#mm was a total left field thing for me

[laladellakang]

connect

masterlist | wattpad

their relationship was bound to happen in (almost) every universe, world and reality

happy belated birthday della (and me^^) and happy belated anniversary to my favourite poly couple. this is my longest fic at 5500+ words

"What did you think of the movie?" Jay asked Della, who was the only one who hasn't stated her opinion.

It was one of the rare moments when all the Enha members watched in the cinema together. They were all curious about the most-awarded film that just won best picture at the Academy.

"I didn't think it was gonna be that funny but it was hilarious," Della smiled. "It was hilarious and sad. It was really good. I loved it."

"Anything else?" Jake asked. They could all tell that there was something in her mind.

"I really liked Waymond.. and I cried a few times near the end..." they know her too well. She had more things in mind. "You guys know I didn't watch the new Doctor Strange movie, right?"

"Mm," they have an idea of where it's going.

"What Waymond said in the movie star universe made me cry, first off. But it also made me think..." she played with her fingers. "The multiverse thing is most probably fiction but I really hope that we get to be together in a lot more universes than this one. All eight of us."

"Don't think about it, darling. The multiverse isn't real and I'm sure our relationship would've existed in another universe if it was. Maybe even most of them."

washington, united states of america

"Shit. I think everyone has formed their groups," Alice mumbled to Della. "Looks like we're the only ones left.. again."

"Seriously?! What about Jen and..." Della frantically turned her head to her other friends. "Fuck, they have eight people."

"One, two, three, four..." she heard Alice count quietly. "Fuck, there are two groups of seven so we have to split."

"Shit..." well that's the price you pay for being friends with everyone so you're not in a specific friend group and only stick with your best friend. "Not lucky this time," she sighed at the thought of being separated from (practically) her other half.

"Yeah..." Alice was still looking around the class. "I just realised one of the available groups is with H7! All seven of them!" Della scrunched her face at the name.

"Please don't call them that, that's cringy as fuck," H7 is what the student body calls this one friend group. All seven students are in the basketball team and are all handsome. Hence the name; Handsome 7. "What about the other one?"

"Is everyone done picking the groups?!" the teacher asked out before Alice could answer.

"Not yet!" Della and Alice said in unison.

"Hurry up, you two. Ethan's group is open, Luke's group is open," great- it's pick your poison.

Either Della gets grouped with a bunch of boys- and H7 at that, or groups with her ex and his 'girl best friend' who never liked her.

"Good luck with H7," Alice whispered in her ear, getting up to sit with Luke's team without a second thought.

Now that's a best friend. Della couldn't help but smile at the thought. 

She grabbed her favourite pen and notebook before heading to where the seven popular boys sat.

She wonders why no one chose to sit here, considering the many fangirls they have. I guess they wanna be with their friends more.

"Sorry to squeeze myself in," she sat on the only empty seat next to number seven. Otherwise known as Will.

Will was always so smiley and friendly to everyone, he doesn't just stick around the popular kids. He's almost like the sunshine of the group. Yet he's a totally different person on the field. He does not play around.

"Not at all," majority of them said.

"Della, right?" number four, Johnny, asked. Johnny is straightforward and mature, somewhat like the leader of the group. Interestingly enough, his looks are quite the opposite. His eyes and fluffy cheeks resemble those of a cat. Absolutely adorable.

Take his smile away and you got yourself a fierce cat.

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "I'm sure you know that I know you all already."

"I'm Jake," number five- okay let's cut out the jersey numbers, cocked his chin up. Jake is known for his insane basketball skills and a real big flirt. Doesn't necessarily play with girls' hearts though. All bark and no bite.

"Ricky," Ricky cloned Jake's head cocking with raised eyebrows. Ricky is really cool. The way he looks, moves, talks, everything. Cool in general but his playfulness comes out within the group. They're all the same age, yet it's almost as if he's the youngest of H7.

"Hi," Della awkwardly said. What else was she supposed to do?

"I'm Will," "Johnny," two of them did the same.

"We've been in the same school for a few years now. I know your names," she chuckled.

"Well I'm Ethan," Ethan brought his hand out for a handshake. While Jake was the flirt, Ethan was the one who's an actual player.

Not really though. From what Della has heard, he treats his past girlfriends like royalty. She suspects that he's just desperate on finding the one... in high school?

"Hi Ethan. I'm Della," she grinned and shook his hand.

"Oh, so Ethan gets a personal 'hi' and a handshake?" Ben had his arms crossed, eyeing their hands with a lazy smirk.

"Hi Ben," her smile stayed as she rolled her eyes. Ben likes to joke around with his friends. Exclusively his friends. Everyone knows how loud and hyper he gets but only a handful of people can make him like that.

"So everyone has a group now right?!" the teacher yelled out again. "I'm going to explain the project!"

"Yes!" some students answered. The class immediately turned quiet to hear the instructions.

"I'm Jay, by the way," the guy across from her leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Nice to meet you, Della."

Della mostly remembers Jay from his parents who helped fund the school. Crazy rich.

Everyone's somewhat rich since they attend the state's top private school. But Jay's family is on another level. Even his uniform looks more expensive.

"Nice to meet you too, Jay," she made the mistake of looking him straight in the eye within close proximity.

He really is handsome. Straight out of a magazine.

"I hope you don't get bored of us. We're really looking forward to doing this project with you," they seem to be stuck in that position.

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Mhm," Della swallowed at how hot he sounded.

"Ditto."

seoul, south korea — txt & en- playground

"She's so pretty," Niki giggled to his hyungs.

"She's prettier in real life- how's that possible?" Sunghoon gushed to them quietly too.

"What did I say about talking about this in public?" Heeseung scolded. "People might hear and we haven't even debut yet."

"Easy for you to say. You trained with her so you know what she looks like up close," Jay chuckled.

"Aish- just don't make things so obvious. Stop staring at her."

TXT's Della is one of the country's top visual. Nicknamed 'Korea's Siren', it's no surprise that she has lots of admirers. Even her juniors can't seem to resist her charm.

"Should we talk to them?" Della asked her bandmates. "I feel bad. They keep looking at us but must feel so awkward."

The five other members looked at each other with a knowing look. Time to play wingmen.

"Let's go! But I need to head to the restroom," Yeonjun slightly widened his eyes to the boys, trying to tell them to leave with him.

"Wait! Me too!" "I'm coming!" "I need to go too!" "I need to pee!" they said at the same time.

"What?! Guys don't leave me here!" Della watched them all stand up. "I'm gonna go to the restroom too!" 

"NO No!" the members stopped her.

"You need to keep our seats warm!" Beomgyu tried to think of an excuse.

"But I would need five butts.." Della raised her eyebrows.

"Well..."

"You guys are being weird but I'll listen to you anyway because I trust that what you're planning is something good," she sat back on her seat. "Have fun doing your business guys!" she waved.

"We love you, Della! Trust the process! Please be your cool self!" Kai exclaimed before the five disappeared.

"She's alone!" Jake whispered aggressively to his bandmates.

"Subtlety! Subtlety!" Jungwon reminded when most of the guys turned their head to where she sat.

"Should we go say 'hi'? Say that we're big fans?" despite being a shy group, Enha wishes to do so many things and that includes making the first move.

They already talked earlier. What's so different now?

There's no hiding behind the other TXT members, that's what.

"The Tubatu guys probably did this on purpose," Heeseung mumbled.

"Should we just... go there?" Jay tried to confirm the plan.

"Yeah yeah, let's just-" before they could continue, Sunoo stood up from his seat.

"I'm gonna go grab a snack first. Wait up."

"Hurry back!" Niki called after him. 

Sunoo let out a sigh. He can't believe that every single one of his bandmates took an interest in the girl she's admired since her debut.

He doesn't own her or anything but well technically he liked her first.

Or maybe Heeseung did since they trained together for a bit.

"Don't you like macarons?" Della suddenly joined Sunoo in the snack table.

"Ah that surprised me!" he jumped, placing a hand on his chest. 

And he got even more surprised at the fact that the girl his members were gushing about was standing right there.

"Sorry, sorry," Della held her hand up with an embarrassed smile. She thought that it was the perfect opportunity to talk to the young group; by slowly starting with one member and eventually everyone else.

"Hello!" he quickly bowed.

"Hello," her smile changed to a warm one.

"How did- how did you know I like macarons?" he covered the bottom half of his face.

"I watched I-Land. You ate it in the first episode," she giggled.

Oh my God. She watched I-Land.

"Your cover of Crown was amazing, by the way. Absolutely did it justice," oh my God, she's complimenting me.

"Ahh thank you so much!" he bowed slightly.

"Listen.. I really wanna get to know Enhypen- as friends! Of course!" her voice had slight panic in them. "You guys seem really cool and sweet so..." she started to feel really shy.

"Of course! They really wanted to meet you too," the two looked at the other six and found them staring. They quickly snapped out of it to give her a small bow.

"Cute," she smiled. "I would love to get close- if you!" she stammered. "If you guys don't mind! I know it's risky for male and female idols to be close so..." Sunoo can't help but soften at her words.

He should be slightly jealous at how she wanted to get to know all seven and not just him, yet for some reason, he just felt warmth. Kang Della is interested in them. All of them.

"Don't worry. All seven of us would absolutely love to get close with you."

riverfield, webtoon world  [dara = sooha]

"Dara! Wait up!" Shion yelled out. 

Dara turned around to find her seven new friends walking towards her.

Or well... more like to the dorms.

"Shion! Hi!" Dara grinned when they caught up to where she was. "Are you all heading to the dorms?"

"Yup! We're about to go and hang in Solon's room though! Would you like to join?" Jino invited enthusiastically.

"Jino!" Solon scolded his friend through their mind-link. "What did I say about getting close to Dara?!"

"That it's an amazing idea to get her to be our friend?" Jaan answered.

"Pfftt.. friend," Noa held back a smirk. "You all act like you don't want more," they knew the youngest was right but didn't want to acknowledge it. Even Noa himself regretted saying it. Now his brothers might think that he doesn't want her.

"Solon's right. Dara shouldn't get mixed up with vampires, it's dangerous," Jakah said, his hesitance evident.

"Guys?" Dara waved her hand with furrowed eyebrows, unaware and unable to hear the vamps' conversation. The action also brought those boys back to what they were initially doing.

"Yes! Yes?" Heli was the first to respond.

"Were none of you listening?" she frowned slightly. There were seven guys there. How did NO ONE pay attention?

"No, I was!" "I was listening!" Shion and Jino said together in panic.

"I was just about to say 'that's great' and 'let's get going then,'" Jaan tried to make it smooth.

"I'm sorry Dara, I spaced out," Noa said, attempting to get points for honesty.

"Noa, how can you space out when Dara's talking?" Shion gasped dramatically.

"Like you weren't lying just now-" the bickering would've gone for longer if Heli didn't cut them off.

"Sure, Dara. Why don't we all walk to your room together and then move to Solon's?" Heli, being the one with actual telepathic abilities, was able to multitask perfectly. He was the only one to catch what Dara said.

'I'm flattered and would love to join, but I actually wanted to give you all a little something. Do you mind if I go over to my room to grab it real quick?'

"She wants to grab something from her room before joining," Heli quickly relayed the message.

"Perfect! Let's head on to Dara's room!" Jino exclaimed. "You coming, Solon?"

Solon's ears practically had steam coming out of them. He wanted to tell his brothers off for being so dumb and smitten over a human.

But it's not like he isn't too.

"I'm coming with. I wanna see what she prepared for us," Jakah intended his mind-link for Solon, showing how the older would be the only one absent.

"Fine," he grumbled before walking ahead of the group a little.

As they were making their way, he could hear his brothers laughing and chatting with Dara, causing him to be in an actual sour mood.

When he looked back once, he found that the girl was standing beside the eldest and grinning up at him.

'She probably only prepared something for Heli,' he internally scoffed. He was unaware of the jealousy he felt.

Yet once they reached her room, his predictions of the girl was oh so wrong.

"Hi! Sorry for the wait, so uhh..." she exited her room with seven small containers at hand. "This is a cream for whenever you get injured. It's supposed to work for everything, it's multipurpose. But if it doesn't work then just come to me and I'll give you something stronger."

She had actually thought about all of them. She noticed the injuries that they sustained during their last battle. 

"Nightball seems very demanding so you might use this up well," she giggled. She still believes that their injuries came from the sport.

Solon watched as she handed everyone their own cream, complete with a handwritten label of their names.

"Actually Solon, do you mind if I put this on for you? Your injury looks really bad," she looked at his forearm with worry. She had saved him for last.

"Yeah, sure," he practically whispered.

The seven boys silently observed as this girl carefully tended to the wound on Solon's arm, and they felt their hearts warming up (more). 

Solon wasn't exactly lovely to her, but she stayed patient and kind.

'Fuck being a human- I really like her.'

brisbane, australia — 2010

"DELLA!" the seven boys yelled out from outside Della's house. "DELLLLAA!" 

"No way..." Della muttered to herself and looked out her bedroom window.

There they are. Her very annoying, seven best friends.

"Della!" her mother called from downstairs. "The boys are here for you!"

"Just a second, mom!" she rushed to put on some socks and hurried down.

"Careful! Careful! No running!" her mother scolded. "Especially with socks, you might slip and fall."

"Sorry mommy," Della gave her a big hug as an apology. 

"Be careful, okay?" her mother reminded before opening the front door. "Hello kids!"

"Hi Mrs. King!" "Hello!" the boys said together.

"Is Alice not joining?" Della was putting on her shoes as her mother asked questions.

"Not today, Mrs. King. She had to go to the dentist," Johnny answered for the group, as always.

"Oh okay. What are you guys planning to do today?"

"We're gonna watch a movie in Jay's house!" Will replied enthusiastically. 

"Huh? Why are you all here then? Della could've gone with just Jake and Ben," Mrs. King pointed at their two (closest) neighbours. They all live near one another, but Jake and Ben lives two houses away from the Kings'.

"We wanna make sure Della was being careful and safe," Jay gave a charming smile.

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"The movie was so romantic!" Della gushed on once they were done watching. "Especially in the lanterns!"

The guys wanted to watch Megamind, but instead they got sucked into watching Tangled because that's what Della wanted.

They barely paid any attention and mostly talked throughout the movie, yet having them agree to watch her (already) favourite movie was more than enough to make her happy.

She has watched it a million times since it came out anyway.

"Oh I wish I had magic glowing hair! I can just sing 'flower bling and glow, let your power shine' and boom! I'll be young forever!" she twirled around in a daydream.

"We're seven, Della. Don't you wanna grow up a bit and then be young forever?" Ben brought her back to reality.

"I wanna be a kid forever!" Ricky spun around in circles. "I wanna be five and not go to school!"

"Yeah! I just want nap times and games in school!" Jake caught Ricky, making them fall into the large couch.

"Ben has a point though! I wanna be a dancer when I grow up! A real one!" Della was used to all the chaos of being friends with the seven kids. They just enjoy each other's company as is.

"I wanna be a dancer too! I wanna make a dance team and dance all around the world!" Ricky yelled.

"Guys! Let's make a team when we grow up!" Ethan proposed his idea.

"A team?" "What team?" everyone calmed down in interest.

"Any team! We can be a doctors team! A team astronaut team! Dancers! Police! Let's just make a team!" his little voice sounded so certain.

"I wanna be a biker," Jay calmly stated.

"Why a biker?" Will looked at him with a judging look.

"Bikers are cool. They ride motorcycles and have cool jackets," Jay shrugged. "I just wanna be cool."

"My mom says bikers are bad," Will innocently pouted.

"I wanna be a doctor," Johnny sat upside down.

"I wanna be a professional ice skater," Ben joined in. "Our jobs are so different."

"Well we can be a team of something else, it doesn't have to be our jobs," Della thought. "Let's just be together until then!"

"Be together until then?" Johnny repeated, sitting back upright from dizziness.

"Yeah! Like Flynn and Rapunzel! They were a team-"

"But they were only two people. We have seven!" Jake managed out whilst in the midst of play fighting with Ricky. 

"Eight if we count Alice," Jay reminded.

"No, Della's right. We can be a team like Flynn and Rapunzel when we grow up," Ethan thought.

"If we're gonna be like the movie, can I be Maximus?" Johnny randomly responded.

"Oh and can I be the king?" Will joined in.

"I wanna be Flynn! Agh!" Ricky raised his hand before getting tackled by Jake.

"I wanna be Flynn!" Jake protested.

"I told you that anyone can be whatever they want! We don't have to be like Tangled!" Della pouted. Sometimes her friends are impossible.

"What about Transformers?" Ben asked about his favourite movie.

"Oh maybe like TMNT," Jay grinned.

"Well whatever the example is, I'm sure we can be a team when we grow up," Ethan smiled.

"You really think so, Ethan?" Della said with a soft voice and soft eyes. "Even with me as a girl?"

"Girls can do anything, Della. My mama and so many films show it!" Jake and Ricky started to calm down down their play-fight.

"You're the most important part of our team, Della. I promise," Ethan looked into her eyes with the same amount of softness, maybe even more.

"Ouch, E. Good to know that we're not that important."

seoul, south korea — the YG building

"Like this-" the choreographer demonstrated a certain position to Della. "Ooh ooh, like that but- you gotta hold his arm so it'll be safe each time."

Kang Della's first single album will be released after just two years of Magnum's debut. As the most popular member of her group, the company agreed that a solo would be appropriate.

"We gotta keep you safe, superstar," the dancer she was holding, Jungwon, teased. "How else are you gonna break records?"

"Aish-" Della slapped his arm briefly before going back to her original position. 

"Actually, maybe it's best if you hold her, Jungwon-ah. I'm scared that she'll fall one day," the choreographer instructed. "So Della doesn't have to hold on to you but instead you... that's it."

"I'm not that clumsy, unnie," Della smiled but didn't protest. She knew that she was just looking out for her.

"Just in case, darling," the other dancers watched the three experiment with the song's bridge.

"You wished that was you, huh?" one of the female dancers whispered to Niki.

"No, I don't," he got really defensive. "She's a client."

"I mean... she's also our friend.." Niki didn't know what else to answer so he kept quiet. "Eyyy," she nudged his shoulder teasingly.

"No no, I'm seriously not jealous. I don't like her like that," he shook his hand.

"You would have to compete with the whole world anyway. Including your buddies," she looked at the five other male dancers.

"Nah, there's no competition, don't worry. I was just watching them."

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"Lucky Jungwon got to be paired with Della," Jake complained to his friends during their break.

"Aish- you got the whole world shipping you two," Sunghoon pointed at him. 

"At least you had that little moment during the fanmeeting," Jay also pointed at Sunghoon. "I was stuck with another member."

"Oh my God! Hyungs! At least you guys have something! All Heeseung-hyung, Niki and I have are group photos!" Sunoo protested. Those three always seem to be bickering.

"Isn't that a good thing? My DMs and comments are not filled with overprotective Della fans," Heeseung chuckled.

"You guys should be like me. Everyone makes shipping content of us even though we're never seen next to each other," Niki smirked.

"Lucky..." Jay muttered.

"I just want people to think that she's taken," Sunoo pouted. "Then people would stop hitting on her."

"Nothing could stop those guys and you know that," Jungwon wiped the sweat off his forehead. "They'll keep asking her out even with all kinds of rumours."

"You're right," "Mhmm," his friends all agreed.

"Where is Della anyway?" Jake asked.

"Should be here any minute n-"

"Sorry I took so long! A manager wanted to talk to me!" Della entered the room in a hurry. "Hello, my loves," she went over to place a kiss on their cheeks. "What were you all talking about?"

"How lucky some of us get to be seen with you," Niki crossed his arms. "And how other idols keep hitting on you."

"Again? Guys I turned them down already," she sat next to the youngest with furrowed eyebrows.

"No no- it's not really about that but more about how we wish we can just tell the world about us," Jake grabbed her hand for assurance. "We're not blaming you, darling."

"I really wish I could too," she sighed. "I love being an idol but sneaking around sucks real bad."

"Having seven boyfriends doesn't help too," Sunghoon lightly kicked Della's feet. His comment made everyone but Heeseung sigh.

"Heyy- I don't know if this helps but at least all of us being together makes it less suspicious! It's just like she's one of the boys!" the oldest tried to lighten the mood.

"Please use a different expression next time but you're right," Della scrunched up her face. "And since you guys are dancers, we get to be really clingy!"

It's true. Jake had the opportunity to be Della's love interest in a music video. Sunghoon got to be paired with her during a dance cover. Jay once made a cameo on Magnum's Youtube channel. Niki is one of the most popular members so they get shipped a lot, and now Jungwon gets to have a dance opportunity for her solo.

They're allowed to be seen together and it won't be too suspicious.

"Yeah, we're actually quite lucky, eh?" Jay smirked. "I love this relationship, y'all."

"Awww," they all teased, some of them even nudging and pushing him.

"CUTEE," Jungwon aggressively said.

"Cutee, "So cutee," "Awww aww awww," they teased him more.

"Ahh whatt?!" Jay turned around, embarrassed.

"Cute," Della smiled to herself, watching her boyfriends interacting.

"Della-ya," Niki whispered in her ear while everyone was distracted.

"Hmm?"

"Don't tell the others yet but I choreographed your other song," Della looked at him with wide eyes and a huge grin.

"No way! Congratulations!" he quickly shushed her. "Sorry sorry."

"There's gonna be a tiny moment with me. Nothing major like Jungwon-hyung's, but at least I get to hold you a little."

seoul, south korea — the hybe building

[let's pretend that all the guys are over 21 in this. there's nothing sexual but della is everyone's noona so it'll be inappropriate if she dates someone of their actual age]

"It's a bit..." Della's assistant hissed and tilted her head. "It's good now but it's missing something.."

"Is it the colour? Not enough red maybe?" Della agreed but couldn't detect the issue. The seven guys look good but they could look better.

"No no, I think Jake's pants are dark enough to match Jungwon's hair," the assistant pointed.

Della stayed silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what to alter, and it only hit her when Jay started subtly flexing his arms.

"Ahhh," a lightbulb went off. "Let's give Sunghoon a sleeveless outer," she gestured to Sunghoon.

"Sleeveless?" her assistant asked curiously.

"Jay is too revealing. We need to give someone else something sleeveless," Della explained. "We have that black vest, right? The leather one? I think we should give Sunghoon that."

"Is it here? Where is it?" she looked around for the said outer. "I think it's in the other room. I'll go get it."

"Oh, and can you please bring the black shorts too, unnie?! I wanna test it on Sunoo or Heeseung!" Della called after.

"Okay!" the remaining eight people watched the other stylist leave the room.

"I'm too revealing, huh?" Jay teased his secret girlfriend.

"The balance was off!" Della leaned against the closest boy, Jungwon. "You guys like the outfits though, right?"

It's been two years since Della worked at the company as a stylist and she was still lacking confidence in the outfits she builds. 

Enhypen has worked with middle-aged stylists for the longest time. She questions whether hiring a younger one was a good idea. 

"It's really cool, what're you talking about?!" Jungwon pushed her lightly. "The vibe fits the song well and we all look good!"

"It's really pretty!" "It's really cool!" "We look good!" the others complimented.

"It's just..." she stepped back again to look at the big picture. "Yeah, I think we need to change Sunghoon's jacket and Sunoo's pants..."

"Good. I was getting envious that Jay got to show off anyway," Sunghoon smirked while removing his jacket.

"Next time, I wanna show off my arms too," Niki told Della.

"Me too! But just wait a couple of months for me to prepare," Heeseung touched his bicep.

"Yah- tell that to your other stylist. I'm only responsible for comeback outfits," Della wrapped Sunghoon's previous outer around his waist.

"Can't you be our full-time stylist?" Sunoo pushed back her hair just as she put a belt on Jungwon.

"I would love to, darlings but I can't be seen when I'm only a few years older than you," she gave him a smile, now untucking Sunoo's shirt. 

"Shouldn't the world know that we have the hottest noona as our stylist?" Heeseung asked.

"Aishh- you guys flatter me too much," she stepped back to observe again. "I'm worried Jake and Sunoo look too plain.."

"Noo," they whined. "If everyone is too flashy then it'll be too much."

"Jay, give your gloves to Sunghoon please and please wear these, Wonie," she placed a pair of yellow gloves in Jungwon's hands.

"Hey- heyy," Jake put his hands on her tense shoulders. "Why are you stressing so much, babe?" his fingers moved to massage her. 

"I'm worried I might get replaced if I don't do a good job," she laughed nervously.

"You've been working with us for a few years now, they can't fire you that easily!" Sunoo looked at her in disbelief.

"Are they suspecting us?" Sunghoon asked.

"Mm," she simply replied, stroking Jake's hand around her waist now. The members panicked a little. "I don't know... I just found out today and they said they don't mind as long as I don't reveal it."

"Then what's the issue?" she leaned against Jake with a sigh.

"Pressure, really. It kinda feels like I have to work harder," the guys all let out an 'eyyy'.

"You're an amazing stylist, noona. You should look at the comments our fans post! They've been really loving our outfits since you were hired!" Jay rubbed Della's shoulder.

"How is a stylist able to work harder anyway?" Jungwon muttered. "If anything, we should work harder," everyone chuckled at his comment.

"Thank you, guys. Sorry about that- ACK!" she squealed when Jake nuzzled his face into her neck. "That tickles!" she tried to release herself from him.

"Don't go! Sorry, sorry!" Jake pulled her back and chose to nuzzle into her shoulder instead. "I'm pleasantly surprised that the company let it go that easily."

"We've been in the industry for years, of course they wo-" Niki cut himself off when the door opened and everyone immediately dispersed.

"Sorry it took so long. Here are the shorts and vest."

hanseong, korea — joseon period

"Father, may I go to the festival today? They're supposed to release the lanterns tonight," Princess Dahye asked the king.

"Tonight? Darling, your mother and I have got to attend a dinner remember?" his majesty replied with a frown. "We will be able to visit tomorrow, if you wish."

"I would love to go tomorrow, but I also really want to go tonight. The lanterns only happen tonight!"

Her father hissed and placed a hand under his chin, trying to figure a solution for his daughter.

"Your majesty, may I suggest?" his royal advisor spoke.

"You may."

"Perhaps the princess may come with Lady Ahyeong while the adults have dinner," Dahye immediately tensed up.

"That's a great idea," quick- think of something. "Daughter, what do you think?"

"It is indeed a great idea but unfortunately-" she took a deep breath. "Although Lady Ahyeong and I get along well, I am a bit uncomfortable with going out alongside someone I just met once."

"So do you have another suggestion?" a mischievous grin slowly grew on her face.

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"Mmm!" Dahye's eyes widened at how delicious the street food was. "This is absolutely divine! Jungwon-nim! Try this!"

The princess had convinced her father to let her off on her own- of course, with a few conditions that she proposed herself.

She would be disguised as a simple villager. Absolutely no riches and luxury will be seen on her. She would even go by the name of 'Dasom' to avoid suspicion.

She would also be assisted by a group of guards to completely ensure her safety.

And those guards are the ones who  always get assigned to her.

"Wahh, it's really soft," Jungwon told his friends.

"Ah really?" Sunoo raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Do you wanna try?" Dahye held up the food again.

"No no, it's yours," he shook his hand.

"Do you think we should move a little closer to everyone else?" Jongseong held a lantern on his hand. 

The group decided to sit on the grass a little further away from where the majority would raise their lantern.

"Here should be fine- give me that," Jaeyun reached for the lantern. "Usually people will write their wishes or the person they're in love with before letting go," he took out a small brush from his pocket.

"That's so cute! That's so romantic!" Dahye got even more excited.

"You wanna write your wishes?" Heeseung patted her head from behind.

"Something like that," she turned her head to look at him.

"Do you have ink though?" Jongseong asked Jaeyun.

"Should we use blood?" Sunoo giggled.

"Noo!" everyone else whined.

"Just use the sauce from the rice cakes!" Chulsoo referred to the stick on Dahye's hand.

"We don't have enough of it," Jungwon pointed.

"Let's buy more and ask for extra sauce," Heeseung proposed.

"Good idea. Sunghoon-nim!" Sunghoon's eyes widened when Dahye said his name. "Please get us two more rice cakes, my love," she handed him the coins while batting her eyelashes.

"Why do I have to do it?" he mumbled under his breath but did what was told anyway.

Once the guard returned, the seven boys watched as Dahye dipped the brush in the sauce before writing on the lantern.

"What do you plan on writing?" Jaeyun practically whispered, almost afraid to be asking.

"You'll see," she muttered.

The writings slowly got together and her 'plan' became apparent.

"Our names," Chulsoo breathed out.

"Do you think it looks okay?" Dahye finished with the last stroke before leaning back to look at it as a whole.

"It's perfect," the seven guards said in unison.

"We should light it up now," Jongseong pointed at the other lanterns, seeing how they were now all lit up.

Everyone all stood up, placing one hand on the lantern. Jongseong took the match included with it and lit the bottom up.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" they heard the crowd count down, releasing once they reach one.

They all silently watched at the beautiful floating lights that adorned the night sky.

"It's so beautiful," Dahye muttered, feeling arms wrap around her waist in a back hug.

"Nothing can compare to her highness' beauty," Jungwon whispered in her ear and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

Their love story will end in tragedy, they can all feel it. 

A relationship between a princess and a commoner itself was absurd, let alone a reverse harem with seven. Their romance was forbidden with absolutely no way around it.

Yet they let themselves hurt anyway, with pleasant moments like these to cherish and hold onto.

'Maybe we'll be together comfortably, in another life.'

requested: — nonidol!della — della as sooha — della in txt

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @one16core @i90snoo @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount @nvmbheart [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint @4sahii @8-itsmee-8 @toriluvsfics]

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e2 form and void (w. andrew dabb)

lack of recap i'm perpetually confused. brain was too occupied trying to sort out gods and creation and timelines in this universe. sam infected with dark zombie juice and hasn't told dean, dean with pretty deputy and baby. roger

project get dean a baby

and apparently adorable baby is supernatural in some variety, great. i know even less about amara than i thought

so sam's just gonna figure out a cure to the zombie juice? by sheer force of will? rolling my eyes.

serious upgrade from s10 hair for our sam

so now they're torturing rabid wet kitten cas. of course. over metatron? ok. not surprisingly, i can't remember where things were left with him

what in the lighting. why is so much of this conversation happening like this

SAM What's your name? BILLIE Mm, you flirtin' with me, kid? ‘Cause, no offense, but you ain't my type. And I'm not looking to get friendly with the man who helped gut my boss. SAM I'm sorry about Death.

awkward.

BILLIE It's over. SAM What's over? BILLIE You and Dean, dying and coming back again and again. The old death thought it was funny. But now there's one hard, fast rule in this universe. What lives, dies. So the next time you or your brother bite it, well, you're not going to Heaven... or Hell. One of us -- and, Lord, I hope it's me -- we're gonna make a mistake and toss you out into the Empty. And nothing comes back from that. I know you're dying. I can feel it. You're unclean in the biblical sense. So I'll be seeing you again, Sam. Seeing you real soon. Name's Billie, by the way.

okay guys, how can we make a credible threat to sam and dean. oh oh, i got it!! you've heard about purgatory, but have you heard the good word about the Empty! super contrived. but ok.

real shame they decided to keep her in shadow for most of that conversation, she's gorgeous. didn't feel like a choice for dramatic effect, just looked like they messed up the lighting (to me)

hannah / the magicians s1e7 the mayakovsky circumstance - lee majdoub as the djinn

hey, new-hannah was (very briefly) in the magicians too

trying to recall if i've ever seen physiotherapy instead of physical therapy in the US. i've had a lot of physical therapy over the years. i associate calling it physio with the uk (and presumably canada). important thoughts

SAM So, I know it's been a long time, but Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but... please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life.

HE DOES, DOESN'T HE.

oh no i did not sign up for sam torture flashbacks wtf, left field. that's not the sign we were looking for :S

well they played big tension dun dun DUN music for seeing crowley at the house with supernatural baby but i just giggled

they keep using that xfiles-sound again this episode! (clip of it in 10x12 v xf fight the future)

somebody better feed that poor probably evil baby 🥺 i volunteer as tribute.

getting final destination vibes with grandma putting a kettle on. oh, well, just straight to stabbing. that works too

what is this music??? egads

oh. bye hannah. shame, i liked her current actor

LOL now sam's using the Serious web search like cas did instead of the goofy one they normally use. course i can't find my post mentioning it because blog search is utterly busted way beyond what it normally is. SIGH.

anyway, handy that billie gave him the little clue to figure out how to cure his zombie juice disease. also snorting because they totally very pointedly showed them loading the unwieldy holy oil pot (jar? carafe? jug??) into the duffel in the prior episode. well now we know why!

also sam was just gonna let himself die without telling dean? not cool, bro

✨the forbidden holy marshmallow✨

ok if you don't look at the forbidden marshmallow, those are really pretty effects

haha amara having a renesmee moment

DEAN Where are you going? CROWLEY To see the child that eats souls.

this whole buddy copping it up with crowley is cute and all, guess he's sorta reset to mostly evil but whatever's convenient for his ends is good too

more nonsensical music choices when dean goes strutting off to find amara after skewering crowley's hand to the wall

so are sam and dean gonna tell each other their little secrets now? no? course not. dumb plot shit is one thing but that is the kind of that more easily tips me over into losing interest. my patience is so very thin, it's a trope i hate and they use it SO. MUCH.

this whole kid thing and the evil lady thing reminds me of the incredibly forgettable eve storyline with a dash of lilith in a kid's body. and a smidge of the leviathans, crowley trying to lure her in with treats. better received than the muffin basket for dick.

[awellboiledicicle]

"But Mok, is it an isekai if the party doesn't all love Fido?"

Who said they don't. It's just super strong power of friendship type bond. My approvals look great for their game and they're overall endearing with a moral fiber that is strong but has some holes. like fishing net. Everyone's happy.

Mostly.

Gale is going to die of embarrassment by the time of the party though because Fido's going to make the nymph joke and he's going to make the musk comment, try to bail on the convo and just. "Mm no, no you're not getting out of this one. My musk huh? Musk?" "I did say it was time for me to stop rambling on, i think it's the wine--" "Nope, gonna need more clarification on that one, chief. I'm glad i smell good in spite of all universal efforts, but also:" Their voice dropped and they stepped closer. He was reasonably sure if he used the right spell he'd be swallowed up in the earth and just quietly pass away. His face was far too close to them and he didn't know if he regretted that fact or not. "Gale, my dear, sweet, adorable mess of a wizard--" "Adorable?" "Yes, adorable. Lead with the cat thing, follow through with compliments that don't sound like you've been smelling my blankets. Just a tip for your next swing at it." A wide, slow blink as they leaned back out of his space. "Next swing, eh?" "Figure sober you deserves to have a rebuttal." "How kind of you." He took a rather bracing drink of his wine and tried to not combust when they laughed. "Perhaps i will have removed my foot from my mouth by then." "It's charming when it's not totally left field, my guy." They gave him a light pat on the shoulder and another grin. "I'll leave you to your drink. You can show me that magic trick tomorrow, assuming we all don't have hang overs." "I... yes, that'd probably be for the best." They turned on their heel and then, pausing, turned back with a finger raised. "I'll pop back over before bed, if that's ok? I kinda want to hear more about this Tara. Pick out your best story for me, alright?" "Alright, will do." A smile as they flashed a thumbs up, turning to trot off toward the tiefling bard. "...Adorable, huh? That's a new one."

[dcviated]

@remunporium sent: " Alright, now close your eyes, count to five, and let me handle the rest. " Noelle's instructions were clear as day, but her intent.. wasn't. She had told Raguna she had a surprise waiting for him, but the surprise would be both painful and relaxing. The man's been overworking himself the past couple of days and lightly complaining about soreness around his shoulders and back. Sooo, a couple of video-lessons and some practice on her dad later, Noelle was ready to kick her newfound teachings into gear! She only hoped it wouldn't hurt too bad! When he started to relax, her hands find their way to his back and fingers curl and press thumbs, knuckles and the balls of her fist into some particularly sore regions of his back. A nice massage was in order to help alleviate all that buildup, and it wouldn't even come as a surprise if the Guna had lost all malleability and turned into liquid from her golden touch. Just relax~.

Until the store hired someone to replace the worker who left due to family complications, Raguna would need to step up and fulfill those vacant duties. Well, he believed he needed to do so anyway. Nobody really asked. But this is how things tend to go. Besides, it wasn’t as though Raguna was some frail paper pusher, he liked doing inventory and unloading the trucks. If only his muscles agreed. And on top of that, if only he could hide how much they disagreed from the people who worry about him.

A bummer, that. Oh no!

Sirin had only made mentions that he looked tired and to get rest, but Noelle was more observant and keen than that. Watching his movements, totally not being creepy, it wasn’t long for her to ascertain what was holding Raguna back when they were spending time together. Nor did she have any doubts about what she would do to help him out, and of course, spoil him.

A surprise. Raguna is none the wiser what it involves. Sitting in the chair and listening obediently to her request. He waits.

“One… two… three…” He counts softly under his breath, eyes gently lidded as he fights that present urge to simply fall asleep. Imagine if he was asked to count sheep. The man would probably be out like a light! Not the worst scenario, it’d only make Noelle’s job easier. But when her touch began he likely would’ve been awake just as fast.

“Ah!... ah… ahh? Oh. Mm… hmmm…nnnn..” Noelle can’t see it, but it’s not hard to guess from the (kinda suggestive) noises that Raguna was feeling pretty immediate bliss. Eyes are fluttering and head is rolling as her fingers work this way and that. She finds the spot he wants before he even says anything. The knot of muscle like a stone in a field. “Oh! Right.. yeah.. oh … Noelle this feels so good.” Another blissful sigh as he rolls his head back. There’s the look she probably wants to see, smiling up at her.

“Thank you for this. I love it. I love you, Noelle. Mm… oh, could you go a little lower… ahh..” If she keeps this up she’ll have him on the floor. Frankly. That wouldn’t be too bad an idea.

[angclnumber]

"OH, FUCK OFF, TONI . it's not dumb to desire privacy even as an artist . that in itself does not take away from the authenticity of fucking art because, surprisingly, something called fucking nuance exists . two things can exist at once and not everyone is as deeply fucking attention seeking as you ." slater was never good with anger . they knew it . were deeply aware of it in fact . the problem was that almost whatever slater felt seemed to find away to convert itself into anger . loneliness . hurt . heartbreak . getting pissed was so much easier than sitting around and crying about shit . or at least slater assumes . she's never really had much of an option . her brows raise as toni continues, and this time her scoff is biting as she smiles and nods, "wow . can't believe in such good fucking company in the 'i fucked toni gallow club' . me and a handful of rabid fucking fans . you better watch that they don't wander off after, toni ." slater's brow raises dryly . "you might just find a lock of your hair on ebay or some shit ." petty wasn't usually slater's style . she went for the throat . was usually down to stab someone in the face rather than the back . and yet after not talking to toni for all this time, slater couldn't say that was exactly what this is . everything was kind of below the belt . but how were they ever going to stop when toni is doing the same thing ? the next jab makes slater's eyes flicker with anger, a bruise to their pride that their teeth clench at . their eyes narrow . "oh, fucking bite me, toni . you know my shit fucking charts ." music was always slater's thing . it had always been slater's thing . it was their passion . basically the only fucking thing they were good at . the only thing they had ever wanted to do . and toni just stumbled into it like a baby calf and somehow landed on her feet . despite their own success, despite loving toni once, or now, or who the fuck knows — slater can't deny how infuriating that is . for someone to stumble into your dream like it's an accident and thrive . no matter how many number ones slater gets the fact will always be that toni got one first . somehow slater thinks that it will always feel like it was just to spite her . "mm . right, of course ." slater is nodding in feigned understanding, head tilting as she says, "because within our current career field people are just known for being respectful and not invasive and not using pain or fuck ups for cheap headlines . i'm totally blowing this shit out of proportion ! i should schedule an interview with tmz tomorrow, they seem fucking nice !" slater replies sarcastically, before throwing their hands up and, "but you know what, whatever . what the fuck does it matter, anyways ?" slater is beginning to feel like they care too much . worse, they're beginning to feel like they're showing it . detachment is a conscious thing, one toni has already obviously achieved . slater wasn't going to be the one left in the dust . the one left still caring . because that would be pathetic . "oh, is that so ?" slater's brow arch high . "you think everyone is out here just trying to run away with someone after the high of sex ? cause honestly toni that is not a universal impulse, even with the fucking u-haul community ."

"ok, well, maybe you should actually listen to yourself when you talk instead of just getting off to the sound of your own voice, because you sound fucking dumb." toni had never considered themselves a cold person, or a particularly bitter one, but something about slater brought it out of them. they had such a complicated history, so many bottled up thoughts and feelings they'd never allowed themself to say directly to their face, but now it all came pouring out. "it is, actually! it's resonating with them very deeply, sometimes it resonates with them so hard, we just have to lay around and resonate all night! but i'm sure you know all about that." it had been years since they'd truly spoken about all that had occurred between them, but the pattern they'd fallen into was all too juvenile. low blows and not-so-subtle digs meant to undermine the other's ego, though they were likely only hurting themselves in the process. "fine! sounds fucking fantastic, actually. maybe you'll finally make it onto the charts. fingers crossed!" the funny thing was, they'd never even been after success in the first place. music was just something to dabble in, a kind of free therapy they'd always kept in their back pocket when their emotions became too big of a burden to carry, and they'd only posted the brief snippet of a break up song to get it off their chest. it'd worked, too; the second they pressed post, it was like the pain of what they'd written about exited their body and entered the digital stratosphere, laid bare for the scrutiny of others, but at least it no longer weighed them down. it wasn't their fault that people seemed to enjoy the fruit of their pain, they were just responding to a demand that was already present. "you're making this out to be a way bigger deal than it is... no one really cares about my personal life. or yours, i'm sure." in their eyes, their fans weren't so much invested in what the songs meant to toni as they were in how they could relate it to themselves. sure, they'd been questioned about who'd inspired the ep, whether they wrote from experience or imagination, but they'd found that people seemed more keen on sharing what the songs had meant to them personally rather than pressing toni for nitty gritty details. "according to whom? do you want me to take a poll? because i think the majority of people would agree that i was completely justified."

[rinzydings]

Just saw your MSA post- what’s it like being able to see the future and do you have any predictions for the next one??

ITS TOO MUCH POWER-

Nah I'm!! Still so shocked! I've had the theory since Freaking Out that maybe there was more to the locket, and that it might be a group photo but Lewis was too angry/vengeful to see it and was instead literally blinded by rage.

And as far as predictions go, heck I dunno. I've never been super great at putting theories together (mostly just au's and drawing my own conclusions based on wants) but! I definitely predict a showdown with Murder Mystery, I mean that much is 90% obvious i think. At least to try and uncorrupt the doggo.

I'd love for Arthur to get a chance to throw down, maybe whatever is driving his arm nuts could be a counter force against big MM's possession. Or it could be doom oh god I hope not-- I also want a group hug, especially between arthur and lewis aRGH

I also think Shiro might come back maybe as a midway/last minute assist! Her heart got yoted across the map but maybe in the fight/evasion dance Vivi will find it and think "oh shoot" and offer her blood to the heart or something (since she saw Mystery do that to originally draw her off) to try and bring her back in order to help knock Mystery to his senses since Vivi's likely had the chance to assume Something is going on between them. But I dunno!

I'm also so desperate to find out what the green bastard is and where it originated from oh man

(And also lewvithur canon, blease)

But yeah! Just here and there things! Might draw, might write a fic, I dunno yet my life is kinda crazy rn and I've got a sequel to my other msa fic nearly done that I just need to finish so we'll see.

[blue-labcoat]

If you tell me, I might do it

summary: sub!spencer and reader try something new in bed

genre: literally pure smut, 2.7k

warnings: dirty talk, discussion (but not use) of a safe word, light choking, oral (f receiving), face sitting, penetrative intercourse, barely proofread

you can find the series masterlist here

a/n: I only get inspiration to write when I'm busy, and it's midterm season, so here you go :)

I was in one of those slumps where I had absolutely nothing to do, and I was bored, but I didn’t actually want to do anything. Things were quiet at the lab – everything had been cut and dry lately, and I hadn’t been on the case with the BAU in over a month.

Spencer had been back at work for a few months, and Emily reported to me that he was being much more careful in the field. Whether it was because of me, or the fact that he might have died that brought him down a peg, I wasn’t sure. I was glad either way.

At the moment, Spencer was hunched over his desk, scribbling madly in some case file. I had been fooling around on the piano, playing pieces I already knew well, but like I said – I was bored.

“Why’d you stop playing, honey?” Spencer asked, without looking up from his work. “It sounds really nice.”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. An idea popped into my head. “Hey Spence?”

“Mm?” He still hadn’t looked up.

“Is there anything that you, y’know, want to try in bed? Like, any kinks, or fantasies?”

That got his attention. His head whipped around to look at me, eyebrows flying up.

“What? N-no, of course not. I’m very satisfied with our sex life,” he replied, too quickly for my liking.

I rolled my eyes. It was cute that after all this time, he was still shy. “C’mon, Spence, there has to be something. Just tell me what it is. I promise I won’t judge you.”

“Mm-mm, nope. Nothing,” he shook his head no, looking back down at his paperwork.

“You know,” I spoke, getting up and walking to his chair. I grabbed the back of it and spun him around so that he was facing me. “If you tell me what it is, I might do it.”

Spencer’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and a light pink flush dusted his cheeks. I could tell he was evaluating his options – risk telling me and being embarrassed, or tell me and have one of his fantasies realized. He gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat.

“Well,” he began. “There’s a few things. But the biggest,” he trailed off, looking down at his lap.

I bent over, giving him a good view of my cleavage when I leaned in to press a kiss just under his ear. “What is it Spence, hm?”

He shuddered. “I- I want you to sit on my face. And just, generally, kind of be in charge? Like, more than usual, I guess? If that’s something that you’d be into, I mean. If you don’t want to, that’s totally cool to, I just-”

I cut off his rambling, which was increasing in pitch as he went. “That’s really hot, Spencer. I’d love to try that.”

“Really?” He squeaked.

“Mhmm,” I nodded, positioning himself in his lap. The office chair wasn’t the sturdiest, but we wouldn’t be here for long anyways. “Right now, even. I think that might just be the cure to my boredom.”

“Oh,” he squeaked. I found it precious how even after all this time, he still could barely keep it together at the mention of sex with me. What had Morgan called him? Whipped, I think.

“Why don’t you go get ready in the bedroom for me?” I asked sweetly, smirking down at him. “Take all your clothes off, but leave your boxers on. Wait for me on the bed, and I’ll be there in a minute.” I wanted him to squirm.

Spencer got out of the chair and scurried out of the room. Right before I left, I added to my instructions. “And Spencer? If you touch yourself, I assure you that I will be the only one coming tonight.”

He whimpered and bit his bottom lip. “Yes, miss.”

Miss. I liked that. I began to wonder why I had waited for Spencer to tell me that this was what he wanted in bed before trying it. Clearly, it was doing just as much for me.

I waited another few minutes before heading back to the bedroom, taking the time to play a couple more songs on the piano. I just loved knowing that Spencer was waiting patiently for me on the bed. He was completely at my disposal.

When I finally decided that I had teased enough, I got up and went to the bedroom. Spencer was laying back on the bed, flushed pink. His hands were at his side, and there was a large tent in his boxers already. When he heard me coming in, he propped himself up on his elbows to look at me.

“Look at you, baby,” I cooed, walking over to the side of the bed. “Are you hard already? I haven’t even touched you.”

“Yes,” he whispered, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “Please – please do something?”

I clicked my tongue. “Spencer. Only I get to decide when I touch you. Only I get to decide when you come. Only I get to decide when you get to touch me. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Yes, miss. I promise, I’ll be good for you. I just want you to feel good, miss.”

“Good,” I said. “Sit up, against the headboard. Watch me, and do not touch yourself.” He followed my instructions. I walked around to the foot of the bed, where I began to undress. I wasn’t wearing anything special – after all, I hadn’t exactly planned this. That didn’t stop Spencer from whimpering when I took my shirt off. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples hardened when the cold air hit them. I leaned over to take off my sweats and underwear, then stood back up and climbed onto the bed.

I crawled up to where Spencer was sitting so patiently. The poor boy looked like he might pass out any second. I hadn’t even done anything, but the anticipation of it all must have had him going crazy.

I straddled him, but I didn’t sit down and so I wasn’t touching him – at least not in any way he would have wanted. I leaned down and ghosted my lips across his.

“What do you want?” I whispered against his lips.

“I- I want to be a good boy for you. I just want t-to make you feel good.”

I smirked, and trailed my lips down to nip at his earlobe, then down the side of his neck. I left small marks as I went.

“I want you to beg for it, baby,” I told him, reaching down to tweak his nipples between my fingers. He let out a high-pitched whine, bucking his hips up but finding no satisfaction.

“P-please, miss. I know I can make you feel good. If you let me taste you, I promise I’ll bring you pleasure,” he begged.

I smirked. “Okay, baby, let’s give it a try. Scooch down on the bed for me.” I sat at his side and waited for him to move down. He did so hurriedly, watching me with wide eyes.

I looked down at him, caressing his cheek and abandoning the act for a moment.

“If you’re uncomfortable, or you need to stop, you’ll use the safe word, right? And if you can’t talk, you tap my leg three times, okay? I want you to enjoy this, Spence. Promise me?”

“I promise,” he replied, smiling up at me. “I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, Spencer.” I paused for a second, cherishing the moment. “Ready?”

He nodded frantically, and I swung my leg over his head, hovering over his mouth. At first, I felt him lick a tentative strip from my entrance up to my clit. Then he caught me by surprise, wrapping his large hands around my thighs and pulling me flush against his face.

I yelped in surprise, then let out an embarrassingly loud moan when he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked.

“Oh my god, Spencer, yes!” I cried out, reaching one hand down to grasp at his curls, and grabbing the headboard with the other to steady myself. He let out a moan against me, clearly enjoying it just as much as I was.

He continued his ministrations, and I resisted the urge to grind down into his face. I could feel him squirming beneath me, and I didn’t have to look back to know that he was probably painfully hard.

He was alternating between short, quick flicks of his tongue against my clit and sucking it, and that combination was what eventually did me in.

“Fuck, Spence, I’m so close,” I cried as I neared my high. “You’re doing so fucking good for me baby. Such a good boy, don’t stop.”

If it was possible, he pulled me even closer against his face, continuing until I was coming over him. I let out a groan, my body going slack over him as I rode out my high. Underneath me, Spencer let out a long, muffled moan and I could feel his body shudder. I swung my leg back over, so that I was sitting on the pillow next to his head, and smirked down at him. He looked so pretty lying there, flushed red with my arousal all over his mouth and pupils blown with lust.

“Spencer? Did you just come?”

His face and chest flushed a deep red, and he gave a shy nod before defending himself.

“I-I didn’t mean to, miss! I- you just looked so beautiful above me like that, I just couldn’t help myself!”

“What a pathetic brat,” I spat, watching his face carefully to make sure it wasn’t too much. He seemed to enjoy it, though, whimpering at my words and squirming under my gaze. “You can’t even keep it together while you’re pleasuring me? I told you, I am the only one that gets to decide when you come. Here I was, thinking that you were going to be a good boy for me and I’d get to reward you, but no. Now I have to punish you.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure and groaned, bucking his hips up slightly off the bed but not finding any relief.

I crawled down the bed, and positioned myself so that I was able to peel off his boxers. He was already slightly hard again, but I wanted him to suffer a little more before I touched him. I got off the bed and walked around to my nightstand, rummaging around in the drawer for my vibrator.

“W-what are you doing?” Spencer stuttered, watching me from his spot on the bed.

“Well, Spencer, I’m going to use this on myself, and you’re going to watch me make myself come. If you’d been a good boy, you could have been the one coming, but you apparently just couldn’t control yourself.”

Spencer moaned at my words, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Keep your eyes open,” I instructed, getting back onto the bed and facing him. “And I swear to god, Spencer, if you touch yourself, you can be sure that you won’t be coming tonight. Understood?” He nodded. “Use your words like a good boy,” I demanded.

“Yes, miss, I promise. I just want to be good for you,” he whined, eyes wide and focused on me.

I turned on the vibrator, letting the quiet hum fill the silent room for a moment before bringing the toy down to my clit. I let out a soft moan, already stimulated from before. Bringing one hand up to grasp at my breast, I drew small circle patterns over my clit with the vibrator.

I watched Spencer carefully as I put on a show for him. He was squirming in his spot, eyes trained on me, and hands fisted tightly in the sheets.

“I’m so close, baby,” I moaned out, throwing my head back. Spencer whimpered softly, his gaze darting between my face and my core. “Just think. If you hadn’t been such a little slut, I’d be coming around your cock right now. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby boy? To feel my pussy clenching around your pathetic dick?”

He nodded frantically. “Yes, miss. Please, I- I’m so sorry for before. I promise, I know I can make it up to you,” he whined.

I thought for a moment. This was new to me, and as much as I didn’t want to give in, my vibrator just wasn’t the same as Spencer.

“Fine,” I announced, clicking the vibrator off and setting it aside. Getting onto my knees, I crawled back over to Spencer and straddled him, hovering just over his lower stomach. I slowly lowered my core, dragging my wetness along his cock.

“If you come before me,” I warned, “You can count on the fact that you won’t be getting any for the next week. Understood?”

He nodded again. “Yes, miss,” he replied with wide eyes.

I smirked, satisfied with his answer. I could tell that he wasn’t sure if my threat was serious or not, but I didn’t think it was something he wanted to risk.

I reached down to grasp his cock gently, guiding it to my entrance. Spencer took in a sharp breath as I lowered myself down slightly, only taking in the tip. I lifted myself up again, repeating the action slowly a few times.

“How’s that?” I asked, looking down at Spencer. “Do you want more, baby boy?”

“I- it’s… good,” he replied, looking up at the ceiling. “You choose what I get.”

“That’s right,” I said proudly. “Look who’s being a good boy all the sudden.”

“I promised, miss. I’ll be good, you can do whatever you want, I just want you to feel good,” Spencer whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as I took him in once more.

“Good,” I whispered, before seating myself completely on his cock. He let out a needy moan and his hips shot up off the bed.

“Oh my god, y/n!” He cried out, craning his head back into the pillow. “You feel s-so good, I-”

“You do too, baby,” I said breathlessly, supporting myself on his chest. “Your cock fills me up so perfectly, every time. Like you were made for me, Spence.”

I continued to bounce up and down on his dick, dragging my nails down his chest. The motion caused Spencer to let out a loud moan. I brought my hand up to his neck, wrapping my fingers lightly around the column of his throat but not applying any pressure.

We made eye contact at that moment, and all I could see was lust, burning deeply in his honey-coloured eyes.

“Are- are you close?” He gasped out, setting his hands on my hips and following their motion. “I don’t, I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

“I’m close, baby boy. So, so close,” I told him, squeezing my eyes shut. He brought one of his hands to the place where our bodies met, tweaking my clit gently between nimble fingers.

“Come, please,” he begged. “I want you to feel good, miss. I want you to come, please?”

After teetering on the edge for a moment, my orgasm hit me. I let the waves of pleasure wash over me, basking in the feeling.

Almost immediately after, Spencer’s hips stuttered and I could feel him coming inside me as he let out a guttural moan.

After a moment, I slid onto the bed and collapsed beside him.

“That was… so good,” he panted. “Like, definitely a top contender for best sex ever.”

I laughed lightly at him, rolling over to cuddle up against him. “Why didn’t you just ask me sooner? If I’d have known that’s what you wanted, I would have done it, you know.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But what I do know, is that we’re going to be exploring some of your kinks in the very near future.”

Previous -- Next

[oonajaeadira]

If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.” 

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one. 

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing. 

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night. 

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there. 

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself. 

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.” 

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him. 

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm-- 

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

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Taglist: @melobee @extraterrestrialdork @14mcmd1122 @grogusmum @cannedsoupsucks

[writingsoftheghost]

Oblivious

Analogince get together story

Logan and Roman had been together for awhile, and they loved their relationship. But...when Virgil started joining the group more and more, the pair couldn’t help but let their attention wander.

It’s not that they loved each other any less, they just...both liked Virgil too. Roman felt bad about it, that is until Logan brought it up.

“I’m sorry!” Roman cries, “I didn’t mean to-”

Logan holds up a hand, “I’m not angry, Roman. Quite the opposite, actually, I’ve also found myself”-he coughs slightly, a red tint dusting across his cheeks- “Captivated by Virgil.”

Roman grins, “Really?”

“Yes, I have to say I find him quite endearing. Do you think it’s at all possible for him to engage in a romantic relationship with us?” He cocks his head to the side, a thoughtful scowl on his face.

Roman nods excitedly, “Oh, I think it’s possible.”

***

Virgil was sitting on the couch, when Roman decided to strike first.

“Hey, Hot Topic.” Roman plops down next to Virgil on the couch, closer than he’d ever sat before.

Virgil looks up from his phone for a second rolling his eyes slightly, “Aw, you think I’m hot.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Roman nods. Virgil nearly chokes. “What are you up to?” The prince continues smoothly.

“I...um-nothing?” The anxious side answers. 

“Well, that doesn’t sound very fun,” Roman purses his lips in a half pout, “What do you say we watch a movie?

Virgil shrugs, beginning to regain his composure, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Roman nods, he looks at Virgil for way too long and the anxious side can feel his face heating up again, “Why don’t you choose a movie?”

Virgil shrugs, “You can pick, we should invite Logan, though.” He’s hoping he doesn’t come across as desperate as he actually is. He knows bringing the prince’s boyfriend into the mix would take most attention away from him.

“That’s a lovely idea, I’m sure he’d love to join us.” Roman disappears for a brief period of time, returning with a smiling Logan.

“Hello, Virgil. How are you?” He smiles at Virgil warmly. 

“Good. Do you want to pick the movie?”

Logan hums, “Roman and I would rather have you pick.”

Virgil looks at them both strangely, but he picks out a movie, nonetheless.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Virgil notices both Roman and Logan glancing over at him periodically.

He tugs at his sleeves anxiously, had he done something wrong? They were acting weird. 

He wanted to leave the room now, it felt too tense and it was making it hard to focus on the movie.

He makes a small show out of glancing at the clock, “Oh, I should probably get to bed...” He glances at them, hoping he sounds convincing. His heart drops when he sees Logan’s brow furrow.

“You don’t usually go to bed this early, is everything alright?

Virgil tries to mask the massive breath he sucks in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep great last night. I’m gonna try to make up for it tonight.”

Logan’s frown deepens and Roman’s face falls too, nevertheless they let him go.

“Goodnight, Vee,” Roman calls up the stairs, “See you tomorrow.”

The couple turn to each other as soon as they hear the door to Virgil’s room shut.

Time for plan B.

*****

Logan packs a simple lunch pack, he smiles as he makes Virgil’s favorite finger foods. This plan was much more practical, he told himself.

Roman has left to ask Virgil to “hang out” for the day, Logan hopes he’d be able to convince him, he seemed uneasy the other night during their movie. Roman and Logan spent the last day coming up with this plan, as simple as it was, they thought it would work, Virgil preferred things to be simple after all. He and Logan were alike in that regard.

Logan smiles softly at the thought, however, he was quickly pulled back to reality by the sound of Virgil and Roman approaching.

“Im sure you and Logan would have more fun without me,” Virgil was saying.

“Nonsense, Logan and I both wish for you to join us.”

“Unless you really don’t want to,” Logan interrupts the pair as he steps into the living room.

“I...” Virgil’s eyes fall on the basket of food, “What did you two have planned?”

“We were just gonna go have a quiet lunch in the imagination,” Logan explains.

“And you two,” Virgil looks between the couple, confused, “Want me to come with you?”

Logan nods, “We would greatly appreciate your company.”

Virgil takes a deep breath, “Okay, I guess, as long as you’re both sure.” He glances at both of them, searching for any hint of malice or dislike, he felt bad about ruining their alone time, why would they want him to join them?

Roman smiles at him softly, “It’ll be fun, Virgil. The fresh air will be good for you.”

Virgil shrugs, “I don’t need fresh air, Princey.”

Logan grabs their lunch and Roman’s hand, “Are you both ready to go?”

Roman nods enthusiastically, “Been ready for hours! You take forever to make food!”

Logan rolls his eyes, “I like things to be done well, Roman, sometimes that takes a little extra time.”

Roman huffs, “You need anything before we leave, Virge?”

Virgil shrugs, “I don’t know, do I need to bring anything?”

“I wouldn’t think so, I’ve packed and prepared for just about everything that we’d need,” Logan assures.

“Okay,” Virgil mumbles, “‘Guess Im ready.”

“Wonderful!” Before Logan can stop him Roman reaches out and grabs Virgil’s hand.

Virgil flinches, but doesn’t pull away fully, he tries not to let Roman see the look of shock and confusion on his face.

Roman loosens his grip on Virgil’s hand slightly, worried he may have upset him, but then Virgil gives a soft squeeze and then, just like that, they’re holding hands, and Roman is leading the way to the imagination with the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever had.

Logan and Roman had already scouted the area they were going to eat at, a nice open field, perfect for easing a certain side’s parano-vigilance. The field contained a total of six trees, so it wasn’t like there could be anything lurking in the shadows.

Logan laid out a soft blanket, one with a texture that they knew Virgil liked, under the biggest tree.

Virgil sat himself on the edge of the blanket furthest from Logan and Roman. It was a big enough blanket for the distance to be noticeable, it made Logan worry that Virgil didn’t want to be there with them.

He had expected Virgil to be a little suspicious, even a little distant, at least at first, Logan knew this would be strange to him, he doubted the socially distant trait had ever been courted before.

“Virgil?” He asks in a calm tone, “Would you like some juice?” He’d been careful to avoid caffeine, knowing it could potentially highten Virgil’s anxiety.

Virgil shrugs, “I guess.”

Logan takes out the bottle of grape juice and the glasses he’d packed carefully earlier that day. When he offers Virgil a glass, he realizes that either he will have to move, or Virgil will have to move, go bridge the distance across the blanket.

Virgil makes the decision rather quickly, darting over and taking the glass from Logan, “Thank you.” He starts to shuffle back to his corner when Roman stops him.

“Why don’t you sit in the middle, Vee? That way you can reach the food?”

Virgil looks to the ground, “Didn’t want to invade your space.”

Logan frowns when he notices the hesitancy in the other’s voice, as if he isn’t sure he’s wanted. Which Logan couldn’t help but groan internally at, they’d invited him and he still feels like an intruder, anxiety truly was devoid of any logic.

“Virgil,” he holds out his hand towards the other in invitation, “You know we want you here, don’t you?”

Virgil won’t look at him, Logan sighs, “You’re more than welcome, here. We invited you, why would we invite you if we wanted you to just sit by yourself quietly? Hm?”

Virgil shrugs, “Dunno,” he mumbles.

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable, stormcloud?” Roman interjects in a gentle tone, he’s aware of the tension in the way Virgil’s sitting now.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says shakily, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s alright,” Roman whispers, “You wanna go back? I’m sorry we pressured you to come.”

Virgil shakes his head firmly, “I wanna stay, I just…don’t want to be in the way. It kinda feels like I’m intruding on a date, why was I the only person you invited? You know Patton loves outdoor lunches.”

“We know, Virgil, we just…” Logan looks at Roman, Roman gives a small head shake and Logan sighs, “We just wanted to spend time with you. We didn’t mean to make you feel awkward, we’re sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I don’t know why I’m being so weird about it, but,” and he slowly slides his hand into Logan’s open one on the blanket, “I think I’ll be okay, now.”

“Are you sure? It really isn’t a problem if you want to go home?” Roman assures.

Virgil nods his head, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Logan smiles and squeezes his hand softly, they all know Virgil likes physical reassurance sometimes, and they’re glad he’s started accepting, and even asking for it on occasion. Patton has to remind himself constantly that Virgil has to be the one to initiate it, however.

Roman pulls out plates and food from the pack, Virgil tries to give Logan back his hand, but he’s quickly stopped, “Please don’t let go until you’re ready, okay?” Logan smiles at him, “My right hand is fully capable of doing this alone, I promise.”

Roman hands him a plate and asks Virgil what he’d like.

They eat comfortably, Virgil relaxes enough to let go of Logan’s hand, but moves closer to him and Roman anyway. Virgil talks about Halloween coming up and Logan tells him that he’s already put horror movies into the schedule for that month.

When they finish their food they continue to sit there and talk quietly. A soft breeze blowing through the field making the place even more peaceful. They were all enjoying a moment of quiet when…

Hic!

Roman sits up and stares at a blushing Virgil in shock.

The emo side ducks his head, “Shut up, Pri-hic!-ncey,” he says in an attempt at a growl.

Roman smirks, “Is there a problem, Virgil? You seem to be having a bit of trouble.”

Logan giggles, “You don’t need to be embarrassed about the hiccups, Virgil. Everyone gets them.”

“I don’t—hic—have the hiccups!” He grumbles.

Roman laughs and Logan laughs, Virgil glares at them both for a moment, but he can’t hold it for very long before he’s laughing too.

“Stop laughing at me!” He shouts between giggles.

“I don’t think,” Roman wheezes, “I’ve ever seen you hiccup before.”

“Shut—hic—up!” Virgil shoves him off the blanket with a laugh.

Roman sits back on the blanket, “Gosh, you’re adorable.”

Virgil and Logan both freeze, Virgil glancing nervously at Logan, Logan and Roman both looking at him, horrified at the thought that they’d just blown it.

“I—uh—”Virgil is still staring at Logan, a look of fear in his voice. Virgil looks at him, the face of logic not giving him any ideas as to what he’s supposed to do. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Virgil,” Logan says softly.

Roman sucks in a harsh breath, understanding the apology as a gentle rejection.

They sit in awkward silence for an eternity.

“Perhaps it’s…time we head back?” Logan suggests in a quiet tone.

Virgil’s heart drops as he decidedly believes Logan hates him now. “Yeah-Yeah, sure.”

They walk back in silence. Virgil stuffs his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. Roman and Logan keep glancing at him, both taking his silence as a sign of discomfort.

They allow him to go to his room, wincing at the sound of his door shutting softly, not even a slam.

“I ruined it,” Roman whispers sadly.

Logan shakes his head, “We still have a chance, Love.”

Roman shakes his head, “He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“He couldn’t stop looking to me,” Logan whispers back, “I didn’t know what to say, I chose a cowards way out. I fled.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Roman places a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry I messed this up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up,” Logan wraps his arms around Roman’s neck and kisses a tear sliding down his cheek. “We should give him some space, we can check back in tomorrow.”

Roman nods and allows Logan to lead him to bed, not really believing any of the logical side’s attempts to reassure him.

*****

Virgil stays in his room through breakfast. Roman liked him. He should be happy! He likes Roman! But…he likes Logan too, and he’d never wanted to get between them like this.

Logan told him it was alright, Virgil took that to mean that he didn’t really blame him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t upset. He can only imagine the fight he and Roman probably had last night.

Virgil’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about the two of them breaking up.

He didn’t know what he did to ever catch Creativity’s attention but he wished he hadn’t done it. He felt truly awful for doing this to them.

“Kiddo,” there’s a knock at his bedroom door, “You need to eat lunch, it’s almost 1:30.” Patton sounds worried, Virgil hasn’t locked himself in his room like this since he ducked out.

“I’m not hungry, Pat. I’ll eat later.”

Patton frowns, “Virge?” He asks hesitantly. “Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if you need to?”

“I’m fine, Pops.”

Patton isn’t convinced, “Hey…you don’t have to talk about it, but if you don’t want to be by yourself you can come to my room? Might help to be somewhere else for awhile?”

Virgil sighs, “you sure?”

“Of course.”

Virgil opens the door and Patton gives him a sad smile, “come on, I’ll get you something to eat and some tea.”

Virgil nods, “Thank you.”

Patton sits down on his bed next to Virgil, passing him a sandwich and some chips.

“I messed up,” Virgil whispers as he takes a chip.

Patton looks at him in surprise, “What did you mess up, Virge?”

“Logan and Roman, I messed up their relationship. They’re fighting and it’s all my fault.”

Patton scoots closer, “I didn’t know they were fighting. How is it your fault, honey?”

“I just…I don’t know why, they invited me out to lunch with them, and it…it was weird! But then it wasn’t, and it was nice, but…Roman called me adorable and I…I like him, but he’s Logan’s boyfriend and I never wanted to hurt Logan because I like him too and I just… Logan probably hates me now, and Roman and Logan might break up and it’ll be all my fault and there’s no way I can ever make it up to him!” Virgil’s breathless when he finishes. He doesn’t know when he started crying.

Patton shakes his head, he remembers when Logan and Roman told him they liked Virgil. When Logan had asked him what Virgil’s favorite foods were. How Patton made them both promise they would be patient and gentle with Virgil’s already shot nerves.

He can’t help but be a little upset with them for letting Virgil wallow in this all day. He pushes that feeling aside, and decides to help his three hopeless friends out.

“Virge, I can assure you, Roman and Lo are gonna be just fine. But I think you should go talk to them about this. I think there might’ve been a bit of a mix up.”

Virgil cocks his head, “What do you mean?”

Patton shakes his head again, “They’re not fighting, kiddo. I promise, just go talk to them.”

“But I—”

“Trust me.”

And with that Patton is nudging him towards the door and Virgil’s in the hall.

He glances worriedly back at the father figure.

“They’re in Logan’s room last I saw.” Patton shuts the door.

Virgil feels a slight sting of betrayal at having been abandoned to face the pair alone, but he approaches the door anyway.

He stands there for two and a half minutes before knocking.

“What is it?” Logan calls through the door.

“It’s—um—it’s me, I think maybe I need to—”

The door swings open, “Virgil?”

The logical side looks as if he hasn’t slept well, Roman is standing behind him in a similar state. Virgil can just barely see the whiteboard on the back wall covered in incomprehensible diagrams and cluster graphs.

“Hey…” he gives a weird little half wave for some reason he doesn’t understand.

“Are you…alright?” Roman asks hesitantly.

“Me?” Virgil asks in confusion, “Are you two okay?”

Logan nods, “We’re dreadfully sorry, we didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that, we—”

“I got carried away, Virgil. I’m sorry,” Roman cuts Logan off.

“You couldn’t help yourself, I shouldn’t have chosen such an intimate activity for us,” Logan defends his boyfriend.

“No, this is my fault. I’m the one that put the pressure on him.”

“Love, I should’ve planned for this. I know you can’t help yourself when it comes to your feelings.”

“You can’t plan for everything. I should’ve—”

“Hold on a second!” Virgil interrupts, “Did I miss something? What are you two arguing over?”

“It doesn’t matter, Virgil,” Logan composes himself, “We both apologize for making you uncomfortable. It was not our intention, regardless, we understand if you do not wish to go on anymore dates with us”

Virgil stares at him in complete in total confusion. “Dates?”

Roman’s eyes widen, “Surely you’re aware of what we’ve been doing. We took you to a romantic lunch! We’ve been flirting with you constantly! What did you think was happening?”

Virgil looks at Logan, the logical side gives a small smile and a nod. “I thought,” Virgil starts, “I don’t know, I guess I just thought we were hanging out, and then I guess I thought Roman was hitting on me. I didn’t realize Logan was.”

“So that’s why you acted so upset,” Roman mumbles.

“Ah, I see. My advances are less…direct,” Logan explains sheepishly.

Virgil nods, “Yeah I got that now, but I thought…that I’d ruined your relationship! That I’d broken you up or something! Oh my god I hardly slept at all last night!”

Logan winces sympathetically, “We didn’t either, but we’re very sorry for distressing you.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil shrugs it off. “But you guys…both of you…want to date me?”

“Of course, if you’d allow us,” Logan smiles, “We both find you quite endearing. Would you be willing to let us continue to romance you?”

“Logan, you make it sound so formal,” roman laughs, but he has an excited gleam in his eye, “You wanna date us, Virgil? You can say no, it’s okay, but if the answer is yes we’d both be delighted to have you as our boyfriend.”

Virgil can’t help it, he’s skeptical, this feels too much like something he’d dream up, he looks both of them in the face, hunting for any sign of a joke or a lie. There isn’t any, just encouraging smiles.

“Yeah, I’d…I’d like that a whole lot.”

He’s quickly wrapped in two pairs of arms, happy laughter filling his ears.

—————

@idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @cute-and-angsty-princess @emo--nightmaree @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink @katlikethesword @tranquil-space-ninja @book-limerence

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[twstarchives]

1-4・I Wanna Make It Fun

        ♡—Dwarfs’ Mine - Campsite—♡

Ghost A: Thirty minutes left~!

Track and Field Club

    (Shuffling)

Deuce: Hmm... “Cover the inner tent with the flysheet, being careful not to put it on backwards.”

I need to be careful when I get to this part. There are a lot of steps here, and I’m getting kind of confused...

   (Shuffling)

Jack: The tent keeps leaning ten degrees to the right no matter how many times I set it up. I feel kinda uncomfortable that it’s not straight.

Putting up a tent by yourself is actually really hard. I always used to do it with my family before, so I never knew.

Track and Field Club Member: Deuce, Jack. It’s great that you guys are carefully reading over the manual and being worried about the angle of the tent...

But pay attention to how much time we have left, okay?

Jack & Deuce: He’s right...

Deuce: Umm... Jack, how about we work together? We could help each other put up our tents.

Jack: Sure, sounds good. I was thinking the same thing.

Magical Shift Club

Ruggie: How’s this, Leona? Is the position of this tent me and Epel set up comfortable enough to sleep in?

Leona: The school’s greenhouse is still better... but this isn’t too bad.

Epel: Good!

Ruggie: Shishishi! You’re lucky you’ve got juniors who really care about their seniors~

By the way, Epel. You’re pretty good with your hands. You really helped me out there.

Now we should get started on our own tents.

Epel: Got it!

Grim: Aw, man... The track and field and magift clubs look like they’re actually getting things done...

Horse-Riding Club

Riddle: Alright. Now we just need to stabilize the balance of the tent by pulling the guide ropes to all four corners.

Sebek, could you pull from the opposite side of me?

Sebek: Leave it to me. ...Hngh!!

Riddle: H-Hey! That’s way too hard!

Sebek: Shouldn’t you be pulling a little harder from your end?

Riddle: I’m pulling as hard as I can! Honestly, how are you that strong...?

Grim: Nyahaha! Riddle got totally overwhelmed there.

That was a way different side of him than when he’s leading Heartslabyul.

Ghost A: Fifteen minutes left~!

Basketball Club

Floyd: Mm... Actually, I don’t like the yellow tent. I wanna go with the red one.

Jamil: Hold on, Floyd! You got this far and you want to redo putting up your tent from the beginning!?

Floyd: Yeah?

We’re at camp, so I wanna make it fun.

Wouldn’t you want a more colorful tent too, Sea Snake? Beige is way too basic.

You think so too, right, Crabby?

Ace: Wait, don’t bring me into this! I don’t know how to answer that!

Jamil: Hah... How is the basketball club going to make it through three days...?

Grim: Looks like Jamil’s got a ton on his plate, at his dorm and his club...

But I see a few dorms put up some weird-looking tents. Are those gonna be okay~?

Vargas: TIME!!

There are some noticeable mistakes here and there... but for the most part, you put up your tents without issue.

I’d say all clubs just about passed.

Sebek: Hmph. I’d expect nothing less for the horse-riding club, but isn’t he being too lenient on the other clubs?

Epel: The magift club is doing well for now... I think.

Deuce: Phew... Everyone in the track and field club set up their tents all right.

Jamil: Hah... hah... Somehow... the basketball club managed to finish within the time limit...

Vargas: Now that your muscles are getting warmed up... I’ll go over the challenges of this camp.

Everyone, listen carefully!!

NEXT TIME: Episode 1-5

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Dramatic END~

Warning!!! Sexual content below because.....Yes! You guessed it right! Kurama just needs a reason to touch her,

Chapter 26

*

*

*

--------Part 1--------

A few days after Kurama's declaration to learn how to be romantic....

Kurama: "So this hot springs, huh?"

Yoshino(blushing): "Kurama! Your wings! Cover your wings!"

Kurama: "It's alright, no one's here."

Kurama, stretching his wings comfortably in the warm water, says back to me.

(I never thought I'd end up in hot springs with Kurama.)

I hid my body with a body towel in the murky white water.

Then I started thinking about what happened earlier today.

------FLASHBACK-----

Yoichi: "Huh? You wanna be romantic?"

Kurama: "Yeah. What exactly do you do when you fall in love?"

Kurama asks a sudden question as soon as he enters Yoichi-san's room.

Yoichi: "Hmm...it depends on each individual."

(That's right.)

Kurama: "Give me a proper answer or die."

Yoichi: "Scary~"

Yoshino: "Kurama! Don't threaten people..."

Yoichi: "Hehe...It's really unbelievable to see Kurama asking for others' opinions. I don't know what kind of sorcery is this. But don't worry, I'll give you some tips and tricks."

(You're so reliable!)

Kurama: "Then spit it out."

Yoshino: "Kurama!"

Yoichi: "Relax Yoshino. I'm used to it."

Waving his hand in a relaxed expression, Yoichi-san continued to speak.

Yoichi: "How about a short trip? You had a hard time on the battlefield, right? A short trip will help you guys stretch your wings and relax. Start from there."

Kurama: "Is that how all relationships start?"

Hehe....Kurama's cold stare is incredibly cute. Even Yoichi-san is giggling.

Kurama: "I don't see how being in a different place is going to change anything."

Yoichi: "You are a very unemotional person, Kurama. You see, when you fall in love, you'll feel the world around you changing. You'll start feeling different and sometimes end up doing things you don’t usually do."

Yoshino: "....I think I understand what you mean."

Kurama: "You do?"

Yoichi-san nods in agreement as Kurama watched us cluelessly.

Yoichi: "You'll get to know each other better if you go to a hot spring. I know a nice hot spring that you can go to on a day trip. I hope that will help."

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

Kurama: "But I don't see what's the point of bathing in hot springs. If all you want to do is soak in water, then we can do it in an ordinary river too, right?"

Yoshino: "Wow! Your feathers are falling off..."

He stood up and flapped his wings, sending a huge splash from his black wings.

(Speaking of bathing in a river, when I met Kurama again in Kamakura....he was bathing in a river.)

The memories of that time are vivid in my mind.

------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What an ‘unpleasant surprise. Who gave you the permission to be in my sight?”

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(I thought you were going to kill me that time....)

Same as that time, I looked away from Kurama's admiringly well-formed body as much as possible....

Kurama: "Why are you spacing out?"

Yoshino: "....!?"

He grabs me by the arm and pulls me up, exposing my body under the sunlight.

Yoshino(blushing): "....What are you doing?"

Kurama: "I don't want to go on like this. You have to teach me how to enjoy the hot springs."

Kurama said, paying no attention to my embarrassment.

(Come on now....!)

(It's no use trying to teach Kurama about the concept of ‘shame’. If this happens...)

Yoshino(blushing): "Soak your shoulders for now."

Kurama: "Like this."

Holding me in his arms, Kurama dips into the hot water...

(Good. Now my body is hidden.)

Yoshino(blushing): "Now keep counting slowly till 100."

Kurama: "That's too much."

Yoshino(blushing): "You have to soak slowly to get warm to the core."

Kurama: "All right."

Surprisingly straightforward in his reply, Kurama hugged me from behind.

(!!!!)

Yoshino(blushing): "W-What is this position?"

Kurama: "You didn't specify how to sit while taking a dip."

I tried to resist, but he held me tightly and his hot breath hit the nape of my neck, making me lose my strength.

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

------Part 2-------

Yoshino(blushing): "....Don't talk."

Kurama(evil smile): "Don't you want me to count?"

Kurama’s voice contained a horrifying and dangerous sweetness.

Kurama: “1..2..3....”

(Ah..)

One of Kurama’s free hands slides over my skin under the hot water.

Yoshino(blushing): "...What...are you...?”

Kurama: “What’s wrong?”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm..mm....”

(His hands are going in all directions...not good...)

I felt a sweet numbness at the touch of his hand crawling across my breasts.

Kurama: “I’ll continue. 4..5..6....”

Yoshino(blushing): “Haa....ahh....wai..ahh...”

My skin was softened by the hot water and his fingers played with my pink nipples casually.

Kurama: “7..8..9...”

(No....more....)

Yoshino(blushing): “D-Don’t...do...in...outside like...ahhh....”

Kurama: “10.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...”

Suddenly a finger moves down between my legs out of nowhere and my body jumped.

Yoshino(blushing): “Nnn....ah....”

Kurama: “I see. The warmed body responds better. Plus...you don’t have anything to cover. So I can touch you as much as I like.”

Yoshino(blushing): “This...is not...have you enjoy the hot springs....”

(I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing....)

Kurama: “Keep enduring it, till I reach 100.”

Our tightly pressed bodies and his lips on my neck make me go crazy.

Yoshino(blushing): “Mm...hot....”

Kurama: “Do want me to stop? Tell me if you want to get out of water.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ahh...too bright....”

Kurama: “You’re so selfish.”

(I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT ESPECIALLY FROM KURAMA!!!!!)

Kurama: “Yoshino, it’s annoying. You count from where I stopped.”

(Sure! I’ll count quickly and get out of this humiliation...)

Yoshino(blushing): “11-12-13-14-15-ahhh.....”

Kurama(evil smile): “Count properly, or you’ll have to start from the beginning.”

I trembled as I felt his hot tongue over my earlobe.

Yoshino(blushing): “Because....Kurama gets in the...way....Mmm....”

Kurama(evil smile): “I’m just enjoying the hot spring...or more accurately, I’m enjoying soaking in the hot springs with you.”

(...This is terrible....can’t count...like this...)

Kurama: “Keep counting.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Mmm...14...”

I reflexively obeyed his orders which were given in a low voice.

Kurama lifted one end of his lips when he saw that....

.................

(I’m totally flushed....)

Kurama: “I had a nice bath for the first time in a long time. I completely understood the benefits of hot springs.”

As we walk through the flowery field near the hot springs, I glared at Kurama with my red cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Oh yeah...

2. I couldn’t enjoy it..(+4/+4)

3. Good for you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino(blushing): “Too bad, I couldn’t enjoy it....”

Kurama: “Stop complaining. I treated you well enough. You were so exhausted, that I had to carry you all the way to my room. Be grateful.”

Yoshino(blushing): “Yeah. And WHO made me tired?”

Kurama: “It was me.”

It was so refreshing to hear someone saying that without taking any offense.

(At the end of the day, I couldn’t fight back because of his straightforwardness.)

Kurama: “I heard that the cold weather makes humans sick. Let’s go back now.”

When Kurama takes my hand....

Yoshino: “Hm?’

Kurama: “....?”

(I wonder if that person crouching in front of the bushes is a visitor of the hot springs too.)

(But he looks familiar...)

Kurama: “....! That’s!”

Ibuki: “Hm?”

Yoshino: “Ibuki!”

(No way!?)

When he turned to look at me, all at once blood drained from my face and I backed away.

Kurama: “-----Why are you still alive? Well, who cares? Let’s continue from where we left off, Ibuki.”

Kurama looked at Ibuki with an icy cold look.

Ibuki: “Shut up, Kurama. You’ll wake the kitten.”

(Hm, kitten?)

Kurama: “...........”

Kurama obediently kept quiet and looked at Ibuki’s hands with a disinterested face.

A white fluffy kitten was sleeping comfortably in there.

Yoshino: “Umm......?”

Kurama: “Don’t ask, Yoshino. It reminded me of one of this man’s incomprehensible tastes. He-----has a strange obsession with cats.”

Ibuki: “What’s so hard to understand? They’re the cutest thing in the world.”

Despite his complaint, his palm was moving back and forth across the kitten’s back lovingly.

(That was unexpected!!)

Kurama: “Still, die.”

--------Part 3-------

Kurama: “Still, die.”

Yoshino: “Wait! Not here....”

I felt the wind around us start to blow unnaturally and hurriedly grabbed Kurama’s arm, which reluctantly stopped moving.

Ibuki: “You have a woman with you now, Kurama. Learn to settle things through talking than using violence as a solution for everything.”

Kurama: “All right. Would like to have a blood bath or be completely mutilated?”

(This is not how you do it!)

Yoshino: “I think you need to calm down....Ibuki doesn’t seem to be in a mood to fight, right?”

Ibuki: “You’re right. After that war, I lost a lot of my magic power. Thank you, Kurama.”

Kurama: “You deserved it anyway. And  you, Yoshino, why are you talking to a man who tried to slaughter you?”

(You’re right, but....)

Yoshino: “I’m curious about Ibuki too....”

Kurama: “Ha?”

Ibuki: “....Ohh.”

Then Kurama glares at Ibuki.

(Oh, I know now!)

Yoshino: “I think it’s because he’s similar to Kurama.”

Kurama: “I and him are SAME!>”

Ibuki: “How are we similar?”

(Hmmmm.....)

Yoshino: “------I think it’s the aesthetics of it, even though it looks like  it’s driven by crazy logic.”

......It was just after I was captured by Ibuki and subjected to Yasuchika-san’s manipulation spell.

-------FLASHBACK------

Ibuki: “You must be in a lot of pain, but you’re strong. I like you. I can’t wait to see your face when you cry.”

Yoshino: “I….will never despair in your presence.”

Ibuki: “What?”

Yoshino: “I will prove to you the strength of humans that I believe in.”

Ibuki: “……………… Interesting. Then let’s play that game. Show me what you’re really made of.”

------FLASHBACK END-----

(Yes, when I saw Ibuki’s eyes at that moment...for some reason I felt like it resembled Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I still can’t forgive you for what you made me do. But I also think that somehow I accepted his way of life because he and Kurama came into contact with each other’s values on the very edge like that.”

(So maybe that’s why I couldn’t really hate Ibuki.)

Kurama: “..........”

Ibuki, who had been listening with his mouth agape, muttered quietly.

Ibuki: “----You’re a woman with good instincts. No wonder you won Kurama’s heart.”

(Eh?)

Yoshino: “What?”

Ibuki: “Nothing.”

Then a soft smile came across Ibuki’s lips.

Ibuki: “I shouldn’t have given you to Kurama. I should have noticed you earlier on and have played with you instead.”

(Ibuki....?)

His voice was calm and clear, with a hint of emotion.

When I was standing there confused-----

Kurama: “It’s unpleasant to see you imagine an impossible future.”

(Wow)

As if to break Ibuki’s gaze, Kurama hides me behind his back.

Ibuki: “I’m possessive too, just like you.”

Kurama: “I’ll pull out that tongue of yours if you say one more time that we’re similar.”

Ibuki: “Oh dear, why do you want to deny the similarities between us, Kurama? I’ve had so much fun raising you, don’t you know?”

Kurama: “More of the same nonsense.”

Ibuki: “I’m serious. I wouldn’t have carried around cute little boy like you for all those years.”

Ibuki giggled as he reminisced about the old days.

Ibuki: “Seeing you again at the battle that night, reminded me of our first meeting.”

(I’m sure Ibuki is a distorted person....)

(But I think he really likes Kurama.)

Kurama: “The words you speak are toxic. I will not ask you to mean it now. But your power, which I have longed to surpass, has not faded with the passing of time.”

Ibuki: “......!”

(Kurama...)

It was the first time I had ever heard Kurama say anything close to praise for Ibuki.

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

-----Part 4-----

Ibuki: “Heh, jealous?”

Kurama: “Stop joking. I’m going to take the strength I’ve developed under you and go further.”

Ibuki: “-----See. You're being cute again.”

(Kurama was so disgusted by Ibuki’s habit of playing with others and the stupidity of those around him that he had to say goodbye.)

(But if he hadn’t recognized Ibuki’s strength, I think he would have given up on him much sooner.)

It was probably inevitable that their paths had diverged, but I couldn’t help thinking of a future if they hadn’t parted ways.

Ibuki: “You’re getting stronger, my son.”

Kurama(glares cutely): “Who’s your son? I’ll kill you.”

Yoshino: “No bloodshed here!!!!”

In response to Kurama’s death threat, the kitten in Ibuki’s hands woke up.

Ibuki: “Yosh Yosh. Don’t be scared.”

Kitten: “Mew.”

Ibuki: “....Oww.”

The kitten clawed Ibuki’s finger, jumps off his hand, and runs away.

Kurama: “Such an interesting little animal.”

(Is Ibuki mad.....?)

Ibuki was silent for a moment, but then-----

Ibuki: “He has a good temperament. A cat with a bright future.”

Ibuki, muttering with a straight face, looks at the kitten’s regretfully and stands up.

Ibuki: “See you, Kurama. And you too, Yoshino.....I’ll play with you sometime when I feel like it.”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

Ibuki turned and walked away, not caring that I shouted in surprise.

Kurama: “Yoshino. We’re going to go to the hot springs one more time to get rid of Ibuki out of our minds.”

Yoshino: “One more time!?”

Kurama pulled me by my waist and urged me to walk.

Kurama: “What the hell was that man even doing here?”

.....................

After part ways with Yoshino and Kurama, Ibuki went outside the inn only to see------

Ibuki: “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Yasuchika: “I want to kill you for making me wait for this long.”

Akihito: “Unforgivable, right? I wish I could have been in the hot springs.”

Ibuki: “Brats.”

Akihito looks at Ibuki, who shrugs and joins.

Akihito: “So? Did you get the point of having Yasuchika find out where Kurama and Yoshino are?”

Ibuki: “.......... It made me realize the value of what I’ve lost. Life is bittersweet.”

Yasuchika: “Wow! When Ibuki talks like a human, it makes me want to puke!”

Akihito: “Look, I have goosebumps too.”

Ibuki: “Are you just here to tease me?”

Akihito: “Actually, it’s rare to see you like this, Ibuki. It’s refreshing.”

Giggling, Akihito started walking.

Akihito: “It’s a miracle to see you having a change of heart for the first time in 1200 years. The fact that there are miracles in this world is a joy for people like us.”

Both Yasuchika and Ibuki walked along with him through the trees.

------While also hoping for a miracle like that to happen deep in their hearts.

...................

That night.....

Yoshino: “I really enjoyed our trip!!”

Kurama: “Yeah. But, there were few interruptions along the way though.”

When we returned, we huddled together in the warmth of the cushions in Kurama’s room.

Yoshino: “I was also surprised to see Ibuki. But I’m glad nothing bad happened.”

(Ibuki’s magic is yet to return and the Imperial Court is unlikely to make any major moves...so we can enjoy our peace for the time being.)

The Shogunate and The Rebels are still on a temporary truce and also keeping an eye on the Imperial Court.

Yoshino: “When the Court’s plans are revealed and resolved then....the Shogunate and the Rebels will fight again, right?”

Kurama: “The feud between Yoritomo and Yoshitsune is deep. It is not easy for a human to forget his hatred. When the time comes to fight again----you’ll be sad, right?”

Yoshino: “Mm.”

When I imagined it, my heart hurts like it’s being torn apart.

Yoshino: “I’m sure I’ll suffer a great deal.....but I’ll never leave Kurama.”

(Because I didn’t choose to live with Kurama half-heartedly.)

Kurama: “I see.”

-------Part 5------

Kurama: “I see. Your suffering is yours and yours alone. No matter what I do, I will never be able to take that away from you.”

Kurama murmured with a deep voice.

Kurama: “But I promise, as a man who loves you, I will give you peace of mind until you stop crying.”

(Kurama.....)

Again and again, I am overwhelmed and swallowed up by the magnitude of his feelings.

Yoshino: “Mm....thank you.”

(Kurama always keeps his promise.)

(I know that....so I’m not scared anymore.)

Kurama: “You have beautiful eyes. I remember being irresistibly drawn to those eyes even before you and I got together.”

(Ah.....)

Kurama gently pushes me down and his face comes closer.

Kurama: “It’s that look that shines so strangely in the dark of night.”

Those words bring back memories.....

-------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “—-What do you even know about me? I gave you the right to speak and now you’re getting on my head.”

Yoshino: “…..I certainly don’t know anything about Kurama. But still, the weak observe the strong.”

Kurama: “……………..”

Yoshino: “At least it’s faster for me to get to know Kurama…. than for Kurama, who has no interest in humans, to get to know me.”

Kurama: “—–Those eyes.”

Yoshino: “hmm?”

Kurama: “I don’t like your eyes. I hate the way how it’s shining so strangely in the dark night.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS-------

(It was the night when Ibuki kidnapped me and gave me to Kurama.)

Yoshino: “I know a lot more about Kurama now than I did back then.”

Kurama(blushing): “It’s still not enough. After wanting all of you, I’m still want more and more....I’d rather force myself to conquer all of you than hiding you from the rest of the world.”

(.....Mm.)

Kurama(blushing): “And the brilliance of your eyes.”

His red eyes approach with an insatiable heat.

Along with that, Kurama’s palm covers my eyes.

Yoshino: “Mmm.....”

In the darkness, I feel my lips being robbed.

A sweet sigh leaks from my mouth and his tongue invites itself in.

Yoshino: “Haa....ahh...Ku...ra...maa....”

(Mm...no more...)

I was even more sensitive now that my eyes are covered and I was easily overwhelmed by Kurama.

When my head was in a haze, he removes his hand.....

(.....Beautiful.)

I see Kurama looking down at me defenselessly.

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

His deep voice calls my name and softly bites my neck.

Yoshino: “Nnn....Ku...rama...”

Kurama: “Why are you keeping your voice down....? I like the way you resist, but you don’t have to fight greed, do you?”

Yoshino: “Nm...because...”

(Because it’s so embarrassing that I’m the only one drowning so much.)

Kurama: “I’m the only one who has the privilege to hear your sweet voice.....leave yourself to pleasure and accept my heart with your body.”

I can’t resist anymore. Everywhere he touches, just melts.

Yoshino: “Ahh....Ku...ra..ma....Mm...too....”

I put my arms around his neck and beg for him.

Kurama: “Finally gave up resisting?”

Yoshino(blushing): “How can I not...when you’re being so romantic...”

Kurama: “....Cheeky woman.”

(We will deepen our love as often as we can. In our own way...and fast.)

Kurama whispered to me and held me down, forcing his body in mine more roughly than usual....

On that night, I received the love of a lone demon who never belonged to anyone.....

fin.

Main Story Masterlist

[writingsnmusings]

Can’t Lose You

pairing: marcus moreno x reader

summary: reader is a badass member of the heroics that gets injured in a fight and a certain coworker of hers is extremely worried

a/n: my summaries still suck, ignore them! but here’s my pedro masterlist

Marcus had never been more turned on his life. He really shouldn’t be considering the circumstances, but here he is almost with a hard on in the middle of a battle.

“MM!” Blinding Fast shouted for his attention, needing help with the alien who was on his back. Tearing his eyes from your fighting figure with a sigh, he ran to help his fellow Heroic.

He’d seen you take out a handful of aliens by yourself with just your own strength and his katanas. God, seeing you wield his weapons of choice turned him on more than he’d care to admit. He’d thrown them somewhere during battle and couldn’t find them till he saw you fighting with them. You worked them well, he thought.

You didn’t have any actual powers, you were just a skilled fighter. Years of training and working yourself to the bone for the government had caught the eye of the leader of the Heroics. Marcus Moreno himself called you up and offered you a position on his team. To say you were shocked was an understatement, what could you really bring to the team that they already didn’t have?

That was almost a year ago and you made the best decision saying yes. You got along amazingly with everybody, they welcomed you with open arms.

You let out a huff as you shoved the creature to the ground and used the heel of your boot to step on it’s head. The squelching noise it made went straight to your stomach which made you cover your mouth. Distracted and frankly grossed out, you didn’t see the two aliens coming at you from each side. One second you were trying to control your breathing and the next you were feeling searing pain in your arms.

“Fuck!” You hissed, falling to the floor. Your right hand shot up instinctively to grab your left shoulder but that didn’t help as your right had the same damage. You saw the red liquid stain your fingers and that just fueled your rage. Gaze landing on one of Marcus’ katanas that he abandoned on the floor, you quickly picked it up and slashed one of the aliens, the other being taken care of by Sharkboy.

Seeing the threat be eliminated, your body felt immediately weak. You had no control over your legs as they betrayed you and collapsed from under you. You fell to the ground with a thud and yelled in pain. The wounds in your arms being worse than you assumed.

Marcus was surveying the area, trying to spot more aliens but all seemed clear for now. It wasn’t till he heard you scream and the sound of a body falling that he felt his blood turn cold. He frantically searched for you, only spotting you when he saw your teammates crowding your body.

“What happened!” He knelt down and immediately scooped you up into his arms. The blood coming from your shoulders was still slowly flowing, staining the grey fabric of your suit.

“Looks like they injected her with something.” Miracle Guy had inspected your wounds and noticed they each had a hole in them.

Your lifeless body tensed up in his arms and began to seize, making Marcus panic even more. “She needs to get back to headquarters, now!”

Marcus anxiously paced the hall outside the infirmary, cursing himself for not being with you and preventing you from getting hurt. He always has an eye on you, in the least creepy way possible that is. He just needs to make sure you’re okay; even though he knows you can handle yourself.

His feelings for you had developed fast and he didn’t see them coming, he was completely blindsided by his own emotions. You were just so kind and smart and funny and strong and gorgeous. How could he not fall for you? You were so good with his daughter too. That sealed the deal in his book.

“Moreno,” The Heroics on call doctor said his name which snapped him from his own thoughts. “She’s stable. They injected her with a paralytic from what we can tell and her body immediately rejected it, that caused the seizing but we flushed it from her system. She should be totally clean now; she’s just resting but you can go in. She might be a little hazy but -”

As soon as Marcus heard he could go in, he was rushing past the doctor while mumbling a short ‘thanks’. Walking into the room, he was met with your sleeping form. You looked peaceful which only made his self loathing worse. Why wasn’t he with you? He could’ve prevented it if he was just near you.

“Marcus?” Your groggy voice called out to him.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft as he spoke, “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Do you need -”

You shook your head, “No, no, i’m okay for now. Sore and my ego is slightly bruised, but i’m okay.”

“Bruised ego?”

“I got grossed out when I stomped on that things head and it distracted me, that’s why I got hurt. I’m sorry.” Your apology fell on deaf ears.

“Hermosa, you got hurt because those things were evil. I even got grossed out when I saw their decapitated heads. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His words made you feel better. He always knew exactly how to make you feel better. Your feelings for Marcus were only growing and growing. Curse him for being so sweet and charming. He moved to sit in the chair by your bed and grabbed your hand in his.

“You scared me out there, the thought of losing you just -”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence before another apology came spilling from your mouth. “I know, i’m sorry! Now i’m definitely going to be out of the field for a while and that can leave you guys vulnerable.” You let out a sigh, feeling even more upset with yourself.

Marcus squeezed your hand before speaking, “I’m not talking about that, Y/N. I’m talking about the fact that I could’ve lost you and you never would’ve found out how I feel about you.”

“How do you feel?” You asked, your eyes met his nervously.

The Heroic leader struggled with his words, not knowing exactly how to say what was on his mind.

“I feel like I can’t be without you. You make me happy and hopeful about the future which is something I haven’t felt in a long time. I don’t know how else to say this, but I love you and I don’t know if you feel the same way -”

You cut him off again as you leaned just a few inches forward and placed your lips on his. He was shocked, of course. But quickly caught up and brought a hand to your face to hold you. The little adrenaline rush you had must’ve worn off because the soreness came rushing back.

“Okay,” You reluctantly pulled back and winced. “My shoulder didn’t agree with that move.”

Marcus let out a chuckle as he helped you lay back down. “I’m sorry, cariño. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Realistically no, you didn’t need anything, but you were a little needy and already missed the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Another kiss would be nice?” It came out as a question that he was more than willing to answer.

“I can do that,” He leaned down and pecked your forehead which made you frown. He laughed at your reaction before kissing your pouting lips.

Maybe, just maybe, getting poked by weird aliens wasn’t too bad.

[ahkaahshi]

lucky [oikawa tooru x reader]

pairing: oikawa tooru x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) with some fluff :)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, orgasm denial/edging, roleplaying, penetrative sex, implied deep throating, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of gambling and casinos, and oikawa being a lovable dork as always

word count: 5.4k (a monster of a fic compared to my usual writing. whew)

overview: after a long weekend of work-related conferences, you’re desperate to let off some steam at the hotel bar. however, you don’t realize what you’re in for when you take to eyeing the man you couldn’t keep your attention off of when you arrived.

From the first moment you set foot beneath the sea of twinkling fairy lights adorning the patio of the luxurious hotel bar, you haven’t been able to take your eyes off him. Like a star, he shimmers in the gentle glow—his crisp, white button-up reflecting every hint of light that falls upon his figure. That bright smile of his he flashes the bartender as the two enjoy a casual chat is radiant, threatening to set your heart ablaze. With the warmth that his demeanor exudes, it’s impossible for you notto notice his presence in spite of all the other patrons chattering, swaying to the music, and enjoying a good laugh with friends in the large, outdoor space.

Oikawa Tooru. You already know his name after seeing his face on national television countless times, but you never could’ve expected that you would bump into him during the last night of your stay at this hotel in particular. Even from afar, he’s just as stunning—if not more so—than he appears on the volleyball court, and the instant attraction you feel to him is what has you carefully weaving between the throngs of guests to make your way over to the bar.

The seat next to him is open, but you think twice about taking it. Doing so would quickly put you in a rather intimate situation, you assume, given how close each stool is located to the next, so you settle on leaving a bit of distance between the two of you by perching on the plush cushion of a one a few seats away. Once you’ve placed your small purse securely on a hook beneath the counter, you flag the bartender with a small wave of the hand and a smile, making him abandon his conversation with the professional volleyball player to attend to you.

There’s a brief moment when your gaze meets his brown one tinged golden by the lights as he glances over to see the source of his conversation’s interruption, and, in that short span of time before your eyes dart away from his, you swear you catch a glimpse of a smile playing on his lips. After you’ve placed your signature drink order, you focus your attention on the man behind the counter instead, watching him grab and combine the ingredients necessary to fill your request. However, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not the only one having a hard time keeping their eyes to themselves.

And your own inability to do so is what has you sending another glance down the bar in his direction, (e/c) eyes trailing along the intricate detailing beneath the counter’s resin surface as they make their way over to his. Trying to withhold the smile that almost instinctively spreads across your lips at noticing the one already gracing his when your gazes meet again is futile. There’s something about his radiant presence and the barely noticeable glint of rapture shining in his eyes that has your heart fluttering in your chest—and its pace soon increases when he lifts his glass, grabs the jacket draped over the hook by his knee, and stands so he can close the distance between you.

A giggle tinged with both delight and nervousness escapes your lips before you call out to him, “You don’t have to come over here!”

“Oh?” he questions coyly, raising an eyebrow at you as he ducks beneath the counter for a moment to place his jacket on the hook beside your purse, “What was I supposed to do, then? Just sit and stare until someone else came to chat you up?” His teasing remark fills you with warmth, as does the realization that only a few inches separate you from the impossibly attractive man you’d been admiring. As bold as you were to look him in the eye before, you find the feat to be a challenge now.

“Not exactly,” you suggest, suppressing your nerves enough to deliver an equally playful response of, “But I thought I’d receive a message from the bartender that my drink’s already been paid for by the handsome loner at the other end of the bar before he gathered the courage to approach me?”

His fingers swim through his brown waves of feathery hair as his lips quirk into a devilish smile. “Mm, but then I would’ve been doing exactly what you expected me to do! And where’s the fun in that, huh?” You follow his chestnut gaze to the man behind the counter when he sets the drink you’d requested down on the coaster near in front of you. Your hand’s journey to your purse is stopped by a light touch on your arm and the words, “You can put anything she orders on my bill,” leaving your new drinking partner’s mouth.

Traces of heat skitter along the skin his fingers graze like stray embers that have escaped the fire. Somehow, in the coolness of the night with not a drop of liquor in your system, there’s not a single goosebump on your body.

“Thank you…”

“Tooru.” He sticks his hand into the small void between you in a formal greeting.

You return the favor, sliding your palm against his and giving it a gentle shake. “(F/n).” A thought about how soft and gentle yet firm his grip is passes through your mind, bringing familiar prickles of warmth to your cheeks. “I appreciate it.”

Chuckling, he mentions, “Didn’t wanna ruin the little fantasy you seem to have all put together in that pretty head of yours by making you pay for your own drink.” The degree of rapture in his gaze, as if he thinks your face is the most enticing subject in his field of vision, slowly melts away your hesitation, and you find yourself raising your glass to his after it’s been refilled once more in an amicable toast.

The first taste always burns the most, but Oikawa’s presence seems to sweeten it ever so subtly. “So,” you hum after taking a deep breath to collect your thoughts, “what brings you here tonight by yourself? Thought someone as famous as you are wouldn’t be a moment without an entourage of adoring, female fans.”

He snickers, lips curling up into a grin that reflects his amusement. “It’s quite a large burden to bear, if I do say so myself, but I managed to escape their clutches just moments before you got here. Pretty lucky if I do say so myself,” he explains, his flirtations accompanied by a small wink. After taking another sip of the dark liquor in his glass, he adds, “As far as what I’m doing here; well, I’m here on business. But there’s no harm in mixing in a little pleasure, right?”

You shrug. “Might as well.”

“How about you?” Your gaze only leaves his for a moment to watch the way his fingertips graze the height of his glass, collecting droplets of condensation rolling down the sides. The silver rings he’s wearing on his right index and ring fingers shine when they catch a hint of the soft light pouring over your forms.

Returning your attention to his eyes, which appear to relax at having the pleasure of meeting yours once again, you elaborate, “Same reason. Wanted to find at least one fun thing to do after a long weekend of back to back work-related events.”

“In that case, feel free to have as many drinks as you want—on me,” he offers. However, before you can protest and tell him that you would never be so cruel as to exploit his generous offer, he comments, “But, if you’d rather sink money into something a little more rewarding and exciting than the frankly overpriced alcohol here, what do you say to joining me in the casino?”

You bat your eyelashes at him from over the rim of your glass while you take another sip as an indication that you’ll give him an answer when you can speak again. The invitation’s rather bold, you think, considering the fact that the two of you have only known each other for a grand total of about ten minutes. In any other situation, you’d most likely say no and do anything you could to shirk your conversational partner’s advances—depending on how they’d approached you, that is. But you find that you don’t want to say no to him.

Whether it’s the way his inviting gaze threatens to keep drawing you closer and closer to him so you can see the glimmer of the fairy lights in his eyes, or the air of warmth surrounding him that makes you feel as if you’ve known him forever, you don’t know—but you just can’t say no. You don’t want to. Sure, you’d gotten dressed up and taken a trip down to the ritzy hotel’s bar with the intentions of alleviating your boredom, but if you left with him, it would be because you wanted to be in his company rather than because you wanted a solution to your issue.

So, you answer him with a nod, but delay your next course of action for a while longer by asking, “Is it alright if I indulge in just one more of these overpriced drinks before we leave, though? I don’t know about know about you, but I only just got here.”

His smile doesn’t falter as he obliges with a dip of the head. “Really trying to bleed me dry, here, aren’tcha?”

“Might as well leave the bar knowing that you spent your money on something worthwhile before losing it all at the slots.”

“In that case, I’ll order myself another too.”

The two of you share a much-needed laugh, considering your long weekends of work, and continue your conversation over another refill. Though you’re sure the time the two of you spend on the plush stools at the bar top is relatively short, it feels much longer, and you find yourself abstaining from finishing your drink too quickly to prolong the moments you spend together—since you don’t want him to splash more of his hard-earned money on another rather average drink hiding behind a fancy name. In spite of all the commotion surrounding you as people dance, fill up the barstools on either side of you, or raise their voices to be heard over the chatter and music, his figure is the only thing you can see, and his voice the only thing you can hear.

You do snap back to reality once more, though, when you both come to the realization that your glasses are empty, but you’re happy that his idea to visit the casino means this isn’t the end of your night together. Once he’s slid on his jacket and you’ve slung your purse over your shoulder, the two of you head back into the hotel and stride down the ornately designed carpeting towards your destination. The slight sensation of the alcohol buzzing in your veins fills you with warmth that he seems to localize and intensify with his light touches to the small of your back as he guides you over towards the glowing slot machines.

Oikawa notices your hesitation when you sit down in front of one of the money-guzzling contraptions, and teases, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you have to pay to play, princess.”

The affectionate nickname that leaves his mouth makes your heart jump in your chest and nearly takes your breath away. Quickly regaining your composure and dismissing his comment with a wave of the hand, you simper, “Of course I know that, Tooru. I’m just trying to decide if this is really worth it, since I never seem to have the best luck with the slots.”

A reassuring smile forms across his lips, and his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly as his eyes flit over your figure. “Well,” he sighs, leaning against the seat and nonchalantly slinging his arm over the back of yours, “you never know. Tonight might just be the night you get lucky.”

His comment seems innocent enough, but the seduction laced into his voice as well as the confidence behind the smirk that replaces his sweet grin has you believing otherwise. And his intentions soon become clearer as you make your rounds around the casino together.

At first, you think his advances a figment of your hyperactive imagination projecting your own desires onto him. That every bumping of your knees together while lounging in the cushioned seats at the machines is an accident, and that every graze of his fingertips along your arm is just a polite way of grabbing your attention. However, as the evening wears on, you stop second-guessing yourself. To be fair, it gets fairly challenging to deny that something more than just camaraderie is present between the two of you when his hand wraps around your waist as you make your way to the blackjack table—and eventually ends up running along your thigh beneath the cover the polished wood provides.

His touch ignites your entire body with sensation. It refuses to be ignored, just as his presence had when you’d seen him at the bar earlier, and it fuels a desire within you to have his hands on every inch of your skin. Oh, how sad they must be, only being able to travel the short expanse between your knee and the hem of your dress’s tight skirt for the sake of politeness, you think. But pity is the exact opposite of what you should feel towards him, since you know better than anyone else that you want more than anything to give into him.

He seems to sense—given the way your own hands never move to reject his advances and you lean into his touch when he experimentally puts an arm around you—that you’re on the same page as he is, and decides to beckon you closer to him for a chat before you reach your next destination. “Hey, whaddya say we make things a little more fun?” he suggests, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Thankfully, the shuddering breath that escapes your mouth is lost beneath the ringing of the slot machines and upbeat music.

“What did you have in mind?” you wonder, feeling excitement course through you at the limitless options that he could be imagining.

“How about—” he pauses for a moment to lean down closer to your ear—“we make a little deal?” You follow his gaze over to the roulette table a few feet away before fastening your attention on him once more as he offers, “If the ball lands on an even number, I’ll give you a special prize.” He retrieves a small, plastic card from his coat pocket that you instantly recognize as a room key, making your breath hitch in your throat and your eyelashes flutter with shock.

You swallow thickly and ask, “And what if it doesn’t?”

The grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth is one you’ve seen before many times on television when he’d one-upped his opponents with an unexpected play, but being exposed to it in person and in such close proximity to him has your heart racing. “You’ll have to be willing to take the risk and play in order for you to find out the answer to that question, sweetheart. Trust me, you can’t lose.”

There’s a long moment of silence that ensues his proposition before you nod in agreement and strut over to the table to try your luck. After placing a bet on all even numbers, you watch with bated breath as the tiny ball whizzes around the outside of the wheel. Oikawa chuckles at your clear desperation, earning him a roll of the eyes from you. Because of your previously held belief that you’d probably end up losing more than you’d earned tonight, your heart leaps with excitement when the ball rolls into the slot with the number 22 etched into it.

“Well, look at you! What did I say earlier?” Oikawa muses, giving your shoulder a pat as you collect your winnings even though they’re not at the top of your mind like his hotel room key is. The sensation of the card’s smooth edges running along your fingers when he slides it into your awaiting palm gives you an instant adrenaline rush. “Off you go, then. I’ll be up in a minute.” Before you can even ask him what the alternate option to the deal would’ve been, he’s giving you a gentle nudge in the direction of the tiled floor leading towards the lobby. The parting words he whispers in your ear have your core flooding with heat: “Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if that dress was off by the time I got there.”

In an instant, he’s sauntering in the opposite direction, leaving you to walk to the elevator by yourself on shaky legs that continue to quiver the entire ride up to the eighth floor. Part of you wants to curse yourself for being so susceptible to his irresistible charm and sugared words, but there’s no point in doing so now. You’re going to get what you want, after all.

As you step into his room, you’re greeted by the subtle yet delightful scent of his cologne wafting from the suits in the closet on your way over to the foot of the large bed you see peeking out from around the corner. Nervous tingles travel down your spine as you kick off your shoes and reach for the zipper of your dress, making your skin erupt in goosebumps, but the sensation doesn’t stop you from slipping the garment off and settling down against the plush duvet.

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting long, and you’re leaping to your feet when you hear the heavy door open, letting in the conversations of other guests wandering down the hall nearby. For a split second, you feel self-conscious and wish you had more covering your body than just a lacy bra and panties, but, when you see the way his steps come a halt and his gaze traces over the entirety of your figure, drinking in the beautiful sight before him, your hesitation immediately dissipates.

Slowly, he approaches you, shrugging off his jacket before placing one hand on your bare waist and using his other to tilt your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “You’re gorgeous, (f/n),” he breathes, pupils dilating as they trace and retrace the path from yours to your lips parted with anticipation and desperate to be kissed, “I got lucky too. So, so lucky.”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he presses his warm lips against yours. They’re soft and gentle, molding to fit the shape of yours as if they were created to be interlocked. As his tongue runs along yours after tentatively prodding your lower lip in a silent request for access, his fingers dance along the bare skin on your back. Soon, your kisses are becoming more and more heated, and your hands are moving to his shirt to undo the buttons keeping it clasped together.

“Lemme take these off, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips, tugging at the back of your bra with one hand and at the waistband of your thong with the other. All you can do is nod, since you’re too breathless to give a verbal response, and allow him to undo the clasp around your back. A gentle push towards the bed sends you toppling down atop it with a playful giggle before he finishes your job of ridding himself of his shirt and tugs your panties down your legs.

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see the strain of his erection against his trousers, making your mouth water. He smirks at your mounting desire for him and kneels down on the carpet, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. As teasingly as you’d expect from him, he drags a long finger down your slit, dragging the juices seeping out of your core up to your clit and rubbing the sensitive bud experimentally, delighted by the loud moans he reaps from your vocal cords in response.

“Tooru…” you utter needily, arching your back, “More… please.”

Unable to resist your gentle plea, he brings his lips to the plush skin of your inner thigh and mumbles, “Keep saying my name just like that, princess.” His low hum of contentment sends vibrations through your entire lower region as his mouth presses against your entrance so he can lick a broad stripe from there to your pearl.

The sensation’s nearly too much for you, but you soon melt into it, your hands reaching for his head of soft, brown hair to bring his face closer to your heat as he pleasures you with his tongue. His fingers splay across your thighs and give them a tight squeeze before he moves them up to your hips so he can hold you in place when you begin rocking them against his tongue. The sound of his name leaving your mouth in more desperate cries encourages him to delve the wet muscle deep enough into your core to make you squeal and tighten your grasp around the strands woven between your fingers.

It only takes a few minutes for him to have you at the brink of your first orgasm with how skilled his tongue is in working your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Right there—ah—Tooru!” you whimper at feeling your stomach fill with heat, “Please! I’m… I’m gonna cum!”

You expect to feel your body succumb to the pleasure, but, upon hearing your words, he retreats from you completely and licks his lips. “So soon?” he questions in a manner that’s almost mocking. Chest heaving and glistening core still fully exposed to him, you watch him with dismay. “C’mon, I know you can last longer than that.”

Inadvertently, you clench your thighs together and complain, “Don’t tease me like that.”

Shooting you a devious smile, Oikawa rises to his feet once more and quips, “Whine all you want, baby; but I know you’ll be changing your tune when I make you cum harder than you ever have before.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you’re quick to regain your composure under his perceptive stare. “Quite a bold promise to make, considering you don’t have a single clue about my sex life, whatsoever,” is the comment that leaves your mouth in a grumble while you shift your position so that you’re sitting up on your knees. Intent on getting payback for being robbed of your orgasm at the last second, you reach for the belt holding his trousers up and task yourself with undoing it.

He chuckles wryly. “It’s not a promise—it’s a guarantee.” Your throat goes dry at his words and at the sight of his large cock when you free it from the restraint of his pants. “Besides,” he mentions, his voice taking on a low tone that has you looking up at him as you lean forward onto your elbows, so your mouth is level with the leaking tip of his erection, “it doesn’t matter who you’ve been with before. You’ll forget them all after tonight.”

With that statement made, he eases his hips forward as you open your mouth invitingly so he can slide his cock along your tongue. A gentle groan rumbles in his chest when you close your mouth around him and move further down his shaft at a painstakingly slow pace until the tip is nudging your throat. You don’t intend to keep him there, but you want to tease him with the sensation just enough to make him lose a bit of that cool composure of his. Spurred on by his gentle sounds of pleasure and the look of fascination he’s regarding you with, you bob your head along the length of his shaft, dragging his tongue beneath it in long, deep strokes.

“Fuck, (f/n), that feels good,” he hisses, gaze wavering as he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back at how good your mouth feels enveloping his cock. A gentle hum of appreciation you let out in response to his compliment has him thrusting into your mouth in an effort to feel the vibrations along every inch of his length. The slightly bitter taste of his precum catches on your tastebuds when you swirl your tongue around his throbbing head. “So fucking good.”

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing at his praise, and you moan teasingly while picking up the pace, taking him closer and closer to your throat with each thrust. His hand comes down to brush a few strands of your hair away from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture before his fingers clench around them to keep one of his hands occupied. The other rests on the bedside table nearby, fingertips turning white beneath the pressure he’s applying against the hard wood.

Though it’s clear he’s enjoying every moment of this with the way his cock twitches appreciatively in your mouth, the last thing he wants is to finish before he’s taken care of you. “On your back, princess,” he commands, his voice gruffer than usual as he indicates he wants you to stop by tugging your hair in the opposite direction to his body. Obediently, you let him slide his cock out of your mouth and fall back onto the bed, spreading your legs wide open so he can see just how ready you are for him. Your core has been ablaze with yearning for too long for you to be shy now.

The shadow his body creates in the soft light falls over yours when he crawls onto the bed and hovers over you. The desire to be closer to him that hasn’t left since the moment you first saw him resurfaces once again, prompting you to throw your arms around his shoulders so you can unite your bare torsos. His lips dive down towards yours once more, pressing passionate kisses against them that—in combination with the feeling of his cock pressing against your clit—have you moaning into his mouth. Your fingers pressing into the muscles along his back indicate your desperation to have him inside of you, so he obliges; plunging into your warm, velvety core as he takes his lower lip between your teeth.

A wanton mewl escapes your lips at feeling so, delightfully full, and you wrap your legs around his back, adjusting your hips so he can reach deeper inside of you. The stretch is somewhat painful at first, but every sensation you feel quickly melts into pleasure when he begins thrusting into you slowly and gently. Soon, it feels too slow and too gentle, and every nerve ending in your body is screaming for more. “Faster!” you cry as he nudges your head to the side so he can litter the tender skin on your neck with love bites.

He listens and indulges you, but not for long. Each time he hears your breathing become more erratic and feels you clench around him tightly, he eases off, ignoring the whimpers and complaints that leave your mouth at each orgasm he prevents you from reaching. As he teases you with shallow thrusts or riles you up even further by pulling out of you, he moves his head down to your chest so he can take one of your pert nipples in his mouth while his fingers pinch the other.

“Tooru, please. Please, let me cum!” you find yourself begging after being edged to what you feel is damn near the point of insanity with how little you can focus on anything else aside from chasing the high he keeps within inches of you. You open your eyes to give him a look of longing that you hope is enough to convince him to finally finish you off.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes, sending a wave of fresh goosebumps along your skin glistening with sweat, “I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.” The sound of his gentle voice transforming into a low growl dripping with lust fills your entire stomach with heat. “Turn over.” His hands on your waist help you flip onto your stomach and bring your hips up into the air as he kneels behind you to position himself at your entrance.

In one, swift motion, he pushes the entirety of his length back inside of you, making you cry out at the feeling of every ridge and vein in his dick dragging along your hypersensitive walls. The plush duvet and high thread count sheets muffle your screams of pleasure enough to keep them confined to his hotel room alone as he pounds into you mercilessly, sending your body charging towards what you hope is the release you’ll finally be able to experience. With all the pressure that’s building up inside of you, you can hardly withstand the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

A few more thrusts that target your most sensitive spot have you finally toppling over the edge of your orgasm, and warm waves of ecstasy crash over you as your body shakes and stars fill the edges of your vision. Your pussy spasming erratically around his cock has Oikawa snapping his hips against yours at a maddening speed until he’s filling your core up with the warmth of his release. He moans loudly between the praises and expletives that roll off his tongue as you ride out your highs together. Though you hate to admit it, he had been right—while merciless, his edging had intensified your pleasure in the end.

The strength of your orgasm leaves you unable to do anything else aside from flop onto the mattress and let your eyelids flutter shut while you regain your breath after Oikawa pulls out of you. The bed shifts beside you as he lies down at your side, taking a minute to steady his own breathing as he runs his hand along your back gently. There’s a few, long moments of silence that fill the warm air of the hotel room before a gentle chuckle from your mouth permeates it. Without speaking, he knows exactly what the source of your amusement is, and he ends up snickering as well.

“You really do say some of the corniest shit, baby,” you remark, amusement glimmering in your eyes when they find his after you roll onto your side to face him, “But I guess you’re a decent actor. Just don’t go quitting your day job, now.”

He grumbles and nuzzles your chin playfully, pressing a kiss against your jaw before pulling away and defending, “Oh, come on. You have to admit that at least some of the things I said were pretty hot.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

His arms snake around your body to pull you against his chest. In one ear, you can hear the sound of his strong heartbeat, and, in the other, you can hear him answer, “Like the whole using roulette as a gamble to win my room key instead of just money situation. C’mon. You liked that. I know you did—I saw your eyes practically burning with desire at that point.”

“Mm? And how do you know I wasn’t just acting as well?” you retort, throwing one of your legs over his and shifting your position so you can see the face of mock irritation you know he’s making at you. Sure enough, his eyes are narrowed, and his lips pursed as he squeezes them shut. After planting a kiss against his lips, you reassure him, “I enjoyed it. You’re very creative, as always, my love.”

“So all the money we spent on this little sexcapade, so to speak, of ours was worth it, then?” His hand on the back of your head keeps your faces within close proximity as he gazes into your eyes expectantly.

With a nod, you answer, “It was. But, any time we get to spend together is always worth it.”

A gentle smile forms on his lips to mirror your own, and his nose brushes against yours when he brings you closer to another kiss. This one’s deeper and more sensual than the last, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. “I love you so much, (f/n).”

“I love you too, Tooru.” The two of you take some time to bask in your mutual and deep feelings of adoration with your foreheads pressed together and hands tracing over each other’s features before you speak again. “Now, how are we gonna be able to top this roleplay, huh?

That very familiar, devious grin of his returns to his mouth as he answers, “Oh, don’t worry, baby girl, I have plenty of other ideas.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @osamusmiya​, @nit-sir-hc​, @arixtsukki​

oikawa: @why-aminot-dead​​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​, @cuddlysoftbear​

[hyenahunt]

Beast Survival - 1

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Jun: Wha— They're asking me to play the leading role? Umm, why me...?

[Location: Training Room]

Jun: (Woah. I totally zoned out while working out, and now my shirt's soaked with sweat. Feels real gross...) (I should change outta it soon..... But even then, this is the second one I've gone through.) (Did I bring any other spares...?) ( — Ooh, looks like I've got one left. So this is a case of "preparation is prevention", huh. Serious props to the past me for this.) (Heading all the way to the changing room's a pain, so I might as well just change here. There's no one else around, after all.) (Ahh~ Nothing beats changing into a new shirt right after sweatin' up a storm.) (I'm all refreshed in both body and soul now.... is what I wanna say, but it's not that easy...) (Recently things've been so dreary no matter what I do, and even working out like this doesn't do anything to clear up the feeling.) (It feels just like the post-workout burn, like my limbs are made outta lead or something.) (Isn't there usually a link between being active and feeling refreshed? Or well, it depends on how much working out you do, I think.) (The training I had to do as a kid was so rough that I couldn't even eat sometimes, after all.) (Rather than refreshing... It was more like defreshing.) (Well, it's thanks to that my physical stamina and strength's basically on par with actual athletes now, but I still think of it as an unfortunate product of my past.) (.....Hm, what's this? Someone's poked their head in from the entrance... looks like it's — ) Heya, Anzu-san, what's up~ What're you doing all the way in the gym? I'm the only one here, y'know~? — Huh? Ohh, so that's it. You need me for something, huh. Hm? I don't seem to be doing so well? Is that how it looks? Well, it's true I haven't been feeling too my best, but... Ahh, nah, it's not physical or anything. I can still work out like this, as you can see. It's just... moodwise, I haven't been feeling too hot, or I've been feeling kinda gloomy, actually. So it's been kinda throwing my daily routine outta whack, I guess? What's that? Ah, well, if I had to give a reason... It really isn't that big a deal, seriously. I mean, Ohii-san's moved outta the Reimei dorms and into ES's, right? Up 'til now, that guy would make me pour all his tea, carry all his shit, and show him all around... He's a complete asshole who'd dump it all on me when it came to pretty much everything. Unfortunately, I got completely used to it. And now my current roommate's the prim-and-proper type who takes care of his own stuff himself. So ever since Ohii-san headed off, I've gotten fewer chances to take care of things and it's been messing with my motivation and stuff. Kinda like something's missing. Really now...? You're asking if I'm lonely? Goddamn. It's nothing like that, alright. Even in a part-time job you'd feel better being kept busy, right? It's more agonising when you have nothing to do. Killing too much time can kill you instead, after all. That's what I'm feeling right now. You wonder about that, do you? Keep making fun of me and I'm not gonna let you off, alright~? In any case, did you come looking for me just to shoot the breeze? You should be plenty satisfied now, then. I'm off, see ya. — Woah—!? Don't drag me back so forcefully, please. You're gonna stretch out my shirt, y'know. Alright, alright, I get it. You really do need me for something, huh? Well, what d'ya need me for~? Mm? What's this? A project proposal? Ohh, so it's a proposal for a stageplay... Ah~, sorry. I'm not really familiar with stuff in that field. Hmm. So the director of the play's really all that famous? — And what about it? Why're you giving this proposal to me? Wha— They're asking me to play the leading role? Umm, why me...? Mmm, well, it's not that I'm unhappy about it or anything.... I really appreciate them nominating me for the role, actually. It's just that I don't really know anything about theater, so it's a given I'd wonder why, yeah? Ahh. So the director came to see both Summer Live and SS last year, and became a fan of me? Is that so~ That makes me real happy ♪ But all the same... why? Ahh, please excuse me for being so skeptical. You could say it's just in my nature, or more like... Feeling like I can't trust anyone but myself is just something that's carried over from my life at school. I can't help but think that if some juicy offer sounds too good to be true, it probably isn't. I mean, think about it. We lost as Eden that time, after all. Not to mention the agency's unprecedented scandal completely blew up, and thanks to that I feel like there's no way our live could've won anyone's heart. Well, I'm pretty glad for it, honestly. We broke past all those various disappointments and still managed to pull off an awesome performance — it felt really great. But I'm sure anyone watching wouldn't have felt the same way. That's not the case, you say? Ahh, geez. You're... way too soft, is how I'd put it, I guess... Huh. So we caught this director's interest even despite the whole incident...? Well, they definitely sound like the eccentric type~ But y'know, if you're the one saying this I'm sure you're not being two-faced about it or anything, so I'll be good too and properly hear you out. Thank you very much. Huh!? Me starring in this stageplay would make it better than all the rest...? And they think I'm the number one best choice for the role.... Why are they going that far? They even said that since I can use my past experiences to bring the role to life, there's no one else who could play it?

Jun: T-this is the first time I've gotten such a passionate job offer... ... Well, it's not like it feels bad to hear the extent of their praise. I get it. I've never performed in a play before, so I'm not sure just how much I can do, but I'll go at it with all my heart and soul! ? What are you so happy for? You're not the one performing. Wha—? The script's actually done already!? And on top of that, it was written with me in mind...!? They didn't even know if I'd accept the role or not. Talk about jumping the gun... And they would've done anything to get me to accept, huh... That's actually a lil' scary, y'know. Well, since I said I'd do it I'm not gonna back out or anything, so please don't worry. There's still time to get introduced and have a quick run-through of the script. Ahh, yeah, I gotcha. I'm gonna be sure to read it from front to back. Alright, I'll start now, then~ Let's see — the title's "King of the Grasslands"? Pretty grand title, that. My role's... uhh, you said i'm playing the lead role, so... — Wait, whaaat the actual hell is this!?

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