sun.  His usually proper and demure wife is a beautiful mess on his rigid cock, soaking wet for him, the excellent sight filling his inner, lusting beast with possessive pride.

“Look at you,” he groans, slipping mindlessly into his secondary gender, “my pretty Omega, living for my knotted dick, acting all cute for my cum.”

She wiggles beneath him with an affectionate gasp, and he’s grinding hard into her until her glassy eyes squeeze shut, more tears escaping.

He leans down to lick each one up, the saltiness making him grab at the top of her head to turn her intoxicating gland toward him so that he can drink her in, her heady, rich taste invading his senses.

She squirms beneath him.

Her legs squeeze at his waist.

Blunt fingernails pinch into his back.

Tight nipples push into his chest and smooth stomach arches into him.

Plush flesh clenches around his knot, coaxing his release.  Her hot breath ghosts over his bicep, prickling his skin with a begging, “Please, please, please-”

And he’s coming before he can even consider holding back, throbbing into her humidity, smearing his own broken gland against her lips until she’s sucking everything out of him, his whole body and soul yearning, pulsing into her welcoming, soft comfort.  Take all of me.

For only a blissful second, his mind feels empty, his Alpha terribly pleased and sated.

She paints a small strip with her tongue at his gland, and the beast reawakens.

He’s fucking his cum into her, stirring into her weeping flesh, his knot plugging her up so that she’s awfully sloppy around his dick, a rumbling in his chest as she clings to him, her face buried in his neck, her warm tongue still licking cutely at him.  “Hinata, you need more, don’t you?”

“Naruto-kun,” she sighs, “mhmm…”

So this is what it’s like to share their heat and rut, their tempos finally coinciding after their first bonded year.

He’d imagined it was never-ending sex, the idea both arousing and concerning, but experiencing it leaves him trembling with honest delight and, more than anything else, sincere love.  Of course, it’s an overwhelming desire to impregnate her, to make her whole body and life undeniably his, something that’s normal in his rut anyway, but with her very much unprotected body so willing and ready, so much slick to ease his knot into her over and over again without worry, it’s as if every part of them is shared, synced and in tune, eager to please and enjoy each other.

He can’t even begin to consider separating himself from her at the end of these five or so days, can’t at all recall what his daily life is like outside of their home.

Not when her hazy eyes are lowered in an expression of come-hither lust, all hints of his usual shy, reserved wife forgotten with his stiff piece warm and wet, pushing against her cervix.  Her fingers dance over his arm muscles, massaging over the back of his shoulders, and tunneling into his hair.

He nudges his face into her neck, inhaling her scent deeply as new attraction rushes fast and hard into his knot, as if he hadn’t been excited the whole time.

“Fill me up, my love,” she whispers, her moist clit sliding at his groin, and that voice intones, breathier and lower, “my sweet Alpha.”

Shivers run up his spine, his hips straining at her more insistently, tight flesh tugging at his knot as he tries to ram himself deeper into her.  Memories of his thick seed dribbling down her thighs from past ruts morph into images of her stomach swollen with their child.  They’ve prepared for this week for a couple of months now after their last rut and heat nearly overlapped, only for one incredible day that convinced both of them they needed more in their marriage.  After the nine day ordeal of caring for each other's needs, they had visited their doctors, Hinata had taken out her birth control, and then they had reviewed tips on self- and partner-care for acclimated bonds.

All their preparation is flying out the window of his mind now.

They’re supposed to clean up after this?  The wet wipes seem completely unnecessary, and he lets her know he has no intention of using them.  “Gonna cover you in my scent, no other Alpha will even dare to look at you.”

She nods, a lovely, dazed smile curling her kiss-swollen lips.  Soft, agreeing moans soothe the aggression simmering low in his gut, turning his lust into appreciative hunger.

They’re supposed to eat that microwavable shit?  Isn’t Hinata’s body enough for him?  His hands sink into her fluffy tits, squeezing and playing, whetting his appetite with her delicious curves.  And isn’t he enough?  “Only going to feed you my knot, keep you full of cum.  You can eat my hard dick whenever you want.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes...”  Adoring, pearly eyes gaze up at him even through her tortured gasps.

He smashes her into the bed, one hand clutching her round ass desperately as the other tangles into her hair.  Her needy kisses are just as much tongue as his, their lips sucking on each other avidly.

Ecstasy slides through his veins, blooming over his mind, cocooning him in pleasant sensations, cum shooting out in eager twitches against hot, milking flesh.

He’s left panting into the pillow, the material doing little to stop her rich smell of satisfaction from drawing him back to lick at the abused flesh of his claim on her, her body shivering uncontrollably and enticingly beneath him, teasing his body and mind with the taste of her sweet, sweet dew.

Everything about her has always been sweet to him.

From her scent to her smile, her kiss, and her touch.  The glow in her eyes, just for him, to her intimate voice.

The way she always tries to understand him and is there to support him.

He’s wondered if they were made for each other, the strength of their connection at times so overwhelming that he could cry.

They were taught in school that mating isn’t decided, not like some spiritual concept of soulmates, but that potential bonded relationships are cultivated carefully over time.

However, significant inclinations may form from way before either party presents.

He thinks he’s been inclined to her from the moment she handed him, a random elementary schoolmate in the hallway, not even in the same class as her, one of her extra giri chocolates on Valentine’s Day.  She handed a couple of other boys she passed on the way an extra chocolate, too, but he didn’t care.  He crushed on her fast and easily, his heart swayed by nearly any kind gesture from a girl.  Having one more chocolate than his friends was something he bragged about right away in pretend nonchalance, saying that a girl from another class gave it especially to him.

His fleeting feelings might have ended there if he weren’t in her class the following year, if she hadn’t handed out giri chocolates again, if she hadn’t noticeably blushed pink and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Naruto-kun,” or if he hadn’t found out his little baggie of chocolates had one more heart-shaped piece than Sasuke’s baggie…it was a small win compared to all the unappreciated honmei chocolates Sasuke received, but Naruto took what he could get.

Maybe his little school crush would have ended there if she had stopped handing out giri chocolates to boys in intermediate school, the way most girls did when they started presenting, when she wore her skirt as long as was acceptable by school dress code, sweaters over her button-down uniform, and simple blue ribboned chokers to cover as much skin as possible, when the mystery of her designation tickled the back of his mind whenever she was near, but he had no way of knowing, especially with their sex education steering hard by-the-book on disease, protection, and, most of all, consent, rather than humoring their curiosities about individual designations and tell-tale personality traits.

He and the boys in their class still got giri chocolates from her despite how so many of them acted like annoying idiots, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who liked that thoughtful sweetness about her.  He also knew he was the only one who had one more chocolate than the others, or, at least, one more than Kiba.

“Let me see,” he’d say mid-grab, stealing the bag from Kiba’s hand.

“What the fuck, why are you always trying to take mine, you have your own!”

His eyes strained to swiftly count the number of adorable handmade, heart-shaped chocolates through the dark purple plastic, her level of effort making even giri chocolates feel incredibly special.  5.

“They’re all the same every year, fucktard.”  Kiba snatched it away.  “But you better not have broken any.”

His bag, for the third year in a row, had 6, and his cheeks flushed with wonder, a self-satisfied grin breaking out.  “I was just checking.  It really is the same every year.  Isn’t it great?”  He popped a chocolate in his mouth, pushing back the overly gleeful thought that it could all mean something more than a coincidental mistake.

Their third, last year of intermediate school, he expected it.  A bag of six chocolates, just for him.  And with only her characteristic small, shy smile, she handed him his gift, and he grinned hugely to cover up his nerves.  “Thanks, Hinata!”

She bowed her head and hurried to the next boy in the room.

And he counted.  6.  His gaze flickered up to her back, wondering, the seed of his suspicions sprouting awfully strong.  What if these chocolates are actually honmei?  She’s just too shy-

His bag was ripped from his grip.

He whipped around, eyes wide, staring up at Kiba’s exuberant smile.

“I gotcha first this time!”

“Kiba!” he shouted, his arm swinging up, but Kiba pulled it back just in time.  Scenarios flew through his mind, all of him humiliatingly chasing his friend around the classroom for a little bag of giri chocolates, and Naruto quickly decided to play it cool.  “Give it back, man.”

Kiba ignored him, making an elaborate show of scrutinizing the bag.  “I was just checking-ttebayo,” he mocked when he did a double-take.  “Whaaat, you got 6?!  That’s not fair!”  He checked his own bag.  “I only have 5!”

His heart stopped.  His gaze flashed to Hinata.

She was staring at them.

Panicking, he turned away.  “...Really?!  Cool!” he spit out in feigned surprise.  “Maybe she just doesn’t like you as much!  Give it back before you break one.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.  How could she like you more than me?”  Kiba tossed the bag at him, and Naruto grabbed it harder than he should have, the chocolates knocking together in his stressed hand.

Blood rushed hot through his system, but he was desperately trying to appear unaffected.  “You probably smell like dog!”

Kiba clicked his tongue at that, then looked directly at the girl in question.  “Hinata, do I smell like dog??!”

Naruto hesitated to look at her, but when he finally did, she was already falling to the floor.

The blame ultimately fell on Kiba for her fainting incident, since he asked such an obtrusive question like that, but somehow, Naruto couldn’t help but think it to be his fault, that he had failed some kind of test, messed up a secret game, and couldn’t protect something special that was only meant for him to know.

Wondering attraction maybe could have ended there, at the start of high school, when gossip about Sakura, pretty and sassy spitfire of a girl, and her rumored, unexpected Omega designation ran rampant around their grade level.  The idea that someone so fiery and untouchable could be secretly emotional and clingy attracted many of the boys who were starting to show symptoms of presenting, such as starting to differentiate the scents of the girls in the class.

Though Naruto himself couldn’t smell anything from anyone, that didn’t stop him from imagining the athletic, rosy-haired girl, wondering what about her smell made her so desirable to some of the presenting boys… Whenever she was near, he focused his senses as much as he could, but nothing.

Hinata didn’t pass out giri chocolates that year to his great disappointment.

He shrugged it off, understanding that it’s seen by most as a childish or seemingly flirtatious tradition, that Kiba’s noisiness last year made her change her mind, that maybe his extra chocolate was a mistake of coincidence the last four years.  He’d rather jump off the second-floor window than ask her if there was any meaning to it, so he decided to pay no mind to it, and he would have, but…

When she smelled like chocolate, sweet like a candy store, the next day, and he thought maybe she was a day late.  Maybe she was still passing out chocolates to everyone, even though he couldn’t see any large bag, making him wonder if she had stuffed her sweater pockets and clothes full of chocolate.  His temperature ran high, adrenaline racing through his heart whenever she walked even slightly in his direction, hoping for something from her that never came, and for days after, he was glaringly upset at how she definitely made chocolate, a whole lot of chocolate, and didn’t give him any.

Two months later, he began to understand that she just smelled like that, like she dumped chocolate perfume on her clothes, and some days just a dab, but either way it clouded his mind and made his stomach flip-flop anxiously, made him feel impatient and antsy beneath his skin, and he couldn’t take his irrational frustration anymore.

“Hinata, why do you always smell like that?”  His tone was much more accusing than he meant it to be, but it was too late.

She was frozen a few paces between his desk and Ino’s, her angelically light eyes wide, her fair skin tinting pink as she looked back at him, and that chocolate smell amplifying with a strange tinge of citrusy unknowns.  “...Huh?”

His face scrunched up in equal confusion at her seemingly innocent ignorance.  “I don’t know, like, you smell really swee-”

Realization struck him hard before Sakura’s fist to the back of his head.  “Naruto!  What the hell do you think you’re asking her!”

“Ah fuck!”  He clasped the back of his head and bowed on his desk in pain, partially to shield from any more hits, partially to hide his beet-red face.

Ino and Sakura were yelling at him, calling him a pervert and that they should report him, but his mind zeroed in on Hinata’s soft voice, asking him if he was okay, saying that she was completely fine, that it’s really okay and that she wasn’t going to report him.

His heart was pumping rapidfire, embarrassed heat crawling like a poison through his veins until he could swear he was hot to the touch, even the tips of his ears felt like they were burning, and he tried to hunch his shoulders to hide it.

He had been scenting her.

Everyday for the past two months.

Focusing on hers alone as if she was the only girl in the room.

Yet he hadn’t realized it at all.

If his feelings could have changed after that, it would’ve taken a whole lot of rejection on her end.  She easily consumed his thoughts even when he didn’t want to think about her.  Even when he actively tried to find someone else’s scent to enjoy, like Ino’s spring and fresh floral or Sakura’s berry and soda pop, but he ended up forgetting them with her near, ended up fazing into some kind of sparkling clarity, fuzzy around the edges yet Hinata in the center of it all, his eyes settling onto the wide ribbon peeking over her uniform’s collar as he sat at the back of the classroom and her in the front.

He noticed every time she fidgeted with the ribbon, he noticed how her scent strengthened into something darker and exciting on various occasions, but then how she’d be gone from school for days at a time, just like some of the other matured girls and boys.  Her extended absence after such impactful scents left him utterly bored and empty at school.

Then at home, he couldn’t contain his imagination, recalling her coloring scent, her fingers pressing over the choker at her hidden gland.  What might she be doing right now?  Maybe at this very moment, she was comforting herself in a nest of pillows and blankets, using toys to mimic his penetration, maybe calling his name as she writhed in heat before passing out with an exhausted afterglow…?

The last Sports Festival of their high school careers saw lots of students pairing up.  The adrenaline rush of the special competitions fueled love confessions every day up until the last moments of the final afternoon.  He longed for a confession.

His eyes kept sliding toward her.

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail throughout most of the festival, her simple white sports shirt and standard black shorts revealing her arms, legs, and the shape of her body.

Undeniably, he liked her.  Despite not knowing either of their designations, despite rarely talking to her, he couldn’t stop admiring her perfection, his eyes capturing as much as he could commit to memory before he had to look away, so as not to stare.

But sometimes he wouldn’t look away fast enough, their eyes would awkwardly meet, and she’d blush and look away first.  He’d focus determinedly somewhere else, yet inwardly, just as he always had, he’d wonder if there was any meaning in her looks, or if it was just coincidence, if those extra chocolates from their childhood were just coincidence, if he was just leading himself on in a sick and doomed game that he imagined all by himself.

He never got a confession.

But it seemed like Hinata did.

A snowy-haired boy from another class kept visiting her during breaks, talking to her from the sliding window between the hallway and the classroom, leaning over the sill to smile at her, obviously basking in her directed attention and the way she familiarly called him, “Toneri-kun.”

Silently jealous, all he could do was watch and listen, pretend to pay attention to the people around him and not his crush getting stolen away by some guy he could’ve sworn he had never seen before.

Three tedious weeks later, Toneri got bold and invited her out during lunch.  As soon as she left the room, he stood up and followed after them, not even knowing exactly why he needed to dig his wound any deeper, only that he had to witness this himself, confirm the status of their relationship himself, otherwise he’d drive himself crazy in the classroom with speculation.

It was easy to follow from a distance.  Her scent had long since invaded his memory.  So what struck him first was the slightly sour notes marring her sweetness, kind of like before a class oral presentation.

She was anxious.

They stopped behind a school building, and he leaned against the wall around the corner, straining to hear their conversation.

“...Toneri-kun?”

Hinata’s voice was easy for him to pick up, and he didn’t question this realization, it was just further proof to him of his doomed infatuation.

“...I’m sorry, I tried,” she murmured.

Naruto assumed the pauses were when Toneri spoke, but they were all indistinct tones.

“I, I just don’t think...I can see you that way...I’m sorry...”

Everything in him began relaxing, the awful clenching around his heart suddenly released, and he collapsed to the ground in a crouch, not even actively trying to listen anymore.

“Because I...I like someone.”

His eyes shot open, adrenaline rushing at her words, and only one question ringing in his mind, Who?!

“I, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

Silence followed, and he started to back away, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on what obviously was a sound rejection.

“Toneri-kun?...No, I, I, no-!”  The panic was unmistakable, her sweetness drastically souring, and he was back at the corner, straining to understand what could possibly be going on now.

A whispered “Naruto-kun-”,

And he was around the corner running, shock exploding at seeing Toneri bent too close to her, nose at her neck, Hinata backed against the building wall.  His body slammed into Toneri hard enough to make him fall to the ground.

“Hinata!”  He looked at her, checking to see that her ribbon was still secure, that she appeared unharmed, but he felt like he was going to suffocate, air not making it past his throat, a building panic and disgust roaring loudly in his core that had him turning back around to direct this somewhere, his excessive anger pinpointing Toneri, red coloring his vision too fast for him to comprehend the confused expression on the splayed boy.

He jumped on him, his fist connecting with Toneri’s face fast and hard, the knock of his white head against the ground deeply satisfying his suddenly justified instincts, and he raised his fist again to drive his point home when his arm caught midair.

He tried to yank his arm free, but the unidentified grip only proved tighter, so he raised his non-dominant hand into a fist, ready to pound into this challenger who dared to scent and claim his chosen one.

Weight pushed into his chest, light eyes taking up his whole vision.  “Naruto-kun!  Stop!”

The cacophony in his mind silenced.  A voice within responded viscerally, Omega.

“Naruto-kun.”  Milky sweetness suddenly flooded him, beating back the flames within.  Her head ducked into his chest as she clung to him.  “I’m okay, I’m really okay, you need to stop, you hurt him!”

He blinked, suddenly outside of himself.  He looked down to see Toneri shielding his face with his arms.

He stood immediately, clutching Hinata into his chest, and he backed away.  Not knowing what to do or say, he wrapped his other arm around Hinata’s shoulders, turning them around, rushing them far from his crime.

He hovered near Hinata throughout the rest of the lunch break, soaking in her sweet scent, alternately trying to forget or make sense of his loss of control.

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

Toneri’s injury didn’t go unnoticed, and he was called into the Principal’s Office.  Hinata was called in to confirm his side of the story, and then Naruto was sent to the counselor’s office.

He had been apparently so aggravated by the emotional incident that, for the first time and unknowingly, he had called on his inner Alpha into officially presenting.  But his actions were still inexcusable by school rules.

Both he and Toneri were suspended for two weeks.

The school went wild over the drama.  Even when he returned, whispered rumors of a “fight for dominance” and “claiming rights” circulated, and he couldn’t even think of approaching Hinata with such scandalous gossip surrounding them.

But sometimes, she’d tuck her hair back, or sweep the midnight strands over her shoulder, wide ribbon peeking over her shirt’s collar, wrapping her graceful, white neck in his view, then she’d look back at him, their gazes connecting for an exhilarating instant.

He didn’t need words or a confession.  From her beckoning sweet scent to her affectionate looks, from the memory of her whispering his name for help and her Omega voice calling out to his Alpha, he knew that she returned his feelings, that she was just as aware of him sitting around the corner as he was aware of her during that incident...that there was a high chance for them to start a relationship.

After they graduated.

But a long wait kindled a passionate love.

In the first year of their relationship in university, they were careful to follow the recommendations, clumsily having their first-times near the end of her heat, when she’d be conscious enough to make decisions, yet physically capable to accept any loss of control on his end.  She wanted to spend his first rut with him, too, but he decided against it, not knowing what might happen.

It was lonely.  He had never loathed a past decision so much before in his life.  No matter that he took over-the-counter suppressants to calm his Alpha’s tendencies, like keeping his knot from forming or hammering down the aggressive urge to bite into soft skin, his mind kept wandering to her, his fingers tapping into her social media for pictures of her that inevitably had him working himself into a sleeve or humping his pillows and blankets, every moment compounding frustration and dissatisfaction in a never-ending cycle, until he was phone calling her, “Just to hear your voice.”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...I miss you, too.  Are you okay?”

He was already achingly stiff, his own developed gland at his neck pulsing needfully, his Alpha aroused as if blinking suddenly awake, then thrashing to be with her.  “Mm, yeah.”

“The medicine is okay?”

He tugged on his member, his eyes closing.

“...Naruto-kun?”

He pumped himself, settling into a rhythm.  “...Yeah?”

“...Are you okay?” she repeated with more hesitation, more concern.

A harsh breath left his mouth.  “No, yeah, I just needed to hear you, Hinata,” he managed to breathe out.

“I, I missed your voice, too.”

He worked himself in his hand, imagining her whispers at his ear instead of his phone.  “I miss you.  I need you.  I need you, Hinata.”

“I wish I could help you.”

He shortly moaned.  “Yeah.  I can’t stop thinking about you.”  His train of thought quickly devolved into memories of her last heat from there, his control on his mouth snapping.  “Can’t stop thinking about your body, how I’d…”  He groaned.  “I’d fuck you so hard, Hinata-”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Shivers ran through him.  “You’d like that, right?  My hard cock driving into your dripping pussy-”

“Oh, Naruto-kun...yes…”

Blearily, he grabbed an already used sleeve, and began thrusting into it with earnest.  “You’d be so hot and slick, just gripping me so tightly-”

“Naruto-kun!”  Her voice pitched breathily.

“Fuck.  Hinata.  That’s it...”

She moaned, the hungry sound making him grind himself into the tool.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asked, trying to imagine her lewd facial expressions.

“...Yes…”

He sighed in desire and frustration, working his hips, grunting and groaning.  “...Hinata…”

“Naruto-kun…”

“You’re so soft…”

“Mm…you’re..so...mm...so big...”

Eyes closed, he lay down on his bed, and a picture of her sinking down on him, riding him, ran vividly through his mind.

“You’re so hard…”  Her sultry voice slipped around his mind like a drug, carrying him straight to the brink.

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum, over and over again.”

“Oh...please...yes…”

“Paint your insides with my seed…”  His mind faded as she breathed his name, a sound that toppled him over the edge.  He convulsed into the sleeve, pumping his hips wildly, the agony of his orgasm ripping him out of his fantasy.

When his eyes opened again, he was staring at the ceiling, utterly alone.  The imagined warmth of her body just the still air of his dorm room.

Her breaths came through the phone as his mind cleared, and he roughly apologized, “Sorry.”

“...Hm?  Oh..no, Naruto-kun, it’s, it’s okay, I understand.”

He rested, the exhaustion of his hours of lust suddenly hitting him.

“...Do you want me to come over?”

This short reprieve of his rut had him second-guessing.  He knew that once the next wave hit, he’d want her in-person.  “I don’t know, maybe, if you want…only if you want.”

“I’ll be there soon, Naruto-kun.”

She let him indulge himself between her own classes, rushing straight to him for a quickie before heading off to her next class, her womanhood and pad-lined panty sticky with the potent seed of his rut.

Numerous times that week, he wished he weren’t on medication so that he could knot her and force her to stay with him until he deflated, even if that meant she’d miss her class.

So when summer break coincided with his second rut, they talked about forgoing the medication.  He wonders if he should have known better, but of course, he couldn’t control himself.  He knotted her right away, and in his haze of animalistic lust and at the brink of orgasm, his teeth tore off her ribbon from her swollen, pink gland even though he had known it wasn’t the right time.  Her hand slapped to her neck right before he could mark her, and he ended up biting her fingers as he came.

It was awful, but she forgave him.

Close calls in their feverish, hormonal lovemaking forced both of them to start wearing locked collars on their glands with the keys in another locked cabinet.  It would be too much trouble to retrieve the keys in the throes of passion.  She had initially tried simple belted collars, thinking she’d be too foggy to deal with the buckle, but she herself would desperately remove them during the height of her heat while he pounded her into a puddle.

“Please,...Alpha,...claim me,” she breathed, stretching her neck so that he could see her bare, perfectly unscarred, and puffy scent gland.

It took everything in him to shut his eyes, while his inner Alpha raged with desire.

When she realized he couldn’t be enticed, the incident of chomping her fingers still weighing on him, she tried a different tactic.  Her teeth picked at his collar, her breath tantalizingly hot on him, her tongue licking at the exposed edges of his equally swollen gland, his heart thudding in his chest for their bond to be finalized.

If she ever bit him, even just a little, he knew he’d claim her in a heartbeat.

But she somehow held herself back every time, only teasing him with her lips and tongue, or the lightest graze of her teeth around where he desperately wanted her to bite down.  Then she’d beg for his cum, whispering dirty words he’d never imagine could leave his quiet girlfriend’s lips.

By some way or another, they managed throughout university.  He knew their parents would kill them if they bonded too soon, but after proposing to her in their final year, job-hunting, and graduation, he found less and less reasons to hold back.

He didn’t plan on marrying anyone else, and he knew Hinata didn’t plan on it, either.  So why weren’t they mated, yet?  Would their parents really be angry at them?  Technically, they were both working adults now, even if he had only just received his first paycheck.

Her intoxicatingly rich scent enveloped him, like the protective nest of blankets and pillows she’d neatly piled and encircled around them.  Her organized nest popped with distinct orange and black from his jackets and shirts, used as pillow cases to scent the entire bed if he steps away for a moment.  He himself couldn’t smell the ocean air of his scent that apparently soothes her.  Yet she curled into him, trembling and feverish with the onslaught of her fast-approaching heat, breathing in as deeply as she could at his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, the fog of her pheromones sending him through a buzzed state.  Was it his imagination, or were her heats getting denser over time, more tantalizing and sensual?  Blood was rushing low, desire accumulating slowly yet surely in his core with a certain, particular heaviness growing in his sack with the lovely, familiar scent of her heat.  His body was preparing to emulate a rut, readying to knot her, claim her, mate her.  The beast within paced itself.  His senses felt heightened in awareness of every shiver against his skin, of each puff of her breath, anticipating anything she might need of him, waiting to prove himself worthy.

She squeezed him, soft whimpers spilling from her lips as she rubbed her sensitive breasts into his side.  Her nightgown was a thin little piece, meant to provide her some semblance of modesty and keep her cool, but it made little difference to him.  Her soft thigh smoothed over his legs, her knee bumping into his erection.

Just that small stimulation had him breathing her in deeply, his eyes rolling back for a second, his heart jumping with lust.  He could tell she was almost there, almost ready to succumb to her nature.  He knew each of her signs, how she would call for him so wantonly when it was time, how her body would move enticingly, how her slick would sluice down her legs uncontrollably.

He knew her better than he knew himself.  Each facial expression, each mood, each routine, each peculiarity and detail.

He felt like he knew everything there was to know of his fiancée, and it intrigued him, frustrated him endlessly to know that there was actually still so much more for him to learn.

Turning his head, he pressed kisses into her hair and let his eyes roam down the dips and swells of her form.  “...I want to bond with you, Hinata.”

“But..we’re...not married..yet,” she breathily whispered, still clinging onto her consciousness before her Omega drove her instincts.

“I feel like we’re already married.”

“We...don’t technically...live together...yet.”

“I feel like we’re already bonded.”

“Mmm...we’re not..though.”

“You don’t want to bond?” he asked more pointedly.

“You know I do,” she answered immediately.

“Then why not now?”

“Because…”  Her voice died there.  She lifted herself up marginally, the effort apparently taxing, heat-glazing eyes barely meeting his own gaze, and he pulled her onto him for a steamy kiss.  Her tongue played with and yielded to him, letting him taste her helpless moans until they needed to breathe.  Panting, she murmured, “Can we?...bond now...?”  Her hand trailed over his bare chest, reaching for his locked collar.

“I love you, Hinata, and I can’t find any reasons to wait anymore.”

She wiggled on him, her lips rocking hotly against his own.  “I...love you..too..Naruto-kun…  Please, claim...me….tonight.”

He removed himself from her side to get the keys, making sure to soothe her worries about where he was going, then he unlocked his own collar.  His gland, swelling in response to her darkening scent, almost felt like it had a heartbeat of its own.

She lay back obediently as soon as he reappeared, and he moved over her as she turned her chin up, letting him unlock her own collar, and he tossed the leather to the ground unceremoniously.

His gaze lingered on her gland, swollen pretty and pink, delicate skin waiting to be broken.  He could bite her right now if he wanted to.  “Do you want to wait for your heat to come?”

She shook her head.  “I...can’t...wait...”

Nodding, he removed his boxers as she threw her nightgown off and rolled down her soaked panties, a heavy string of slick stretching with it.

His breath grew labored as he kneeled between her creamy legs, positioned his dick at her glistening center, and quickly sunk into her marvelous warmth, penetrating her silky folds deeply.  “I love you, Hinata.”

“I...love...you...Naru..to-kun…”  Her breaths pushed out with his long thrusts, more slick sliding out of her and covering his pelvis.  Her sweet scent was much stronger now, piercing his senses into a mindless devotion as he worked his stiff cock into her.

He fell forward, rubbing their chests together, relishing the soft give of her squirming body beneath him with a groan of approval.  He found her lips, their tongues caressing each other hungrily, her breath steaming up at him with each squishy thrust.

By the end of tonight, her soft, curvy body and her beautiful, gentle mind would be entirely his.  Her chocolatey scent would be his to taste for himself from the intimate source, sweet nectar on his tongue.

He nosed her exposed gland, breathing deeply, his tongue tracing the delicious swell.

“Naruto-kun,” she whispered, a tremor shaking her bodily as he licked her, her soft hold clenching around him.

Desire surged, the base of his piece already swelling.  “Hinata,” he groaned, trying to hold back his eager, oncoming knot, “can I claim you from the back?”

Like in the traditional pictures.  The Alpha dominating the Omega into submission first before they changed places, and the Omega ultimately choosing whether to seal the bond for life.  It wasn’t the only way, but it was the one he had frequently fantasized about as a teenager whenever Hinata was absent.  Maybe because he was always watching her from the back of the classroom, always noticing if she turned around.

Her light eyes gazed up at him through lowered lashes.  “Yes.”

He sat up, pulling her legs together against his chest.  A few thrusts into her, and she twisted onto her side, her body curving deliciously, his hands delighting in her pinched waist, her pillowy breasts, the jiggle of her ass as he slapped into her.  “Fuck.”  His knot was inflating fast, insisting on burying into her with each push.  “On your hands and knees, Omega.  Present for your Alpha.”

She gained her knees as he pulled out for a second, turning her dripping petals up to him beneath a wiggling, full ass.

He drove forward, ramming himself into her, her body opening up for his knot.  He pushed himself deeper as she took the swell of him, her lower lips closing around him, locking him in like she was made for him, her body ready for his inner Alpha to claim her.  Excitement thrilled through him, her gland prominently waiting for him with Hinata’s hair draped on the other side.  Salivating, he leaned over her prone form, hands gliding and squeezing up her smooth body until his fingers sunk into her breasts.

He tongued her gland, relishing the flutter of her cushiony flesh conforming to his tight knot, the pleasure prickling like static.  He let his teeth graze her delicate skin, the tease on his mind unbearable, yet devastating on her.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, oh, Alpha, I’m yours, please, Alpha, only yours, take me, take me-”

His lips enclosed around the swollen skin, gently suckling as she fucked herself on his knot, her ass shaking on his pelvis wildly, aromatic slick smearing all over him.  “Hinata, all mine, so cute and needy on my big cock, begging for my claim.”

“Yes, yes, please…”  Her repeated, begging promises overpowered the last of his control, his hand reaching further up to take hold of her slender neck, the possessive gesture wringing a mindlessly loud moan from her throat.

He bit.

She burst beneath him.

Hormone-rich flavor flooded his senses, ecstatic pleasure whipping at him like a pinch, grounding his body to hers as warmth pooled low, he was coming hard, but airy delight enfolded him, her scent and taste softly weighing through him.  He clung to her shivering body, hands squeezing at her skin, his fingers reaching for more of her, his cock still twitching out cum as far as he could reach.  He swallowed down more of his claim, more of the forbidden honey of her body, a devotion sealing upon him that sent his heart throbbing louder and louder, only to realize...it was hers.  Her pulse and moaning breaths so clear, he couldn’t hear himself at all.

Heat spread from his chest, circulating out until he was burning uncomfortable pins and needles across his whole body, numbing him.

Except for where they touched.

He had at some point fallen to his side, tangling her to himself as close as he could.  Need rippled through him.  His body felt empty.  His own mating gland felt tight and hot, pulling and pulsing at his neck.  Her soft skin and flesh comforted him like a drug, all of his senses zeroing in on her sensation, and he needed more of her, yet his Alpha felt weak, intoxicated, incapable of taking what he wanted.

All he could do was clutch her tightly, pierce himself into her over and over as his knot softened, suck on her skin, and listen to each of her hitching cries in attempts to soothe the aches of an incomplete bond.

Her dewy gland left his lips, and in his lust-ridden daze, he wanted to pin her back down, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t move as she pushed his shoulder, laying him flat, as she mounted him and moved upon him.

Through bleary eyes he regarded the bouncing form of his mate, each stroke making her moans sing in his mind, her heavy pulse drumming in his ears.  His Alpha, drunk on his claim, murmured, My Omega, mine, encouraging his hands to pull her wide hips down to meet his weakened thrusts, fingers to lazily pull at her nipples as they jiggled in front of him.  Before long, she was taking in his knot again, her flaring hips swaying as she fitted herself onto him, her soft body perfectly taking him, her Omega voice whispering so sweetly, “My Alpha...”

He strained his head to the side in a helpless plea.  Never before had he felt so needy or powerless.  They had learned in Health Class about how incomplete bonds could drive someone mad.  How imbuing someone else’s essence within can lead to emotional, mental, and physical pain if left unanswered.

And he realized he would feel frightened if he didn’t trust her completely to take him in return, to glide her hands across his chest like he’s precious, to lean over him as her heated gasps and cries rang through him, to lowly murmur, “Mine,” an echo that alerted his senses enough for his body to gravitate up toward her, toward her kisses, her teeth, grazing, sinking…

He burned.

Strained.

Furiously released.

Her enticing, whimpering sounds urged him on.

A thick pulse from his gland, to his heart, to his cock.

Like a heavy thread tying him to her fluttering clutch around his throbbing piece, to her rapid pulse beating in his mind, to her caressing and insistent tongue and lips on his neck.  His whole self, not just his dick, was knotted to her for the first time.  Cum continued to spill out of him, each shot spreading fluffy euphoria over him, whitening his mind around their taut connection.

And then he could truly feel her.

Her Omega.

Pleasant, delighted comfort mirroring his own.  Her beautiful emotions washing through him, completing his until he couldn’t distinguish his own high from hers.

He turned his head, pushing her face from his gland, finding hers, and drinking her in.  He caught her dripping essence on his tongue, the warm, sweet taste whipping at him once more, drugging him.

Her heightened pleasure raced against his heart as she climbed the peak of ecstasy once more.  Striking ecstasy surged harder and harder through their bond, her orgasm crashing through him, more cum spurting out of him as she cried out her elation.

He felt endless.

Cycled and recycled in her embrace.  Needing and providing, giving and receiving, sharing and keeping.

They enjoyed their new bond straight through the start of her heat, his body not needing a break for several hours past his normal, rut-less limit.  When his piece finally softened, he noticed she wasn’t exhibiting the usual symptoms of her heat, like deliriousness and confusion.  He knew exactly what she wanted, and while he pleasured her with a dildo instead, she didn’t beg him for anything he couldn’t give.

She was less tired in the brief respites from her heat.

She seemed settled and happy, rather than struggling against her inner Omega’s needs.

“We should’ve bonded sooner,” he reflected aloud as they finally ate their first meal in over ten hours.

Sitting in his lap, she hummed in agreement, snuggling against his chest, and sighed, “I love you, Naruto-kun.”

“I love you, Hinata.”  He smiled, meeting her content expression.

Thoughts of their parents’ reactions were far from their minds.

And of course, as soon as they broke the news when her heat was over, Hinata’s father immediately forced them to have a civil marriage at the courthouse that week, even though their wedding ceremony and celebration with guests were in only a month and a half.  Hiashi made Naruto move into Hinata’s apartment immediately, even though the agreement had originally been only for her heats or his ruts.

-

They stood together, admiring the photographs of their wedding on the refrigerator.  Hinata smiled into his chest as they embraced.  “We got to get married twice,” she reflected aloud with a laugh.

“Yeah, see, not too many people get to have two weddings,” he agreed.

“And I got to have you all the time, sooner, so it’s definitely a good thing.”

“Yeah.”  He squeezed her harder, despite knowing what her sinfully angelic body would do to him.  He was thinking their parents, Hiashi included, must have remembered the effects of new bonds, and for that reason forced them to marry and move in together, beyond just for appearance’s sake and societal expectations…

He missed her all the time.  A strange loneliness even if he was surrounded by people.  And his libido was much higher than before.

He wasn’t taught that part about the bond in school.

That seeing her at the wedding in her figure-hugging gown would nearly incite an erection.  That having their first dance, even in front of all their friends and family, would make him want to grind against her like they’re in the club.  That just thinking of her at work would make him feel like he needed to rub one off in the bathroom.

It was like being on the tip of going into a rut, but staying at that edge for days, weeks.  He could still control himself easily, but if she’s in his arms here and now, there’s really no reason to stress about it.

It affected her similarly.

She was more than willing, letting him make love to her wherever they were in the apartment, just turning around, pulling her panties down, and allowing him to fit into her so that they could satisfy the physical side-effects of their bond.  “Naruto-kun,” she gasped out as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

He watched the soft skin of her ass bouncing on his hips with each of his energetic thrusts.  “Hinata, you’re so sexy.”

She hummed a disagreement that turned into a yelp as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers until they were hard points.

“Yes, you are.”  His dick twitched inside of her as she gasped tortured cries.  He was going to come quickly, the need beginning to boil over even though it had only been a couple of minutes.  His right hand groped her full breast, the plush skin turning him on even harder as his left reached down to find her clit.

His middle finger slid over the hot, moist hood.  One gentle stroke, and she was convulsing on him.  Two strokes, and she sobbed out his name.

A groan fell out as he pulled himself close to her, shoving his straining piece as deeply as he could and pulsing sweet release into her soft clutch.

She panted into the crook of her arm, letting him rest against her back.  “I love you.”

Smiling tiredly into her hair, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Quickies were a solution to ease their newly mated Alpha and Omega, and gradually, over the course of the year, their cycles calmed and fell into a synchronizing rhythm.

It’s a blessing he doesn’t take for granted.  Rutting into his mate and not just any heated Omega found on dating apps.  His only partner in his whole life.

There’s nothing better than knowing he’s the only one to have ever held her, the only one to have ever been inside her, to make her gasp and cry in pleasure, to have her slick dripping down his groin, and to have his name on her wanton tongue.

To be the only one she’s ever called, “Alpha…”

To be the only one she looks at with heat-stained pink cheeks and glazed, cloudy, adoring eyes.

To hear her begging for his knot, to bear his child.

He’s lucky.

“Good girl,” he mutters before smashing his lips to hers, her squeals hot on his tongue.  Sucking kisses down her jaw, he buries his face at her neck and nudges into her until she opens up for his knot completely.  “Take it.”  Elation tickles at his extremities, and he holds her soft body closer.

Tense hands press into his back, and her silky flesh pulls at him with insistent tugs around his knot.  She arches into him with mindless, urgent praises.

Hot spurts of cum leave his aching cock, and he shudders against her smaller, trembling form.  Groaning, he jerks into her, pressing his straining piece as deeply as he can.

Her still-broken gasps, the pull of her body, and the vibrant scent of her gland promise him a long climax, and he imagines the concentrated seed of his rut soaking into her cervix.

She’s probably already pregnant from their first round with the fertile conditions of their bond, but that knowledge only stirs his Alpha’s primal instincts.

In some bygone evolutionary past, unmated outsiders of the pack would be drawn to a pregnant female’s “glow,” her shroud of strongly attractive aroma meant to encourage her own mate to stay close and provide...

Itʻs a medical fact that soon Hinata’s enticing scent will lure others with little self-control.

So he just needs to make sure they know she’s his.

Sitting up, he leisurely grinds into her jolting body, delighting in each tortured cry.  She’s still sensitive to the touch, but he strokes the slanting curves of her hips, around to her soft thighs near his torso, then back up her body to squish into her tits.  Minutes of caressing her body pass, and his knot gradually deflates, allowing him to stab into her with longer thrusts.  “Hina...you feel how hard I still am for you?”

She nods with a blissful smile.  “Naruto-kun,” she coos.

“Yeah.”  He grabs her wrists and brings her hands down, silently encouraging her to feel their sloppy connection below.

Dutifully, her hand encircles the base of his length as he pulls out, dripping with their cum, while he has her other hand smear against her steamy womanhood.  “My Alpha’s made me so wet,” she comments, her cloudy eyes lidded in sensual intimacy.

He takes her hands and flattens them against her stomach, then glides them up to her full breasts.  Watching her touch herself, he groans as he penetrates back into her slick folds.  “Feel how soft you are?  Feel how your body makes me so hard for you?”

The pink of her cheeks deepens as she moans, and he pierces her a few more times before withdrawing once more.

He drags his cock along her thigh and rubs the mess into her creamy skin.  He scoops the dribbling loads from her pussy and smoothes it across her tummy.  “Rub it in.”

She does the rest without prompting, her fingers reaching down to her lower lips spread around the tip of his girth before drawing back up to trace shining patterns over her skin.

Grinding into her, he watches her hands dip over the slopes of her body, her fingers shamelessly lingering at her nipples, pleasuring herself, leaving their cum shining on her areolas.  “Pretty tits,” he grunts, leaning down to nip at the jiggling, erect buds.

Suddenly she tenses up, writhing beneath him, her breasts pillowing against his face.  Her stressed grip clenches at his biceps, and he looks up to see her agonized expression.

Her eyes closed in rapture.

Swollen lips wide open, her jaw working around a breathless scream.

Velvety folds tighten around him, inviting him to snuggle deeper as her creamy fluid splashes down his balls.  Pride sizzles through him at the tell-tale signs of a well-loved Omega, the idea of her soon-to-be multiple, repeated orgasms exciting him.

She bucks up at him, quietly begging, “More…knot...need…knot…”

Pulling out, he flips her onto her stomach.  Using his knees to spread her legs apart, he glides his piece along the length of her crack, steamy slick sticking to her ass cheeks as he compares his engorged size to her smaller body.

“Naru-”

He slides back into her spread petals, rapidly pounding into her.  Avidly watching her ass bounce against him, he slaps the pale skin to bright red, earning him ecstatic squeals.  That familiar pinching surges low, and he’s swollen again, his knot taut and full, but her dripping folds easily wrap around him as he pushes in.

She gasps mindless words of appreciation that devolve into a moan once he reaches beneath her to stroke her slippery clit.  One, two, three hard rubs with his fingers, and her passage tightens up in rhythmic tugs on his knot.

His eyes roll back as she forces his ejaculate out, a snarl fixed into his jaw.  His fingers push into her clit as he grinds into her, ensuring a torturous orgasm that leaves her breathlessly climbing another peak soon after.

“A-Alpha, oh, Alpha!”  Creamy slick leaks around his knot as she writhes enticingly beneath him, and within a minute, her soaked walls are massaging his hot length once more in trembling ecstasy.

Grunting, he squirts out the last of his load, adrenaline streaming hot-cold from every extremity, tingling pleasure washing through and seeping into her.

He collapses, pulling her to their sides.  Eyes falling closed, he focuses his senses on the chocolatey taste of her honey dripping on his tongue, the melty feeling of his cock nestled securely in their shared moisture, and the softness of her areolas puckered into tight nubs between his fingers.  He enjoys her squirming ass in his lap, the thumping beat of her heart in the background of his mind, her loving sighs.

Teasing pleasure tickles at his inner beast, and possessive affection blooms strong within.

An instinctive pressure in his chest to hold her close and never let go.

Ebbing and flowing through his veins, emotion rising like an incoming tide.  It’s still hardly the start of their first acclimated bond together; they’re only just entering the final stage of the mating process.

Her heady scent is stronger than ever, and he’s sinking into it.  The pitching climax of their bond has him relinquishing control to her needs, his body easily responding to her desires. They’re reaching a new depth and alignment in their relationship that excites and mystifies him, will conceivably drag him under and rebirth him.

“Do..do you hear that?”  Her breathless voice is barely audible over the faint, singing hum he can feel trembling through them, a primordial tone of mates only ever described, never recorded.

“Yeah.”  Content attachment fizzes through him, bubbles across his skin, and he cuddles her close, snuggling his piece deep.

She turns her head, hot blush dusted across her cheeks, warm lips and tongue slotting perfectly with his.

He is meant for this, meant for her to be meant for him.  Maybe the gods didn’t tie red threads between their fingers, but she twined him in herself.  Each look, word, scrap of attention paid tangled them, sewed his soul to hers in a way their bodies can only attempt to replicate in sinfully sweet ritual.

“Naru..mm…”  Her light gasps mist at his tongue with each rock into her body, and he drinks each breath in, savors the pure adoration and unremitting arousal he can taste from her lips.

“I know, Hinata, I know.”  Sweet craving and even sweeter indulgence wrap beautifully about him, and he draws them deeper to sweetest release.

[salvador-daley]

Quarantine (Part 1)

Robert Sheehan x Reader

A young starlet finally lands what she hopes will be her big break. But first she has to endure two weeks locked up with her annoying co-star

CW: Smut, of course. Plus a lackadaisical attitude to airline safety protocols

The flight is a little delayed, so you wheel your Louis Vuitton case into the airport lounge and order a glass of champagne. You pick a table by the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the terminal concourse and pull out your book, trying to ignore that tight knot of nervous energy growing in your stomach. You hate flying and your anxiety only seems to get worse the more you do it. 

Is it too soon to take one of my pills? you think. Probably. The flight could be delayed even longer and then you’d only end up falling asleep in this armchair and missing it altogether. 

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you barely register the tall man entering the lounge and sauntering towards your table, only fully becoming aware of his presence when he drops his slightly tatty leather rucksack at your feet. 

“Hello there!” he says brightly in an Irish accent, slumping into the seat opposite uninvited. “I believe we’re going to be working together soon.” 

You look up and see the familiar face of your new co-star smiling back at you. He’s wearing a designer duffle coat that could just as easily be from a charity shop and a slightly see-through sweater that appears to have been purchased from the womenswear section. You note that it bears several holes around the neckline. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, extending your hand and introducing yourself.

“We’ve met before actually, at Nancy’s New Year party last year,” he says, shaking your hand, his various beaded bracelets jangling.

You smile at him blankly. You spent that entire party sucking up to a producer who would later tell you that you were “a little too provincial” for a part you wanted, whatever the fuck that means.

“Anyway,” he says after an awkward beat, “I’ll bet you’re looking forward to being locked up in quarantine when we get to the other end.”

“Oh, I dunno,” you sigh, “I think maybe two weeks of peace and quiet sounds pretty nice. I’m quite good at entertaining myself and it’ll hopefully give me a chance to look over the scripts again. What about you?” you ask.

“I’ve come prepared,” he says, opening his coat to display a dog-eared copy of the Bhagavad Gita poking out of his inside pocket.

“Hindu scripture,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “That is some hardcore reading material.”

He leans forward: “Oh, I’m sure it’s no less hardcore than…” he lifts your book away from the table to look at the cover, “Jackie Collins! Now that is hardcore,” he says, giving you a devilish look.

“Don’t take the piss,” you say, snatching the book off the table and shoving it in your bag. “It relaxes me, I’m a bad flyer.”

You lean back and cross your legs, catching him as he steals a glance at the strip of flesh between your thigh-high boots and your leather miniskirt.

“You’ve dressed for comfort, I see,” he says, using his eyebrows to indicate your outfit.

“I’m not about to end up on the front page of TMZ in my jogging bottoms,” you scoff.

He sighs and leans back in the chair, shoving a hand into the pocket of his... jogging bottoms.

“Not everyone can pull them off,” you add quickly.

He smiles, perhaps at your accidental double entendre.

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” he says.

****

“Welcome aboard, sir, you are in seat 3A,” says the flight attendant, tearing off the stub of his boarding pass. “And you are in seat 3F, madam,” she adds, tearing off yours.

“Oh well, we can wave at each other across the plane,” he says, giving you a wink as he heads inside.

As he takes his seat he actually does wave at you from across the plane, wiggling his fingers impishly. You wave back and attempt to smile underneath your face mask, but your nerves are getting the better of you now. You slip one of your pills beneath the mask and try to concentrate on staying calm, every whirr and click of the aircraft setting your teeth on edge. At least the seat next to you is empty. You couldn’t cope with being sat next to a snoring stranger for the next eight hours.

As the plane takes off, you close your eyes, gripping the armrests and concentrating on taking deep breaths. After a while, you become vaguely aware of the seatbelt light turning off in the cabin.

He drops into the empty seat next to you: “How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” you say, opening one eye to look at him. “My therapist told me to take deep breaths, but that’s easier said than done.”

“Excuse me, my love,” he says, stopping a passing member of the flight crew. “Do we have to wear these for the whole flight?” he asks, indicating his face mask.

“I’m afraid so, but you can remove it if you’re eating or drinking,” she replies.

“I guess we should order some drinks then,” he says.

****

As he talks, you catch yourself watching his lips and you subconsciously run your hand through your hair. You’re both several drinks deep now and you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sat like this, heads together, talking in confidential tones in the darkness.

Every now and then he leans a little closer and that playful look in his green eyes causes your stomach to flip. Although I suppose that could just be the turbulence, you think.

This close, you can smell his coconut shampoo and hear the chinking of his various beads and trinkets as he ruffles his hair. When it’s your turn to talk, you catch him snatching glances at your lips, his smile travelling to his eyes as you swap funny stories about shared acquaintances.

“So have you always been a nervous flyer?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“No, I used to enjoy flying, but it’s just got worse over the years,” you say, your face beginning to warm from the effects of the alcohol. “Actually,” you say, leaning your head closer to his conspiratorially, “I’ve always had this thing…” You stop yourself, suddenly aware of how unguarded you’re being: “No, I can’t say.”

“Oh, go on, tell me,” he says, in a low voice, shifting his body towards you in his seat.

“No, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head and half-covering your eyes shyly with your hand. You must be a bit drunk, otherwise you wouldn’t even consider telling him this.

“Come on,” he begs, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the plane.

“Ok, fine,” you say, whispering now, “I’ve always wanted to…,” you pause as the flight attendant passes your seats, “I’ve always kinda wanted to do it on an aeroplane,” you say eventually, cringing at yourself.

His thick eyebrows rise immediately at the revelation and his face breaks into a wide smile.

“Really?” he says, excitedly.

He looks around the plane for a second, then turns to you again.

“Well, in completely unrelated news,” he says quietly, trailing his fingers along the flesh above the cuff of your boot, “I’m going to head to the toilet. I’ll be using that one right there, just in case you need to know for any reason,” he adds, pointing to the bathroom at the head of the plane.

He rises now, giving you a wink.

“You’re not serious?” you ask, in a hushed voice. But he only bobs his eyebrows in response as he opens the door and shuts it behind him. The light comes on above, indicating that it is occupied, and you just sit there, your heart racing in your chest now, blood rushing to your face.

You look around the plane. Only a couple of reading lights illuminate the cabin and most of the occupants are now asleep.

Oh my God, this is madness. You’re not actually considering this? You’ll be caught. You’ll be arrested. Imagine what the press will say.

You undo your seatbelt and step into the aisle, the pounding in your chest travelling to your ears.

This is crazy, you think, walking up to the toilet door. You rap quietly on it and for a second you wonder if perhaps this is some cruel prank he’s playing on you. How will you react when you call his bluff? I was only kidding, I’m not really going to shag you in an aeroplane toilet, mate. Haha, so funny.

He opens the door and pulls you inside, locking the door behind you.

“Thank God, for a second there I thought you were going to leave me hanging,” he says, pulling you close and connecting his mouth with yours.

One of his hands wraps in your hair while the other pushes your skirt up over your ass. He grabs it and pulls you even closer, pressing his erection against you. His kiss is intense, frenzied even, devouring you while his hands press your body into his.

The tiny room fills with the sound of heavy breathing as his mouth explores yours, then moves to your neck.

“Wait,” you whisper, catching your breath, “what if we get caught.”

He pulls away and looks at you: “I know, right?” he says, flashing you a wicked smile.

And then his lips are on yours again, his hands travelling underneath your clothes. He tears your sweater off over your head, diving his face between the lacy cups of your bra, grabbing you, biting your breast through the thin material.

Now his hand is travelling down, hitching your skirt around your waist, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His lips meet your ear as his fingers circle your clit: “I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since Nancy’s party,” he whispers, slipping his fingers inside you. He smiles: “Oh, you dirty bitch, you’re so fucking wet,” he says, finding your mouth again and wrapping his tongue around yours.

He lifts you up to perch you on the edge of the sink, fucking you with his fingers while his mouth roams around your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

It’s all happening so quickly you barely have time to find your breath, let alone think about what you’re doing.

You wrap one arm around him, plunging your hand into his soft curls, reaching down with your other hand to grasp his cock over his sweatpants. As you palpate him with your fingers, it only spurs him on.

“I can’t fucking wait to fuck you,” he says, pulling your head back by your hair and exposing your neck to his greedy mouth.

You place your foot on the lid of the toilet and drag his sweater over his head, pulling his torso close to yours.

“We have to be quick,” you hiss, conscious of the very real risk of being caught. Your heart pounds inside your chest, like a prisoner banging desperately against the bars of a cell.

You grab the waistband of his pants now, tugging them down roughly, freeing his cock. It springs into your hand, firm and eager.

He runs his hand up your leg: “I fucking love these boots,” he says into your ear, bringing his hand up your thigh and over your ass. With his other hand, he pulls your underwear to one side and enters you, filling you with his cock.

“Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” he growls in your ear, holding your body tightly to his as he begins to thrust inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your fist to silence yourself.

Fast, duelling breaths become the only sound inside the cubicle. You cling to his body and dig both fists into his hair, meanwhile his hands wrap around your ass, drawing you closer with every thrust.

You pull his face up and look into his eyes as you fuck each other, panting wordlessly. Then he kisses you again, his tongue searching for yours.

Your mind races: He’s fucking you in this bathroom and there’s dozens of people on the other side of the door. If you’re caught, you’ll be in so much trouble. The police will be called when you land, you’ll be handcuffed, everyone will know what you did…

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you gasp, through clenched teeth, trying your best not to scream.

He groans and you feel him coming too, his fingers digging into your ass as he deepens his thrusts.

“Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead pitifully.

You claw at his back as your orgasm peaks, white hot adrenaline filling your veins. Every nerve in your body snaps and fizzes and you float thousands of feet above the earth, coming back down gently, like a falling feather, aided now by the gentle rocking of his hips.

You hold each other for a second, trying hard to regain your breath. Then the silence of the bathroom is broken by your laughter, then his, your bodies shaking together with liberating vibrations.

****

“You go first, give me a second to fix myself up,” you say as he pulls up his pants and slips his sweater back on, giving you one last furtive kiss before he unlocks the door and slips back into the cabin.

When you leave a minute or so later, you meet eyes with a glamorous older woman sitting in the seat nearest the bathroom, her eyebrow curling in the direction of the sky as she looks you up and down. You avert your eyes, feeling the blood rush to your face as you retake your seat.

He leans his head into yours: “I think the woman in 1E is onto us,” he whispers as you sink down beside him.

****

You lift your eye mask and see him sitting under the reading light, his head in his book.

“I can’t sleep,” you whine, sitting up in the reclining seat.

“Yeah, me neither, I gave up trying,” he replies.

“Do you want to watch a film?” you ask, offering him one of your headphones and adjusting the seat.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, closing his book and snuggling down under the blanket next to you.

You pick something at random, some vapid romcom that will ideally allow you to drift off for the last few hours of the flight.

“I auditioned for this part,” you tell him, your head resting on his chest. “Didn’t get it, obviously.”

“Really?” he says, lifting his chin slightly to look at you.

“Yeah, apparently the girl who got it was dating the director at the time,” you say, yawning.

“Well, you know what it’s like. It’s not what you know, but who you know, and who you’re willing to sleep with,” he says.

You snap your head up: “What the fuck does that mean?” you hiss at him, trying hard not to raise your voice.

“I didn’t mean you, obviously,” he says, fumbling for his words.

“You think I fucked someone to get this job?” you ask him, your eyes narrowing.

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively.

“You think I fucked you for some ulterior motive?” you ask, sitting up in the seat now and glaring at him angrily.

“Well, Jesus, I hope not...” he says, his brow furrowing.

“I think you should go back to your seat now,” you say.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean you,” he says, pleadingly. But you’re not listening. You throw two of your pills down your throat and pull your eye mask back over your face, rolling over in your seat with your back to him.

Stupid twat, you think.

He sighs loudly and rises from the seat.

“Touchy cow,” he mutters as he heads back to the other side of the plane.

****

“And here is the key to your suite. As you are spending the mandatory 14-day self-isolation period with us, please remember not to leave the room unless there is an emergency,” says the hotel receptionist as she scribbles quickly on your registration card.

“N-n-n-n-no,” you say, wagging your finger at the receptionist. “Not suite. Suites PLURAL. There should be two, one for him and one for me,” you say tetchily, indicating to him as he stands beside you at the desk.

The receptionist shrugs helplessly: “I don’t know what to tell you, madam. I’m only seeing a booking for one here on the system.”

“Well, check it again, there must be some mistake,” you say, irritation rising audibly in your voice.

“Madam, I don’t need to check it again, this is our last available room, I’m afraid,” she says.

You become aware of him turning towards you with a smirk, watching you with amusement as you feel your temper beginning to rise.

You plaster on a fake smile. You're not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your shit.

“No problem, I’ll just make a quick call and get this all straightened out,” you say through gritted teeth.

****

“I’m sorry, darling, but that’s the best the production company could come up with,” says Lynda, your agent, down the phone.

“Lynda, I’m a reasonable person, I can share a suite with someone, but why does it have to be with him?” you plead.

“What are you talking about? Everyone loves him, you’re the only person I know who has a problem with him.”

“He’s an arsehole, Lynda,” you say emphatically.

“Look, this job is a really big opportunity for you. I don’t want you to blow this by being… yourself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you shriek down the phone.

“Darling, you know I love you, but you have to admit you can be a bit of a.. well, you know…”

“A bit of a what, Lynda?”

“A BIT OF A DIVA, ok? You can be a real spoiled brat sometimes and kind of a hothead. Just suck it up. It’s only two weeks. Just put on a smile and be nice.”

With that, she hangs up the phone, leaving you standing there in the hotel lobby, mouth agape, speechless, furious and frustrated.

****

“No luck?” he says with a smug grin, leaning against a pillar near the front desk.

“After careful consideration, I’ve decided that I am willing to let you share my suite, just to make things easier for everyone,” you say.

“How gracious of you,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think so, yes,” you reply, snatching the key card from his hand and striding to the elevator.

“This is going to be a fun two weeks,” he mumbles, following you to the door.

Read Part 2 here | Read Part 3 here

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[keilemlucent]

the sex party: i

 (r18+)

shinsou hitoshi x reader

ao3

part 1 (you’re here!)   ||    part 2

word count: ~7.1k

You and Hitoshi definitely have a thing for each other, but who would've thought that a 'sex party' would produce a confession?

warnings: 

COLLEGE AU! characters are explicitly aged up to college students as early 20 year olds!

not really a sex party, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessions, reader is canonically bi, brief momo x reader, light dom/sub, spanking, references to drug use, smoking (cigarettes, salem trademarked fic thing), drinking, and smut

there is a scene where there is attempted sexual assault. it is marked with ***** before and after. 

---------

this.... this piece is a monster. i’ve been wrestling with it for a month and now its here for y’all. the second part is already out ;^)) thank you to @keiqos for being an absolute king and beta reader this monster. enjoy y’all!!

||||||||||||||||| 

You never imagined that you would be where you were. It was under weird circumstances, but god if you weren’t going to try and enjoy it. 

The party you found yourself attending was lit with flashing lights and rainbow projections. There were two different DJs on various floors of the suburban mansion. They bumped out remixed club music, making the walls hum and thrum and bodies writhe and sweat. One of the kitchen counters was loaded with bottles and bottles of hard liquor and mixers. 

You were quickly making a third mixie. Just a vodka soda, boringly. There were certainly more fun options, but you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about this party just yet. You were having trouble discerning whether this was a ‘gin and tonic millennial’ party or a ‘jungle juice in an old cooler’ party. 

Denki and Jiro had convinced nearly two car-fulls of your friends to roll up. It sounded so fun, so wild!

  “Yo! Our friends from the EDM scene are throwing a SEX party! You all should come! It’s at a mansion across town!”

 Their ‘friends’ were two middle-aged, white hippies who did a lot of molly for their age. 

Nonetheless, you found yourself in a massive, odd house and managed to lose your friends fairly quickly (and accidentally). All the rooms stayed dimly lit and loud. You could hardly keep track of your own two feet. 

Someone pressed you into the counter, a hand grazing against your barely covered ass. 

You whipped around, watching as a couple walked away, one of them giving incredibly loud bedroom eyes.

Oh yeah, the ‘sex party’ part.

It wasn’t a kink party, or really a sex party at all. Sex was encouraged and provided for, but not necessary. The mansion’s massive attic was where most of the sex acts were happening with its five beds, three bondage rigs, a wall of toys of all types, condoms, lube, whippits, and even Viagra in decorative bowls. You had yet to venture up, but Denki had already spammed the group chat about it.

(It had been the first place he went upon arriving.)

You took your drink down the stairs (the place had three fucking basements) and turned into a small hallway that led outside.

It was cold, but your somewhat drunk body hardly minded. The sobering bite of wind gave a nice reprieve from the thrumming heat inside. 

You immediately spotted Hitoshi leaning on a retaining wall, half a cigarette hanging from his lips. His face lit up, when he saw you, waving you over.

 You smiled back at him, glad to find a friend and best of all Hitoshi. 

You two were quite close. 

In addition to both being sociology majors and having a lot of overlap when it came to classes, you’d known each other since freshman year and only grew closer with time. You’d spent many nights at his house off-campus, sipping cup after cup of black coffee in the midst of a paper writing and studying. You also definitely didn’t ever have close calls of affection though, no. 

No. 

Never.

You and Hitoshi were obviously just friends.

...

“Wild party, huh?” Hitoshi quirked an eyebrow, nodding to the house. He offered you a cigarette that you took greedily. 

You placed it between your lips, Hitoshi ever so casually leaning forward to light it with his signature clipper. He’d nabbed it off some ‘milf’ at the casino which he and Denki had gone to for bingo ‘for the meme’ freshmen year. 

You let out a puff, “Thank you! And yes, very wild. I’m on drink three and I still feel overwhelmed.”

Hitoshi sipped his own, nodding in agreement, “I know Jiro and Denki know some wild people from the scene, but this seems over the top.”

“It is kind of fun? But definitely an ‘I need to be a little more fucked up’ kind of fun,” You remarked.

You set down your cigarette on the cement wall, attempting to boost yourself up onto it. You nearly had it, except you really didn’t and slipped back down. You anxiously turned around, checking your dress over for any sort of tears. 

Hitoshi set down his own cigarette, standing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt very small and very horny all of a sudden. It certainly wasn’t an abnormal set of feelings, given how the two of you teased each other relentlessly. 

“Need some help there?” He chuckled at your struggle as you frowned up at him.

“If you insist.” You expected him to offer a hand to stabilize yourself on but no, Hitoshi’s big hands were suddenly grabbing at your waist, lifting you on the walls with little effort.

You swore you almost felt him squeeze you before letting go.

“You’re welcome,” Hitoshi just smirked as he returned to his spot, taking a deep drag to look at you through lowered lids.

You glared, but in good fun. 

At that moment, a few other of your friends poured from the door to the patio. They were all shouting, jarring and drunk, and very happy to see the two of you.

You unconsciously shifted a bit closer to Hitoshi on the wall, bare leg just barely touching his shoulder.

You didn’t notice it, but Hitoshi definitely leaned into you too. 

“(Y/N)! Hitoshi!” Momo addressed you firmly as Denki and Hanta snickered behind her. “You both are smarter than to smoke, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” You popped the word from your mouth to take another drag.

“We’re drunk, give it a rest,” Hitoshi waved his hand dismissively. You were both her friends, but she did have a pole up her ass sometimes. 

Almost to emphasize the point, Jiro withdrew her own pack and started offering to other people. 

As the ever-important smoking ritual continued, you couldn’t help but shiver from the now-painful gusts of wind. You abruptly hopped off of the wall, only wobbling a little on your heels as you hit the ground. Hitoshi moved to steady you, a firm hand on your shoulder.

(God, you wanted to melt into him.)

See, Hitoshi had been smart enough to wear a warm outfit. A pair of black jeans, a form-fitting, well-cut sweater, and a jacket which was slung over his arm. 

He offered it to you, eyebrow raised, “If you’re cold, you’re welcome to this. I’m gonna stash it when I get inside anyways.”

You shook your head, pushing back on his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath. You almost shivered. “No, no it’s okay. I’m gonna head back in.”

“Mind if I tag along then?” Hitoshi asked, eyes scanning around you. He seemed well aware that there were some creeps at this party.

Most of the time, you wouldn’t feel great about needing some tall, beefy dude to casually stand around as a deterrent. But, honestly? You appreciated it immensely. 

“Right this way, smokestack,” You just had to give him shit, it was part of your cute dynamic right?

(It made the incessant flirting easier to hide.)

...

You couldn’t help but continually notice how Hitoshi had bulked up. He had been hitting the gym a lot and working on himself physically. 

God, did it show. 

His body had been a bit lanky and wiry before, but he’d filled out so well. With his cute sweater on, you could see how the fabric stretched tight around his biceps and his chest. You couldn’t look at his forearms in any setting or risk drooling all over yourself.

Not that you would mind drooling for Hitoshi, but you’d prefer it to be in a different context. 

(But, you’d never admit that.)

 The two of you wordlessly winded through the house, finding a somewhat less feral living room in one of the basements to relax in. Most everyone occupying the space was just mingling, save for a few couples making out. It seemed manageable. You settled for a spot on the carpet against a wall.

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“I feel way safer sitting on a floor than a couch here,” You couldn’t help smiling when you saw him snuff out his own amusement. 

You both watched as a couple was grinding and audibly moaning on one of the aforementioned couches. Hitoshi relented, “Point taken.”

He slid down the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, drinks in hand.

You both sat in silence for a minute, just taking the sounds and sights of the party. People-watching could have been an olympic sport at this shindig. 

“Hey,” Hitoshi broke the mild tension, tapping your upper thigh over your dress. “I’m not saying this to be a creep, really, I promise. But, I really like your dress.”

You turned your body slightly, towards him. Oh, now you needed to give him shit— “Oh, how complementary. Not creepy at all. Just my very sweet, male friend telling me how I look pretty in my party dress.”

Hitoshi leaned closer to you, mirroring you by lying half on his side. His breath and heat curled over your face and neck, “Oh, (Y/N), now you’re putting words in my mouth. I said that I like your dress. Because it’s one of Mei’s designs, right?”

You looked down, heat filling your cheeks. 

Fuck your drunk mouth.

“Though,” Oh, Hitoshi was closer. He had leaned to your ear, steadying a hand on your shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty in this dress. I’d use a different word instead of pretty though.”

“Like?” 

“Mmmm, gorgeous,” He hummed too casually. “As strong of a word as I can use without being a creep, right?”

“‘Toshi,” You groan, swatting his hand away. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

He just beamed at you, “I’ve been told.”

Hitoshi drew back and met your eyes.

Once more, you mirrored each other. Both of you bore comically dilated pupils, wet lips, flushed faces and slight tremors in your hands.

“You know, I think I referred to you as ‘sweet’ too...” You raised an eyebrow at him. You couldn’t help the way your gaze flickered down to his lips. It flitted back up, “But, that’s nothing, right?”

Hitoshi bit his lip, taking a big breath. 

Suddenly, he was standing up. 

“Hey, wait—” You stammered, standing as well. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I only meant to tease.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hitoshi put his hands in front of himself, creating distance between the two of you. “Same. You know I can’t help giving you trouble, (Y/N).”

Ouch.

You cracked a smile, rubbing your arms, “Of course, yeah. Silly friend shit.”

Hitoshi was quick to redirect, pointing a thumb out of the room, “I’ve gotta hang this somewhere. See you in a bit, or you can come with me if you like?”

“Nah, I’ll wander,” You patted his shoulder, waltzing off your churning gut by cutting in front of him. “Take it easy, smokestack.”

You couldn’t hear if he replied.

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 You did, in fact, wander. With meandering feet, you moved through room after room. You poured yourself another drink, but it’s not nearly as strong. Your run-in with Hitoshi soured your mood. While not fully ruined, you were definitely feeling weirder than you wanted to be.

Hitoshi and you obviously had energy, yeah. But the most either of you had acted on it was ‘seemingly meaningless’ flirting. It was always followed up with a ‘no homo’ or ‘aha, got ‘ya!’, yet it always felt real in the moment. You weren’t a dumbass. You had caught Hitoshi eyeing you a few (read: many) different times. There were so many close calls and contacts between the two of you.

 There was one time while you were making a box of mac and cheese in Hitoshi’s kitchen circa 2 AM. You had borrowed one of his shirts and a pair of joggers to sleep in, a common act of yours. He walked past you for a glass of water, keeping the cup under the tap until it ran over just to look you up and down. 

His gaze wasn’t prying or predatory, not even close. You trusted Hitoshi with your life and you knew that he wouldn’t ever breach boundaries like that. Rather, he regarded you in a way that made him lose time, something soft and gooey in his eyes. That time, it wasn’t lustful attention. It just felt-

(Like the way lovers look at one and other, enamored.)

 Another time was during one of his performances. The house venue had been dimly lit and musty as fuck, but that didn’t distract Hitoshi. As Jiro’s vocals shook the basement, you met eyes with Hitoshi as he slammed on guitar. His gaze always returned to you throughout the whole set. When you had teased him about it, he claimed that looking at you helped keep his stage fright in check.

The reasoning didn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach. 

 There was another particularly telling occurrence where you had fallen asleep on Hitoshi’s floor in the middle of working on your final paper for your theory class the semester prior. He returned from his smoke break to find you curled up under the first piece of cloth you could find (which, in that case, was one of his hoodies). You weren’t fully asleep, and you certainly weren’t when Hitoshi hefted you into his arms, laying you so gently down on his bed and covering you with a throw blanket. 

Oh, god, the sweetness, like something you’d never known when you felt his hand on your face, smoothing over your cheekbones, your nose, and then your lips. His gentle voice, deep with the late-night, “You work too hard, you know.”

He nestled next on the floor next to the bed, leaving you to sleep undisturbed the rest of the night. 

There were, of course, many more instances of Hitoshi’s way-too-kind kindness, and a pile of your own moments as well. 

It was all damning, but relatively ignored. Your friendship was more important than any stupid feelings the two of you had right? You refused to acknowledge your own feelings beyond semi-sexual remarks, jabs, and jests. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, right?

...

 You eventually found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led to the attic. Even from the landing, you could hear various rhythmic slaps, moans, and laughter. 

You ascended the stairs and took in the sight greeting you.

There were various bondage rigs that were free-standing, all occupied at the moment you entered. Loops for ropes and chains to be tied to drilled into the ceiling. Flogs, whips, canes, and other implements hung heavy on one of the walls.

The room was lit dimly, yet nothing seemed obscured. A few rainbow lights illuminated the sweaty bodies about the room. Not everyone was having full-on sex. Most people were actually clothed. A lot of folks it seemed were just there spectating. 

Speaking of most people, your party peers were all lounging on the beds. Sans, Hitoshi, of course, standing and laughing with Kaminari. 

The lot saw you enter and flagged you down. You walked past a heavily-tattooed man getting pegged by a woman in a tutu and a crowd of costumed partygoers doing whippits which were being handed out by a man in an elaborate steampunk top hat. A cute girl with silver hair was strung up in a nearby rig, moaning as a leather-clad man fingerfucked her. 

You stood next to Hitoshi, bumping into his arm with your own, “Didn’t take you for a voyeur.” 

He snorted, joshing you back, “I have my moments.”

“I didn’t take you for a prude, (Y/N)!” Denki snickered, bringing attention to you. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you walked in here.”

“Denki, please,” You rolled your eyes. “I walked into a room made for very wild sex acts. That’s a very different expression than the one you’re describing.”

That made him snort and fall back onto the bed, along with Hanta and Mina. 

(How high were they? That wasn’t even a good joke.)

Hitoshi chuckled himself, something low and lumbering.

(Don’t think about how hot that is.)

“This makes me think back to that night, in sophomore year,” Hanta spoke as he sat up. “You know, kink night.”

“Oh, yeah! I forget about that,” Denki turned towards you and Hitoshi and raised his eyebrows.

You flushed.

Momo, innocently, asked, “Kink night?”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you.

“Oh yeah!” Mina piped up, hugging Momo’s shoulders from behind. Jiro was sitting in Momo’s lap, head on her tits. “We made a drinking game of exposing our weird sex acts and kinks to each other.”

You laughed uncomfortably at the memory, avoiding the very embarrassing and horny part that involved you, “That was the day that we found Mineta was into scat.”

“Oh wow,” Jiro gawked. “That was before Mineta got canceled?”

“Oh, yeah. He got wasted and ran off after that. Thank god.” Denki snickered. “You know what else happened that night?”

“Denki, please, stop talking.” It was Hitoshi placing a firm hand on the other’s shoulder. 

Denki just looked at the two of you like he was some old god of mischievous, turning back to the girls, “That’s when we all found out about Hitoshi and (Y/N)’s suuuuuuuuuper compatible kinks. Like, scary compatible.”

“They got sooooo awkward about it too!” Mina snickered, looking at your and Hitoshi with matchmaker in her eyes. 

You would kick her ass for it later. In that moment, you tried to keep a somewhat neutral expression as you recalled the night in question.

Sure, it was a year or two back and you and Hitoshi weren’t half as close back then. 

The lot of you had been sitting on the floor of Denki and Hitoshi’s dorm, passing around a bottle of cheap, flavored vodka in a fucked up, horny game of truth or dare.

...

  “You’re next (Y/N)!” Mina passed the bottle to you and fell back against the carpet. You swallowed thickly, swishing the content liquor inside. “Dare or sex act?”

The rules of the game were simple. Choosing ‘dare’ meant that someone else chose a sexually-charged dare for you and ‘sex act’ meant exposing either a kink or a sex act you’d done. It was a roulette either way, but one option gave you far more control than the other. 

After the last dare consisting of Denki giving a very messy lap dance to Eijiro, and you weren’t really in the mindset to repeat anything even close to that.

“Sex act,” You sighed in defeat.

Denki snickered in the corner, “Spill it!”

Hanta cheered you on as you bit your lip in thought.

The liquor swirling in your stomach was affecting your inhibitions, and with one shy, half-glance to Hitoshi, you spoke up. 

“I have a spanking kink, what of it.”

You drowned out Hitoshi’s red cheeks and the cheers of your friends with a deep chug from the bottle.

The bottle was passed to Hitoshi as you asked the question, “Dare or sex act?”

Jiro giggled from the bed, sipping at her own drink as well. 

“Sex act,” Hitoshi groaned, rolling his eyes at Denki, but you all knew he loved what was going on.

“Reveal yourself, Hitoshi! What gets your rocks off!?” Mina shouted drunkenly as she rolled on the floor. You made a mental note to cut her off from having any more of the trashy vodka.  

Hitoshi gave you a fleeting, but very horny look before regarding the group.

There was a twitch in your lip that made you think his smirk was all for you.

“I love pulling a cute girl over my lap and turning her ass purple while she’s begging for more.”

As everyone around you jeered and cheered, you gulped. 

And so did Hitoshi.

...

 “Yeah!” Hanta fell back. “That was so fucking funny. Like, all night it was all (Y/N) being like ‘I’m a filthy masochist!’ and Hitoshi being like ‘I’m a filthy sadist!’”

“Hanta, for the love of god,” You interrupted him, face burning with a fucked up mix of shame and lust. Hitoshi was mirroring you. “Why do you have to bring that up?”

“Oh, dude, because whenever we talk about it, you and Hitoshi get so embarrassed, it’s hilarious!” Hanta fucking giggled and reached for his drink. 

“Are we gonna talk about how you and Denki both like fisting—” You give them a taste of their own medicine, watching the two of them choke and gawk. To the side, Momo whispered to Jiro, eyeing you. 

Hitoshi barked out a laugh, losing some tension in his shoulders. You met his eye for a moment, only to see the jewelish purple taken up by his blackened pupils.

Fuck.

Momo spoke up, brow furrowed, “Can I request something a bit odd of you, (Y/N)? It’s perfectly okay if you say no.”

“Shoot,” You reply, sipping your beverage. 

Momo bit her lip, eyes going to Jiro, then you, “Can I try spanking you?”

Everyone collectively choked. You especially.

You took another nervous sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact with the group.

You regained composure, refusing to look at Hitoshi, but letting the fucked up idea brew and brew in your mind, “Uh, I mean, is Jiro okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Jiro nodded, kissing her girlfriend’s jaw. “Pain isn't my thing, at all, and she’s always wanted to try it. And hey, if you’re a ‘filthy masochist’, be my guest.”

But, would you be her guest?

Your drunken mind considered.

It was the most acceptable setting for it to happen in public. You really did like getting spanked and were a raging masochist, so it would, at the very least, be fun for you. A little humiliating, but that was also a turn on. You’d also get to indulge Momo, who was dating Jiro, but they both seemed perfectly okay with a bit of platonic pain play, so what was the real harm? 

Your gaze flickered to Hitoshi.

Oh, fuck.

His face was lit up with a deep blush even in the irisian hues of the sex attic. His eyes were pointed distinctively opposite of you, a hand literally over his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Your mind lit up with ideas.

Terrible, sinful ideas that you would be the peak of you and Hitoshi’s teasing.

Fuck it.

“Sure, I’m down,” You smirked and Momo lit up. Immediately, she was up and scouting out the area for a spot to go to town. Momo even seemed to be eyeing up a wall of toys. 

“Hey,” Jiro whispered to you as you truly realized what you got yourself into. “Thanks for this. She’s really into this kind of stuff, and I like indulging her, but I can’t handle too much.”

“Oh, of course!” You spoke so brightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, so I’m sure I can take what she dishes out, too.”

You heard Hitoshi clear his throat behind you.

You let yourself take another glance at Hitoshi and it made you want to die on the spot. His eyes glared in anger with the sinful intensity that was entirely directed at you. You could tell by the awkward way he was leaning that he was trying to hide the bulge in his jeans.

Is... Is he that turned on by just the thought of me getting spanked?

Oh, this truly was your best teasing yet.

(Were you taking this too far?)

Kaminari was gripping the sleeve of Hitoshi’s sweater, not allowing him to leave. Judging by how the latter was looking and staring, he wasn’t going to either way.

Momo walked back over, tugging you by the hair to a bed that was a lot higher than the others. It was the perfect height for you to bend over.

“What’s your safeword?” She asked, running her hand down your back to push you against the comforter like she’d done this hundreds of times before. Your chest fell against the bed, forearms giving you a bit of leverage. 

You hummed, “Just ‘red’ should be good.”

“Perfect,” Momo smiled before pressing the back of your neck, forcing your face into the sheets. “I’m gonna give you ten with my hand, okay?”

“I trust you, Momo, do your worst,” You spoke so confidently, but truly you didn’t know what was coming.

Momo smoothed a hand over your ass, hardly covered due to the angle you were bent over. The pretty fabric of your dress, pulled over your curves, was hiding less and less. Momo hummed, running a firm hand down the zipper of the dress, “Do you have a preference as to if I pull your dress up or not?”

Oh, holy fuck. 

That was beyond teasing.

Fuck it.

“You can pull it up, but keep my panties on. I need some dignity,” You winked back at her. 

Momo blushed. She delicately pulled the fabric back, resulting in a round of wolf whistles from your friend. Sober you was going to hate the fact you did this, but drunk you? Thriving.

(Though you wished it was Hitoshi delivering, but you digress.)

Without warning, Momo brought her hand down on your ass, a loud smack resounding around the room, causing a slight hush.

Oh fuck. 

You were already drawing some attention.

Despite the pleasant haze of painful pleasure that was beginning to swirl in your mind and gut, you couldn’t help but notice the looks and stares. 

Particularly, you got a nasty feeling from the figure in the far corner eyeing you up from ass to toes. He looked fairly nondescript, but the aura he was giving off felt like poison. Something sticky and unpleasant formed in your gut when you looked at him. Your drunken mind chased it away by turning your head the other way. 

And then all you could see was Hitoshi’s gaze on you.

It was damn near feral.

His cheeks flushed and dewy. A bit of sweat was dripping down his temple, reflecting the party lighting like some sort of sick joke. One of his hands was raking through his violet locks. His teeth dug into his full lips as he stared you down. 

Your eyes met and you refused to look away.

So did he. 

Another hit, harder, made you bite your lip to suppress a cry.

Three more and you couldn’t help the bubbling sounds that were spilling from you. Soft cries and moans, maybe a whimper or two leaked from your bitten lips. Momo wasn’t holding back, and you were sure your ass would ache tomorrow.

Good.

Two more and tears leaked from your eyes. You were sure your friends were just waiting to give both you and Momo so much shit, but you couldn’t care less. All you could do was drink in the hungry way Hitoshi eyed you. 

It was definitely not the way people who were ‘just friends’ looked at each other. 

“Last two, make ‘em count!” Mina shouted from behind you with a cheer. Some of the others in the room were clamoring to watch.

Momo ran a soothing hand down your back, “You doing okay?”

“I’m peachy,” You push out, voice clearly tear-stricken. “Finish me off, Momo. Bruise me.”

That apparently set her off. Momo smacked your ass with such a force that your face pressed harshly into the bed, obscuring your view of Hitoshi. 

The last slap was, by far, the worst. Momo decided to tease you, torturing the raw skin of your ass. She would wind up only to pet your lower back or stroke the tops of your thighs. When she finally gave you the hit you deserved (for torturing Hitoshi and yourself), it sounded across the room just as loud as your sob that followed it. Tears leaked from your eyes as your breath came out in shudders. You loved the feeling of numbness and pain that emanated from your abused cheeks. You relished it.

You turned your head upright, vision blurry. Momo pulled your dress down, helping you sit up. 

You didn’t get much of a chance to catch your breath as Hitoshi dashed away and out of the sex room, very tense and very distressed judging by how Denki was shouting after him.

Oh fuck.

You kicked yourself mentally, cursing your stupid fucking hubris.

You took it too far.

He’s either turned on, uncomfortable as fuck, or both.

Probably both.

 You start to sit up, ignoring the sobering pain heating up your ass. Quickly, Momo pressed you back down to the bed. A solo cup of clear liquid was offered to you. 

“Aftercare, obligatory. Drink this, it’s just water,” Momo stated curtly, watching you down the water. You rubbed the tears from your eyes. 

“How’s my makeup?” You asked, ignoring the rising panic in your chest. 

Momo inspected you for a moment as the others came over, jeering. She quickly rubbed away smears of mascara, running a hand over the side of your face, “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Shit was fun,” You prayed you were disguising the turning of your gut well enough with your nonchalant tone. “I’m gonna find Hitoshi and make sure he has an extra pair of pants.”

Momo frowned, pressing you down and squeezing your shoulders, “Somehow, I don’t believe that. Please rest for a moment, (Y/N).”

You faltered, following Momo’s command without much thought. Your mind was still in a somewhat of a fog as you sipped at the water she gave you. Her hand rubbed at your shoulders and back, dropping praise every few moments. 

The rest of your peers filed over, cheering, flopping on the bed around you. 

“Holy fuck, (Y/N),” Hanta whistled, clapping your shoulder.

“That was so hot,” Denki sighed, red-faced and wide-eyed. 

Momo ran an affectionate hand through your hair as Jiro fell into her lap, winking at you, “She’s so good, right?”

“Yeah, holy fuck. If y’all ever need a third, you have my number.” You breathed, shaking out a laugh. “I think I need to find Hitoshi, though.”

 You stood up, wobbling for a moment, comically aware of sets of eyes on you as you dashed away. Your friends shouted encouragement from behind you as you descended the stairs.

Truthfully, your intent was to smooth things over and make the routine, ‘but we’re bros!’ comment. You knew that this wouldn’t be enough, considering how far you pushed it.

You fucked up.

Took it too far. 

What does Hitoshi even think of you now?

...

Your mind was sobering with the help of the water and pain. 

You had to find Hitoshi.

So, you quickly moved about the house.

You scanned room after room, checked the front and back yard, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

  Where the fuck was he?

 You passed by a room upstairs, door shut, and you swore you heard his voice inside.

The panic that had been brewing in you was spilling over. Your ass ached and walking hurt like hell with the bruises that were forming. All you wanted was a cigarette and to apologize to your best friend for taking things way too fucking far—

You swung the door open and was met with a scene that did not include Hitoshi Shinsou.

A mess of four very cute, very high girls, mostly but not entirely clothed, were writhing on the bed, all popping up to look at you. 

You flushed, body tensing as you tried to laugh it off, “Oh, wow, sorry about this! I thought my friend was in here. I’ll let you all get back to it.”

The girls hardly seemed perturbed by the sudden intrusion, rather they seemed quite complimentary. 

“Aw, you don’t wanna join?” One of the girls pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes. “You’re so pretty!”

“T-thank you,” You shook your head, “You are all very sweet, but I have to find my friend.”

“The one behind you?” A different girl asked. 

Your hazed mind hadn’t even picked up that was anyone behind you. 

You couldn’t help lighting up. Hitoshi had to be behind you, of course, this silly anxiety attack would come to an end—

You turned.

Your face fell.

***********

It was the creep from the sex room, grinning down at you. There was a nasty glint in his eye.

Your heart started going faster. Your gut soured with a feeling far off from drunkenness.

“Actually, uh, no, I’ll be going, thanks.” You tried to sidestep the man, but he quickly blocked the doorway, boxing you in.

“No, I think we’ll stay,” Oh, the man’s voice was sick in your ears. 

You were too shocked to move at first.

His reached for your shoulder, but you managed to stumble back from him. 

“No, hey, dude, don’t touch me,” You barked back, pass your growing fear. 

He scoffed, muttering something about you being a  ‘cheap whore’ and stalked you down. 

Your back hit a wall. You froze.

You felt trapped. 

His cheap cologne was choking you.

He was just inches away. 

You looked helplessly to the girls on the bed, but they had dissolved back into each other. Their hands were grabbing at each other's writhing bodies, clothes being torn away with light moans filling the air. They were far too fucked to be bothered with what was happening to you. The deafening music of the party drowned out your senses beyond the small room. 

You tried to slip away from him, out of the door, but his arm slammed beside you.

He caged you. 

His hand shot to grab your wrap, squeezing hard and shooting pain into your shoulder as you tried to rip yourself away. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” You snarled, trying to wrench out of his grip, away from him. You fell deeper into panic. 

You could feel his breath on your ear, and your heart dropped in your chest. With the thrum of the party, it felt far too loud for anyone to hear you. Even if you shouted for help, would anyone come? No one even knew that anything was wrong—

A voice cracked like a roll of thunder through the man’s actions and the drone of the party.

“Get the fuck off of them before I break your fucking fingers.” A familiar, blessed voice cut the air from behind you.

Thank fucking god.

Hitoshi stood in the doorway. 

You almost sobbed in relief.

His broad form took up most of the door frame, chest puffed out in his anger. His brow was lowered, mouth twisted in revulsion and fury, all directed at the man who had you caged. Only rage colored Hitoshi’s features. Until he caught your gaze, anyways. 

Then, it all dissolved to fear. 

“We’re busy, she’s fine, fuck off.” The guy said, digging his hand into your side. 

You kicked at his shoe, relishing the way he hissed in pain. 

The man glared at you, then looked to Hitoshi. The man scoffed, looking him up and down to assess whether putting up a fight was worth it.

Apparently not, as the man shoved you roughly towards Hitoshi.

*********

You tripped into the latter’s chest as he caught you easily. 

Without missing a beat, he steadied you and crushed you to him. One of his broad hands moved up to almost shield the side of your face. You were surprised to find that his body was shaking just as hard as your own. You both mirrored each other in rage and panic. 

You pressed your face into his sweater as tears remained dangerously close to falling from your eyes. Fear still tore through you and everything about Hitoshi made you feel a hell of a lot safer.

Hitoshi’s arm tightened as he continued his stare-down.

The man grumbled, exiting the room in a huff and harshly pushing back Hitoshi (and you). You flinched, wincing. A low, rumbling growl rumbled in Hitoshi’s chest as he stared death at the man. 

You knew that this was probably all too much. There were details of intimacy and boundaries that were being broken without thought from both of you and that was very bad, probably. 

But, you also were drunk on fear as opposed to vodka, and having someone safe to hold you felt better than any hit you could’ve found at the party. 

You surrendered to your very obvious reality. 

 When the man was gone, filtered back into the party, Hitoshi looked down at you, his mood entirely changing. 

His anger dissolved. His face softened as he tenderly (and quickly) assessed you. Concerned, but earnest eyes searched your face and body for visible signs of harm. When he was satisfied, Hitoshi linked your hands and pulled you from the room. 

He walked you through the party, quickly but gingerly. Your mind buzzed, still panicked and anxious, but the thought of cold air and a less stimulating environment was like aloe on a burn. 

Finally, you reached the front door, walking onto an empty front landing. 

You fell into Hitoshi. 

Your sweaty, shaking hands clung to the back of his sweater as you buried your face into his neck. The familiar scent of his woodsy cologne and natural sweat was more of a sedative than any drug you could find at the party and you fucking needed it.

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you from the small of your back to your shoulders, squeezing as he buried his face in your hair. 

You stiffened but relaxed a moment later. You couldn’t keep pretending. You didn’t have it in you. 

You were surrounded by him and the cold air, and nothing felt more comforting. 

You decided to forget the semantics of your relationship for a little. 

(You hoped, prayed, that he would too).

Hitoshi suddenly tensed, “Is it okay that I’m touching you?”

You could only nod, voice weak and small in the back of your throat, “Y-yeah, it's cool. It’s been cool.” 

Hitoshi grounded you, turning the two of you so you were protected from any potential prying eyes. He moved you just right so that his cheek rested on top of your head. 

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus on the calming beat of Hitoshi’s heart. 

He soothed you by existing; he always did. But, in that moment, after such an uncomfortably close brush with something fucking disgusting, his presence was almost cleansing. It purged you of the incessant clawing in the back of your mind.

You’re safe. 

You pulled away just enough to look up at Hitoshi’s face. You felt him give you a squeeze which made the smallest, unlikely smile form on your lips. 

Slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, Hitoshi cupped the side of your face. The hold was firm, like it had power to it. You sank into his palm. 

(Fuck that feels nice—)

“How are you feeling?” Hitoshi asked softly, gaze warm and honey-like.

You laughed weakly, leaning into his palm, “Like shit. Holy fuck.”

The hand cradling your lower back stroked a thumb idly, “I can only imagine. What happened back there? That guy had been in the ‘sex room’ with us, right?”

“Uh, excuse you, ‘sex attic’, I think you mean?” You still managed to joke. “And yes. Must’ve been following me or something, fucking creep.”

“If you want, I’ll go back in there and kick the shit outta him. I’m sure the others will help. It’d be so worth getting him thrown out for,” Hitoshi snickered, turning his head towards the door as he did.  

As he turned back, his eyes widened as your fearful expression returned.

“P-please don’t leave,” You knew it was too much, right? Obviously. But, you didn’t care. 

You felt fairly certain Hitoshi didn’t either by that point. 

You pressed yourself back close to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, clutching at his front. “Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure if he’d return any affections (obviously earlier gestures were just to comfort you, right?). 

He did. Immediately, he squeezed as much of you as he could reach, nuzzling his face into the side of your head. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” Hitoshi reassured you with his voice as well as his touch. You shuddered, feeling his lips and breath so close. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

You retained your death grip on Hitoshi, contemplating it all. Perhaps it was the setting or the way your body was thrumming, but something was forcing you to come to terms with how you really felt about him.

You enjoyed teasing Hitoshi too much for it to just be platonic. You knew this.

You wondered how Hitoshi felt considering all of those heated looks and smirks he loved dishing out.

(An insecure thought or two crept about only being a fuck to him. You tried to repress it, though it certainly didn’t calm you.) 

 Despite these thoughts, you held Hitoshi with everything you had, fearing that whatever long-cultivated connection the two of you would slip away by the end of the night.

After a few minutes of slow silence, Hitoshi offered you a cigarette, which you took graciously. He leaned forward to light it, silently regarding you with warm eyes. 

You took a fat inhale, breathing out with shaky lungs. 

“I’m sorry.” You spoke abruptly. 

His eyes widened and he shook his head, gently grabbing your shoulders, “No, (Y/N), there is literally nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“No, there is. The thing with Momo,” You shook your head. “That was bad. I’m sorry, I was teasing you and I took it too far. Way too far.”

Hitoshi went still, averting his eyes and biting his lip. 

“I appreciate the apology,” Hitoshi's face erupted in red. “B-but, you don’t need to be sorry.”

He’s... embarrassed?

Oh.

(You truly were a dumbass, but god love ‘ya.)

You took another puff, nodding. 

Hitoshi pulled you to him again, this time wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His thumb rubbed idly at the bare skin of your arm as he whipped out his phone.

“What do you want to do?” The air was cold as Hitoshi spoke. It nipped at your skin and made you crinkle your nose.

With a moment's hesitation, you replied in a hoarse voice, “Can we go home?”

Hitoshi visibly softened for you, “Of course. I can call us an Uber. To your dorm...?” There’s a question in his voice that you both already knew the answer to.

You shook your head, “Your place?”

He nodded, “Of course, (Y/N).” 

You leaned into his shoulder, letting yourself relax. 

[shebeafancyflapjack]

King Takes Knight (Part 6)

Eleanor has a choice.

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

“Okay. If you’re gonna do this. You need to have a plan.”

-

Eleanor closes the door to Michael’s office. Funny, she still thinks of it as his, even when she’s spent more time occupying it alone so far this year. She tries to avoid being here alone. It’s far too painful to sit in the big chair and watch the door, wishing with all her heart that the dumb demon will waltz back in, safe and sound, at any moment.

She walks across the room and around the desk. His jacket is still thrown over the back of the chair from when he quickly got changed between Mindy’s and the train station. The stains from Glenn’s goo seem to have evaporated. 

There’s a tug in her chest as she strokes the fabric.

-

“I have a plan! I’m gonna lift the barricade up, disguise myself as a Bad Janet, go in, find Michael and get him out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Fun fact, a man named John White invented the lemon squeezer because they’re not easy to squeeze at all-.”

“Okay, no, that plan sucks. It’s exactly what they’ll expect because it’s what you already did. You can’t go in there on your own.”

Janet frowns; “Are you going to suggest you guys come too? Because as you said, that’s the last thing Michael would want, for you guys to be put in danger. I’m not mortal, the threat to my wellbeing is less of a risk, and you can always ask the Judge for a reset in the event of a second capture.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that...But we’re not your only option.” Eleanor says, looking over to Derek in the corner, licking a light bulb like a popsicle.

-

Her hands pick the jacket up. She holds it close to her front, inhaling the scent in the collar. That strange smell she always picked up whenever near to Michael, like something out of an old attic and yet sweeter than chocolate and warm like a nearby bonfire tickles her nose.

Fingers curl tightly into the grey wool. She doesn’t want this to be the most she has left of him anymore. She wants him back.

The doofus had one job to do for her and he couldn’t...

Eleanor sighs and slips her arms into the jacket before taking a seat in the chair. It’s far too big for her, almost like an overcoat or a bathrobe. She wraps it tight around her frame as she slumps back in the seat. Something about wearing it makes her feel as if he’s there, the same reason why she always takes one of Chidi’s sweaters to bed with her, like a needy kid with a security blanket.

All her life she secretly dreamed of having at least one person to truly love her. Then two come along at once and they both end up sacrificing themselves. 

Couldn’t she have fallen in love with someone as selfish as her?

“Hey Eleanor.” Janet bings in front of the desk.

She jumps, starting a little, pulling her face out of the collar she had been close to crying into.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” She hurriedly covers, sitting up straight, attempting some semblance of dignity; “W-what’s up?”

“I’ve finished making enough Janet babies I need to take with me. They’re all boarded on the train, including the clones of you guys. Even I gotta say, they’re pretty creepy. But great idea!” 

Eleanor just nods, fingers tapping the desk. If she couldn’t come with Janet on the rescue mission then the best she could do was lend her strategic skills. 

“And the demon exploders?” Thanks for that, Bad Janet.

“I think I was able to improve on the design after examining the one Michael handed to me before he...” She cuts herself off, “We’ll be fine, Eleanor. I made quite a few in case they rumble us.”

“If you have to, be sure to burst a few for me, won’t you.” She tells her sexy not-robot friend; “And please...be safe, babe.”

And bring him back, she doesn’t say, almost as if it was asking too much.

It doesn’t need saying. 

“We’ll be back before you know it. Literally, because you won’t be alerted of my train coming in with me gone and Derek’s sensor is busted.”

She bings out of the room. Eleanor sits back again, arms wrapped around herself and the jacket. Now she’s back to where she was a few months ago, wishing for her friends safe return, while the fate of humanity hangs in the balance. She has no choice. She has to stay. Put the experiment first. It’s what Michael and Chidi both sacrificed themselves for. It would be insulting them if she were to make it all for nothing.

-

*

-

It must be a trick.

They’ve got bored of the freezing and the hooks and the violent fish. Now they wanna screw up his head. He already hallucinates, isn’t that enough? He would normally think this was just another one of those but...Nicole’s goo drips from his nose. Yep, she definitely blew up.

And there, almost a yard behind her, is....the Impossible.

Eleanor stands with Bad Janet’s demon exploder clutched in her hand, arms straightened in front of her, blue goo from other demons staining her red sweater and the black leather jacket he hasn’t seen her wear in a while. Sneaky little so-and-so. Did she really come all the way down here, shooting her way through immortal guards, to...rescue...him...?

He would laugh, if the wave of exhaustion wasn’t crushing him down, as well as the wires in his mouth. It’s too much. He’s held out for far too long and now his mind has snapped. 

Don’t fall for it, Mike. Don’t give them the satisfaction of hoping.

She wanted him gone. Out of her hair for good. She wanted him to-

His body goes slack in his ice chains as the underworld goes dark.

-

*

-

He loves you.

He lied.

He loves you.

He tortured them for centuries and lied about it, over eight hundred times.

He loves you.

He didn’t trust her enough to say what he really was underneath the suit. He thought she was shallow enough to not want to be friends with him after finding out he’s some giant flaming squid. He was supposed to be her best friend! Did he think so little of her? After all those weeks of supporting her, encouraging her, giving her a shoulder to cry on, followed by a gentle kick up the ash to get her shirt together?

And as if she was going to be all soft and reassure him of how much he meant to her after the crab he put her through that night. He expected her to be the one to apologise!?

He loves you.

You must know that. You’re not an idiot.

Oh...the stupid demon loves her enough to disobey her one order and not come back safe! The stupid demon offers to blow himself up in order to give her peace of mind when she doesn’t trust him and leave her in charge of this shirt show on her own. The dumb, reckless ash-hole stayed behind to be tortured, again, for their sakes...Not for the first time. 

Fork. She is an idiot!

Eleanor shrugs off the jacket and grabs her own leather one off the back of the door. She has a train to catch.

-

*

-

Damn it, why didn’t she take a better coat with her? Or a scarf? Or gloves?

The chamber she discovers Michael in is like a huge igloo. Every surface seems to be made of ice except, thank Kim, the floor, or else she’d be falling flat on her ass as soon as she strode in after taking out the slutty demoness who had been messing with Michael. Eleanor steels herself, braving the cold and letting the adrenaline warm her up after having snuck her way down here, taking out a few necessary obstacles on the way with her new favorite toy.

Her heart beats terribly fast as she spots Michael chained up, pale as a ghost, slumped in the shackles they’ve put him in. His clothes are ragged and torn up, the wounds from where he’s been recently cut and sliced and scalded all too evident to the naked eye.

“Michael...!” She breathes his name as she reaches him, finding no response as his head rolls forward; “Michael, I’m here! Wake up!”

She puts her hands to his chin and tries to lift it up, cringing at the awful sight of what they’ve done to his mouth. Jesus! 

Digging around in what remains of the slutty demon’s goo and dress fragments, she eventually finds the key to the shackles. She fumbles with it in the locks as she works to set him free. 

As she works to open the second one, she drops it. Fuck! Get it together, Shellstrop! They could come in at any moment!

She scoops it up and turns it in the blisteringly cold metal. 

Michael tumbles to the ground in a heap of long limbs.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eleanor curses as she fails to catch up, the dumb tree too much for her to attempt to lift upright on her own. She kneels over him; “Dude, c’mon! Come on, get up! Michael!”

Her fingers brush against her cheek and-

“FUCK!” She curses, pulling her hand back.

He’s almost too cold to touch. There’s flecks of snow on his eyelashes and in his white hair, lines on his face deeper than she remembers, skin sunken in, littered with black and purple marks. 

Eleanor places one hand on his back, the other on his chest, just barely able to keep hold of him with the remnants of his shirt beneath her palms.

She wishes she could feel his heartbeat, if he had one.

Just some sign, anything, anything at all...that he’s going to open his eyes again. That she wasn’t too late.

“Michael, you need to get up! You can’t bail on me now, please, not after I finally got here! You gotta come home, dude....I can’t do this without you. Just wake the fuck up before-.” Her teeth start to chatter as she hears footsteps racing from outside.

Someone’s coming. More guards? The Janet baby army? A couple were lost on the way, marbleised, before Eleanor was able to zap the guards. Then she had to abandon the rest in order to get to the location Janet sent over the intercom to one of her baby’s, Ralfio’s, mouth. 

Eleanor has no idea what’s about to come through that door. Friend or foe. Janet(s) or demons. 

She’s not giving up now.

Keeping hold of Michael on her lap, she sets her jaw, getting out the demon exploder from her jacket pocket, firing it up.

“I won’t let them touch you, bud. Not again.” She whispers, clutching his lifeless skinsuit close to her front; “That’s a promise.”

Her hand is steady around the weapon, her eyes glaring with hellfire at the entrance. She forgets about the cold.

Just try to take him away from me again, demon scum. Just try it.

(illustration by @star-pepper​ xx)

[aliciam72]

Roswell Secret Santa Gift

Here is my @roswellsecretsanta gift for @alexxmichael I hope you enjoy! (I can follow you now without you figuring out I was your secret Santa 😊)

Deck the Halls

Michael and Alex don’t celebrate Christmas the way everyone wants so Isobel takes matters into her own hands. Set in a future where Alex and Michael are married. Mostly fluff with a tiny mention of sad Christmas memories.

“But you’re married now!” Isobel protests.

Alex shrugs and looks to Michael as if to say, ‘she’s your sister.’ Michael takes another helping of stuffing before answering his sister. “Yes, Isobel, we’re married. We were all there, remember? I just don’t know what that has to do with us celebrating Christmas.”

“You’re going to have a family soon...hopefully. You can’t treat it like any other day of the year. Do you even have a tree yet?” Isobel continues.

“No, we do not have a tree. We don’t want a tree. Christmas is just like any other day of the year, except that we don’t have to work.” Michael puts a forkful of stuffing in his mouth hoping to end the conversation before he says something he knows will upset Isobel.

Isobel shakes her head and throws her hands up in frustration. “I don’t get it. Who doesn’t love Christmas? All the pretty decorations, the lights, the smell of cinnamon mixed with pine. And let’s not forget the gifts.”

Michael and Alex exchange exasperated looks. Alex raises an eyebrow but Michael just shakes his head. “I got this, darlin’.

He sets his fork down and looks around the table at his family and friends. “Look, I know you all expected us to change our attitude about Christmas this year but it’s not that easy. It’s hard to celebrate a holiday you have no good memories of. Christmas in foster care was not memorable. If they celebrated at all we had to share gifts with the other foster kids, and we never got to take them with us if we got placed somewhere elae. Once I was out of foster care there wasn’t anyone I wanted to celebrate with.”

“Not even Alex?” Maria asks. “C’mon Alex, we used to exchange gifts all the time. What happened?”

Alex sighs. “Nothing happened, Maria. Yes, I exchanged gifts with you and Liz but I did that because it made you happy. Christmas in the Manes house was non existent once mom left. Dad thought it was a waste of time and money to decorate and get us gifts so he didn’t. Look, we don’t complain about how you celebrate so why are you complaining about us? We’re fine just the way we are.”

“But what happens when you have kids?” Isobel asks seriously.

“Iz, please, stop. We’ll figure it out if we have kids. Can we just finish Thanksgiving dinner without any more talk of Christmas?” Michael pleads.

“Fine. I won’t say another word about it.” Isobel pouts.

“Thank you.” Michael replies reaching for the cranberry sauce.

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

The Amazon packages start arriving at the cabin the Monday after Thanksgiving. Michael calls his sister on Friday but Maria picks up and tells him she’s not available, that she’s with Kyle.

“Good news?” He asks hopefully.

He can almost hear Maria shrug. “She hasn’t said. But you two will be the first to know if it is. Do you want to leave a message?”

Michael remembers why he called in the first place. “Yes. Tell her it’s not going to work. I’m either going to send them back or not open them at all. She can’t force us to celebrate Christmas.”

Maria laughs loudly. “Good luck with that. Getting Isobel to stop anything once she sets her mind to it is impossible. You of all people should know that.”

“Just relay the message, DeLuca.” Michael ends the call and moves the box from the porch to the pile inside door.

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

By Wednesday of the following week the pile has doubled in size and now reaches into the already small living room. Alex sighs and makes his way into the kitchen where Michael is making dinner. “Sweetheart, when are we going to take care of that pile?”

“If we want to return them we have to open each box and request a return label. I haven’t had the time. Apparently, the holiday season is when every car in Roswell decides to break down. I had to replace a radiator yesterday and two starters today. And that’s in addition to like three brake jobs and ten oil changes. I’ll get rid of everything this weekend, I promise.” He turns off the stove and pulls Alex close for a kiss.

“Okay, I just get worried they’re going to fall on Buffy. She’s too curious for her own good and keeps sniffing around the boxes.” Alex says when they break the kiss.

“No one is going to get hurt. We’ll have our nice neat living room back by Monday. And I’ll leave any new boxes outside from now on.” Michael pulls out the chair for Alex and goes back to the stove to put dinner on their plates.

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

The worst thing about living forty minutes outside of Roswell is getting up for work while it’s still dark out. Alex hates waking Micheal so he tries his best to get ready in the dark. He closes the door and navigates through the cabin using the flashlight on his phone.

Unfortunately, in his haste to get out the door on time he trips over the pile of boxes that seem to have tripled overnight and lands on his ass. “Fucking hell!”

Micheal is at his side helping him before Alex even has a chance to try to get up. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I may have twisted my leg so we’ll see how it feels after working all day.” Alex tentatively puts weight on his prosthetic and winces.

“Maybe you should stay home today. I’ll take you to Kyle to have him make sure you didn’t do any damage.” Michael guides Alex to the couch to sit down.

The moment he lets go, Alex is on his feet again. “I can’t take time off. We need all my sick and vacation days for when Isobel gets pregnant.”

“One day isn’t going to matter. You’re hurt and I don’t want you to make it worse.” Michael protests when Alex reaches to pick up his messenger bag.

“I’m fine, Michael. Just please, can these boxes be gone by the time I get home?”

Michael presses a kiss to Alex’s lips and hugs him tight. “I promise. They will be gone.”

Alex smiles. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll bring dinner home tonight.”

Michael watches to make sure Alex gets to his car safely before turning to the pile of boxes. With a deep sigh he sits on the floor and opens the first one. He chuckles when he sees what’s inside. Buffy wanders over to him and sniffs the item in his hands. “How’d you know this was for you? Do you want to try it on?”

Michael pulls Buffy on his lap and struggles to put the ugly Christmas doggie sweater on her. When he finishes, Buffy gives him an unimpressed look, climbs off his lap and heads to the kitchen for the breakfast she knows Alex has left for her.

Michael chuckles again and opens another box. He peers inside to see three stockings, each one personalized with his, Alex’s and Buffy’s names. They are definitely not Isobel’s style, her understanding of their tastes is incredible. Each one has a different design, a penguin for Alex, a snowman for him, and a reindeer for Buffy (a reminder of the time she tried to chase a deer from the garden). He gets up and hangs them by the fireplace, after all it’s not like he can return something personalized, right?

Box after box gets opened and an hour before Alex is due home the living room is clear of clutter once again. Michael looks around the cabin and sighs, hoping Alex won’t kill him when he gets home. He decides to whip up something special for dessert since Alex said he was bringing home dinner. Running his hand through his hair he realizes he should probably shower and get dressed first. He surveys the cabin one last time to make sure there are no more obstacles for Alex before heading to the shower.

When Alex gets home from work it’s dark so he barely notices the sled propped up against the house, but he does notice the wreath on the door. It’s brown and rustic looking with a picture of an old blue pickup truck in the middle. Shaking his head, he opens the door and hears the soft strains of Christmas music coming from the kitchen.

“Michael? Why is there a wreath on the...”

Alex stops talking mid sentence to stare in disbelief at the cabin. He’s about to call out to Michael again when he sees movement in the kitchen. He sets his bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen. He is not prepared for the sight in front of him. Michael is dancing around holding a mixing bowl wearing the most ridiculous elf apron over boxers with the saying ‘save a horse ride a cowboy’ written across his ass. He turns as Alex enters and gives him a dazzling smile.

“Welcome home, darlin’! I was just making us some dessert.” Michael holds up the mixing bowl.

Alex raises one eyebrow and tilts his head. “Um, why does it look like Santa threw up all over our living room? And why are you wearing that ridiculous apron?”

“I’ll answer the second question first. It’s not exactly safe or sanitary to cook half naked and I didn’t think these amazing boxers should be covered up. As for the first question, um...well...surprise?” Michael shrugs his shoulders and tries to look contrite.

Alex blinks a few times before he lets out a strangled laugh. “What am I going to do with you? You do know when I said I wanted the boxes gone this wasn’t quite what I meant, right?”

Michael sets the bowl on the table, takes the bag of food from Alex and pulls him into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry. It all started with the doggie sweater and kinda snowballed from there. Every box I opened was just so us that I couldn’t return it. Isobel really took her time and picked things she knew we’d like. I know we both agreed we didn’t need to celebrate like everyone else but-“

“But once you got going it was hard to stop. I get it. And honestly, the cabin looks great. I forgot how beautiful Christmas decorations could look. You know we’re never going to hear the end of it from Iz and Maria.” Alex leans in and gives Michael a slow lazy kiss.

“You’re not mad?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

“Let’s eat and then you can taste my gingerbread masterpieces.” Michael gestures to the cooling cookies on the counter.

Alex smiles mischievously and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Michael’s boxers. “I was thinking we could save some horses.”

Michael lunges forward and grabs Alex’s face with both hands and brings him close for a deep dirty kiss. Slowly and carefully he backs Alex out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. He pushes him on the bed and grins. “So who gets to be the cowboy?”

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

Michael decides not to tell Isobel about their change of heart right away for fear she’ll increase the number of boxes she sends. It becomes a nightly ritual to open the day’s boxes after dinner and decide where to place what’s inside. Isobel definitely doesn’t disappoint. In the week before Christmas she sends a twinkling star for the top of the tree, gourmet doggie treats for Buffy, two different cheese boxes from Harry and David, a do it yourself gingerbread house and matching boxers that say ‘don’t open until Christmas’.

Alex is sitting on the couch with Michael’s head in his lap on Christmas Eve morning enjoying the peppermint mocha coffee Isobel sent the day before when they both hear a package hit the front porch.

Michael jumps up. “I’ll get it. Just think after today there will be no more boxes.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Iz may decide to redecorate our cabin next.” Alex calls after him.

Michael sits down and places the box in Alex’s hands before snuggling next to him, planting soft kisses on his neck.

Alex moans softly and stretches his neck in encouragement while he opens the box. Inside is a wrapped package with a note instructing them to open it together. “‘Sweetheart, Iz wants us to open this one together.”

Michael reluctantly stops kissing Alex’s neck and watches as he unwraps the package. He hears Alex’s breathing become erratic and feels him start to tremble. He peers over his shoulder into the box. It takes him a moment to understand what he’s seeing and when he does he turns to look at Alex. His husband’s eyes are already filling with tears and he can’t seem to speak.

Michael steadies his trembling hand. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Alex nods and pulls out a tiny pink Converse high top. It’s adorned with Swarovski crystals along the toe and up the back with sheer ribbon where the laces should be. He sets it on the table and reaches into the box three more times. Once all the shoes are lined up on the table he turns to Michael and sees the confusion on his face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“There are four shoes...oh, oh, oh! We’re having twins!?”

Alex throws his arms around Michael pulls him close. They both stay locked in each other’s embrace for a long time, letting the joy and excitement wash over them. Alex pulls away first and wipes his eyes. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We’re going to be dads.”

“We’re having twins.” Michael says, the reality sinking in.

“Twin girls.” Alex adds.

“With alien DNA which means...” Michael starts.

“Probable alien powers.” Alex finishes his statement.

Michael flops back against the couch. “We are so screwed.”

The End

If anyone wants visuals of the gifts Isobel sent check out the Pinterest board I made for inspiration

[aylamoenwyb]

Appearance Aesthetics: Ayla Moenwyb

(Bold choices that pertain to your muse)

(Italics are situational)

BODY

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Toned thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Toned arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned Stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thigh brows. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Narrow shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

-Ayla grew up running and hunting with a bow and is also a skilled acrobat and dancer.  She’s got an hourglass figure but on a muscular dancer’s frame.  

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

- While tall for her sex and race, she is still a very petite woman.  

SKIN

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft. Scarred. Scaled,

-Ayla has smooth, unblemished or marked moonlit skin set off with obsidian scales.  

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

- Her eyes are jade green with red limnal rings most of the time.  However in high emotional states,hungry or angered, they will lose all of their jade coloring and turn a rich, glowing, crimson red.  

HAIR

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist  length. Buzz cut. Undercut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Natural streaks (honey). Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows

- Her hair color never changes but she often styles it differently depending on her mood or needs after all, she is a performer.  Ayla’s most signature style is a rounded bob that shows off her extra horn nubs, but commonly those are hidden under longer styles or more pulled back styles.  Sometimes she can even be found with her hair braided.  

TATTOO AND PIERCING(S)

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there (two tattoos). Multiple. No tattoos. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing(s).  Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

- Ayla is able to wear earrings upon her horns, and occasionally adorns them with even more chains and gems.  Also, while she is ‘unmarkable’ and bares no tattoos, she does have a paw-printed brand on the inside of her left ankle which was able to remain imprinted on her skin as it happened in a very rare moment where her vampire nature, and therefore potent self-regen, was subdued.  

MAKEUP

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner.  Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick.  Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer.  Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder.  Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make up.

- Ayla enjoys being well-dressed and putting on make up.  She also needs to wear makeup on the stage.  Her makeup does change however depending on what she’s doing.  If aboard the Crimson Phoenix, or at home, she’s likely in more subdued makeup.  If out for a night on the town, or performing, it’s likely bolder.  

SCENT

Floral.  Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes.  Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Sugar. Cinnamon.

- Ayla normally smells of a mix of trillium, rosemary, lavender, honey and clean as those are the key scents in her perfumes,soaps and shampoos.  However, other smells like sweat,sex, blood, leather, the shroud and sea can also linger upon her skin and hair-it all depends on if she was recently hunting or with her husband or out training and such.  She prefers to stay clean, but she’s also not too shy to let some scents linger for  a bit.  

CLOTHING

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight / formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse.  Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports t-shirt. Sweatpants. Tank top. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxi dress. Sundress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress / skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater.  Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. hoodie. Harlem pants. Tribal wear. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. No panties. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Natural colors. Naked.

- Ayla loves fashion and finery and has the wealth to dress like it.  And while she loves tiny little cute outfits that show off her dancer silhouette, her sun sensitivity seldom allows it.  So to compensate, she finds a variety of stylish ways to be cute and sexy but still remain covered....at least out in public.  

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

-See above about clothes.

Tagged by @captainkurosolaire @east-to-the-sea

[fulcrum-agent]

Appearance Aesthetics: Ashla

(Italic is rarity but done if at-least under unique occasion.)

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Toned thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Toned arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned Stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thigh brows. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands.Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Narrow shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

~Despite being a mage, Ashla has worked on martial training for most of her life, starting with learning the basics of swordplay while she was still a child, along side her twin brother. She has a wiry musculature, while her brother’s is slightly more built, but not by much. Although she’s got a bit of a hectic schedule, she keeps at practising her swordplay, having also expanded a bit to using daggers, as well as the Gyr Abania spellsword style she learned on the sly, so she’s keeping in shape.

HEIGHT.

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

~Ashe isn’t all that tall, at least not as tall as some Midlanders. She isn’t precisely short either. She does tend to end up in at least slight heels or platforms a lot of the time, but nothing insanely high.

SKIN.

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft. Scarred.

~Currently Ashe has two different scars, though the one may end up healing away into being unnoticeable due to treatment from a Xaelic shaman. One arcs across the bridge of her nose, and she’ll likely never be rid of it. The other is a rather freshly healing slit across her throat, from an attempted kidnapping/assassination. She also is covered in freckles, all over her body, like the stars in the heavens. (see tasteful, mildly-NSFW rep here.) Otherwise, she has decent enough skin. The colouration is vaguely tanned, with more olive tint than a rosy one, but containing bits of both. She flushes fairly easily, which is when the rosy tones are more noticeable than the olive ones.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

~Her eyes are a bright shade of aquamarine, though she seems to hate the comparison to the gemstone of the same hue. They’re typically quite bright, even when she’s being serious, alight with the fires of her convictions. 

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly.Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Undercut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows

~Ashla has a mess of red hair, that’s naturally wavy, to an extent, but she often takes the time to smooth and style it. It’s currently kept short, mostly due to being on the run from Garlemald. There are times when she’ll end up having a dirty blonde, shoulder length style, with her freckles conspicuously missing.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there (two tattoos). Multiple. No tattoos. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing(s). Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

~Ashe has several different piercings in her ears, three on right, and four on her left, ranging from the lobe up the cartilage to the tip. She wears a pair of rather stylised, sharp earrings on the lobes, with a trail of small gemstone earrings leading up to the piercing at the tips of her ears.

COSMETICS.

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make up.

~Although she does frequently wear make up, she doesn’t wear a whole lot of it, and will often not bother with putting it on. When she does wear make up, it’s light and natural. She has naturally thick eyelashes, and she doesn’t really bother accenting them any. She also prefers earth toned, barely there lip balm-like things, rather than full on lipstick.

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturiser. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Sugar. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Clove. Cardamom.

~Despite being far away from Dalmasca at this point, she still smells of the desert cities - spices like clove, cinnamon, and cardamom mixed with a faint hint of vanilla. Sometimes, the scent of sandalwood incense mixes into this blend, as she still burns a stick each night in her prayers to Faram. On the rare occasion, there’s a hint of saffron to her scent, due to her preferences when cooking.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight / formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports t-shirt. Sweatpants. Tank top. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxi dress. Sundress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress / skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Naked.

~Ashe favours tighter fitting clothing, as there’s less to be used against her in combat. She wears primarily easy-to-move-in cloth, with some leather pieces. More and more as of late, her clothing has been trending towards more sophisticated looks, while remaining functional, as Paradyme gifts different garments he believes she’ll both look good in, and like.

She tends to gravitate towards darker colours, mostly blues and greens, since they work well with her hair colour and eye colour. She also tends to wear a lot of white, with black accents. Ashla prefers silver tones to gold tones, though either looks good on her.

There are a few things that are consistent about her wardrobe. She almost always wears a pair of brass/bronze glasses, with the lenses held in place by just the nose-bridge and the arms - they’re unlined otherwise; the only time she doesn’t seem to have them on is when she’s blonde.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

~Though she doesn’t always wear them, she has a unique pair of boots. Below the calf, they’re a stylised leather dyed with a pinkish-red tone, but above the knee, they’re silver plated, like a knight’s boot.

Otherwise, she wears a modified set of Ironworks boots for mages. They’re black and silver, with a few bits of magitek built into them that the original style lacks. Tagged by : @captainkurosolaire Tagging : Anyone who wants to do this.

[exxxoblr]

uh huh, honey

kim jongdae x reader

wc - 6.7k // request. angst and smut, unprotected sex. read at your own discretion.

// listen // masterlist //

Smoothing your hands down the cool material of your pants, you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Thinking about it now, maybe faux leather pants weren’t the best option, feeling like your hips, thighs and ass on display was a little out of character for you. Your roommate practically begged you borrow her lacy maroon tank top, freeing your shoulders and collarbones from hiding under your usual sweaters. Throw in a pair of dangerous black pumps and dangling earrings threaded through your ears, you felt quite out of your comfort zone.

Your best friend Jongdae insisted upon bringing you to a club for your birthday, treating you to a couple of rounds of shots with him and a few others in your friend group. You had no problem going out; dancing and drinking was something you looked forward to every once in a while. This time, however, was the first time you were going dressed in something other than jeans and a button-down. It wasn’t that you were against looking as sultry as you were now, but you were more concerned about how your friends may react.

Knocking on the door after standing there for a few seconds, debating whether or not to fake an illness and go home, you clenched your teeth together as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place. Expecting Jongdae’s smirking face, your eyebrows shot up in surprise as your friend Namjoon stood before you.

“Happy Birthday!” Namjoon poked you in the side, pulling you inside while simultaneously attempting to hug you. Pleased, you hugged him back. It was nice to see Namjoon, he was often very busy with his tight schedule.

“Hi Joonie, how’s touring?” You asked, following him deeper into Jongdae’s apartment, the smell of Jack Daniel’s hitting your nostrils as you got closer to the loud sound of laughter.

“I’m ready for a few drinks, if you get what I mean,” he winked. Rolling your eyes, knowing full well how much he enjoyed performing with his group, you watched as he headed into the kitchen.

The kitchen was dim, like Jongdae usually kept it. The island in the center of the room was illuminated by a single, dusty lightbulb hanging from above it, shot glasses littering the smooth granite. Minseok was in the middle of tossing one back, Jongin slapping his shoulder lightly and giggling. Jongdae was noticeably absent from the room, probably in his bedroom still getting ready.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), is that you?” Minseok nearly hollered, setting down his shot glass with a loud clink. Screwing your mouth into a pout, you walked into the light.

“Yes, you jerk,” you replied, crossing your arms as a wide smile stretched across your face.

“You look so… not you,” Minseok further teased, pouring you a shot and sliding it across the island. Jongin acknowledged you by pressing a sweet kiss to your temple, patting your back.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N),” Jongin grinned, his eyes smiling. Ruffling his hair, you picked up the shot.

“Thank you, Nini,” you replied, taking the shot and glaring at Minseok.

“Sungkyung picked out my outfit, maybe you should tell her what you think,” you shot back, loving the blush that spread over Minseok’s cheeks. He had a bit of a crush on your roommate, Sungkyung, however, you had a bit of a hunch that he may be afraid of her as well.

“Uh, speaking of which, is she coming tonight?” Namjoon asked, plopping himself down on a barstool.

“Yeah, she should be meeting us there with Hoseok, they had class together earlier,” you answered. Your other two closest friends, besides Jongdae, happened to be your roommate and her cousin.

You formed your little friend group freshman year in college during a career course you all had to take. Sungkyung was your best friend from high school, both of you ending up at the same university. It made sense to become roommates, moving into a tiny apartment ten minutes away from the university. She introduced you to her cousin Hoseok, a funny, kindhearted guy who became a close confidant of yours right away.

Jongdae was the person who knew you best, though. You never expected to meet someone who would surpass your friendship with Sungkyung until you met Jongdae. He was the only member in your final group project last year that actually did their work along with you, spending a few nights at his apartment drunkenly doing everyone else’s work for them. You hit it off right away, having almost everything in common with the exception of a handful of differences. He was calm where you flew off the handle in arguments, he liked Marvel and you liked DC Comics.

The biggest difference was the way Jongdae liked to party. He really let lose, buying rounds of shots for groups of strangers. You couldn’t hold it to him; you loved to party as well. But Jongdae was notorious for bringing a girl home every weekend, the rest of your friend group scolding him the whole week as the poor girl repeatedly tried to call him.

Not that you could blame her. He was magnetic and beautiful, which is probably why you kept coming back for more in the beginning of your friendship. You found that the novelty wore off after a while; after countless nights of bearing your soul to each other as friends if became hard to transform into anything else. You never minded, having him as your ever loyal best friend. Leave it to Jongdae to always have your back; you never had to worry about him betraying or hurting you. God forbid anyone else ever hurt you—

“HEY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” a familiar, flat scream pierced your eardrums. Over time your body stopped jumping in reaction to the sound of Jongdae screaming; it was his preferred tone.

Leaning back to find him emerging from his bedroom, your hand came up to cover your mouth to prevent a barking laugh from escaping. He was holding a terribly wrapped box, probably weighing more than the man himself, as he stumbled into the kitchen. You could only see a peak of his eyebrows over the box. Hearing an annoyed huff of air leave his lungs, he grunted as he set the gift down on the island, knocking a few shot glasses over as Minseok scolded him.

“Where is she?” Jongdae frowned, the present on top of the island blocking you from his line of vision.

“Here, Dae,” you giggled, stepping around Jongin and smiling at your grinning best friend.

“Hiding, huh—?” He coughed suddenly, earning a few hard slaps on the back from Namjoon. Eyebrows pulling together, you were next to him in an instant, a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh man, don’t tell me you caught that flu going around campus, I’ll kill you if that’s your gift to me on my birthday,” you whined, his chest heaving once before straightening up, the color drained from his face as he avoided your eyes.

“I’m fine— Minseok, I will punch you. Today will be the day,” he rasped out, slapping Minseok’s hand away from him. Setting your shot glass down, you tutted at the boys.

“I thought we weren’t getting gifts, Jongdae,” Jongin pouted, eyes trained on the gift sitting on the table. Curiosity piqued within you as you stared at it. Jongdae was the definition of extravagance, so knowing him what laid inside was probably something nothing short of ridiculous. You couldn’t wait to open it.

“I wouldn’t want to be outdone, now would I, Jongin?” Jongdae replied, adjusting his jacket, the leather one you got him for Christmas. Jongin whined for a few moments before Namjoon clapped his hands together loudly, making you turn. You grimaced as you felt the A/C kick on, raising goosebumps on your bare shoulders.

“Hoseok just texted me, him and Sungkyung are on their way so we should get going,” he announced, straightening up from his lean on the refrigerator. Taking a deep breath in, you headed for the door as Minseok began to whoop from behind you. Strangely, you felt the absence of Jongdae’s voice like it was ringing in your ears. Turning to look for him, you nearly toppled over on your heels as his eyes were already on yours, sharp and calculating. It was the expression he took on at the club; the one you and Namjoon usually made fun of as he listened to a girl in a pretty little dress compliment him. Opening your mouth a little, your cheeks burned as his eyes scanned over your back. Almost stumbling, you quickly turned around, instantly regretting looking at all.

You all piled into Jongin’s car, the designated driver of the night. He insisted you ride shotgun as it was your birthday. He even gave you the aux cord, letting you play some music for the ride. Your favorite R&B flowed through the speakers, your thoughts already flowing a little more freely from the two shots you took back in Jongdae’s kitchen. It had been a while since you had last drank, your resistance to the alcohol lower than normal. Not that you minded, as you were looking to get a little tipsy. Picking at your top, you attempted to hike it up a little higher up your chest. Your friend’s reactions weren’t nearly as extreme as you thought they would be, but you still felt vaguely exposed. Biting your lip, you desperately wanted to bury the image of Jongdae’s eyes on you, but your mind had other ideas.

He looked good, as per usual. Jongdae was a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, and somehow he made the combo look expensive and put together. His favorite ripped blue jeans and a black T-shirt made him look unfairly good, his jacket adding to the whole outfit. When you gave him that leather jacket for Christmas, you thought he was going to cry as he shrugged it on. He wore it nearly every day, something that made you smile every time you saw him in it.

Namjoon was telling Minseok about his touring schedule animatedly while Jongin sang along to the Justin Timberlake you were currently playing. You found it very strange to not hear Jongdae’s loud voice in the mix. Maybe he was coming down with something, his silence very out of character. Straightening up in your seat, you dared to take a peak in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of him.

A mistake, you decided. As soon as your eyes slid to the mirror, his eyes were already trained on it, his gaze locking with yours. Crossing your thighs as they began to feel like jelly, you swallowed thickly as you stared at him. Jongdae blinked slowly, his cheek resting in his palm lazily as he leaned against the car door. Too shocked to smile at him, you continued to meet his stare as he lifted his index finger to his lip in thought. Nearly choking, you tore your eyes from his reflection and began to stare out the window, your heart pounding in confusion.

You almost flung yourself out of the car as Jongin pulled up to the valet, the air in the tiny sedan thick and stifling. At the entrance of the club was Sungkyung and Hoseok, the latter waving like an idiot to get your attention. Scrambling over to them before the others can even get out of the car, you let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Flinging yourself into Hoseok’s arms, he yelled at you for knocking the wind out of him, tentatively squeezing you back.

“What’s up?” Your roommate asked, her gorgeous face twisted into a look of concern at your flustered appearance.

“Not sure. Jongdae’s being weird,” you whispered after looking around, making sure he was still clambering out of Jongin’s car and out of earshot. The two cousins exchanged a blank look before looking at you like you had ten heads.

“What? Why is everyone being so strange today, do I have grey hairs?” You whined, tugging on Sungkyung’s hand. Shaking her head, she smiled softly.

“No, (Y/N). Did you even look in the mirror? You look so hot,” she answered. Eyebrows almost disappearing into your hairline, you let her tug you to the entrance.

“Let’s get wasted. It’s your birthday, you’re gorgeous, and everyone else has already gone in!” She sang, leading you into the dark club with Hoseok trailing slowly behind, a small crowd of girls already drooling over him by the valet.

Accidentally dropping Sungkyung’s hand, you bumped into someone, a startled sound coming from their mouth.

“Oof— sorry,” you squeaked, looking up at the stranger in passing. His wide eyes scanned your face, trailing down your figure as he opened his mouth to speak. You were already gone, Hoseok pushing you towards the bar impatiently.

Crammed in the corner were your friends, Minseok pulling Sungkyung in for a hug shyly. Jongin and Namjoon ordered the shots for everyone, excluding the former. Hoseok abandoned your side to speak to Namjoon, his loud voice making a few heads turn.

There it was again, the lack of Jongdae’s voice, or him in general for that matter. Confused, you looked around for him until Sungkyung pulled you to her with an exasperated sigh. Smiling, you accepted a shot from her, clinking glasses with her as you tossed it back.

“Jongdae?” you asked, the liquor burning the back of your throat. Minseok shrugged, stealing another glance at your roommate. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed in annoyance. If Jongdae wanted to be moody and strange on your birthday, so be it. It just gave you an excuse to be a brat to him for a couple of days.

“Hmm, (Y/N), I found him, I think,” Hoseok tapped your shoulder, leaning over it to speak into your ear. Following his point to across the bar, you saw your best friend leaning against a barstool, his hand resting on the back of some girl an a silver dress. Raising your eyebrow, your stomach burned as you watched his stupid lips curl into a smile at what she was saying.

“Typical,” you muttered back to Hoseok, who straightened up and gave you a “don’t shoot the messenger” look before returning to his drink.

“(Y/N),” Sungkyung poked you.

“What?” You snapped, setting your shot glass down as you looked at her wildly. Ignoring you, she looked off to the side of where Jongdae was standing.

“That guy has been staring at you for four solid minutes. I timed it,” she told you. Looking in his direction in disbelief, your eyes widened as you realized it was the guy you bumped into only moments before. He was certainly handsome, his bleached hair styled wildly around his face, a denim jacket draped over his broad shoulders. Jongdae’s back was to him, the stranger a head taller than your best friend.

“Uh, so?” you turned to her, tearing your gaze away from Jongdae, who almost caught your eye.

“Ugh, talk to him!” She pushed your shoulder lightly. Reaching for another shot, the one that would probably help you reach your goal of becoming tipsy, you threw it back and grabbed her arm.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you answered, leading her to the dance floor. Giggling, she followed, tipsy herself. It was your birthday, and you weren’t going to let Jongdae sour it. You could always count on Sungkyung to dance with you, grinding on each other and having a good time as you laughed and enjoyed the music together. It wasn’t long before a few guys inched their way over to you guys, discreetly trying to watch but miserably failing as their eyes hungrily watched you two. Appearing out of nowhere, a very tipsy Minseok slid his hands around Sungkyung’s waist boldly, earning a blush from her as they began to dance. Not minding, you lost yourself in the music, tossing your hair and letting the beat thrum through you.

Your eyes popped open when you felt a hand on your hip, a solid chest behind you dancing in time with your own movements. Continuing your dancing, you snuck a peak at the man behind you: the man you couldn’t seem to shake since you got here, the one you bumped into. Not particularly caring in your state of tipsiness, you danced with him. Having a good time, you loved the feeling of enjoying yourself with strangers, the same amount of intoxication flooding through them as well. Sungkyung didn’t even offer you her trademark wink as she danced with Minseok, their foreheads practically pressed together as they swayed to their own time.

A strobe light flashed into your eye, making you turn your head to the side and rest it on the stranger’s shoulder. Opening your eyes a crack, you looked towards the bar, noticed Jongdae sitting alone on a barstool nursing a drink. He was looking at you.

Hips stopping their motion, you watched as he took a sip of his drink before someone blocked your view of him. Craning your neck, you attempted to catch a glimpse of him before you felt warm breath on your ear.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” The stranger spoke into your ear, making your blood run cold as his hands slid dangerously close to your crotch.

“I—” you started, heart pounding. You didn’t know if you wanted to leave, let alone with a complete stranger. But then again, it was an opportunity to get laid…

“Come on, baby,” he pleaded, a hand sliding up your body to cup underneath your breast. Heart slamming against your chest uncomfortably, every part of the situation felt wrong.

“N-no, I’m here with my friends, I c-can’t—” you struggled to get your words out, alcohol still swimming around in your bloodstream.

“What friends?” He asked sharply, annoyed. Turning you to face him, his dangerously handsome face inches from yours. You found that kissing him was on the bottom of the list of things you wanted to do.

“I should go find them,” you mumbled, stepping away from him. He gripped your wrist, protests leaving his mouth as you tried to pull away, panic setting into you. Hearing a loud shout, you turned to face him once again, his grip on you tightening.

“Jongdae,” you squeaked, his jaw set in anger as he stood next to you. Your vision grew blurry as your eyes filled with tears, unable to control your emotions as he shoved the stranger off of you, replacing his sweaty grip with his own cold hand. Feeling like a newborn fawn in your heels, you were at a loss for words as Jongdae dragged you off the dance floor like a child.

His shoulders were stiff with tension as he practically threw his credit card at the bartender, his grip on you harsh. Tearing the card from the bartender’s hand, he hastily signed the receipt and pulled you to the exit. He ignored your yelling and even the punches you threw at his arm as he lead you to the door.

“Jongdae! What are you doing?” You stomped outside, seeing double as he finally released you.

“Bringing you back to my place to wait for the others,” he replied simply, as if he was making total sense. Which, he wasn’t.

“Why? I’m not even drunk or sloppy, leave me alone!” You groaned, frustrated with him. Jongdae ran a hand over his face in aggravation.

“Okay, fine. I was getting you away from that asshole. He wouldn’t have left you alone the rest of the night,” he gritted out. “Happy?” He added, leaning against the brick facade of the building and pulling out his phone, ordering an Uber.

Truthfully, you were a bit shaken up. The whole night was a bit of a mess, between Jongdae acting bizarre and the insistent stranger. Maybe it was time for you to get out of the club, your heels starting to pinch. Muttering to yourself, you reached down and plucked them off of your feet, holding them in your hand. Jongdae looked down at you in mild interest, to which you looked up and stuck your tongue out at him.

“You were acting like such a weirdo tonight, Dae. That gift back at home better be exactly three puppies,” you told him, watching the cars go by on the street. Snorting, Jongdae shook his head.

“The Uber’s here,” he said, offering you his hand. Looking at it strangely, you raised your eyebrows before slotting your fingers in between his, letting him walk you to the car.

By the time the driver dropped you off, your tipsiness had worn off, much to your annoyance. Not only that, you were kicking yourself for not taking a chance for once in your life, thinking about the handsome stranger. At least Jongdae returned to his normal self, blathering on about something that you weren’t paying attention to as he unlocked the door to his apartment, letting you in. Numbly plopping yourself on the couch, you stared at the framed picture of you, Minseok and Jongdae that he had on his coffee table.

“I’m sorry for being weird, hopefully this will make up for it,” Jongdae sat next to you, placing the large gift on the floor. Perking up a bit, you leaned forward and began to unwrap it.

“I couldn’t find a smaller box, so I hope you won’t be disappointed when you realize there are no puppies in there,” Jongdae joked, leaning back against the sofa after setting down two glasses of water for the both of you. You unfolded the flaps of the box, fingers eagerly diving in, grabbing a soft, cool material before lifting it up.

In your hands was a soft, black leather jacket, almost identical to the one you got him for Christmas. Staring at it for a moment, Jongdae was uncharacteristically silent as he waited for your reaction. A smile broke across your face as you stood suddenly, shrugging it on. Your heart soared with the sentiment behind it, turning to look at him, a nervous smile on his face.

“You sap!” You exclaimed, sitting back down and pulling him into a hug. His arms wrapped around you slowly, melting into you. He shook with laughter, rubbing your back as you squeezed him tight. He smelled nice, you thought as you pulled away.

“Forgiven?” He asked hopefully, watching you take the jacket off and fold it nicely, setting it on the coffee table.

“For now, Dae,” you replied, sinking back on the couch. You did feel better, but you still felt inklings of self-doubt. Maybe if you just threw caution to the wind and went home with that guy from the club, you would have gotten laid.

“Oh, (Y/N), what’s the matter? Are you still upset that I made you leave?” Jongdae asked, shifting to face you. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head.

“What is it, then? Don’t be so down on your birthday,” he teased poking you. Losing it, you whip your head to face him.

“Fine! I’m upset because maybe if I wasn’t such a wuss, I could be getting laid right now! God, this is why I’m still a virgin!” You shouted at him, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull. Breathing heavily, you shoved your face in your hands, anger pulsing through you. The silence was deafening as Jongdae sat there, not moving a single muscle. You knew that lashing out at Jongdae wasn’t fair, and you were probably going to feel humiliation hit you like a ton of bricks any second, but you could hardly find it in you to care.

“V-virgin?” Jongdae finally stuttered, making you whine out in exasperation.

“Yes, Jongdae, a virgin. Feel free to laugh at any time, you ass.”

“Why would I make fun of you for that? And, hold on! You’re mad at yourself for not going home with a creep?” Jongdae’s voice raised in pitch as he pried your hands from your face, an angry look on his face.

“Yes!” You hollered, standing. Jongdae stood as well, arms crossed.

“So let me get this straight. You regret not going home with a complete stranger just so you could lose your virginity?” Jongdae asked, suddenly deadly calm. His voice sent jolts through you, the roughness of it making you shiver.

“Well, when you put it that way, Dae,” you started, before he stepped closer to you, shooting you a warning look.

“That’s the only way to put it, (Y/N). There’s nothing wrong with you being a virgin, but I do have a problem with you going home with some sketchy dude!”

“Why do you care Jongdae? You bring strange girls home every weekend and I say nothing! You’re not my boyfriend, so stop acting like it!” A blush bloomed across Jongdae’s cheekbones at your jabs, but he was not one to back down. Your back hit the wall and you gasped, not even realizing that he was walking you backwards as you yelled at him.

“I’m just gonna go home—” you started, however never finishing.

A hand wrapped firmly, but tenderly around your throat, Jongdae swallowing your words as he slotted his lips against yours. Your mind went completely blank as you stared at his closed eyes, harshly kissing you. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you growled in anger as you pressed your hands flat against his chest, kissing him back as if it was natural to do so.

Which it wasn’t. Everything about your relationship with Jongdae was platonic, at least that’s what you assumed. Remembering that, you swiftly pushed him off of you.

“What are you doing?” You asked softly, watching him push his jacket off his shoulders and tossing it on the sofa.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, running his hands through his hair. “I’m just… I can’t lie to you. Seeing you in that goddamn outfit today made me nearly choke, remember that? I tried to distract myself at the club with other girls like I always do, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I saw you with that guy. I know it was probably selfish to take you from him, but really you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself and I got angry at him. Not to mention I can’t stand it when you’re around other guys, even Namjoon…” he was pacing, not even noticing you, open-mouthed in shock and leaning against the wall in shock.

“Jongdae, do you like me?” You asked slowly, eyes wide as he stopped pacing, his back to you. Taking a brave step forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder blade. Head turning to the side, his eyes were downcast as you searched his face. Sighing, he looked at you.

“There’s really no point in hiding it anymore,” he confirmed.

“Dae,” you sighed, sliding a hand over his cheek, his eyes finding yours as he turned.

“You don’t have to— just forget I said anything,” he insisted. Running your thumb over his lower lip, instead of replying, you pressed an experimental kiss to his lips.

You felt him take a sharp intake of breath as you kissed his lower lip, his hands shaking as he fit them to your ribcage. You leaned your head to the side, allowing him to kiss you more deeply. You found yourself melting into him, the kiss feeling so natural, so right, like you should have been kissing him ages ago. Cupping his neck with your hands, you felt his tongue brush your own, the feeling drawing a sound of pleasure from you. Jongdae smiled into the kiss, squeezing your waist as he kissed you harder. Running out of breath, you pulled away, pressing your forehead to his.

He was quick to dive back in, pressing you to the wall once more. His hands were everywhere at once, intwined with your own, threaded through your hair, and presently gripping your hips. You were suddenly very warm, trying to keep up with the pace he was setting as you tugged on a fistful of his hair. Pulling away once more, Jongdae’s chest heaved.

“We need to stop before I go too far,” Jongdae rasped, his hands shaking on your hips. Feeling tipsy once more, tipsy on him, your hands moved to hold your face.

“I don’t want to stop,” you said quietly, loving the glazed-over glint to his eyes and his bitten lips. He groaned, head bowing to meet your shoulder, kissing it once.

“(Y/N)…” he trailed off. Knowing what he was thinking, you craned your neck to the side, hoping his soft lips would find home there.

“I want this, Dae. I want it with you, I want you,” you whispered, sliding your hands down his chest, feeling the hardness of it. Feeling the resolve leave his body, you sighed when his lips barely grazed your throat, pressing kisses to the underside of your jaw as his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. Gasping as he bit a mark into the skin under your ear, you pulled at the material of his T-shirt, desperate for him to be closer to you.

“I’m so crazy about you,” he mumbled against your lips, capturing them once more. Heart beating erratically, you were positive you would never get used to the feeling of his lips, soft and gentle against yours. You could tell he was holding back, trying to be careful with you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his tongue tracing your lower lip as you trembled beneath him. You clenched your legs together, attempting to get friction. Feeling you tense, Jongdae slowed the kiss, only to make you squirm even more.  

His hand slid to your thigh, wrapping around it and lifting. Instinctively, you hooked it around his waist, bringing him closer to you. He moaned into your mouth, feeling your body flush against his own. Not really knowing what you were doing, but desperate to move against him, you rolled your hips against his as he bit down on your lower lip, his hand sloppily pushing a strap to your tank top down before cupping your ass, supporting your weight. You yelped in surprise when he began to carry you in the direction of his bedroom, looking down to see a blissed-out smile on his face. Nearly melting with affection for him, you leaned down to press a kiss to his throat, feeling him swallow as you licked a stripe up his neck, feeling bold. He shuddered, setting you down on his bed.

The gravity of the situation hit you, but instead of feeling afraid, you felt reassured. There was no one you would rather do this with; no one made you feel safer, no one made you feel more loved.

“You’re sure you want this?” Jongdae asked, looking down at you as you sat on the edge of his bed.

“Yes,” you breathed, looking up at him and wishing he was on you once more. Smiling, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sliding his hands beneath your shirt. Relaxing into his gentle touch, you lifted your arms as he slid your top from your body, tossing it aside.

You were sure his breathing stopped as you moved to lay on the bed, suddenly very glad you picked your prettiest bra to wear that night. Quickly, so quickly you could have laughed if it weren’t for your current position, Jongdae pulled his shirt over his head, crawling between your legs. You threw your head back as he kissed a line up your stomach, his lips grazing the fabric of your bra before sucking a mark underneath your collarbone. Holding back a moan as his fingertips grazed the skin peaking out from your bra, raising goosebumps in their wake, you almost whined at the loss of his lips on your skin.

“I want to hear you,” he told you, eyes dark as they pierced your own. His hand trailed beneath you, maintaining eye contact as he unclipped your bra, helping you out of it. Your cheeks burned as his eyes slipped from your own, scanning your chest appreciatively. Groaning again, he kissed your lips harshly, loving the way you arched into his touch as he cupped your breast. Letting out a low moan, you wrapped your legs around his waist, the feeling in your core only intensifying with everything he did to you.

“Jongdae,” you murmured, grinding your hips up to his. Hissing, he pinned your hips to the mattress, fingers finding the button to your pants and flicking it open.

“These damn pants…” he mumbled, pulling them off of you. Hooking an arm underneath your upper back to press your chest flush against his own, you relished in the closeness as he lost himself in kissing you again.

By now, you were addicted to his lips, his hands, and his voice. Even his gaze enslaved you, his lips leaving you once more as his hands trailed down your sides, the touch barely there. Sighing, your head fell back as his hand grazed over the lace of your panties. You became a little embarrassed, knowing that they were noticeably damp. Jongdae only hummed in approval, cupping your heat as he kissed the exposed skin of your throat. Feeling close to combustion, you hissed at the cold air hitting you as he pulled your underwear from your body. Not caring that he still had jeans on, all you could think about how he was everywhere, you were breathing and drinking him in.

Fingers experimentally circling around you, you nearly saw stars as he grinned into your neck, even the simplest of touches winding you up. The sounds you made only pushed him forward, planting a kiss on your lips as you lifted your head up to look at him through half-lidded eyes. Circling you a few more times, hitting your sweet spot enough times to get your head spinning, he tentatively eased a finger into you.

To your great surprise, you didn’t feel any discomfort. Scanning your face for any sign of pain, Jongdae pressed a kiss to your cheek, pumping his finger into you slowly. The feeling was odd, foreign, and not nearly enough. Squirming, you gripped tightly onto his shoulders, whining. Shaking his head with a little chuckle, Jongdae added another finger, your head dropping back to the pillows again. Clinging to him for dear life, soft expletives left your mouth as he continued to pump his fingers, cooing things into your ears.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, kissing the skin under your ear. Heat began to rise in your stomach as he pressed his thumb down onto your sweet spot, all of the sensations beginning to get too much.

“J-jongdae…” you got out, your voice sounding weak and wrecked. Lips grazing your neck before pulling away, he withdrew all at once. Your body feeling empty with the loss of his fingers, you almost groaned in disapproval before watching him rid himself of his jeans. Sitting up on your elbows, you felt sweat run down the back of your neck as he kissed your forehead, peeling his boxers off. Sliding a hand down his body, you looked up at him, his eyes watching you carefully as you reached his hip. Biting your lip, you tentatively wrapped your hand around him, breath catching in your throat as he shuddered under your touch. Reaching up to kiss his collarbone, you slid your hand up and down a few times, nearly smirking as his hips rolled with your movements, tiny sounds of pleasure leaving him.

“Enough,” he warned, wrapping his hand around your wrist. Satisfied, you laid back down on his pillows, admiring his body. He was so beautiful, you thought as he wrapped your legs back around his waist. Kissing you roughly, you felt the warmth in your core fire up again, threatening to burn you alive. Hips bucking up on their own accord, Jongdae froze as your core brushed against him, the sound coming from you nearly dissolving what little control he had left.

“Are you ready?” He panted, a hand pressed to your stomach while the other cupped your cheek.

“I’m ready, Dae,” you told him, kissing him softly. Lining himself up, it took everything in him to not slam himself into you. Moving inch by inch, he carefully watched your face for discomfort, nearly coming apart himself. Confusion swept over your face as pleasure almost blinded you.

“It doesn’t hurt?” You wondered, circling your hips and earning a strained groan from Jongdae. He was really trying to be still, but you felt so good…

“It’s because you’re turned on, love, it’s not supposed to hurt,” he replied, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead. Realizing how uncomfortable he must be, you hooked your hands around his neck.

“Please, move,” you moaned breathily, all he needed before withdrawing from you slowly, gently rolling his hips back in. It felt nice, but you needed more. You could tell he was holding back.

“Jongdae, I’m not made of glass,” you gritted out, feeling him move at a torturous pace. Eyes snapping up to meet your own, he smirked at you.

“Whatever you say, love,” he teased, snapping his hips forward with bruising force.

Tightening your hold on his neck, you relished in his loss of control, your name tumbling from his lips as he lost himself in you. The heat within you began to swallow you whole as one particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had you seeing stars. Crying out, Jongdae shushed you by kissing you sloppily, repeating the same movement over and over until you thought you might black out from pleasure.

“You feel so good,” he whispered breathily, making you moan in response.

He moved faster now, almost desperately as you could no longer control the sounds you made, his hand moving from your hip to circle your sweet spot once more. Feeling the heat in you rise to its fever pitch, you kissed him desperately before you let the fire consume you.

Never had you felt as euphoric as you did then. Even as you were lost in the pleasure, Jongdae’s fingers never ceased their movements, nor did his lips leave your neck. His hips stuttering as you came, you cried out his name once, twice, and a third time before falling limply, numb against his pillows. Stiffening, biting a harsh mark into your neck, he reached his high with a final croak of your name.

You saw stars as he collapsed on top of you, his body damp with sweat as you traced a pattern on his shoulder blade in a daze. Kissing his forehead, you wished to never leave his bed. Humming, Jongdae rolled off of you. Feeling the loss of his body heat made you quake, watching as he reached for a tissue on his bedside table. You watched through mostly closed eyes as he cleaned between your legs, tossing the tissue into the wastebasket. Sighing in contentment, he pulled you into his chest, hand cupping your chin to press a chaste kiss to your mouth. Grabbing the blanket from the bottom of the bed, he draped it over the both of you.

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?” Jongdae broke the silence, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly. Smiling softly, you curled into his chest.

“That sounds nice, is it part of your apology for acting like a brat on my birthday?” You teased, kissing a freckle on his collarbone. Chest rumbling in laughter, you smiled wider.

“I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” he replied, offering you your favorite smile of his, the one where the corners of his lips curled upwards.

“I’d love nothing more,” you whispered. “As long as I can stay here for the night,” you added, snuggling closer to him.

“I don’t think I can sleep one more night without you next to me,” he admitted, making you blush.

“You sap,” you repeated your earlier words, eyes feeling heavy with sleep. Kissing the top of your head one last time, you both fell comfortably silent, waiting for sleep to take you both. As you drifted, you found one more thing to become addicted to: the warmth of his arms as he held you.

happy holidays and merry christmas, loves xx

~ admin C

[cryoreal]

Prompt fill for @amymel86​ who asked for “a modern AU where one of them keeps having saucy dreams about the other and gets super flustered around them during waking hours.”  It wasn’t his fault. Not really, anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was so damn attractive. And he didn’t even seem like he was trying. But when Jon crashed on the couch in the apartment she shared with Robb for the fourth time that week, Sansa wanted to kick a wall. It meant that for the fourth morning (almost in a row), she would have to go downstairs to see his ridiculously messy bed head and standard plaid pajama bottoms and she would have to drink her coffee and pretend she didn’t just see him naked in her dreams. Read more below or on AO3.

“Morning, Sansa,” he grumbled, reaching around her for the coffee pot, and she swore she started sweating. “Morning!” she squeaked, grabbing her mug to flee to her bedroom. She had to take care not to slam her door, not to let on that anything was wrong, and she passed a hand over her face before slumping down to the floor. “Morning, Sansa,” he breathed in her ear, his fingers ghosting down her chest until they reached a nipple, pink and tight. “Did you sleep well?”Sansa was only able to keen out a moan as his mouth closed over her other breast, lapping at her gently, and he paused in his ministrations to look up at her. “You didn’t answer my question, love.” “Yes, Jon!” she gasped out, her fingers tugging his hair to bring him back down to her chest, shaking slightly with her hurried breaths. She swore she felt him chuckle against her before he kissed his way down her belly, hands cupping her ass before he spread her legs with his shoulders. “May I?” he murmured against her flesh, and she moaned happily, carding her fingers through his curls, and he brought his mouth down to- “Sansa? Are you okay?”She startled out of the remembrance of last night’s dream, which was only the latest of her obsession with Jon Snow, to scramble away from the door, spilling coffee on herself in the process. “Shit! Fuck!” she cursed as it soaked through her tank top, burning her chest in the process. “Um… do you need help? Can I come in?” “One sec!” she called frantically, looking for something to mop up the coffee with. She had just done laundry, and not a towel was in sight, so she just ripped off the shirt instead, searching through her dresser for a clean one. “Hey, you sound like you could use…” Jon trailed off as he saw her, topless and covered in coffee, her door now wide open. “Jon!” she squeaked again, eyes wide in shock - but not as wide as his.He seemed to realize he was staring after a long five seconds, after which he shouted, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” covered his eyes, and backed out of the room, hands over his face as he stumbled away. She wanted to be embarrassed, but her chest started to shake of its own accord, and then she started to laugh. Full, deep, belly laughs, with her stained top clutched to her bare chest, coffee forgotten on the desk. When she finally composed herself, she pulled on a tshirt to run to the bathroom and wipe the stickiness from her skin, and only then did she venture carefully out to the living room, where Jon was sitting on the corner of the couch, looking absolutely mortified. “Sansa, I am so so sorry. I didn’t really think it through and I didn’t realize you would be… you sounded really upset and I could hear you knocking things over and I thought maybe you were hurt, so I thought that I could…” “Come save me?” she arched a brow at him, and he had the decency to look down at his feet sheepishly. “I guess so, yeah.” “Well, you could start by making me another cup of coffee.” He slowly looked up, a grin making its way over his face. “Deal.” After two months of crashing on their couch at least every other night, if not more than that, Jon moved in with Sansa and Robb. She didn’t mind, not really. He wasn’t trying to infiltrate her dreams, as far as she could tell. He was just there. At first it was only once a week, and that she could handle. She could never look him in the eye the next morning, but he didn’t seem to notice. She took her coffee to the deck and sat out in the cool spring air to try to clear her head of him, but he always came back. After he’d been living there a month, it was closer to three times a week. It was now more normal for Sansa to wake up drenched in sweat, visions of Jon’s tightly muscled chest hovering over her emblazoned into her mind’s eye. That was because she had run into him right when he was out of the shower one morning, only his lower half wrapped in a towel. She never forgot the sight. She was letting the breeze roll over her skin one such morning when she suddenly heard the screen door screech open. “Hey, Sans,” Jon greeted her casually, settling into the lounge chair across from her. “Morning.” Sansa stared straight into her coffee mug, willing her face not to flush. “Got any good plans for today?”  “Um, not really. Just hanging around.” And making good use of my vibrator.   “Would you want to go shopping with me?” “What??” Her eyes flicked up from her coffee finally, seeing his hands clenching tight around the arms of his chair. “I need some new clothes, and I know you’re in school for design, so I just thought maybe…” he trailed off lamely, curls falling over his face. Sansa took a deep breath in, willing her voice not to shake. “Sure.” “Really?” “Yeah, really. I’d like to help.” She carefully hid her tightly clenched toes behind the legs of her own chair, not willing to let him see her tension. “Thank you, Sansa. So much. When do you want to go?” “Just let me go get dressed?” “Yeah! Of course. I’ll be in the living room.” She practically scampered off the porch and into the house. Last night’s dream had been particularly bad. Or good, depending on how she looked at it. She was handcuffed to the bed, clad in only a tiny wisp of silk over her hips and thighs. Jon was straddling her near her knees, one hand cupping her face gently. “I hope you’re ready, sweet girl.” With a single movement, he yanked the fabric down her legs and guided them so that they were wrapped around his waist, his cock just barely rubbing at her entrance. When she gasped and nodded frantically, he plunged into her quickly, petting her cheek to take away any sting he may have caused. He fucked her desperately, needily, setting a quick pace that she was hard-pressed to meet with her hands cuffed above her head. She arched her hips the best she could, swiveling into him, and he let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl before attacking her lips with his, refusing to let up until hers were swollen and plump. Sansa shook her head, trying to dispel the dream before getting dressed quickly in leggings and a loose, gauzy top. She only hoped she could keep those intrusive thoughts away for a few hours while she was too close to Jon to hide. When she made it down to the living room, she grinned probably a bit too widely. “Let’s go!” As Jon drove to their local outlet mall, she tried her best not to stare at his hands gripping the wheel so that she could stop thinking about them gripping her thighs. She managed to find him an array of clothes in a selection of muted colors, and he seemed happy by the end of their trip. She was happy to be leaving, if only so that she didn’t have to stare at his biceps… chest… legs… all of the above. The sweaters he liked clung to his shoulders obscenely, the skinny jeans he preferred showed off his ass too well, and when he jokingly slung a beanie over his crazy curls her panties were finally toast. He didn’t notice how often her voice squeaked, or her hands shook when she handed him a shirt, or how much she seemed to cross and uncross her legs in the passenger seat of his car. Jon had to ask her three times if she was hungry before she heard him, but she didn’t think she could handle one extra minute with him before spontaneously bursting into flames. When she managed to say, “Maybe just sandwiches at home?” without any sort of odd inflection, he actually smiled at her and said “I was thinking the same.” Oh boy, you are not thinking the same things as I am. “Before we get home, I wanted to talk to you about something.” His fingers were drumming the steering wheel, and she readjusted herself in the seat before nodding at him, not trusting her voice. “I’ve noticed that you seem a little uncomfortable around me lately, and I just wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to make you feel better.” “I haven’t been uncomfortable,” she protested, her voice rising a little higher than it should have, and he shot her a sideways glance. “I’m not blind, Sansa, and at least twice a week you practically run from whatever room I’m in. If it’s about that time I walked in on you-” “No!” she practically shouted. “No, it’s just… a personal thing.” “A personal thing,” he deadpanned back. “Care to share.” They had just pulled into their parking lot, and she buried her face in her hands. “It’s kinda embarrassing and you really don’t need to know.” “Okay, okay. Can I help at all?” “You could stop being so damn sexy,” she muttered under her breath, not realizing he could hear her until he started chuckling quietly. “I could say the same to you, you know.”She mock glared at him until he pouted at her, running his thumb over her cheekbone. She was astride him, stroking his cock next to her belly as he stroked her cheek gently. “Whenever you’re ready, love.” It was the longest of moments as she lowered herself onto him, taking her time to really get used to his length inside her. His hand stayed on her cheek as she began to bounce on top of him, watching him groan underneath her. She loved the way his hair splayed over the pillow, and she reached down to run a hand through the soft curls as he pressed kisses to her neck- “You in there?” Jon murmured, and her eyes snapped open. “You were gone for a moment.” “Sorry,” she whispered, leaning into his hand before she realized what she was doing. “That’s alright,” he whispered back, brushing her hair back from her face before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get some lunch.”

[turnonthe8-track]

fashion/appearance stats

BOLD what applies to your muse.

TAGGED  BY: no one, took it off off @the-fires-dead TAGGING: @holmescouture, @dustybyrd, @mcstexcellent​, @hostjohncameron​, @zetaspeck​, and anyone who has followed me or created a new blog within the last two weeks

long legs / short legs / average legs / slender thighs / thick thighs / muscular thighs / skinny arms / soft arms / muscular arms / toned stomach / flat stomach / flabby stomach / soft stomach / six pack / beer belly / lean frame / muscular frame / voluptuous frame / petite frame /lanky frame / short nails / long nails / manicured nails / dirty nails / flat ass / toned ass / bubble butt / thick ass / small waist / thick waist / narrow hips / average hips / wide hips / big feet / average feet / small feet / soft feet / slender feet / calloused hands / soft hands / big hands / average hands / small hands / long fingers / short fingers / average fingers / broad shouldered /underweight / average weight / overweight

HEIGHT.

shorter than 140 cm / 141 cm-150 cm / 151 cm to 160 cm / 161 cm to 170 cm / 171 cm to 180cm / 181 cm to 190 cm / 191 cm to 2m / taller than 2 m

SKIN.

pale / rosy / olive / dark / tanned / blotchy / smooth / acne / dry / greasy / freckled (when she’s in the sun for a long time, which is not Often, but can happen and is usually covered by her makeup)

EYES.

small / large / average / grey / brown / blue / green / gold / hazel / doe-eyed / almond / close-set / wide-set / squinty / monolid / heavy eyelids / upturned / downturned

HAIR. (actual hair)

thin / thick / fine / normal / greasy / dry / soft / shiny / curly / frizzy / wild / unruly / straight / smooth / wavy / floppy / cropped / pixie cut / shoulder length / back length / waist length / buzz cut / bald / jaw length / mohawk / white / platinum blonde / golden blonde / dirty blonde / blonde / ombre / light brown / mouse brown / chestnut brown / golden brown / chocolate brown / dark brown / jet black / ginger / auburn / dyed red / dyed an unnatural color / thin eyebrows / average eyebrows / thick eyebrows / no eyebrows b/c she draws them on higher 

HAIR. (wigs/artifical)

thin / thick / fine / normal / greasy / dry / soft / shiny / curly / frizzy / wild / unruly / straight / smooth / wavy / floppy / cropped / pixie cut / bob / shoulder length / back length / waist length / buzz cut / bald / jaw length / mohawk / white / platinum blonde / golden blonde / dirty blonde / blonde / ombre / light brown / mouse brown / chestnut brown / golden brown / chocolate brown / dark brown / jet black / ginger / auburn / dyed red / dyed an unnatural color / thin eyebrows / average eyebrows / thick eyebrows / drawn on black

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

no tattoos / one tattoo / a few here and there / multiple / full sleeve / thigh tattoo / neck tattoo / chest tattoo / no piercings / ear piercings* / nose piercing / lip piercing / tongue piercing / eyebrow piercing / navel piercing / cheek piercing / nipple piercing / genital piercing

(* this isn’t so much verse dependent as fluid since she normally doesn’t have pierced ears, but sometimes does.)

COSMETICS.

eyeliner / light eyeliner / heavy eyeliner / cat eyes / mascara / fake eyelashes / matte lipstick / regular lipstick / lip gloss / red lips / pink lips / dark lips / bronzer / highlighter / eyeshadow /neutral eyeshadow / smoky eyes / colorful eyeshadow / blush / lip liner / light contouring / heavy contouring / powder / matte foundation / shiny foundation / concealer / wears regularly /occasionally wears / never wears

SCENT. (in this category italics are “sometimes” not verse)

floral / fruity / perfumes / aftershave / cocoa / moisturizer / shampoo / cigarettes / leather / sweat / food / incense / marijuana / cologne / whiskey / wine / fried food / blood / fire / metal / ice

CLOTHES.

jeans / tight pants / over-knee socks / tights / leggings / yoga pants / pencil skirt / tight skirt / loose skirt / form-fitting dress / cardigans / blouse / button-up shirt / band t-shirt / sweatpants / tank top / cutoff t-shirt / designer* / high street* / online stores / thrift* / lingerie / long skirt / miniskirt / maxi dress / sundress / tie / tuxedo / cocktail dress / high-slit dress/skirt / t-shirt /loose clothing / tight clothing / jean shorts / sweater / sweater vest / khaki pants / suit / hoodie / harem pants / basketball shorts / boxers / briefs / thong / hotpants / hipster pants / bra / sports bra / crop top / corset / ballerina skirt / leotard / polka dot / stripes / glitter / silk / lace / leather / velvet / chemise / patterns / florals / neon colors / pastels / black / dark colors / fur / faux fur

(* an often overlooked thing here is that you can get a Lot of designer/high end clothes at thrift stores for really, really cheap. I have Hilfigers that I spent $3.75 on and even higher end prestige clothes that cost a quarter. Plus, a dress I bought in Junction City I literally wore to a pretty high end, internationally ranked company’s 50th anniversary last year as a plus one and no one noticed otherwise. So no, she can’t afford new if she’s not a designer’s muse, but she can acquire.)

SHOES .

sneakers / slip-ons / flats / slippers / sandals / high heels / kitten heels / ankle boots / combat boots / knee-high / platforms / stripper heels / bare feet / loafers / oxfords / gladiator shoes / boots

[thunderboltswarrior-withins-blog]

fashion/appearance stats

tagged (twice) by: @revxli

tagging: N/A

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs.Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame.Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails.Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist.Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers.Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT (click  here to convert to feet ).

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN.

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft. Freckled.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight.Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length.Buzz cut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Greying. Red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret.Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). Dermals.

COSMETICS.

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer.Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up. (adding in Blue lips tbh)

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather.Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whisky. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Acetone.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt.Loose skirt. Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports tshirt. Sweatpants. Cargos. Tanktop. Fur. Faux fur. Faux leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Armor.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Armor/Leather Boots.

famous first lines of poetry bold the ones that apply to your muse. ITALICISE the ones that inherently/may apply.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked //  tyger tyger, burning bright  //  i have done it again.  //  do not go gentle into that good night.//  the sea is calm to-night.  // let us go then, you and i,  //  april is the cruelest month,  //  pretty women wonder where my secret lies. //  there is a place where the sidewalk ends  //  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  // whose woods these are i think i know //  let us twain walk aside from the rest;  //  once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary,  // i taught myself to live simply and wisely // it so happens i am sick of being a man  // i wandered lonely as a cloud //  does it dry up like a raisin in the sun ?  //  o my love is like a red, red rose //  o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; //  out of the night that covers me,  // it was many and many a year ago, //  you may write me down in history//  do not stand at my grave and weep  // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.//  hope is the thing with feathers  //  the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  //  no man is an island,

remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveller from an antique land  //  ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves  //  this is thy hour o soul,  //  when we wear the mask that grins and lies,   //  death be not proud,  //  and death shall have no dominion.  //  laugh, and the world laughs with you;  //  the art of losing isn’t hard to master;  //  to see a world in a grain of sand  //  is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man, //  that crazed girl improving her music. //  come to me in the silence of the night; //  where the mind is without fear and the head is held high   //  when you are old and grey and full of sleep,  //  in flanders’ fields the poppies blow  // i thought of you and how you love this beauty //  life, believe, is not a dream  // it may be misery not to sing at all,  //  if starry space no limit knows

come live with me and be my love,  //   had we but world enough and time,  //  my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense //  bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art–   //  thou still unravish’d bride of quietness //  how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // heaven is what i cannot reach !  // my dear, my dear, i know  //  in visions of the dark night  //  shall i compare thee to a summers day? //  break, break, break  //  she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not all a dream.  //  he clasps the crag with crooked hands.