#might overlap with intox a little

[pocket-watcher]

Controlling a large group of people by making them “high on happiness”. I was debating about making it a spa thing, lord in a castle, or just a cult, so I’ll let you choose :)

Oh this sounds fun! I love the idea of a Hypno-spa so I think let’s go with that…

“So I see you’re booked in for our total rejuvenation package, is that right?” The woman at the desk asked happily.

“Yep, that’s us!” The couple said with faux-enthusiasm. It was clear she was much more excited to be here than her boyfriend she had dragged along.

“Lovely. You’re all set. If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask any of our staff. You’ll start off in the massage room, then you’ll have your facial, sauna, and we’ll have some snack stops along the way incase you get peckish.” She scrunched her nose endearingly, gesturing to the hallway on her left.

“Thanks so much!” The man said with a hint of sarcasm, allowing his girlfriend to lead the way.

The two trudged down the hallway and stopped at the final door, giving it a push.

The massage room was warm and inviting, with soothing diffusers around the room adding to the hazy, calming atmosphere.

“Hello! You must be our 2pms? Feel free to wait over here and enjoy the complimentary snacks.” One of the workers guided them to a couch.

“Oh - uh, thank you!”

They both took a small treat from the table.

“Where did you find this place again? This is way too nice for what we’re paying for it.” The man grumbled, popping the whole snack in his mouth.

“Honey,” she scolded as he reached for another snack. “Janine recommended it.” She nibbled a little of the treat.

“It just,” he popped the snack into his mouth without pausing to chew, “there’s got to be something shady going on when it’s this nice.”

She mouthed “quiet” as two more workers walked past.

She nibbled the treat anxiously. Of course he’d hate this. She’d known and she’d dragged him along anyways, and now for the whole day she’d have to deal with him bitching at her.

She stopped nibbled and finished it in two bites, wiping her mouth, determined to keep the day happy.

Which was when something strange happened

He smiled at her.

“What?” She couldn’t help but smile back, nervous at why his mood had shifted so suddenly.

This was the type of smile she’d see reserved for special moments. When he’d proudly finished a project, or when he’d held his nephew for the first time, or when he’d look up from his crossword to see her finishing up her book.

“I’m just really happy we’re doing this.”

She smiled, worrying that saying something about his odd behavioural shift would break whatever spell he was under.

Instead she giggled at him.

Giggled. Like a schoolgirl.

They laughed harder in a slightly confused way as a man approached them.

“It looks like you two are ready for your massages!” The staff member smiled, a little too wide.

The massage was perfect, of course, as everything in this place seemed to be (and as Janine had gone on and on about). The couple left overly relaxed, eyes not quite focusing, and vacant smiles on their lips.

Like zombies, they shuffled following the signs to the facial room which was similarly full of small treats that made them overly touchy with each other.

“It’s… kinda weird, right?” He laughed, looking at his gorgeous girlfriend.

“What?” She popped another cake into her mouth.

“I kind of feel… did I ever tell you I smoked weed during high school?”

The laughed even harder, breathing in the foggy air.

“It kind of feels like that.” He broke out into a childish launch.

“It’s probably… it’s probably some kind of relaxing thing… in the air. Like when you smell lavender and feel sleepy” she closed her eyes sighing dreamily.

“Yeah…” he hummed, before they were both approached for their facial.

The flashing lights had been a strange touch, and their cheeks were hurting slightly, but the two were having such a lovely day how could they stop smiling?

She took another snack and examined it in her hand.

Something is wrong, a part of her said. Deep in her mind.

It’s the food. It’s the smells. It’s this place.

But then she looked over at her smiling boyfriend, free from the stress of work and anxieties.

And well, he just looked so happy.

So she abandoned the thought and took a bite, smiling.

[veala2]

“ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”

✸ shanks n’ buggy ✸

SYNOPSIS - Being in a relationship with 2 pirate emperors is great, but one aspect that comes with a pirates life is a pirates thirst… no, not that kind, you dog!

CW - gn!reader, obviously there’s some intoxication on both sides, reader is explicitly said to be puking, Buggy is doing some dumb shit, shenanigans ensue.

A/N - I’m back from the dead (work), ready to deliver and slowly (painfully) write my next fic (Christmas themed?)

Probably the first to get black out drunk between the two of you.

He’s been a pirate for most of his life, and drinking was a pleasure he so stereotypically enjoys!

So, when you see his flushed face and goofy smile, you couldn’t help but indulge in his silliness. Letting him play with your hair or kiss you all over your face.

But… when the roles are reversed, he’s 100% on you to make sure nothing happens.

It’s not that he thinks you’ll do something crazy while drunk, no no. Rather, it’s what others would do that scares him.

Pirate bars are filled with crude men swinging their swords around, starting rowdy bar fights which leads to terrified bar owners and civilians to evacuate.

Yes he can take care of you with a simple look- his strong conquers haki coming in play- but he’d rather keep the chance of you safe as high as possible.

“Baby… baby, I’m fine, let me gooo…”

You whines fall on deaf ears, as Shanks adjusts you in his arms once again to make sure your head wouldn’t strain. He chuckles as he makes his way down the wooden steps out of Makino’s Bar, the pounding sound of laughter and drunk men filling his ears.

“I’ll let you go once we’re at the port. There’s no way I’m gonna let you throw up on me again.” He laughs, making you clip your tongue and rub your eyes.

“I didn’t even throw up on you!” You retorted. Which brought another chuckle out of him.

He can remember that scene like it was five minutes ago. Well, maybe because it was five minutes ago. He might be a little drunk himself.

Brushing off the warnings of having too many shots, you took your 21st and started to feel nauseous. Before he could drag you away before you hurled up yesterday’s breakfast. Which happened before he could even get out a word. Leaving him disgusted, but even more worried.

“Sweetheart, trust me, I’m not taking that risk again.” He says, planting an endearing kiss swiftly on the top of your forehead, pulling away at the smell of vomit, Making his nose scrunch up.

Shanks sat you down on the pier of Foosha Village. Rubbing soothing circles on your back, letting you take your course. The night sky shined when it hit the slow waves of the sea, a sky littered with stars. A calm, serene night he loved. Especially with you cuddling into his side.

“Are you feeling better, baby?” He asked, a decimal over a whisper. You nod, groaning into his shoulder.

“Good. Let’s get you home and clean up. And maybe apologise to Makino tomorrow morning if she catches us. Other than that, we can always outrun her fury.”

You let out a weak giggle, despite you still feeling not so great. He holds you in a tight grip, sighing happily and looking up to the sky. Allowing himself to indulge in the beauty of the night sky and the beauty that sits right next to him.

“Remind me to bring a bucket next time.” He jokes, landing him a swift punch to the arm and a goofy smile on his face.

Drinking with him has two outcomes:

Either you’re having good times! A couple of laughs, maybe making some great memories that overlap with some of the more confusing ones of drinking with him.

Or… You’re doing the most batshit crazy thing you’ve ever done in your life.

WITH HIM JUST STANDING THERE.

HELLO!?

When I tell you drunk Buggy can take over the world if he so pleases, I mean it

That man has no inhabitions, no thoughts, just a pure drive to do whatever the FUCK he wants for the next 24 hours.

You wonder how such a cowardly clown can become so brave by just a couple of shots.

And honestly, you can be the same way too. It’s not hard to get caught up in all the excitement and thrill of doing shots with a pirate group and almost ending up with a broken limb.

But MAN-

It’s a really mind boggling thing… Like, you could write a psychology paper on it.

“BUGGY, DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!”

“Huh!?”

Your shouts echo the inside of his towering circus top. There your boyfriend was, drunk off his mind due to some of the finest whiskey found in the Grandline (which he happily took), and placing his left leg inside the brightly human- cannonball. He looks back at you, confused but then displaying a goofy smile.

“Aw, c’mon, baby! It’ll be so much fun, just keep watching!”

The older pirate doesn’t stop himself from doing what he wants, and fully places himself inside the cannon, wriggling around as to get comfy. One of his lackies cackles as he reaches for a match, striking it upwards and starting the fire. Your heart only beats louder and faster at the sight of the small flame.

Of course it didn’t occur to you, that the moment that Buggy the Clown asked you to be his partner, you would have to be his temporary mother when he was shit faced on most Tuesday nights.

But, it’s not too hard to keep him in place most of the time. All he wants are some private cuddling, maybe some kisses and words of affirmation. And don’t worry, when the roles are reversed he’ll do anything to help you, too.

Unfortunately today, he decides to act like a crazed toddler.

Too bad he isn’t, it would be easier to wrangle him up.

“Buggy, baby, love of my life,” You start, slowly inching closer towards the red- faced man as he stared at you with lidded eyes and curiosity. “I really need you to step out of that cannon before you blow to infinity and beyond.”

Then there was silence.

And then there was laughter. A drunken one, slurred and almost high.

“I’ll be fine, I’m Buggy the genius- fuckin’- jester! hit it!”

It was too late, the match lit the tiny rope at the end, as it quickly rises towards where the gunpowder lies.

You plug your ears and close your eyes, not wanting to even look or hear the maniac jester shoot up into the circus top’s top, rip past the fabric and blast off again.

Oh yes… again.

[wineanddineloseyourmind]

Hi this is my kinky hornyposting sideblog 😇 (main is @existentialsquid)

This is an 18+ only space. Minors DNI.

This is a pro-kink, pro-trans, anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist space. Bigots, transphobes, conservatives, and zionists DNI. Also, die!!!!

This is a place for me to explore all my kinks, including the dark ones. Continue with this in mind.

If you want to DM me, please read my whole pinned!

Anyway, about me:

Call me Di and use my pronouns (she/they/it) and you will be spared. You may also call me any feminine term of endearment if we’re mutuals 💖 (i love pet names so i will probably end up calling you “darling” and/or "babe" if i take a liking to you 😇)

I am a vers switch but my "default" is dom top, although that can change very quickly in the right situation :3

Other than kink, I enjoy TTRPGs, Fromsoftware games (Dark Souls, Bloodborne, Elden Ring, etc.), animated media and nerd shit like that. Also, if you have miniatures or models you built/painted, I want to see them!

I’m polyam and in an open relationship with my boyfriend @bearded-protagonist-enthusiast, but I’m not really looking for a new romantic relationship right now. I’m totally up for friendship and sexting with mutuals though! 🥰

i am here to make friends, explore kink, flirt with mutuals, and post about:

T4T

and

uneven power dynamics (sometimes involving primal predator/prey dynamics, praise, worship, playful degradation (as degrader), petplay, or dubcon (CNC, intox, etc.))

and

breeding/oviposition (also lactation)

and

monsterfucking (of nearly all kinds)

and

transformation/corruption (usually overlapping with monsterfucking stuff)

and

gore (blood, eroticised cannibalism, etc.)

(Note: there will be no real snuff, only occasional art and smut, as well as me just talking about gory fantasies)

and

unsanitary (musk and blood only)

Also, obligatory: I have a bit of an oral fixation so there will be talk of biting - if I ever mention “breaking the skin” with a bite, please know that it is purely in a fantasy sense! Drawing blood with your teeth is very dangerous IRL due to risk of infection. Buuuut it’s pretty sexy in fantasy though, so I will talk about it in that sense. Stay safe out there!

I also like unambiguously consensual stuff with human characters who stay the same, but the above are my kinks so they’ll show up frequently on this blog :)

If you don’t like any of those kinks, you have my blessing to never interact with me ever and live blissfully unaware of my existence. This is a pro-kink space.

On that note, there are some kinks I’m not into and would prefer not to be brought to this blog by replies or asks or what-have-you. No offence intended to anyone with these kinks, but these are my hard lines:

Being preyed on (I can get subby as hell but I draw the line at being treated like a prey animal 🙅‍♀️ I’m not a little rabbit or a deer or a puppy that gets hunted, the idea of me being that is not sexy to me)

Piss

Scat

Raceplay

My soft lines (i.e. things I might be comfortable with if done with someone I trust and can discuss them with) are:

Being degraded (generally I prefer being the one degrading, but in select situations I can be into being degraded)

Choking (I might find it sexy in fantasy on occasion, but I would never ever do it IRL because of the inherent health risks. For that reason, it can be a turn-off sometimes.)

Incest/fauxcest (I don’t always love all versions of this kink, but I’m open to discussing specific fantasies if I have a chance to say “actually, no thanks” before we start anything. You can call me mommy as a title if you’re one of my beloved mutuals 😇)

Detransition (I would never want this for myself but if someone wants to RP as their AGAB then I can be into that~)

The above is not a DNI list. You can still interact with this blog if you have any/all of the above kinks, just don’t bring anything on the hard lines list into my replies, reblogs, asks, or DMs. If you’re interested in something on the soft lines list please keep my boundaries in mind.

On the subject of interaction, i would love to see anon asks related to:

monsterfucking concepts

T4T flirting 🥰

True/False game (make an assumption about me and I’ll say if it’s true or false)

NSFW ask game

Kink Rating ask game

Fifty Shades of Blue ask game

NSFT Emoji ask game

Telling me you just masturbated to my blog/pics 😇

If you want to sext/RP with me, please:

Send me an ask or two first to break the ice

Chat with me for a bit

Pitch the scene you want to RP and/or ask if I’m in the mood first

ok thanks enjoy

ANON ASKS: OPEN

DMs: OPEN (MUTUALS ONLY)

My tags:

#me (whatever reminds me of myself)

#beloved volus (posts relating to my partner @bearded-protagonist-enthusiast)

#personal post (stuff that’s more about me than anything)

#my fiction (my short stories and smut)

#transition goals (what i’d want to look like in an ideal world)

#need (general horny thoughts)

#i can be trusted around cute boys (subby boy tag)

#i bite (this one is self-explanatory)

#i am looking (real people selfies and nudes)

#tf kink (content relating to fantasy transformation)

#monsterfucker (monster stuff)

#my asks + #my answers (self-explanatory)

mutal tags: #beloved volus (@bearded-protagonist-enthusiast) #kittendeer (@pupsferalkid) #misc (@miscling) #🐊 (@crocofsouls) #gothy kitten (@gothykitten16) #dommy demon (@serotoninswitch) #elf mutual (@mira-mira-0n-the-wall) #dungeon essie (@beansira) #baz (@hyenabrainedpup) and probably more when i get round to it lol

[atlantis-just-drowned]

Okay I can't fucking take it anymore I need to lay all of the proofs on the table and figure out whether or not I'm actually crazy

This is not a mental health coming out post. Or maybe it is. Who fucking knows. I'm just trying to figure out whatever the fuck is going on with my brain.

I've been running around in circles for more than a year trying to find the truth while simultaneously denying it. Here I'm just going to list it all under the cut once and for all. And then, I don't know, I'll just hope for the best.

For most of my life I've always been experiencing conflicts "with myself", or my "conscience", or whatever I called it. I always felt cut in small parts, like there was something inside of me fighting against me

This has been a recurrent subject in my life. I started writing diaries at 11 years old and ever since then, there has been multiple entries, spread over several years through all of those diaries talking about "the little guys in my head", "the different parts of me", "the other half of me", "me and my conscience", etc, etc etc... I even wrote dialogues between them

I've been through a fair lot of traumas in my childhood. My coping mechanism at the time was to escape in my imagination, to invent worlds were I was someone else, with a different name and different personality, and I lived a different life. I thought there was a door in my wall that let me access to this "other dimension". I had a lot of imaginary friends. Basically I dissociated a lot

This one might be slightly less meaningful but I've had sudden personality/taste changes happening to me more than once through my life. When I was younger I suddenly stopped liking crepes and affirmed I never liked them when I very much did, though I can't remember ever liking the taste. My parents won't ever stop retelling this tale as they swear it happened so out-of-the-blue that they never understood what has happened to me. Later in middle school, I didn't like mangas and found them weird, until I woke up one morning and suddenly I loved them, without transition. It just hit me like a flash. More generally, I never truly felt like I was the same person through all of my life. It's like different me's existed at different periods, in cuts, and got replaced by another me after a while, but are still all existing inside of my head

Those changes can also happen on short periods of times. I'll start feeling weird and disconnected from my body, and behave/talk/walk/write differently from the usual. I had people asking me if I was intoxicated when I was completely sober, because I didn't "seem like myself". I had moments where I suddenly felt like an 8 years old child. I don't always recognize myself in the mirror. My gender change like the weather in a way where it's not mine, but it's like another gender overlaps my own. The pitch of my voice can also change

I never experienced black outs. I've seen people talk about the concept of "grey outs" which I recognize myself in, and more generally there's events or entire periods of my life I can't remember about, or barely, and in a way where I know the facts at an intellectual level but have no distinct, first-person memories of it. But no black outs. I'm always here but different, or floating above my body, but never absent

However, I do experience strong thoughts that aren't my own. Sometimes they're directly addressing to me. It's not voices but like very clear and distinct messages sent through my brain

I don't know where I'm going with this. I feel like an impostor and a bitch for even just talking about it. I know for certain that I don't have DID. As I said, I do not experience black outs and some other symptoms of this disorder, and I do not recognize myself entirely in the experience of DID systems.

Ever since I started giving more place to those 'parts', I started identifying distinct ones, with their own traits, quirks, personalities, vibes, etc. Close friends of mine also identified some of them over time. Some of them always had names that they identified with right away. But most importantly, they all have a "special goal/function/trait" that's specific to them, and for some of them, their origin can be traced way back in my childhood and their influence has been identified at different periods and in different aspects of my life

I came back later to realise I forgot to mention this, but I do experience depersonalisation and/or derealization a lot. I have stronger episodes when experiencing specific things but on a daily basis I'm almost always "not entirely here"

So what am I doing this post for? No fucking idea, honestly. Maybe so that I can't keep pretending like there's nothing happening. Maybe so that the people around me will understand a bit more what's going on with me. Maybe so that someone will tell me I'm not going crazy or faking it. The only thing I know is that if I don't post this now, I'm going to chicken out yet again and never be fucking honest about it. I'm kinda tired of ruminating the problem all alone, and if I don't reach out I'll never trust my own judgement on this issue. So let's just do this and see what happens.

[spacedykensfw3]

Kinks, limits, and a little about me!

First things first, basic info:

My name is Max

I’m 27

I use they/it/he in my day to day life, but she/her and anything else are totally fine in a kink context!

I’m a nonbinary butch lesbian (but also gray-aroace. The overlap is a mystery even to me.)

I was on T from June of 2022 to like, February of 2024 and now I’m back on it as of mid September 2024!

I’m 5’10” and around 250lbs (which is to say, I’m a fat bitch and if you have a problem with that, move along)

I’m very submissive, and I’m a verse (don’t ask me to dom you, it won’t happen, I’m bad at it, and it’s really difficult for me lmao)

Now, the kinks and limits!

Hard kinks you will likely see on this blog:

Orientation play/dykebreaking, or otherwise being forced or coerced into being with men

Incest/fauxcest

“Hard” cnc/noncon/rapeplay

Less frequently, misgendering and forcefem as tied to my being a butch on T

Also less frequently, misogyny/patriarchy play, but after the results of the 2024 US Presidential election this will probably be very, very rare, at least for a while. Just got too real.

Absolute favorite kinks:

Orgasm denial

Edging

Anal

Piss & omorashi/piss desperation

Humiliation/degradation

Other things I’m into:

Bondage

Exhibition/voyeurism

Free use

CNC

Gangbangs

Fisting (even though I haven’t gotten there yet)

Body writing

Objectification

Forced orgasm/overstimulation

Breeding (I may share posts or fantasize about pregnancy occasionally, but I do not actually have any real world desire to become pregnant)

A wide range of pain play including pussy & clit torture

Squirting (which I’ve done one (1) whole time and have yet to replicate, unfortunately)

Blackmail

Monsterfucking

Oviposition/alien pregnancy

Transformation (particularly gender fuckery, like gender swap pills)

Trans supremacy, particularly transfem supremacy

Things I’d like to try:

Hypno

Dumbification/bimbofication

Somnophilia

Catheter play

CNC around kidnapping

Intox play

Soft limits/maybes:

Piss drinking

Enema play (I am EXTREMELY mess averse when it comes to butt stuff despite having a huge anal kink so uh… yeah)

Anything that might risk getting caught by non-consenting party

Food in holes that aren’t my mouth (more likely to agree to this if it's going in my ass than my pussy, I don't want a yeast infection)

Tickling

Firm limits/almost definitely no:

Ass to mouth

Pet play

Blood

Diapers

Hard limits:

Feet

Scat

Intentional vomit (because I know gagging makes your body do stuff sometimes, and I’m hard to gross out; I just don’t want it to be taken out of me or put on me on purpose.)

Race play

Toilet play (ie licking the toilet or putting my head in toilet water or anything like that)

Some irl public stuff (depends on context & risk lol)

Cutting

Necro/snuff (just not my bag)

IRL bestiality (I am into monsterfucking and have plenty of knotted dildos so y'know)

Weight-based humiliation/degradation, food control, weight control, etc

Underage (which should be assumed, and also isn’t a kink, but I take this extremely seriously.)

This list is not exhaustive, and I'm sure I'll find new kinks I like and hate as time goes on. If something isn't on the list, just ask me, chances are I haven't even thought about it. If you have any questions at all, just ask! I don't bite (without consent).

A little bit more about me:

I'm a huge nerd, and if you follow my main, you know this. Star Wars, Mass Effect, LEGO, a litany of other interests because I have ADHD, you know how it goes.

Tangentially related, one of my long-time interests has been sex education, kink education, and sexual health. So, while I love being horny on the internet, I also love to answers questions about that kind of thing, so feel free to ask!

I'm typically pretty introverted, and I'm really terrible at keeping conversations going. If I haven't responded in a while, it isn't you, it's because I'm bad at being a person. Just nudge me.

[dolphin1812]

“the reader will permit us one other little digression, utterly foreign to this book”

I can’t tell if Hugo is completely lacking in self-awareness here, or if he’s gently mocking himself. Either way, I’m entertained.

A note from the Donougher translation: when the centenarian renews her vows, she uses the verb “bailler” (translated as “give” in this translation, and meaning either “to give” or “to pledge”). The verb “has a chivalric resonance,” but with her “colloquial” phrasing, it seems to suggest deception (which might be why the girls find it funny). (Donougher 455)

Notes like these suggest that the centenarian is supposed to be funny, but her position - she was “in society before the Revolution” and thus remembers the ancien régime as experienced by the rich - is also significant. Her stories are indicative of her prior status. Although it’s possible she exaggerates when she describes the Abbey of Fontevrault as a city, as she isn’t taken entirely seriously by those around her and seems to put on airs, what she “puts on airs” about does imply some level of nostalgia for the days of Louis XVI. For instance, she constantly references his Keeper of the Seals and Presidentess Duplat, in part to emphasize the status of those she was (supposedly) familiar with. 

It’s also interesting that she speaks a lot and that, when she speaks: “It was a century which spoke through her, but it was the eighteenth century.” The “eighteenth century” here seems to be the stereotypical image of that time: the aristocratic splendor (rather than the lives of regular people). For example, the custom of bringing four silver gondolas of wine for the visit of important figures in certain parts of France is, to her, something worth retelling. And it is interesting and fun to know! But the idea of wine being used to intoxicate just as a form of over-indulgence or ceremony - rather than as a rarity or a way of coping - has largely been foreign to us (in this novel, as readers) so far. The only exception is Tholomyès (and possibly some of the patrons at Thénardier’s inn, but Montfermeil is poor, so it’s unlikely that they’re drinking luxuriously and are probably drinking socially instead). Otherwise, characters have had some wine as part of hospitality (the bishop serving Jean Valjean his best wine) or wine has intentionally been used to intoxicate in tragic ways (this is how Mme Victurnien got the information about Fantine’s situation; Thénardier also did this to Boulatruelle). There’s overlap in the idea of wine being part of a good welcome, but most of the characters we’ve encountered don’t have the money to get drunk happily; the most information on intoxication we’ve had was for Boulatruelle, where it seemed like a desperate way to cope with having been in prison. This isn’t to say that the novel takes a stance on wine, but rather that the contrast between this type of drinking and what we’ve seen is stark. A man at the inn might have, for example, gotten drunk drinking a bottle or more, but he would have consumed each bottle (not sampled various wines). That quantity and variety of wine, presented in such a form, isn’t accessible to characters who specify every time they drink a bottle, and that highlights the cultural and material gap between this centenarian’s old life and the reality of France’s poor, both before and after the Revolution. The “century” she remembers is completely disconnected from what most of these characters’ families lived through just because of class.

I do feel bad that her plate caused so much gossip, though. The rush to look at it after her death isn’t actively harmful like earlier instances of gossip (Fantine), but it’s still unpleasant. And again, even the nuns aren’t immune to this behavior.

[birthday-of-music]

tagged by @seishun-emergency (thanks for the tag!)

Rules: Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have.

im like 99% sure most of my sentences are like. really short. so. here we go ig

It’s late at night, and Leo is bored. (forever and ever, izuleo)

Avoiding Rei is easy, Ritsu’s found. (maybe we can fix this, ritsu and rei)

Natsume thinks he might have done something in a past life to live in a world where he can’t avoid people he finds annoying. (little by little, our fates overlap, natsuleo)

Mafuyu’s birthdays have never been much of a celebration. (this warmth, niigo)

Tsukasa likes watching Sora play video games. (strawberry kisses, sorakasa)

Rui stares down at the message he’s typed out, thumb hovering over the send button. (crash, ruikasa)

It’s hot. (thirty-four degrees, ritsuizu)

Kusanagi Nene loves video games. (how not to get a girlfriend and other life tips, chapter one, emunene) (this has not been touched in months oops)

It goes like this: The bedroom door pushed open, emerald eyes meeting his, a pile of papers stacked — neatly, in ways they never used to be — on the bedside table. (frustrating, intoxicating, complicated, izuleo)

Yoisaki Kanade is not a doctor. (lightly and gently, it falls away, kanamafu)

interesting. what ive gotten from this is that I usually start with. really short sentences. except for number 9 apparently.

edited because i thought it meant. if you dojt have ten people to tag. @neoxsanctuary @an-inspired-eternity @neolxzr @solaaresque and uh. anyone else i guess (sorry for. tagging you if you don’t want to be tagged)

[moonlit-femme]

For the NSFW asks ; 4,8,11, 14, 18, 22, 29, 30, 41, 45, 49, 53, 61, & 65

Also 1-23 for this or that!

-🌻

Wowzers, that’s a lot of questions but I’ll do my best lol…

NSFW Asks

4) A loving caring partner, bigger tits, interchangeable bits

8) Eaten someone out (don’t judge me lol)

11) I guess it would be bottoming for multiple partners at once, although I’m not too embarrassed by it

14) Neck! Holy fuck nothing will stop me from covering my partners neck in bites and marks and hickies.

18) Anything that has to do with hands since they would be the most versatile option

22) Bad Dragon’s Nova always caught my eye. Will it rip me apart? More likely but if that’s the price I have to pay-… Next option is one of those fancy Lovense toys.

29) Somno and Free Use tend to be my favorites

30) I’ve never given oral but I think on my knees or laying down would be fun. Favorite to recieve is face sitting or on my back

41) Best orgasm in the past few months was probably because of phone sex lol

45) I would like to try but I think I might end up losing track of the scene.

49) Favorite thing to do while dominating would be endlessly teasing my partner and overstimulation

53) No lol, I’m not one for drugs or alcohol and stuff like that

61) Tattoos and piercings are always lovely. Best place for tats is anywhere but the face. For piercings, lip and nose and my favs (making out with a lip piercing is intoxicating)

65) I don’t really care what kinks my partner has as long as there’s some overlap and general compatibility.

This or That

1) Ropes

2) Furry but only in very very specific cases, ears, tails, and claws are nice (both is okay tho ig)

3) Fully naked

4) Taking photos of someone

5) Panties

6) Creampie (both is good)

7) Neither

8) Blunt pain

9) Obedient sub >>> (but a little bit of defiance is nice)

10) Forever read porn (Audios are way better tho)

11) Amateur

12) Hands >>>>

13) Lights on (Natural or Dim light preferred)

14) Harem of women obvi

15) Truth or Dare

16) Multiple orgasms

17) Fishnets >>>>

18) Pet (I don’t like the term sl*ve and you’ll never see me use it to refer to a partner)

19) Ass worship

20) Mistress specifically (Being called Daddy does awaken something in me tho)

21) Bites >>>>>

22) Bruises

23) Leather

Did I do good? Did I get a good grade in horny???? I hope you’re proud 🌻!

[beacarrot]

May, 2024.

I took a long while to put this in words, 'cause the truth was unclear,

I remember your magnetic entrance, but how you left and it's not near,

I promised a song,

But you do it better,

So I'll keep that pretensious promise strong.

This time I was there,

I can touch this photograph with care,

Freeze it in a frame,

Safely hidden, out of woods,

And let it be,

Where I can place it to move again, eternally,

In slow motion,

It wasn't like pictures stuck on my wall,

We went wild without a single stall,

Turning glasses, that were discarded on the floor,

The crowd trembled with every word you swore,

My heart beat with a single unease,

The appeal that adorns the wish that this is was the very first page,

Not where this story takes its flight.

Not where this story ends.

I'll die a little each day feeling your absence,

It was the first time,

But today I felt I’ve missed you all this time,

You showed me a world anew,

I’m stuck because now I don't want to undo,

I can't go back,

I’m desolate because I can’t live without you, not being safe and intact,

When the lights came on, I scraped my knees on the lawn,

Spending life waiting for you to return before dawn,

Declaring you with my intoxicating forever,

I’ll hate myself more, deep down from core and above,

'Cause no word in the world will ever be enough,

And blaming my creative spark for being fault and rough,

I always knew deep down, I wasn’t the resilient type like a tough,

And all I can say,

Is that while I live,

I’ll remember,

And while I die,

I’ll still love you.

Who’s gonna stop us from dancing through the flames?

Above the wires where crows and gulls alight,

Every word stored, every night, scarlet smoke’s light,

They passed through our peripheral sight,

Slowly boarding every moment away,

Seeing you,

I was like a deer ahead of headlights, astray,

Like that tatto above your scar,

And this story will be written by bruised on my hips too.

What a folly, I thought I’d found my life’s sense,

Then I realized,

I was golden, but you were an eternal blue expanse,

Then you touched me, and suddenly,

I felt I could breathe once again,

Everything comes back to mind,

14 years, the world was black and white,

For me to paint with colors matte or bright.

A dreaming boy, a storyteller’s aim,

Hoping a big city would catch his name,

You knew how to beat all theories so lame,

Playing records backwards, not the same,

Never found your shadow,

With your heart trapped in a London booth,

And every time we forgot why to love you,

You make sure to remind us.

I hope my painting's in your hands,

And it could sliding through your fingers, where it stands,

And you can feel each pulse spended of my veins,

From my false courage,

From an unintended free fall,

I hope the translation meets my emotion’s demand,

Capturing the essence of my one-sided passion,

But deep down, I know it might not land,

Words are shallow, and art is pretty, but not as a heart so opened.

And all I could say,

Is that while I live,

I’ll remember,

And while I die,

I’ll still love you,

'Cause there I was again that night,

Dressed in that little black dress so tight,

The same old, tired, and lonely heart in sight,

With my vacant eyes, drumming,

I saw your face,

Contrasting each overlapping study,

Countering every studied embrace,

Danced on my room’s laminate floor,

On the way home, I saw sparks I couldn’t ignore,

Wonderstruck,

Wishing you on my doorstep’s place,

Would you have read my letter’s trace,

I’d open the door and you’d know,

That I’m enchanted to meet you.

(P.S: This text I wrote inspired by the day I went to my favourite singer's concert, the gig was unreal, but the next day it drove me crazy with the feeling of emptiness. In the song there are some snippets from Taylor Swift's song "Enchanted". Thanksss!!!!!!)

Signed: Beatriz Ranzonni. 🩵

[catboy-dummy]

Intro Post: ✨

Hello! I wish to not use a name on here. But some things i like to be called are good boy, puppy, dummy, and prince (will update if I find a liking to other ones too!). I also use it/its when im getting dumb (NOT in a misgendering way, don’t touch me with that)

Im 21 and my pronouns are he/him, I’m a bisexual trans man, lovingly taken <3.

A lot of what I post and rb is fantasy

Backup is @dummy-catboy-moved

DNI:

Minors, this blog is 18+

No age in bio

Detrans and misgendering, don’t want to shame it’s really just not my thing

Ageplay, sissification, r4pe kink (this one is a weird field because cnc tags keep overlapping with it so idk, I have mixed feelings), feeder, incest, and trauma blogs

Usual DNI stuff

I will update this if/as I need to. Please also note I will also just block whenever I feel like my boundaries are invalidated or I just feel uncomfortable

My Kinks:

Hypno

Brainwashing

Resistance play

Dumbification

Corruption

Edging

Denial

Breeding (not the birth part)

Hucow (maybe just a little bit)

Milking

Cnc (huge emphasis on consensual)

Drugging/Aphrodisiacs (also consensually)

Intox (fills in with drugging but adding anyway)

Free use

Teasing

Overstimulation

Objectification

Degradation

Praise

Royalty (as a treat)

Limits:

-please don’t talk about me interacting with your genitals unless we’ve had a prior conversation/consent about it. It’s a huge overstep

-this also goes for involving other ppl that I interact with in ur ask without any real prior conversation or consent on it. Again it kinda puts me in a weird uncomfortable position with the other person that I’m interacting with :(

-unless initiated, please don’t tell me what you would do to me either. Unless it’s initiated it brings me out of the mood immediately

-don’t ask for pics/ audio anything of the sort. Also don’t ask invasive questions or ones that are too personal

-if you send me any pics I’m blowing you up

-if you ever try to overstep my relationship I’m also blowing you up

- if an ask or a dm makes me uncomfortable I will not answer/ reply to it (or I might but it won’t be in a positive way). I might also block out of sheer initial discomfort. (I do understand miscommunications can happen, but unless communicated I will probably just assume the worst out of safety/personal reasons)

-just because I post or reblog something it doesn’t make in an invitation to be creepy. Don’t do that. (Unless specifically mentioning it, but even then don’t be creepy)

Asks / Dms:

Asks are open! Just please don’t be an asshole. Maybe even encourage me to rub and cum my brains out (or make me edge my mind away) so I can become a good, empty, cockdumb boy. I always love pretty spirals or words filling up my inbox

Spiral maker if y’all wanna make a spiral for me to stare at

Go ahead and also just ramble and talk in there, as horny as I am I love normal interaction too :3

If you anon a lot feel free to claim an emoji or name so I can tag u and recognize you more :3

Dms are open to mutuals! Feel free to message and just talk about anything or do hypno related things. Might open them up to everyone someday if I feel comfy doing so. :3

Additional: I’m pretty sure I’m on the spectrum (I’ve been looking into it for years now. So if I’m a little ehhh sometimes I’m probably overwhelmed or overthinking stuff or just unsure of something and I’m getting uncomfortable. Tone indicators really help sometimes because I’m awful at reading tones of stuff.

Anon tag claims: 💜, 📀, 🕸, 🐾, 🐐,🎩,💙,💛

Extras:

I’m new to all of this so I’m sorry if I sound nervous or awkward at times.

Whenever I write “sweet boy” or I’m thinking about my bf, but I also write these in a way so anyone can interpret the scenario as they wish! But I also just wanted to clarify :3

[ellitx]

anon asked: okay, what about venti with a somnophilia kink? I just read your NSFW headcanon and it’s been on my head all day long (accidentally deleted the ask im sorry anon, but i think this was the context of it hhh)

masterlist

fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warning: NSFW content, somnophilia

Venti already came home late at night due to him being in the tavern as always. So when he entered the room, his eyes landed on your sleeping form who was peacefully dozed off under the blanket.

He quietly approached and sat next to you, silently observing how your chest heaved up and down when you breathe. A small mumble of words came from your delicate lips as you shift your body to find more warmth.

If you were awake, Venti might have kissed you already. You always kiss him whenever he comes back home. Slow and gentle, almost like a lullaby that he gradually begins to melt under your touches. He hovered his hand over your arms and deliberately left faint touches on your skin, he hopes you’re still fast asleep.

Sighing in relief that his touches did absolutely nothing to wake you up, he continued to let his fingers wander all over you.

From your arms to your face, then tracing the line of your lower lips, then down to your legs and thighs. You furrowed your brows at the ticklish sensation. Turning around, you’re back was now facing him as you grabbed a nearby pillow to hug it close to you.

Venti secretly loves watching you sleep. It has been always like that ever since he courted you. The strong desire to touch you, and have his lips graze your soft skin while you calmly dream just brings a spark in him. He reminds you of a sleepy angel with that blanket wrapped to your body like that.

He didn’t want to disturb your sleep. No. Rather, he wants to make your dreams sweeter. To make you feel good and refresh once you wake up from his little kisses and strokes.

So beautiful like this too, completely relaxed, entirely contented, and deep in your slumber. He traced a hand over your cheek, feeling the softness of your skin once more. His gaze was now fixed on your lips, staring at them in total adoration.

He licked his lips and sighed once again. The arousal curling in his stomach would be welcome at literally any other time. But with you unable to do anything...

You’ll be fine with it, right? You always said you trusted him with anything and this includes your body. He’s been constantly the one leading whenever he wants to be intimate with you so you trust him with this, right?

Of course, she does.

As long as he doesn’t disturb you and just makes you feel good and pleasured then everything’s fine. He began to pull down the black ribbon that holds his cape together and threw it aside somewhere in the room while his green cape was now pooled on the floor, leaving it behind.

Bringing himself on the bed, the bed sank down and his fingers pinched the hem of your nightgown and lifted it up to bundle it over your waist until he sees your panties for his eyes to behold.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered to himself and brought his nose close to your thighs while his fingers traced your covered slit so gently and slow as ever. He felt your body shift a little before he continued with his ministrations: licking your soft thighs, kissing on the softness of it until he brings his face closer to your core and slips a hand through your panties, and starts doing the work.

Your hips bucked to the pressure of his hand and he listened closely if there are any changes in your breathing. Venti hummed and continued to rub your pussy, his fingers feeling warm the more he strokes it, as he nuzzles his nose against your leg.

“I love you,” he whispered and hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties to pull it down and to allow his tongue to gain entrance to your pussy. Your face scrunched up at the odd yet pleasurable sensation. He noticed your breathing changed. A bit heavier when you breathe out.

His tongue went to a still before resuming but more slowly and even. “Mhm,” Venti moaned at the taste of your juice and lifted your left leg to be placed on his shoulder.

“You’re so adorable sleeping like this.” He said, continuing to lap up your juices and carefully roaming his tongue in every corner of your pussy to avoid waking you up.

“You always love it when I do this to you right, love?” He inserted one of his fingers into you and curled it in your sweet spot that had you always writhing under him— and yet here you are still asleep, but shifting every now and then when he moves his digits in and out of you leisurely.

He can feel himself getting hard the more he continues. He was desperate to fuck you, to have you wrap your legs around his waist whilst he pounds into you to make you feel good and bring a much better dream he can give to you. Your wetness has now coated his fingers and still, you slept.

His sleepy darling, who breathed easy and deep even as your pussy twitched when he touches them. He pulled down his shorts and took the risk of putting his cock inside you. Reaching down below, his two digits parted your lips and gently and discreetly he does insert himself in you.

He was resisting the urge to fuck you senselessly. To make you cum until you cover his dick with your slicks. He drags down the thin strap of your nightgown, draping it onto your shoulders, up to having your skin bare for him to see and admire how spotless they are.

There were no love bites currently covering your skin and he wants to mark you once more. He swallowed hard and a small drop of sweat was trickling down to the side of his face when he felt himself twitched against you.

His eyes were half-lidded as his hand petted through your hair. Venti started to move his hips against you, and he stilled, catching his breath. Your lashes fluttered beneath your eyelids, light and quick as you stirred up from your sleep and process what’s currently happening.

“Venti…?”

A drowsy smile formed on his face as his fingers brushed away the hair hindering you from seeing him. “Sorry. Did I wake you, love?” He leaned forward and buried his face on your shoulder to hide himself from you. You can feel how warm his body was and so you reached for him and brushed his dark locks.

He thrust his hips against you without warning and you moaned at the sudden wave of pleasure that washed over you. It was a slow, pleasant rhythmic movement of his hips each time he lunges into you. Your fingers tangled on his hair, breathy moans and pants blessed his ears when you pulled him close to you.

Through your half-lidded gaze, you can see him getting lost to the pleasure of how tight you're hugging his cock. Each move of his hips against you made him melt, a burning desire of need fuelled even higher. His mouth fell open, a soft groan slipping.

Your brows knitted together and clutched tightly on the bedsheets when his thrusts have become deeper.

“Are you getting close, love?” He muttered and never let his movements falter during this heated and intimate moment. He put a hand between your thighs and you shivered at the contact of his fingers on your wet core. Your breath hitched and you placed an arm over your face to hide your burning aspect as you answered him with a nod.

“Hm… y-you feel so good. So hot— ah~!” With a moan escaping from your throat, you tightly clenched around him as you came while his fingers still moved against your pussy. Venti panted and placed his hands on the side of your head, moving faster and deeper before pulling out and releasing his semen all over your stomach and nightgown.

A shudder ran throughout your body when his warm breath brushed your neck. There was still thick slickness of his cum dripping out from the tip so he watches it fall onto your stomach and roll on the sides.

Few minutes of catching his breath, he grabbed a nearby towel on the nightstand and wiped away the seeds coating your belly. Once every drop was cleaned, he laid himself on top of you with a contented sigh.

To think you caught him fucking you while you’re asleep just made him so red. But he was able to pull it off smoothly because of his intoxication and desire for you. Venti tilted his head to check on you and you looked much more sleepy, flushed, and sweat-slicked due to the orgasm.

He rolled on the other side of the bed and carefully lifts you up until your body was now pressed next to him. Your head was laid on his chest and he wraps an arm over your form as well as overlapping his legs against yours.

He brought the sheets up and draped them over your body and now you’re back to sleeping soundly against his chest. With one last peck of a kiss on your temple, he soon follows after you and went to the land of nod.

[austennerdita2533]

we generally overlap on a lot of ships. actually maybe all of them but one. phoebe x cole. they had chemistry but i always felt that there was inherent balance there. it was enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers... a real rollercoaster. what is it that speaks it you? what is it that you love about them? i am 100 open to changing my mind 😌

Hello there!

I might not be able to change your mind about Phole on the whole, nonnie, and that's okay if I can't! I am always good with a difference of opinion, especially when it comes to shipping because we all gravitate toward characters/couples for a variety of reasons based on our own subjective preferences and experiences. However, I can try to elucidate for you why it is I love them so much. Why I still root for them no matter how many times I re-watch.

The first, and most obvious, reason is their chemistry is electric. It draws me in, buzzing with an undercurrent anytime they share a scene together. I have no qualms admitting that I am a sucker for heady, intoxicating - hell, perhaps even a little dangerous - tension between two characters. That's the good stuff right there! Keeps me hooked and invested! Theirs' bursts forth in the first exchange they have and lingers like a delicious infection until the last.

That said, the bigger reason I ship Phoebe and Cole is because they fit tropes and archetypes I enjoy in characters as well as in relationship dynamics. They're an an amalgamation of so many good ones! Witch/demon, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, light vs. dark, good vs. evil, opposites attract, Hades and Persephone etc. But it’s the way that these tropes intersect and manifest, I think, that makes their dynamic sexy, spirited, and stirring to watch. 

I've always been a big fan of the enemies to lovers trope. I gravitate towards it in almost every medium, but am particularly fond of it in paranormal/supernatural settings because there's bound to be higher stakes and more skewed morality on all sides. Things cannot be as black and white as they are in real life when there's magic involved, or supernatural slaughter happening, or plots to overturn the so-called "natural" order of the world. I think that leaves more room for convoluted and problematic conflict. The gap widens for me between who/what is salvageable and who/what is not. It also makes the rollercoaster of emotions the characters experience - all those heavy ups-and-downs - all that life-crushing angst they're put through over and over again - more palatable, more believable, and even, in my opinion, more excusable in a lot of situations.

Phoebe and Cole have a pendulum-like complexity to their romance, to their internal makeup as people, that is heightened by their supernatural roles/status/perversions and I think that, as a consequence, it makes sense for them to have a broader moral ambiguity they must learn to traverse together as a couple. Because traverse it they do.

Both of them toe the line between good and evil, between light and dark, as they hover in this beautiful but labyrinthine in-between space, and I really resonate with that. I mean, who among us isn't a compilation of mismatched, contradictory parts? I know I have 'em in spades! 😂

I'm also a firm believer that love is more than just connection, or compatibility, or fate; it's a conscious choice that has to be made over and over again, every day. It's a decision you make to continue to work for the love you have or want with another person, to fight for it, to find a way to protect and preserve and endure through it, no matter how many obstacles life throws in your way. And Phoebe and Cole fight so hard for the love they have for each other! So. Damn. Hard. I can't help but root for them for that fact alone.

Not only do they fight foes, but they fight friends, they fight family, and they fight uncontrollable circumstances that rain down on them determined to cleave them apart. It's actually quite tragic to me how hard and how often the Charmed universe tries to yank them away from each other, but they're like magnets, they're like planets who cannot stop orbiting back toward each other because their love is that powerful, it's that important to them. They won't give it up to a black hole's gravity. They refuse to let it be erased or discarded or destroyed. It's embedded in the very fabric of who they are. It's is a part of their DNA, and they'll cary it with them always.

I also think it's important to note that Phoebe and Cole usually find a way to compromise. Their imbalances aren't unbreachable; in fact, they often find a middle ground that allows them to enhance their weaknesses without necessarily sacrificing their strengths. They believe in each other, too. Build each other up. Cole constantly reminds Phoebe how smart, powerful, and capable she is in the same way that Phoebe acknowledges and nurtures the good in Cole. She encourages him to lean into his humanity, to express it in a way he never could before he met her.

Overall, I think they make each other better, more rounded people. They complement each other like yin and yang and that's extremely satisfying for me to watch.

I know and acknowledge that there's a lot of Source!Cole drama later on in their relationship with him growing more possessive, controlling, and power hungry, but I give him kudos because he does push back against it as much as he's able. He battles against the darkness. Goes to war with it, really. As much as the "evil" overtakes him when he becomes The Source, it still cannot manage to expunge his love for Phoebe. She's his one weakness. The one remaining light the darkness of the Underworld cannot stamp out completely. The reason I say that is because, although it takes him time and many unsuccessful plots to get there, he does let Phoebe go. He surrenders. He doesn't make it all about him in the end, doesn't keep her from moving on.

He loves her enough to place her happiness above his own. Not only does he help her find love again, with someone else, might I add, but he sacrifices himself to protect Coop because he knows it'd devastate her if she lost him. His love for her supersedes everything else - even his own life - even his own freaking immortal power - and I think that says a lot about the virtuous depth of his feelings. Love of that magnitude can only come from a pure sliver of heartspace somewhere, you know what I'm saying?

Cole's unconditional love for Phoebe is the one glimmer of humanity he refused to surrender to the Source's total eclipse of evil. Nothing in the universe could or would take that away from him. And guess what? It didn't.

That takes a tremendous amount of courage and self-will from anybody, and I'm awed by it. Absolutely gobsmacked! It literally opens me up from neck-to-navel any time I try and imagine the profundity of that sort of love and devotion.

All of this, to me, is reason enough to ship them. And you know...to cry about them into my pillow for years to come. 😭

Anyway, I have no clue if I managed to sway you at all but I hope you had fun listening to me try and explain my reasoning!

xx

[notnctu]

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series 

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !!  details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him.  warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k  synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach  taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ ; @lovelycharm05​ ; @watermelonxes​ ; @jaehyunsjasmine​ ; @mjlkau​​ <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking. 

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:  

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.  

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.  

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic. 

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

���Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

[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.

[phykios]

i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk​ [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind. 

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.” 

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.” 

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks. 

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.” 

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her. 

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.” 

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.” 

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass. 

It is, but they don’t need to know that. 

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her? 

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.” 

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.” 

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!” 

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.” 

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm?  “How would I even do that?” 

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open. 

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?” 

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room… 

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming. 

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful. 

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?” 

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count. 

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means. 

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place. 

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes. 

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends. 

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus. 

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse. 

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks. 

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall. 

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along. 

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does. 

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance. 

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved. 

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake. 

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now? 

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show. 

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next. 

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard. 

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing. 

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric. 

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame. 

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods. 

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear? 

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure. 

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope. 

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these. 

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down. 

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good. 

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him. 

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again? 

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes. 

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body. 

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps. 

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now. 

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.” 

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate. 

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.” 

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause. 

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet… 

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell. 

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels. 

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy. 

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth. 

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting. 

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back. 

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Mystery Seal/Anchor theory ficlet thing

Read this analysis/observation thing from @arthurtristankingsmen and then wrote it into a ficlet. So go check that out if you want context. Thought maybe the the souls/seal/things could break when Mystery experiences an emotional shock or trauma.  

Summary:  Mystery has several seals holding back his full power which break when he experiences strong emotional states. 

.......

Vivi falls, rolling across the concrete, curling to grip her side in obvious pain. Blood is seeping through her blue shirt. Mystery flinches, fear for Vivi’s safety overriding what little of his common sense remained. Anger explodes in his chest, blanketing any rational thought. Overcome with fury and desperation, Mystery reaches for the additional power needed to properly defend her.  Each emotional blow weakens his resolve to remain unattached and uninvolved in the affairs of mortal beings.  

One of the seals holding his full spiritual might ruptures under the strain, letting loose a wave of new energy which tears through him until his physical body is bursting at the seams. Behind him a new tail erupts, joining the other seven to sway hypnotically from side to side. Head swimming, thoughts white and intelligible under the sudden influx of raw power, he lunges at Shiromori. His teeth lengthen, sharpening in anticipation.

Seconds before impact Mystery regains enough sense to try and pull back even as his momentum carries him onward. Shiromori, expression one of acute alarm bordering on terror, is already mid-swing, bringing her scissors around to defend herself. She wouldn’t be able to halt her strike even if she wanted to. He sees the flash of regret briefly overtake her features as her rams into her blade at full speed. It is only Shiromori ’s supernatural reflexes that save him from being impaled. She twists to the side, tossing him away and across the ground. Pain erupts across his chest as the scissors cut him across the chest. Blood, enthralling in its deep red colour, spills onto the ground as he tumbles onto the ashfelt.

Dizzy from the impact, Mystery struggles stand, instead straining to look over his shoulder. Had he imagined her hesitation? Was he protecting his own feelings onto her? He never gets the chance to check and confirm because a wave of familiar power washes over him followed by a yell of rage. Vivi…no, that was the Ancestor’s power, overwhelming, tearing into him.

He struggles upright just in time to see Vivi, alight with blinding blue energy, tear into Shiro, splitting her in two. Time seems to slow. Vivi's bat, empowered by frosted blue light, strikes true. Mystery gets the barest glimpse of Shiromori's expression of shock, her arm outstretched towards him. For the first time in what was probably centuries he sees her for what she is: a creature of his own making, left abandoned and deliberately forgotten. Her shocked face is the last he sees of her as her body turns grey then begins to flake away, any spiritual energy drained to nothing.

The next wave of pain to hit Mystery is not entirely physical. Intense and sudden grief surges through him, unbidden and uncontrollable. With the deep sense of sadness comes a rush of spiritual power, breaking through Mystery’s mental walls. He collapses back to the ground, curling inward, wrestling with his inner turmoil. Another, eighth, tail begins to manifest, pulling in the excess energy. He needs to pull himself together before his ninth tail makes an appearance and he is overwhelmed by the accompanying ascension into his higher form. He knows from experience that he’s not made to handle that sort of raw spiritual power. Shiromori is proof of that. Shiromori who was now scattered and gone because Mystery couldn’t keep it together when it mattered most.

At his shoulder, he feels the light touch of Vivi's hand, pressing into his wound. There is a lingering impression of the Ancestor there too. He focuses on the sensation, letting his excess energy drain onto the ground, mixing with his blood. He is too exhausted, hardly able to focused on Vivi’s touch, to recognise the creeping influence of another foreign power until it's too late.

He jerks, eyes going wide.  

A second, malicious entity, latches onto his soul, crushing it between spiritual fingers. A wave of green poisonous energy is pours into him.  He recognises this energy. It’s the same supernatural presence that he’d tried to save Arthur from accidentally removing his arm in the process. It was the same presence he had failed to save Lewis form. Fear crashes into him with the force of a speeding truck and a ninth tail slowly grows behind him. He can’t let this malicious creature control his celestial form. Mystery struggles to reel in his emotions and stop the transformation. It’s no use, he’s already too far gone. He can’t stop it. He’s been ousted from his position of control, body moving of its own accord, pulling in power, preparing to transform.

He lets out one last cry of distress before the insidious green energy completely overpowers him. The world around him explodes in a fluorescent, multi-coloured haze, warping reality, tinting it green. Fear, grief and anger all drain away, leaving only the power behind. The transformation is intoxicating, smoothing over any concern with its pleasant buzz. His physical form swells, tripling in size, his teeth elongate, and behind him his nine tails thrash, awash with coloured streaks of light and energy.

Mystery’s senses expand past that of the physical world and he sees how this and the spiritual planes overlap and converge. All emotion he may have felt is gone, fed into the array of tails twisting over him. Mystery watches, unconcerned, as his body moves of its own accord, standing upright to loom over three smaller figures blocking his way.  There is a girl, the spiritual channel to another power. A human, previous host of his, stands next to a wayward spirit of revenge. His jaws split into a wide grin.