#this one was from a year ago but I colored it!!

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[onbearfeet]

I had an argument, a few years ago, about the color of the sky in a story I'd written.

The story took place in a kinda shitty future that was about to get worse, and I casually mentioned in the prologue that the sunset was a violent shade of pink. One of the writers in the group insisted that that was not a color a sky could be, and I had to explain that when you grow up down the road from an oil refinery, it is.

The sky in my old neighborhood hasn't turned that color in 25 years. So long that people no longer believe it can happen.

[highvern]

Steam I

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au

General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitution Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink

Length: ~14k | Fic Length: ~60k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: insane insane insane. i started this from a tiny little head cannon forever ago and when i started writing i anticipated maybe 20k max. but im a liar because this quickly excelled that by a landslide. i hope yall enjoy this monster of a fic as much as i did writing it. i'll be uploading each part with one day in between. p.s i used the ATLA wiki to build a believable setting for this but it really diverges from cannon and doesn't mention any of the original characters from the cartoon.

summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Ranchous voices filled the warehouse, deafening as the hoard of bodies looking for a night of gruesome entertainment flooded the stands. Steam and smoke and dust clogged the air, only cleared by the occasional rush of wind the massive hole in the ceiling that showed the clear night sky above, the moon barely half full and the stars dusted across the sky.

Wonwoo watched from the catwalk criss-crossing high above the ring like always. He won’t fight until later, not until someone was dumb enough to challenge him once the adrenaline of the smaller spars bubbles to their head and they decide they would be the one to end his winning streak proudly tallied on the leaderboard. 

But for now he stood on the metal platform. Below, Jihoon launched a clay disk at his opponent with terrifying speed. With a wide swing of his arm, Chan knocked it aside before it could land, spinning off balance from the recoil.

Too easy. But no matter how many times the two fight, Chan never catches on to Jihoon’s tricks until it's too late. Jihoon hurled a second disc – cracking it into pieces with a squeeze of his fist – at Chan’s head. The airbender managed to dodge the first piece but the other two landed true, crumbling him to his knees. The crowd fell into a frenzy of starved animals, foaming at the mouth as a tally mark appeared next to Jihoon’s name on the victory board.

Wonwoo’s name sat on the next line above, so many tallies they nearly ran off the side of the sheet of repurposed metal. 

He rarely lost. Dokyeom might force a draw for fear the building would burn down if a fight dragged on; but the last time that happened was nearly two years ago when Seungcheol demanded one final fight before retiring. They both walked away with matching black eyes and limps, his friend with singed uneven hair, and Wonwoo with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder.

It was one of the few fights Wonwoo didn’t mind losing. Defeat was much sweeter when he got paid half the betting pool for it.

The next fight geared up to start; another air bender and a fire bender racing into the ring. Wonwoo rarely cared to watch their fights. Hoshi lacked finesse, relying on overwhelming his opponents, while Seungkwan’s temper historically ended the match before it could really begin. But it never stopped the audience from rushing to place their bets with Jeonghan like always.

Deciding he needed a drink for the chaos about to unfold, Wonwoo descended the stairs towards the crude bar in the corner of the upper tier of the stands. It’s nothing more than a shabby counter top, covered with colorful bottles and cracked cups.

The sting of fire whisky going down didn’t shock his system nearly as much as the woman leaning against the wall; watching him, gaze heavy on his skin even in the dim light. 

Rounding the bartop, Wonwoo didn’t look away as he approached. If you balked under his gaze, he can’t decipher a tell; only a satisfied smile pulling the corner of your lips high and your eyelids lowering until his chest brushes yours.

His arm rests above your shoulder, pinning you beneath his gaze. “You’re staring at me.”

It isn’t a question, it's an accusation. And you’re more than guilty.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You asked, chin tilting back defiantly, eyes narrowed. Wonwoo makes the mistake of looking at your mouth, hypnotized by the tantalizing pout of flesh as it slips into a smirk. He walked right into your trap before he even knew what was happening.

He dipped closer, eyes still on your lips. “What's your name?”

Just as your nose brushed his own, you melted off the wall and under his arm. Wonwoo cut a glance over his shoulder to find you stalking backwards into the crowd, eyes never leaving his until you're swallowed into the fold without a trace.

The dare was so obvious in your gaze. Paired with the teasing words, Wonwoo felt something surge inside him. That hot need to chase, to tease you back. To find out if your boldness evaporated with enough attention or if you’d use the same haughty tone to chaste him in private.

Wonwoo moved to do just that but he’s called to the ring for the next fight.

“Our reigning champion, the man of fire,” Dokyeom preened dramatically into the mic. The crowd roared in enthusiastic response. “The longest running victor in bending battle history!”

People parted as Wonwoo approached the walkway leading to the isolated platform surrounded by a steep drop off into a pool of water. Maybe he reveled in the applause and anticipatory cheers longer than necessary but if anyone’s earned it, he has.

“And our newest challenger!”

The poor idiot who signed up to fight shouldn’t last too long, Wonwoo isn’t interested in dragged out humiliation. Especially not now. Hopefully, he can end this quickly and find you again, bargain his victory for your name and maybe some time alone.

But, as swiftly as his hopes ignited, they crumbled to ash. Dokyeom continued his rambling as you flashed a smug smile across the ring.

He faltered for only a moment before continuing towards the center of the ring. Out of the dark, he failed to decipher anything that might give him advantage. You lacked the breezeness of an airbender, posture too rigid, the cocky defiance from earlier still present. Maybe an earthbender. Or better yet, a firebender.

Your eyes trickle down his form. Only one of you is at a disadvantage so far but it won’t remain that way for long. Wonwoo thrives on a challenge, and after so long without one his heart squeezed in excitement.

“Good luck.”

You remained silent, eying Wonwoo’s outstretched hand before ignoring it, turning towards your side of the platform with your nose in the air.

Gasps of shock erupted around the warehouse. The stands circling the platform were fuller than before, even the people who only came to socialize found a sudden interest in the stranger bold enough to snub the best. Wonwoo paid them no mind. You’re the most interesting opponent he’s had in a long time.

Words from earlier echoed in his ears.

What are you going to do about it?

Wonwoo followed suit and retreated to his post with a few grounding breaths. The flame inside him grew in preparation. Hungry. Vicious. It raged until there's nowhere for the fire to go but out.

The starting bell cut the air; immediately he's on the offensive, dropping into a low stance, arms drawn into his side before the shrill sound stopped. A swift punch launched a huge fireball from his fist, a swell of heat surging through his veins as it sails over the ring with terrifying speed. Then another and another, fast enough that just as one dissipates, it’s already replaced with a new explosion of flames.

Barely any smoke filled the air when they dissolved. They were nothing more than a cheap scare tactic; completely hollow shells aimed to intimidate rather than maim. The fight is just starting and there's no reason to throw his best moves just yet.

You sidestepped each blow, dipping close to the floor before rising again and twirling out of the way with catlike grace. Wonwoo lobbed the next one right in your path but you adapt without pause. Like you’re dancing around the fire. With the fire. 

Wonwoo rushed forward, taking the advantage to drive you towards the edge of the platform, refusing to grant an ounce of reprieve. Not that you needed it. Every blow is avoided even as he adds more punch to the moves, each burning hotter and brighter than the one previous.

He maintained a healthy distance, plenty of room to keep the heat away from himself as his arms sweep and a ring of fire slices at your feet, close enough to singe the edge of your boots before you can avoid it completely. But you dove through the opening and rolled back to your feet, as if you expected the blow.

Wonwoo sliced his hand through the air, a razor thin whip of flame bursting forth to lick against your chin, close enough to feel the heat but Wonwoo maintains control. You could’ve blocked the move but you retreat again, eyes furious at the smoke of burnt hair jagged from contact dangling next to your jaw.

Wonwoo can’t detect any attempt at bending. The clay disks stacked at the edge of the ring remained unmoved, the air undisturbed. There’s no pull at the flames he’s conjuring, no hint that you're manipulating his own fire against him.

After another one sided volley of hits, your refusal to fight began to wear on his nerves. He harnessed more flame with a sweep of his leg, a swift stomp sending it over your head before it exploded and knocked you to your knees. You controlled the impact and roll to a crouch, eyes blazing,

“Is that really all you’ve got?” you said, shoulders squared but lax. 

There’s no teasing in your voice, if anything it’s cold disappointment. To Wonwoo’s shame, a hot bolt of want ran through him. Images of you whispering the same words, with the same haughty tone, flashed in his mind; back in the dark corner near the bar where you started this entire game; back in one of the many unused rooms of the warehouse with just you and him and no one else to watch him earn your approval.

Your leg circled around and Wonwoo prepared himself for something of interest to finally happen but you used the momentum to raise back on your feet and brace for the next round.

Wonwoo realized you must be a waterbender. The way you moved, melting around every attack, shifting with impressive flexibility, was a dead giveaway. That or just plain stupid. If you walked into this fight with no bending then it was only a matter of time before you cut your losses and yielded. 

Only one way to find out.

A towering wall of pure flame, large enough it’d scare even him to be on the receiving end, swelled in front of Wonwoo. The crowd roared in excitement, feral for the inevitable end to the match. There was nowhere for you to evade this time. It was either into the flame or off the backend of the platform. 

A flat footed kick sent the wave barreling directly at you, consuming more oxygen and growing wider with rapid speed.

The flood of fire forced your hand. A tsunami of water rose from the grates criss-crossing the ring, geysers gushing with enough pressure to shake the floor. A sharp hiss echoes as opposing elements collided in an explosion of steam thick enough to clog the entire warehouse. So dense Wonwoo can’t see in front of his own nose.

Wonwoo stood unfazed, even as the crowd distantly murmured in confusion. Now, the game truly began.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called, listening. Waiting.

A splash behind him is the only warning of your presence. Wonwoo slashed his leg through the air, an arch of flame slicing through the fog providing a brief glimpse of visibility before it sealed back up. However, it did nothing more, you weren’t there.

“Longest running victor in battle history, and he can’t even land a hit,” you tsked.

Wonwoo jerked at the sound of your voice, so close he expected to find you right behind him but he’s only met with a faceful of powder.

A fucking snowball?

You must have been close enough to see the scowl twisting his face because you giggled before launching another.

“Can’t handle a little water?” you snorted.

Under different circumstances, ones not involving you pelting him like a child, Wonwoo might have enjoyed the sound. He might have even wanted to find out what the sound tastes like on his tongue. 

Another snowball, this one more ice than anything, collided with his chin and that desire turned into cinders. He whipped fire towards the noise but missed.

Arms raised, he feigned as if to launch another and instead harnessed his breath and forced a wider arch of flame to evaporate the fog you’ve hidden in. Wonwoo found you evading from the corner of his eye and used the moment of weakness to spring into action.

Except you crumbled with a choked scream and the sudden rush of victory tastes like ash.

Three wide strides and Wonwoo was there, hunched and ready for the next blow; ready for another one of your tricks. But your choppy breathing extinguished his competitiveness. The air reeked of burnt. The entire ring smoldered with heat.

He should’ve known better; especially with you. So clearly unprepared for the intensity of a fight like this. Dokyeom should never have let you put your name down to fight, let alone against Wonwoo.

Acrid smoke rose from the discolored collar of your tunic; too close to hope he hasn’t burnt your face but he does anyway. Wonwoo prepared for the worst as he rolled you over, already yelling for a healer.

He isn’t prepared for an icy fist straight to his nose with enough force to send him onto his back. “What the fuck?”

Another blow landed on the back of his head. Hot blood rushed forward as the next punch lands with a grotesque crunch against his nose. His skin stung with cold, eyes burning from the sudden influx of pain.

Long channels of water with blunt frozen ends sprouted from the grates like a watery forest. You stood unscathed amongst the pulsing curtains, smiling like a lunatic.

Wonwoo covered his head from the brunt of attacks. His nose was broken and one of his eyes was already swelling shut. A torrent of water collapsed over him, bearing down with the power of a waterfall. His knees buckled. The air in his lungs abandoned him.

In a last ditch attempt to save his pride, he thrusted his hand forward. The reek of ozone clouded the warehouse as electricity splintered towards you.

And as if it’s nothing, you redirected the bolt of lightning through the opening in the warehouse roof as Wonwoo watches in shock.

The warehouse went silent. Seconds grew into minutes but no one moved as you rose into a lazy stance. 

Wonwoo watched through sweat and blood, dark spots floating in his vision as the sound of your boots grew closer.

“How disappointing,” you sighed just loud enough for him to hear before striding towards the platform and out of view.

When the echo of your footsteps faded, Wonwoo sank into darkness.

In the late hour, the Middle District streets buzzed with life. Vendors shouted, hawking their wares, boasting exotic produce and clothing with incatract embroidery from the farthest reaches of the world. Taverns packed with patrons singing and hollering in drunken glee. The smell of fried dough and roasted meat wafted through the air.

Mingyu was easily distracted with every stall he passed. Why, you had no idea. Even as a guard he could get the

best quality of anything he wanted at the palace; food, clothing, drink. But he stuck his nose in the air as the scraggly old man refuses to barter over the bruised moon peaches and wanders down the aisle to another stand with the exact same selection and even more wrinkled merchant.

In the midst of his discussion on cherry nuts, you slipped away, down one of the cramped alleys choked with smoke and shouts of people enjoying the balmy night. 

No one looked in your direction twice as you meandered through crowded walkways, children squealing as they chased each other and adults shouting in annoyance when one bounces off their knees. In all the chaos, it was easier to disappear and actually explore without Mingyu hovering like an anxious mother hen. If anyone would get you two caught for sneaking out of the palace, it was him. Even in servant’s clothes, you couldn’t help but feel woefully out of place and he wasn’t helping.

The side streets were calmer; veins flowing slowly into the heart of main street. People moved in lazy sways, some appearing to only remain vertical from leaning against door frames into dark hallways. The lanterns strung above cast an oily sheen on the cobblestone. If you remembered the archive maps correctly, the Gaiety should be close.

Even through the thick clouds above, you felt the moon swelling. Only a few more days until she’d be full and with it came the unbearable restlessness. Mingyu only agreed to sneak you out of the palace after the fight weeks ago because you’d nearly taken his head off while sparring. 

A night away, somewhere new. Somewhere to take out the energy without nearly killing him. The warehouse out in the harbor was out of question after the fight weeks ago. Not with the way you made a spectacle of the cocky firebender you’d studied for weeks. Mingyu threatened to rat you out if you thought for a second to step back in there. At least it’d been worth the loss; Wonwoo’s face as you redirected his lightning like it was nothing was worth every second of Mingyu's anger.

No longer feeling like one of your grandmother’s koi, swimming in endless circles of the garden pond, you forced your shoulders to slouch, chin tipping down to obscure your face beneath the wide brim of your hat.

Most of the buildings lining the street are shabby; peeling paint, splintered windows, wooden steps on the brink of collapsing from years of rot. Most are alive with noise, men and women crowded around low tables just beyond the door, wine flowing like a river and laughter spilling from open windows.

Further down, where the lanterns are more sparse with red shades casting everything in an eerie glow, the air grows thick with smoke. The street twisted like a grotesque snake, turning at harsh angles to hide whatever waited beyond, tangled in indecipherable turns. Buildings were little more than shacks, each leaning on the one next to it for support; stacked like a house of precariously stacked cards one gust of wind away from crashing down. Plenty of alleys jutted off into darkness, shadows shifting with scantily clad women and what looked like couples making no attempt to obscure what was clearly taking place. A small crowd still mills about, some ogling but most too absorbed in their own merriment. 

Just like when that firebender hit you with lightning, hairs all over your body stood on end. This place is wrong. You need to leave. Now.

Turning to do so, you found yourself nose to nose with a man completely blocking your vision.

“What is a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” he said, clearly drunk from his haphazard slant. That, or incredibly stupid. His breath stung your nose, bile rising at the scent of liquor.

Water, or something resembling it enough to heed your command, rocketed from a nearby drain pipe. The thick haze over the area dissipated in an instant, all eyes on the man frozen to the rickety wall of a nearby building, face turning purple as he shouted indignantly. 

You stared for a moment, stunned by your own hand. And then, you ran.

People shouted as you crashed through them, feet pounding on the uneven stone road. Several sets of footsteps chase, gaining by the sound of it, all calling for you to stop. You pushed yourself to run faster, so hard your muscles burned but you pressed forward.

Lungs screaming for breath, you rounded the entrance to the main street in time for someone to snag your arm in a vice grip.

“Let me g—” Your scream is muffled by your captor forcing your face into his chest, arm slipping around your shoulders to keep you from breaking free. You fought but couldn’t break free.

“Walk, don’t look back” a deep voice rumbled. 

The hands were too warm to belong to your guard – not that you’d be lucky enough to run into Mingyu and make it back to the palace so easily – completely unfamiliar and unnecessarily rough. Between the guards still in pursuit not far behind and the man already dragging you through the crowd, you preferred the odds of whatever this new stranger had planned.

Out of the side street, your new captor maneuvered hastily. People parted on either side of your path, allowing more distance to grow between you and the mob, but their yells licked at your heels. You chanced a glance up and found the very firebender you’d humiliated weeks ago. Features schooled in a neutral expression, Wonwoo kept moving further down the street, steps so wide it was difficult to keep up. 

“Next intersection go right.” 

Your heels dug into the ground, refusing to move another step with this man. No way he took that beating weeks ago and wasn’t holding a grudge. You humiliated him in public, in front of his friends and probably a few enemies; few men would take that without protest and pass up an opportunity for revenge.

“Trust me, princess.”

The word striked frigid fear through your veins like ice. But he kept his eyes forward, constantly scanning the crowd and using the momentary pause to push you forward. You bounced off another couple as you stumbled to do as he says, face still hidden in the collar of his shirt. The street is still wet from last night’s rain and the water calls in reassurance. 

Wonwoo underestimated you, like so many others. Even though he didn’t look smug about knowing your identity he was still a threat. Perhaps he thought your victory was a fluke but you were prepared to remind him what defeat tasted like.

But first, you needed to lose your pursuers. And for now, Wonwoo served that purpose.

The street he turned you down was far calmer, but no less packed. The bodies moved in a gentle pulse unlike the crush of the central avenue. Wonwoo pressed forward but not as urgently, flowing with the ebb of foot traffic.

Your muscles tensed as distance from the main street grew, prepared for Wonwoo to strike. To pull you into one of the shadowed alleyways and challenge you to another brawl. But there were too many witnesses here for him to do much, not to mention all the buildings made of wood. Unless he was a unique type of stupid. 

But, surely this was far enough to shed him. Another busy street was not far ahead, one you recognized; farther south from the palace than you’d like but you’d make do. You just needed to find Mingyu and get back to the tunnels before Wonwoo caught back up.

Preparing yourself to run, you chanced another look to see if guards from earlier were well and truly gone. The chaos of before hadn’t followed, no shouts or discontent from the people left in your wake. But you couldn’t be sure until you—

“Don’t look.”

You huffed but faced forward once more. “I wasn’t going to!”

“Yes, you were,” Wonwoo swallowed something like a laugh. 

How dare he! If he thought he could take you captive and chastise you like a rebellious child then he had another thing coming. 

You jumped to your toes, twisting against his tight grip at your waist to peer back. Only to find one of the men from earlier already staring straight at you.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

“You looked,” Wonwoo groaned. “Run!”

Turning again, you froze the lanky man’s feet to the ground. He stumbled at the unexpected set back, crashing into passersby who seemed none too pleased but you could only assume from indigent yelling as Wonwoo dragged you away.

“In here,” Wonwoo whispered, shoving you into a dark alley, barely more than a divot between buildings before he followed suit.

His body pressed tight against yours from knee to shoulder. Like back in the warehouse. When he nearly pinned you against the wall and almost made you forget the entire reason you went at all that night. When he tempted you with a different challenge than what you planned to offer. You might have considered the proposition if Wonwoo hadn’t failed so spectacularly; let him prove his worth beyond bending. 

In the dark, you tripped over the slick paced ground and fell straight into Wonwoo’s chest. With your hands planted on his shoulders, you felt his lungs stretch around gulps of air. Under more pleasant circumstances you’d remember the impropriety of it all. Alone with a man, in a dark corner of the city; breath mingled in choppy pants, the heat of him sinking straight into your bones with his thigh between your knees. And his hands. Such rough, warm hands pinned against your sides. If anyone saw then they’d see a couple unable to wait for a more private location.

But you didn’t find yourself caring in the slightest. Not about propriety or even the fact that Wonwoo all but admitted he knowingly fought a member of the royal family and was now doing something even more scandalous. You couldn’t think when you were wedged so tightly between a wall and a man, intimate proximity you’ve never experienced before. The miraculous way his palms fit perfectly against your hips, how his breath ghosted against your forehead and the deep rumble of his voice—

“What were you doing?” he said. “Are you trying to get yourself arrested?”

If only he’d shut his mouth long enough for you to enjoy the fantasy of being like any other woman in the kingdom, free to touch and be touched. But the reprimand shattered the short lived dream.

“They wouldn’t have arrested me,” you huff indignitaly. “I had it under control! Or do you need a reminder?”

“By all means, freeze me to a wall! That went so well last time, didn’t it? Maybe this time you can just wait around for them to catch you.”

“Maybe I will!” You jabbed a finger into his chest, momentarily shocked by the firm muscles there, before ducking out of the alcove and back onto the street before doing something stupid with the new information.

But Wonwoo yanked you back into the shadows just in time for one of the men to run past. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Of course I do!” you silently scream. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because only an idiot would visit the Red Lanterns alone. Especially a woman. You clearly didn’t belong there.”

He said woman, not princess. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe it was a stupid nickname you were looking far too much into. There was no reason he should have recognized you. Your grandmother was so fiercely protective of her sole heir apparent that she hardly let you explore even the farthest corners of the palace grounds, let alone appear somewhere subjects got close enough to make out a single feature beyond your silhouette next to her. Only nobles, guardsmen, and servants would recognize you and the entire appeal of visiting the Middle District was none of them would be here. No one would know their princess was among them.

“Oh? And how do you know?”

“You’d be a lousy prostitute if you froze all your customers to a wall.”

You watched his face for any hint of dishonesty but he stared right back, eyes blazing with the same contagious annoyance. He didn’t know. His heart raced beneath your palm but didn’t stutter with dishonesty.

“Then what were you doing there?”

“I saw you earlier and thought…it doesn’t matter.” He eyed the disgust on your face before sighing. “Just tell me where you’re going and I’ll help you get there.”

“Thought what?” you gritted.

The air thickened with silence as different emotions flashed across Wonwoo’s face. He was no better than the drunk who tried to proposition you. Your thoughts might have devolved into something less than proper but you’d never act on it. If he thought he could just—

“No!” he shouted, eyes wide and bright red despite the dark. “That’s not…I wanted to challenge you to a rematch and then you went and got yourself into a fight.”

“So you were stalking me?”

“You’re in my neighborhood, waterbender. How do I know you’re not stalking me?”

You snorted at that in an attempt to ignore his muscles flexing between your thighs. He couldn’t have not noticed how compromising the position was. If he dipped his chin you could easily kiss him. Not that you would. Ladies did not kiss strange men in alleys; especially not princesses. Even if the strange man was incredibly handsome. And muscular. 

“Why would I need to stalk you for a rematch? I know where to find you if I need a confidence boost.”

Whether you liked it or not – and you most certainly didn’t – you were stuck with Wonwoo until you could shake him and the group of Middle District guards after you. Something tells you even if you did tell him you knew exactly where you needed to go, he’d follow just out of sight. That simply wouldn’t do if you wanted to keep your identity a secret; assuming he truly didn’t know.

Which meant he really did want to help; at least for now. As you peered back up, the fading bruises littering his jaw came into focus. Ugly splotches of yellow and green. Gifts you gave him freely and would happily supply more in spades but there is a twinge of guilt souring your stomach

“Did I do this?”

“Yeah,” he released a long breath through his nose, subtly leaning into your finger unconsciously tracing the marks. Someone did a good job healing him. “And you broke my nose.”

“Maybe next time you should learn to block,” you teased.

The same fire from when he approached you in the warehouse burned across his face, hot enough to scorch everywhere his body touched yours. Maybe one kiss, just to see what all the fuss was about, wouldn’t be so bad. The maids seemed to talk of nothing but which stableboys and guards they were kissing; how some were bad and others were good. Whatever that meant. How several were skilled at doing more vulgar activities with their mouths and hands. No matter how many times you asked, none of them ever answered what exactly they were so talented at but you read enough to have an idea.

For the briefest second, you wondered if Wonwoo would demonstrate just what it was that made the maids giggle so incessantly.

But as his head dipped closer to yours, the spell broke by the crush of reality. You needed to get back home. You needed to find Mingyu.

You looked back towards the street before speaking again, “I don’t know what the street is called but my friend was checking out fruit stalls when we got split.”

“Ah, yes,” Wonwoo grumbled, head tilting back against the wall behind him. “The one street with fruit merchants. Remember anything else? Cobblestones and people? Were there buildings?”

Smartass.

“Um… there was a stall with spirit carvings and a tea house.”

He scrubbed his face, or attempted to. There wasn’t enough room between your faces for the action so his hand hovered in the darkness awkwardly before collapsing back against your side. It seemed only then did he register his proximity, and whatever anger he clung to melted into stammering embarrassment. 

“Did you see the sign for the tea house?” he asked, eyes on the street.

“It was silver and had a—”

“The Silver Dragon. I know it. Come on.”

Another check that the coast was clear and Wonwoo pulled you back into the street, arm slung over your shoulders. He navigated easily enough. Each time he spotted something suspicious ahead he pulled you towards a stall, feigning interest in whatever goods were on display while watching from the corner of his eye until he deemed it safe enough to continue towards the Silver Dragon.

Slowly the buildings became more familiar; a merchant with a unique hat, the raven eagle fountain that hosted squealing children splashing in its waters. An old woman dishing out cups of frozen watermelon juice.

A silver flag embroidered with a dragon hung limply overhead. You scanned for Mingyu but to no avail, faces passed and blended the crowd into an amorphous ocean of strangers. Wonwoo kept a firm hold on your shoulders as the crowd swayed. He gripped your bare upper arm beneath the billowing sleeve of your tunic. No one besides your maids had touched you like this; so familiar and foreign at the same time. The heat of his palms like the first lick of a fire after hours in the snow. 

While Mingyu appeared to have moved on, the guards seemed to have doubled back. They wove through the thicket of people aggressively. Wonwoo froze, noticing at the same time that there was no way to turn around without garnering their suspicion. 

The street choked into a tight squeeze, locking you in place as the guards surged forward. Twenty feet, then ten. Then only a single person separated you from them and desperation fanned the flame of stupidity.

Your neck strained upward, and before Wonwoo could jump back, you fisted a hand in his hair and dragged him down to meet your mouth. He hesitated before sinking into the kiss eagerly, commanding your full attention with his teeth and the, with his tongue. With another pull, he guided you into the narrow space between merchant stalls, tripping over his own feet until all you registered was the hot press of him to your front and the chill of brick behind you. 

It’s not like the sweet chaste kisses in the plays you grew up watching. Wonwoo demanded nothing less than your complete attention with a hot suck against your bottom lip. You copied him with clumsy eagerness.

All the thinking, the responsibilities and reminders plaguing your consciousness silenced their screaming; instinct filled its place. Your hips thrashed until his thigh slotted between your legs with dizzying firmness but then there was the want of more that had you rocking against it. In the process you brushed against a lump between his own thighs, and the instinct to rub against it was too strong to ignore.

Wonwoo only groaned before diving to lap against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. He surged forward, meeting every curl of your hips with an enthusiastic arch of his own. A hand at the base of your spine, beneath your tunic, angled you just so – completely at his whim. His other hand heated the side of your throat, tipping your head back to leave you panting with another rough press of his mouth. 

Unconsciously, you traced his side, tugged at his shirt before letting go and only to crush the fabric again. Then your hands fell down his stomach until your palm pressed against that straining hardness and Wonwoo seized, teeth razing against your ear until you did the same. 

“Spirits,” he exhaled through swollen lips, grinding into your hand.

You sucked him back into another kiss, laving at the swell of his bottom lip until he knocked your hand away and spread your legs for a raw drag against your core. His head tucked into the crook of your shoulder, panting breath creeping through the fabric of your top as he did it again. The press of his mouth made your pace sloppy, mindless grinds until you both groaned.

You wanted him without the frustrating barrier of clothing obscuring the warmth of his hands, his chest; to have him do something about the aching emptiness settled in your core. The pang of needing something stoked by the bruising twists of him against you.

There’s no sound over the roaring blood in your ears. Sparks flashed in your vision but your eyes sneak open to watch Wonwoo’s face twisted in agony. You latched on to his neck – biting and licking the same way he did – until he made that noise again.

In the corner of your vision, you registered the pedestrians moving past as if nothing was happening. As if their princess wasn’t concealed only feet away, pressed against a strange man with a hand sneaking beneath the tie of his pants.

But instead of embarrassment, a hot jolt squeezed your chest. No one knew. Much like the nights you snuck from the palace to explore the city, your freedom was innocuous. A way to learn what was hidden behind the false shine councilmen presented in their reports and the poetic ramblings of tutors. 

Wonwoo could teach you about those sneaking passions that drove you mad on long nights. He already proved how much better they were when someone else wanted to resolve them.

Hours or days might have passed as you focused on coaxing out more of those delicious sounds – nail raking through his hair with every rut, rolling against him the same way waves rolled over the shore of the ocean under the full moon's pull.

Your vision blurred, unfocused on the faces walking past as Wonwoo sucked a bruise into your skin. That feeling in the pit of your gut twisted painstakingly tight like an itch you couldn’t scratch. More and more, until a familiar face passed by and reality came like an ice bath. 

Mingyu.

He couldn’t see you in the shadows, and the call of his name morphed into a throaty whine as Wonwoo snaked his hand further down your spine, down the back of your pants to squeeze the curve of your ass painfully. He continued to mouth at your shoulder, unaware. When you pushed him this time he pushed back with a hungered moan until you tugged him out of hiding.

“I have to go,” you panted, melting out of his grip. Your voice was unfamiliarly husky. Everything felt slower, hazier like the smokey streets earlier. 

His body tightened, attempting to pull you closer before letting go. Lips wet with spit, he regarded you with pure confusion. “What?”

But you were already back on the street before you could answer, underwear uncomfortably sticky. A problem for later; in the dark safety of your room. With vivid memories of a handsome firebender and the way his body felt surging against yours.

You chased Mingyu down the street, snatching his hand and taking off before temptation got the better of you and marched you back into the alley for Wonwoo to finish what started. 

“We need to leave,” you said. “Now.”

“Spirits, what did you do?” Mingyu cried.

“Just go!”

Wonwoo didn’t chase, and a part of you curdled with disappointment.

Wonwoo knew he should be in bed. Sleep or not, his body needed rest after the last few nights he spent awake plagued by the nightmare of you. He couldn’t concentrate. Blows he’d block with ease slipped by, bruises littered across his torso as proof. Forms he’d been drilled on for years and years to the point of muscle memory became sloppy enough for his commanders to notice.

And it was all your fault.

You were everywhere; the teasing lit of your voice, the heat of your eyes, the taste of your lips, those soft noises you made when Wonwoo pressed his cock into your core. 

It was bad enough after the first night you challenged him. Dokyeom spent all night healing Wonwoo and it hadn’t soothed the sting of humiliation. Then came the fact that no one knew who you were; Dokyeom hadn’t gotten your name, Jeonghan took bets under ‘death wish’. No one recognized you from anywhere in the city. You were a ghost. 

But then fate granted him a second chance, only for it to slip through his fingers. Again.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Couldn’t do the one thing he’s good at without being consumed by thoughts of you.

Moonlight dappled through the trees overhead, casting everything in a hazy filter of silver and shadows. Something scurried across the trail ahead and dipped into the bushes. Wonwoo was only fifteen minutes out from the barracks, too close to people for any of the bigger creatures to venture close. Even if something did come across his path, maybe it's what he needed; a new distraction from the one who's been terrorizing him non-stop.

Besides, Wonwoo was a soldier, body trained to remain vigilant even if his mind wanders. If something decided to attack he could handle it. But only fireflies and cicada crickets disturbed the stillness of the forest late at night.

He isn’t sure how long he walked but the moon remained heavy and full in the sky. The sun lay far way away, deep beneath the horizon. Wonwoo’s thoughts wandered farther than his feet could take him, imagining how you’d be spending a night like tonight, probably somewhere getting into more trouble. Maybe freezing another drunken pervert to a wall.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. You with your nose in the air as some man begs for mercy, leaving him to rot just because you could. 

Then, as all his thoughts of you were in the past few days, the images morphed until it was you and him. You beneath him, on top of him; him between your legs, his cock, his mouth, fingers. All of it as he tried to earn your approval. 

There it was. The uncomfortable tightness across the crotch of his pants, the sweat at the edge of his collar. Even the most innocuous thoughts of you sent his body into a helpless frenzy. He hated it all the more because no matter what he did it never stopped. It didn’t matter if he trained until his bones crumbled in on themselves, muscles wilted and spent, there was a part of him immune to exhaustion in light of you. When he took the herbs the medic recommended to help him sleep, his dreams were plagued with the most vivid visions of you; even worse than the waking ones.

It was all your fault for kissing him. 

He could have dealt with the embarrassment of being defeated swiftly in the ring. Things happened, he wasn’t immune to bad luck against a good opponent. But you kissed him, and touched him. You let Wonwoo touch you as if there wasn’t a busy street of witnesses only a few feet away. You wanted him to; purred and whimpered with each drag against his thigh. If he had slipped his hand beneath your underbindings like he wanted to there would be evidence of your arousal. He wanted to do that too – where anyone could have seen him. On his knees, with his mouth between your legs as you writhed and pulled his hair until you came.

But he didn’t know your name and was at the mercy of the spirits if he was ever to see you again.

Wonwoo followed the channel, meandering with every bend as his mind worked over and over. He just needed to clear his head enough for tomorrow. After that, he’d figure something out. Find a way to find you or hope you stumbled into his path once more. 

Splashes up stream pricked his ears. The closest waterfall was at least an hour's trek upstream from the barracks, where the mountains dropped off into a steep cliff like a spirit cleaved it in half. Wonwoo didn’t know how far or how long he walked but the trees were too dense to be that far out.

The ground was no longer soft from the rain days ago and allowed Wonwoo to sneak forward without sound. It was a shame the night was so clear, the shadows hugging close to the trees, not nearly enough to conceal himself in. But it was of little consequence. 

He saw you in profile, bathed in moonlight as you stood in the river, water parted into great walls on either side. Even at a distance, Wonwoo traced the silk binding your torso and the dark leggings clinging to your thighs as you danced among the swelling waves eager to follow your whim. If he hadn’t known better, it looked like the moon was focusing her gaze on you, illuminating you from beneath your skin.

The longer he looked the more he was convinced you were a spirit. No matter how close the waves came to your person, they never seemed to make contact; water completely bent to your will, under total control.

Wonwoo shuffled closer like a moth to a flame. Completely enamored with the sight before him, he didn't realize his mistake until a twig snapped beneath his foot. 

In an instant, the sweat and humidity clinging to his clothes froze; icy crystals stinging against bare skin.

Your chuckle was barely audible over Wonwoo’s hiss of discomfort. Heat flushed through his veins, melting your attack but the chill remained.

“You know, it's getting really hard to believe you aren’t stalking me,” you called. The rings of water floated around you even with divided concentration. Something like jealousy and awe rooted in his chest.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be out in the woods tonight?”

“I’m just saying it’s convenient that you always show up when I’m alone,” you smirked. “Don’t worry. I didn’t freeze anyone to a wall this time.”

Cover blown, Wonwoo approached the dry river bank. “Speaking of that, you never said ‘thank you’ for saving your life.”

The whip circling your figure sagged back down into the stream. Wonwoo felt a piece of him warm that he was distracting enough to crack your focus so significantly despite the full moon. As you turned, he became privy to just how much visible through the silk bindings criss crossing your chest. “You didn’t save my life but thank you. Now, do you want to fight or can I get back to my training?”

He couldn’t help but focus on the glittering drops of water cradled in your collarbone. How sweet they’d taste on his tongue if given permission. 

“I think I’ll watch for now.” He took a seat on the river bank, legs sprawled in front of him, a careful bend of his knees so the tent in his pants became less obvious.

“Suit yourself,” you shrug. The tentacles previously encasing you rose once again.

It was entirely inappropriate to ogle a woman in nothing but her underclothes. If Wonwoo was a better man he’d leave, or at least have the decency to pretend he wasn’t staring like a starved wolf. But you were spectacular, flowing through different forms with ease that even the best trained guards in his unit would envy. You bent and stretched and twisted suggestively beneath the moonlight.

If you had a weakness, it didn’t show. You bent the river to your will easily, skill that only came with years of trial and failure. Wonwoo stopped admiring the sight of bare skin and focused on your strength as you flowed into the more advanced forms. Thick branches hanging over the river snapping clean from nimble water whips, tree trunks peppered with ice daggers the size of his forearm.

He couldn’t help sending a disc of flame to cut off your next water whip, collapsing it into the grass as you stared indignantly.

Another stream met a tongue of fire from his fist, a burst of steam left in its place. This time you face him with a huff and Wonwoo simply shrugged.

Wonwoo ignored your next moves. You reached over head in a wide circle, back stretched long, all the muscles and skin obstructed by the frustrating blue fabric. It wasn’t until you froze a wall of water in place that he sent a blast of heat, melting the ice to drench you. 

“Oops,” he shrugged, stifling a laugh at your indignation.

It’s not as funny when you dump half the river on him and Wonwoo was left gasping like a fish.

When he could finally breathe again, you smiled innocently with an ‘oops’ of your own. 

Then the game was on.

Unlike the disappointing night at the warehouse, Wonwoo kept up this time.

You never sparred with someone who didn’t treat you as something fragile. Even Mingyu, try as he might to entertain your wishes, refused to attack with the full force he was capable of. Wonwoo didn’t harbor the same concern.

Neither of you kept advantage for long. Every water whip evaporated before landing, each fireball snuffed by a wave. It was invigorating. You stood shaking and sweaty after hours of trading blow for blow, the moon already dipping low in the sky. Wonwoo didn’t appear to be faring any better. The bruises on his jaw were faded but new ones stained his torso, blood trickling down his elbow from a particularly nasty ice blade. Singed holes scattered your leggings but the grass and trees claimed the brunt of damage.

It would have been so much easier to concentrate if he hadn’t shed his shirt after a whip tore a jagged hole across the front, revealing a muscular torso to the pale moonlight. It was horrible knowing what beneath his clothes looked just as good as it felt the other night. Even worse when his pants ripped just above the knee and you caught a glimpse of his thigh.

The entire reason you even snuck out tonight was because of him. His taste, the feel of him pressed against you so intimately. It haunted you day and night – in sleep, while awake, in meetings, when you were all alone. There was nowhere you could go without the memory of his body against yours; nowhere you hadn’t wondered what could have happened in that alley if Mingyu hadn’t walked by. 

You needed something to banish the feeling of his mouth on yours, to dissipate the restlessness settled deep in your muscles. While wading knee deep in the river wasn’t a smart idea, there was nothing at the palace that could help. No one wanted to spar, not to the level you could during the days leading up to a full moon. It wasn’t fair to give your all while guards curbed their skills in fear of hurting you.

So you bid an early goodnight, feigning some sort of illness and retired to your room before the sun had set. Once the moon started her venture across the sky you dug in the back of your wardrobe for the dark clothes from days prior. They were wrinkled but served their purpose. With Mingyu standing guard at your apartment entrance, you snuck out the tunnels and into the city beyond the palace walls. 

The clearing was exactly what you needed. Plenty of water and space to lose control, trees offering their service as target practice for whatever twisted move your mind conjured. It helped. Your muscles strained with a level of exhaustion unfamiliar to you, enough so that your mind couldn’t roam as easily. But then he plowed through the forest like he owned it. Of course you couldn’t have a moment of peace, the spirits wouldn’t allow you to indulge in serene silence if they could help it. They sent Wonwoo straight to you as an act of retribution for your long list of sins.

But sparring with him burned away some of the tension. If you were fighting with Wonwoo then you couldn’t think about all the other cravings; of finishing what you started against that wall. Sending ice floes at his head kept him far enough away that even if you wanted to pull him against a tree or down to the grass, you couldn’t.

“Is that really all you got?” he taunted. Wonwoo’s pain is clear on his brow, every step closer punctuated by a limp and labored breathing. 

“Oh, please,” you grunted, launching a weak ice disc at his head. The wall of fire lapping at your heels disintegrated as Wonwoo dodged. “As if you could handle more.”

Something feral flashed in his eye at the taunt. “Try me.”

Well at least this time he wasn’t so disappointingly easy to overwhelm.

You skated across the clearing. With the river to your back once again, you pressed the advantage and sent wave after wave. Wonwoo narrowly dodged them with well timed kicks, his fire dispersing them into steam. But each volley soaked clearing until he struggled to remain upright on the muddy ground as he approached the riverbank.

With your next attack, he fell on his back with a hard grunt. For a long second he didn’t move and you worried you’d seriously injured him this time. 

“Wonwoo?”

His chest rattled with each labored breath as you approached. He looked horrible; a mess of sweat and dirt, hair matted to his head. His eyes flickered with pain as he stared up at you, hesitating to take your outstretched hand before accepting.

Back on his feet, Wonwoo wasted no time tackling you into the water.

Breaking the surface, you screeched, “You jerk!”

“Come on! I got that move from you,” he laughed.

Even in the midst of dunking his head under, your blood warmed at the sound. He gripped your body tightly to his own, pinning your wrists together in one hand, effectively cutting off your bending. But you refused to go down without a fight. Fortunately he didn’t think you’d be formidable at hand to hand combat and while it was true, he was stronger, you slammed your foot against his thigh, breaking Wonwoo’s hold long enough to slip away.

He breached and sputtered before following again. “Where did you learn that?” 

You tussled on the shore, shoving handfuls of mud into each other’s hair and skin. Your legs hooked around his waist, rolling until you sat on his stomach.

Bad idea.

You’re close enough to trace the silver scar through Wonwoo’s brow. A fraction lower, his eyes light with the same fire as when you kissed him the other night. Rocks bit through the thin fabric of your pants, jagged against your knees. But Wonwoo was unaware, tilting his chin up to capture your lips. 

You bore down on him, sighing into the seductive heat of his mouth. Wonwoo groaned with a curl of his hips. It took all your focus to snatch his hands from your waist and pin them above his head but he didn’t seem to mind as you rained a series of wet kisses down the column of his neck. 

He made another desperate sound as you tugged at the water just out of reach, freezing thick cuffs from Wonwoo’s elbow up to his fingertips.

“Gotcha,” you whispered against his throat. 

He slumped into the ground, an indignant huff fanning across your forehead. “Very funny.”

“From where I’m sitting, it is.”

You’re smirk dissolved as he rolled his hips once again. The force sending you up his chest, hands bracketing his shoulders in an effort to maintain balance. To your shame, a sharp gasp squeezed from your lungs at the motion.

“What was that?”

His face – barely an inch away – was lax despite his confinement. It’s enticing. The way he’s spread out, chest displayed, muscles stretched; all of him on display, including the stains on his skin tugging at your conscience. Your hand glided down his chest, catching droplets from the stream to heal the fresher injuries. Those muscles flexed under your gentle touch before relaxing. Wonwoo’s eyes closed with a sigh of relief as cuts knitted back together and bruises faded.

“You’re really bad at this,” you said plainly, shifting focus away from the need to rut down. 

Wonwoo’s eyes widened for a moment, ears reddening before he sputtered. The realization dawned on you like the icy waters of the river. Oh. 

“Not that!” you corrected. “Fighting me. I’d thought you’d be better this time.”

“It’s a full moon,” he argued, eyes closing once again as you mended a scratch along his chin. It wasn’t even bleeding, but the compulsion to touch him was too strong to ignore.

“So? I could fight you with my hands behind my back and still win.”

“Wanna test that theory?”

With a dismissive wave the ice trapping Wonwoo melted before you answered, rising to your feet before you did something stupid. He was healed enough. “I think I’ve done enough damage to your ego.”

He barely reared back his fist for an attack when the same water froze him again. Now, with his arms and legs immobilized, he glared up at you. Predictable.

Without thinking, you pinned his chest down with a muddy foot. You couldn’t help it; something so satisfying as having him at your mercy conjured the reckless parts of your brain. “Yield.”

His eyes followed the line of your leg, up your torso, only pausing on your wet breast bindings for a moment, and then finally met your gaze. “If I don’t?”

“I can leave you here,” you shrugged, only to hide a shiver. “I’m sure you’ll thaw out by noon.”

Perhaps it'd be better to leave him shackled to the ground. You could leave him and get back to the palace before doing anything scandalous. He could still firebend as long as his mouth was uncovered, and after all the noise of the battle none of the wild life would come close before he freed himself. But Wonwoo wasn’t fond of the idea of waiting until morning to leave.

“Fine,” Wonwoo huffed. “I yield.”

The ice melted again, soaking his pants. No sooner did you turn around, Wonwoo sent a lick of flame at your ankle and, in your attempt to dodge, you sprawled next to him with a hard thud.

“You yielded,” you groaned in pain.

“I’m a sore loser.” Wonwoo rolled to his side, the weight of his gaze heavy on your face. One of his hands found the strip of skin between your bindings and your legs, tracing it with maddening pressure. How easy would it be for him to slip that same hand beneath your pants and touch you again. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“I practice a lot.”

“With who? Assassins?.”

One of your eyes opened to glare. “I watched a few of your matches. You’re…predictable.”

“I never saw you at the warehouse before.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be seen.” 

Wonwoo took the opportunity to cover your body with his own, a thigh back between your legs and pressed just right against your center. His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath your jaw as he crumbled your defenses. You could afford to indulge a little bit; some kissing, more of that mind numbing friction from the market. Just to set your nerves at ease, untangle that insufferable knot in the pit of your stomach.

“And why is that?”

Before you can answer, Wonwoo kissed you again but this time you were prepared; surging up to meet him like a tidal wave.

Somehow, the weight of his body like that was even better than when he crowded you against the wall; heavy and satisfying for you to grind against, chasing warm friction. This time he touched without restraint, tugging at your bindings until they fell slack, committing the new swaths of bare skin to memory with his mouth and wandering hands. 

His tongue traced the slope of your breast, the chill in the forest pinching your nipples tight for his teeth to take one between. 

“Oh,” you moaned, fingers tangled in his hair, urging him to give more. Wonwoo offered the sting of a bite, sucking harder when you made the same depraved sound. You felt it everywhere, down to your core where he pressed against you with a kick of his hips. Far better than when you tried touching yourself after he had lit a consuming hunger in your veins. As if Wonwoo knew the spots driving you mad better than you ever would.

No one was around to hear the way you gasped his name as his hand snaked between your legs, the heel of it nothing short of mind numbing as it rocked against your clit.

“Still predictable?”

You leveled your gaze with his, furious at the confidence you found. During the spar you met him blow for blow. This would be no different, just a new stage.

“You’re hard and trying to scandalize the wildlife after I kicked your ass,” you stuttered through the last bit because Wonwoo curled his fingers against a spot you didn’t know existed. “You’re incredibly predictable.”

You touched him just as eagerly; dipping beneath the tight cling of his pants and fisting his cock with false bravado.

He stopped when you thumbed the leaking tip, huffing against your chest with a throaty groan of his own before continuing with renewed energy. Wonwoo pressed himself through your loose grip, back and forth and back and forth with that mesmerizing hardness that was soft like velvet and hotter than any fire he’d attacked you with; each cant in time with the way you rocked against him. Until he followed your lead and dipped his hand beneath your leggings, calloused fingertips sliding timidly as you writhed beneath him.

“Wonwoo, please.” You needed something, anything. He kept his teeth at your breast, sucking and licking while a finger shallowly dipped inside you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he gritted, pulling until you sat back in his lap completely bare from the waist up, the silk of your bindings left on the ground.

I don’t know! I don’t know, tell me what I need, you thought; but you'd rather die than admit inexperience. Instead, you acted on instinct. Each rock of your hips proved it was the right path, the tight press of his fingers better with the new angle as you clung to him. You sank further into it, Wonwoo encouraging you to take whatever you wanted.

It was too much and not enough. Your chest thrusted forward with every motion, and the hand cupping you gently turned into rough pinches hard enough to sting; his mouth the same. 

Maybe you could sneak out of the palace every night for this, or sneak Wonwoo in. It wouldn’t be too difficult. He could give this to whenever you needed, no one the wiser as you bared yourself between the sheets for his eyes only. 

“So fucking wet.” He punctuated the observation with another finger, palm rocking into that explosive place again and again. You’re knocked off-balance. Knees spread wide to accommodate and Wonwoo took full advantage to brush your hand away from his cock and pull you further into his lap, both hands beneath your bottoms; perfect to roll against as he leaned back to watch. “Don’t seem disappointed now.”

You swam through the beginning of something, Wonwoo’s voice grounding you back down to reality. The goading you could do without but it’s a small price to pay. As long as he maintained the wet slide of your core, he could say whatever he wanted. Your mouth dropped open, head tilted back as your thighs quaked. 

“I—” you gasped. All at once the world snapped into a million stars.

He kissed you; your chest, your throat, cheeks, lips. Anywhere Wonwoo could reach was stained with the warmth of his mouth as you shuddered with teary eyes, raking pink lines into his chest. He swallowed each wrecked sound until you kissed back with shaky breath.

 “You’re dirty.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

His humor exploded against your cheek, laughter tickling your ears as he dragged a finger across your collarbone. He meant the mud caked to your back, knotted in your hair. But you couldn't focus on the ridiculousness. Wonwoo was still hard, the dewy tip of his cock peeking from the band of his pants. The sight made your chest ache.

The laughter turned to a stunted moan as you gripped him once more. You shifted down his thighs to make more room, but Wonwoo kept you close, nipping at your jaw with each stroke. It’s unlike anything you felt before, the power, the thrill of undoing him, watching as he crumbled into a panting mess beneath your fingers. You pulled his hair and licked behind his teeth.

“O-oh. Fuck,” he groaned. His head fell back, the smooth skin of his throat enticing as he swallowed another sound; the pale glow of early dawn sun providing a startling contrast.

Panic flooded your veins. You looked up and found the moon sunk deeper to make room for the new day.

You were late.

“Shit. Shit. I have to go.” You scrambled away, snagging your bindings. They were disgusting but you had no time to wash them. At least the shirt you snuck out in would hide the wreckage. You tied them tight, whipping around to find the rest of your clothes.

“What?” Wonwoo blinked, as if he was waking from a dream; eyes glazed, cock dewy and pink in his lap as he stared up at you. 

You flushed, tempted to sit back down and pretend it was a mistake. The voice whispering in the back of your head wanted nothing to do with responsibilities and obligations. You wanted this. To be reckless and enjoy what Wonwoo offered, and feel the way he responded when offered the same.

But the pale morning light brought reality with it. 

“I’m sorry. I—” There was nothing else you could say. No explanation that wouldn’t leave you both with heartache. So you kissed him softly, long and slow, until Wonwoo’s fingers tickled back across your hips and you remembered you had to go. Now. “I’m sorry.”

And then you sprinted home without looking back.

After the beating Wonwoo received into the early hours of this morning, perhaps he should feel the same bruise to his ego like the weeks before when his face resembled the wrong end of a moose dragon. Even with the best healing, his body ached for days after. A constant reminder not only had he lost, but done so in front of one of the biggest crowds the warehouse ever had. 

But even though he lost again last night, he’d won enough to walk on clouds like an airbender.

You were distracting while in your element but when you came? He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. Helpless to the vision of your chin tipped back, spine arched as you moaned his name. Never mind he had to finish himself after you fled, returning to the barracks to hide in the bathroom like a teenager. The memory was enough, it only took a few strokes before he found his own satisfaction; though he preferred to find it with you next time.

Not even the weary day ahead dampened his glow despite the lack of sleep. The Queen rarely visited, and the princess never. But today they planned to, and that meant everything must be in perfect order which included new uniforms starched until Wonwoo could hardly bend.

The courtyard was packed with guards of all levels, cadeats to captains. They spent the morning sparring and working through basic forms under the watchful eye of Commander Aiko, Wonwoo overseeing the training ring. Under the high noon sun, the firebenders maintained a clear advantage over anyone else but Wonwoo conserved his energy for later. Once the Queen arrived, Commander Aiko would no doubt drag him out for a demonstration for the old man to tout as his own accomplishment.

It’d be good to remind the others of his skill, how he earned his rank through nothing but sheer determination. Most of the teasing had faded in the past month but it never hurt to make sure. Just because he lost to you didn’t mean he couldn’t defeat any of them. It wasn’t a fluke, you were just better. Wonwoo admired your skill but next time he’d win.

But he banished those thoughts for now. He’d found you twice – by chance but he still found you – a third time felt inevitable. There was too much unfinished business for him to believe otherwise. When he did have you again, he wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.

It wasn’t until later afternoon that the royal procession arrived, palace guards donned in stark black uniform circling a pair of women like hawk vultures. He couldn’t see the princess’s face from where he stood, only the stretch of silk across her shoulders as Commander Aiko gestured animatedly.

Rumor had it the princess was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, with soft manners. kind eyes, and a gentle soul. Not that anyone saw her outside the palace. The queen kept her under lock and key, rightfully so as her only heir. But tales of her beauty and warmth flowed freely. She was the kind of princess men went to war for. Sacrificed their lives for. 

And as such, most of the men had put extra time into preparing this morning; shaving and hogging mirrors in the bathroom to fix their hair. As if the princess would look upon one of them and find interest in a man with no title, no money, and no influence. The stuff of legends that Wonwoo had no interest in.

Wonwoo supervised the officers as they attempted to throttle one another. Apparently rumors of the princess’ presence inspired their best; it was almost pathetic if he wasn’t impressed by their creativity. 

Rone yanked the ground from beneath Pono’s feet, rushing the smaller man forward into his fist covered in rock. The force would’ve knocked Pono unconscious if he hadn’t used the momentum to leap over Rone with a gust of air and slam his knee into his chest. Rone doubled over, gasping for breath.

“That’s enough,” Wonwoo called. “Ura. Tou. You’re up. Try not killing each other this time.”

Ura shook her head. “You light a guy on fire once.”

“Six!” Tou screamed. “You’ve lit me on fire SIX TIMES!”

“Make it seven,” someone on the sidelines cheered.

Ura lunged at To with a fire whip but Wonwoo was distracted with a call of his name before he could see Tou redirect it.

“Captain Jeon, I’d like to introduce you to her Royal Majesty and her granddaughter, Princess Y/N”

Wonwoo, remembering his manners to never turn his back to the royal family, whipped around fast enough everything blurred as he rushed to bow. “Your Majesty, Your Highness.”

“Commander Aiko has told me much about you, Captain Jeon,” a voice greeted him, definitely the Queen from the rich timbre. “I hope you’ll honor us with a demonstration of your skills later.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It’d be an honor.” 

Wonwoo rose and finally got his first glance of the princess. She was even more beautiful than the stories claimed, face glowing in the sun, not a hair out of place. A dress of rich fabric, embroidered with pearls in a wave motif at the collar, hugged her figure but didn’t betray the power beneath.

While he couldn’t vouch for manners, your eyes were anything but kind. If looks could kill, Wonwoo was a dead man walking. His veins froze. Absolutely not. This was not happening. It was a dream, a sick and twisted dream where he made out with royalty in a field without knowing. 

It didn’t make sense. 

You bowed, eyes averted to your shoes with a greeting in return. The wild energy that possessed you in the field was nowhere to be found; extinguished by faux meekness and rigid posture.

“Jeon,” Aiko started, preening like a peacock. “Give Princess Y/N a tour of the grounds. She’s never seen men in action.”

Wonwoo managed to silence his snort of disbelief but couldn’t help the quip dripping from his tongue. “Oh, I doub—”

“A tour would be wonderful, Captain Jeon,” you cut him off. Your teeth gleamed like knives, gaze pointed. The wildness was still there and a bolt of fear flashed through him.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Wonwoo spun on his heel, leading you to the far side of the training ring while Ura and Tou lulled into a standoff, circling one another warily. He couldn’t help but feel you and him were doing the same.

Embarrassment, betrayal. It’s why you hadn’t told him your name, he realized. Not at the warehouse, not at the market, not even in the field. You played him for a fool again and again. And he let you

Tou knocked Ura’s left leg out from beneath her with a blazing kick. She fell to her knees but Ura rolled just in time to avoid Tou’s fist, dragging an arch of flame up with her heel and forcing Tou back.

You hovered beside Wonwoo, silently watching the fight. He refused to look at you because if he did then no doubt someone would notice his anger. And why would he be angry at the princess? Wonwoo never officially met you, this is technically the first time he’s ever seen you let alone spoken to you. 

From opposite sides of the training ring, Ura and Tou’s both thrust their palms forward to summon fire streams thick enough the air around them shimmers as they collide; blue versus red. The crowd of guards watching stepped back, tugging at their collars. Wonwoo was tempted to step forward and join the fight, work out some of the restless annoyance burning beneath his skin.

“Impressive,” you commented, features tinged golden by the flame. 

Wonwoo would have agreed if Ura’s ankle hadn’t quivered. Tou, forever soft for the willowy firebender, refused to take advantage of her weakness. He’d throw a hundred matches before using Ura’s injury against her. And Ura knew it.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“You don’t exactly seem interested in any sort of conversation,” you shot back.

You were right. Wonwoo didn’t want to talk anymore than he wanted to pull his own teeth out. What he wanted was to wake from this horrible dream, for Hoshi to come out of the woodwork and reveal this was all an elaborate prank. 

Wonwoo winced as Ura grappled Tou down to his knees, slinging her arm around his neck and pulling him into a chokehold. Then he turned to look at you. “Pardon me for coming to terms with the fact I got into a fist fight with royalty. It’s a first for me.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I didn’t plan this.” You have the sense to look ashamed, eyes on the ground Tou wiggled out of Ura’s grip and scrambled to his feet.

“Do you know how much trouble I could get in if anyone found out I tried to fight you? I could be executed.”

“That wasn’t—” You stopped abruptly, chest expanding with a deep breath. “You said you were from the Middle District. How was I supposed to know you were a part of the Crown’s Guard?”

“I am from the Middle District.”

Your fingers bunched in the pleats of your robes. “But most of the guards are from the Noble's Quarter.”

“I’m not like most men. But I don’t expect you to understand what it means to earn something.”

“I think I earn my victories quite well,” you spat. “Perhaps you would like another demonstration, Captain Jeon.”

In the ring, Ura and Tou came to a standstill. The inky braid coiled on Ura’s head had long unraveled, tangled and lopsided as it hung down her back. Tou’s new jacket was signed at the collar, cuffs smoldering as well. They looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Wonwoo waited a long moment before speaking again. It would do no good to insult you. Already the darkest corners of his anger were brightening. “That was…unkind of me. I apologize.”

“Your insults are as deficient as your bending,” you smiled and strode away leaving Wonwoo to follow like a scorned puppy.

Ura and Tou waned but continued. 

“Why don’t either of them give up?” you asked. 

“Ura agreed to marry Tou if he could beat her in a fight.”

“I thought relations between guards were forbidden.”

“They are. It’s why Tou refuses to take advantage of her weak ankle.”

“Then why would she…”

“If you’re asking me to explain their relationship then I have no answers,” Wonwoo replied as Tou finally yielded and another pair of troops took their place. “You’re lucky most of the guards don’t go to those matches or we’d both be in serious trouble.”

“If none of the other guards go, why were you there?”

“I’ve been doing it for years. They pay well and I needed money.”

Wonwoo leaves the rest unsaid. What other reason did a Middle District kid have to fight other than money? He took his beatings in the public arena for years because coin was coin. He never planned to become skilled enough to start winning. But when he did, after years of blood, sweat, and tears, he was good enough for the Crown Guard to take notice and Seungcheol to bring him into the fold before retiring. Now, Wonwoo had a free place to sleep, albeit it was barely large enough for him and the four other men he shared it with, all on bunk beds. But it was far better than the fifty man barrack he started in years ago. There were free meals and hot showers and his patrols through the Noble's Quarter rarely were more than counting the number of steps through his route before he ended up back where he started. 

The fighting kept his skills sharp in the way training couldn’t. Commander Aiko didn’t like his cheap shots or the scrappiness Wonwoo learned in the ring. They were ‘undignified’ for one of the Royal Army, especially the Crown’s Guard. But more often than not, they were the edge he had on the other officers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never intended to put you in such a difficult position. I just—”

“You just what, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat before softening. “How am I supposed to be Queen if I’m not allowed to actually see my kingdom?”

Seeing your kingdom felt like an odd way to describe what you and Wonwoo had been doing away from wandering eyes but he didn’t dwell.

“Probably not by lying.”

“Or by freezing men to walls.”

The attempt at humor softened and soured Wonwoo’s mood all at once. Rationally, he knew he should be angry. Furious even. But it was not that simple. If he was in your shoes, what would he have done? Probably far worse than sneaking out for a night on the town. Even too many hours at the barracks had a way of making him crave for the anonymity of the city streets he grew up on. 

Wonwoo was not angry, annoyed maybe. Even as you stood, wrapped in the finest silks he’d ever seen with enough sapphires and pearls pinned in your hair for him to buy a village, it was pity he felt rather than disdain. To be forced to hide the wildness you possessed behind pretense and perform exactly what was expected of you. Could he blame you for wanting a break from it all?

Judging by the hopeful look on your face you wanted to leave the entire ordeal in the past, same as him.

“That might help you on the throne.”

You smiled and looked back at the two men sparring in the ring who were fighting with swords, the smaller one locking their hilts together and twisting until the larger man was forced to release his weapon. 

He’d be infatuated with you but that was all it was; all it could be. A funny story to remember years and years from now, when his children’s children were grown. They’d call him crazy for rambling about how he once knew the princess.

He couldn’t help his next question. “And everything else? Are you sorry for that too?”

A blight of confusion twisted your face before your eyes bulged. Years of etiquette schooled your features swiftly but Wonwoo felt pleased to see you off kilter as he felt, however brief. You should be just as uncomfortable with the looming consequences of what happened in that field as he was.

The satisfaction didn’t last long.

You turned to face him head on, leveling him with a heavy gaze. “Are you?”

Wonwoo choked.

It seems the fire from before was not completely snuffed out under pounds of finery. 

“I think I’ve seen enough of the grounds. It's quite warm and I feel myself growing faint.”

When he finally regained his senses, Wonwoo followed several steps behind, face tinged red. Hopefully everyone mistook it as a result of a day in the sun rather than a battle of wits. 

Commander Aiko and the Queen ceased their conversation as you approached them..

“What do you think of our troops, Your Highness?” Aiko asked.

“They are very impressive, Commander,” you smiled.

By some great miracle, Aiko stood fifteen feet taller with your compliments. It itches at the back of Wonwoo’s brain that a compliment could slip off your tongue so easily towards others but not towards him. 

“I’m pleased my men are up to your standards. Captain Jeon is one of my best, you’ll be completely safe in his care during next month's festivities.”

“Pardon?” you and Wonwoo asked at the same time.

Aiko frowned. “Her Majesty insisted on additional protection due to the increased presence at the palace. Surely, she informed you?”

“She did,” you nodded. “But wouldn’t Captain Jeon’s expertise be more valuable elsewhere? It’d be a shame for his skills to be wasted guarding me when we will be surrounded by allies.”

“In the event something might go wrong, is it not better to have someone as trained as he is to protect you?”

Wonwoo wanted to argue that you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But clearly your bending talents were a secret, at least to Commander Aiko. Perhaps that was for the best; the element of surprise was a powerful tool, one you wielded well. A glance at your blanked expression all but confirmed it.

Aiko continued, “You are next in line, therefore your safety is second only to the Queen herself. Captain Jeon would be honored to serve you.”

The old man leveled Wonwoo with an expectant look, giving him two options: reject the position and directly insult the crown and his commanding officer, inadvertently signing his own death warrant. Or accept, play minder for however long was required. Then he could return to his life and pretend none of this ever happened.

“It would be my honor to serve the royal family and her Highness.”

Wonwoo convinced himself that the disappointment in your eyes was wishful thinking. 

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[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little boy Part 4 (Dahyun)

Y/N: So finally I have sometime to translate a fic, I have trimmed down some parts so it would not be too lenghty. Incest fic with Mommy Dahyun, and even make her pregrant, enjoy!

Dahyun is a single mother. Her husband passed away from illness many years ago, leaving her and her young son to rely on each other.

Since her husband passed away, Dahyun has been missing him every day. However, to raise her son to adulthood, she has to work tirelessly to earn money to support the family. In the dead of night, Dahyun often tosses and turns in bed, unable to fall asleep, and her physical desires rise accordingly. But she doesn't dare casually find a man to satisfy her physical needs, fearing it might cast a shadow and impact her son's growth.

At times like this, Dahyun can only rely on her own hands to relieve her physical needs. She would quietly turn off the room lights, take off her underwear, gently rub the two rosy spots on her chest with her hands, then reach down to the already muddy little hole, inserting and withdrawing her fingers until she reached climax.

But such self-satisfaction always leaves one feeling empty and lost; Dahyun longs for a real embrace to lean on. She has never been able to take that step out of consideration for her son.

However, what Dahyun did not expect was that unbeknownst to her, her son was secretly developing unusual feelings for her. Whenever she was alone in her room "entertaining herself," there was always a pair of burning eyes outside the door, closely watching her every move.

The voyeur was none other than her son—me. Ever since Dad passed away, I have been secretly watching over everything about Mom. I watched as my mother gradually became thinner, knowing that she was very lonely. One time, I accidentally stumbled upon my mother in the act of masturbation, awakening something within me. From then on, I often hid outside the door when my mother was unaware, secretly watching her private actions, and even masturbated while watching.

Dahyun was completely unaware of this and continued to live her ordinary life every day. But she didn't know that the embrace she longed for day and night was right beside her.

As time went by, my desire for my mother grew increasingly rampant. I was not satisfied with just peeking from outside the door; instead, I started stealing my mother's underwear to comfort myself.

Whenever my mother was not home, I would sneak into her room and open the wardrobe to look for her worn clothes. I would pick up her wore but unwashed bra, inhale the lingering scent deeply, and then put it on my erect penis to rub against it.; Or take a pair of silk panties that mom wore but haven't been washed yet, wrap them around my cock, and jerk off like crazy. Imagining that this is Mom's little hole swallowing my cock, I always quickly reached climax.

Sometimes when Mom is at home, I pretend to accidentally drop something on the floor, taking the opportunity to quickly glance at Mom's legs while bending down to pick it up, sneaking a peek at the color and style of Mom's underwear. If she is putting on a new pair of underwear, I will specifically choose that one to use the next time I steal underwear.

In addition to stealing underwear, I also started secretly filming videos of my mother masturbating with my phone. One time, I heard strange sounds coming from my mother's room. I quietly opened the door and saw Dahyun lying on the bed with her legs spread apart, one hand kneading her breasts and the other moving rapidly in her vagina. That scene made my blood boil, and I immediately took out my phone and started recording my mother's private parts. In the video, it is clearly visible that Mom's pink labia are being spread open, fingers going in and out, the sound of water is continuous, and her expression gradually becomes more and more lustful.

From then on, whenever Mom was alone, I would take the opportunity to secretly film her naked. I have already collected countless videos of my mother during her orgasms, which I can watch and masturbate anytime, anywhere.

Dahyun was completely unaware of all this and continued to live her monotonous life day after day. She never imagined that her closest son would develop such perverse desires towards her.

I could no longer bear the desire that had been suppressed in my heart for many years. One day during dinner, I suddenly said to Dahyun, "Mom, I have something to tell you."

Dahyun looked at me with some surprise, thinking I had gotten into trouble at school again. "Y/N, what's wrong? Did the teacher make you stand in the corner again?"

"No, Mom. I want to tell you that my feelings for you... are a bit complicated."

Dahyun paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "What do kids know about love? The most important thing for you right now is to study hard."

"Not at all!" I suddenly became agitated, stood up, and took off my pants, revealing a thick, erect penis. "My feelings for you, Mom, are not just simple affection! I know you've been lonely all these years, just like I have! Every time you're alone in your room, I stand outside, staring at your body, wanting to possess you, to touch you, to give you true pleasure!"

Dahyun stared at me in disbelief; my words had completely shattered her worldview. She never expected her son to have such taboo feelings for her. "Y/N! What are you talking about? I'm your mother, how can you have such thoughts about me?!"

"But I can't help it, Mom! Every night, I think about your masturbation and watch videos of you to climax. I know it's wrong, but I just can't control myself!" I gripped my penis and moved it up and down, my eyes fixed on Dahyun's body. "Mom, I know you're lonely too. Why can't we satisfy each other? “I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure..."

"Enough!" Dahyun angrily interrupted me, turned around, rushed back to her room, and locked the door. She lay on the bed, crying uncontrollably, feeling deeply guilty for having ignored her son's emotional changes all these years. At the same time, she felt deeply fearful and uneasy about her son's thoughts.

The next morning, Dahyun woke up early as usual to prepare breakfast for me. I came downstairs to the dining room, and as soon as I sat down, I pulled one of Dahyun's hands and placed it on my lap.

"Mom, please reconsider what I said last night.” I know this sounds crazy, but for so many years I've been suppressing my feelings for you, and now I really can't stand it anymore. As long as you are willing to give me a chance, I will make you feel an unprecedented pleasure..."

Dahyun was so scared she almost jumped up, hurriedly pulling her hand away. "Y/N! What are you doing? I'm your biological mother! How can we do such a thing!"

"Mom, listen to me..." I reached out and gently pulled Dahyun closer to me, then hugged her tightly. "I know this is hard to accept, but don't you really want to experience it? “You’ve been through so much alone all these years; I can't bear to see you continue living in such loneliness. Believe me, you will find true happiness with me..."

Dahyun struggled desperately but couldn't escape my embrace. She looked at her son in terror, this child she had loved and cared for since I was little, now harbouring such wicked thoughts towards her.

"Y/N, wake up! We are mother and son, doing such things is against moral ethics! Even if you don't understand these principles now because you are still young, you will regret what you did today when you grow up!"

"No, Mom. I am already an adult now, I can take responsibility for my actions. And you should indulge yourself once, experience the true pleasure of sex..."

I said this as I began to kiss Dahyun's cheeks and neck, my hands restlessly roaming over her body. Dahyun only felt a wave of dizziness, her whole body weakly collapsing into her son's embrace.

"Don't... Y/N... let go of me... I'm your mother... we can't do this..."

"Shh..." I once again took Dahyun's hand and placed it on my throbbing member. "Mom, look, my cock has become so big. It's craving your comfort. Do you know how much I crave your body? Every time I watch you in the bathroom, I can't help but imagine how beautiful and captivating your naked body is. Why don't we give in to our inner desires and try a taboo relationship just this once?

Dahyun felt her son's palm as hot as a branding iron, tightly gripping her small hand and sliding it along my shaft. My penis is so huge that it almost swallows her entire hand. She never thought her son would develop such a huge thing; it was simply beyond her comprehension.

As her palm rubbed, a surge of heat quickly surged into Dahyun's brain, causing her to involuntarily let out a soft gasp. She hadn't tasted the pleasures of the flesh in a long time, and her lower body was gradually becoming moist.

“Oh my... my son's manhood... so thick and strong... if only it could come inside... how pleasurable it would be...”

Dahyun's cheeks flushed, her reason gradually being eroded by her body's desires. Although she still felt resistance in her heart, she couldn't stop herself from fantasizing and desiring her son's penis. This kind of taboo thought made her feel incredibly ashamed, yet it also brought an inexplicable excitement.

"Mom, I'm waiting for your answer... Are you really not willing to give me a chance to satisfy your needs? I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure... trust me..."

Her son's whispers echoed in her ears, and Dahyun's body trembled suddenly. She knew she had already been captivated by her son's words. Reason told her she shouldn't agree to such a request, but desire kept tempting her.

Dahyun is still struggling with whether to give in to her son's desires, with reason and desire waging a fierce battle in her heart. Her son's penis was simply too sexy and alluring; its hot, firm touch made it hard for her to resist. But as a mother, how could she do something so morally wrong?

I was unaware of the conflict in my mother's heart; I was only focused on enjoying the sensual scene before me. I vigorously kneaded Dahyun's round breasts and erected nipples, feeling their elasticity and softness in my hands. I then turned to knead Dahyun's full, perky buttocks, my fingers sliding between the two fleshy cheeks.

“Ah... so comfortable... Mom's body is truly perfect... I can finally possess you... I'm going to thoroughly enjoy your body...”

I was extremely excited, and my actions became bolder and bolder. However, I overlooked a fact—I was just a newly adult young man who had no idea how to control my strength. My rough touches and pinches left Dahyun's body marked with red, making her cry out in pain.

"Ah... Y/N... be gentler... you're hurting me..."

Dahyun twisted her body trying to escape, only to find herself in an even deeper predicament. Her son's rough caresses, though somewhat painful, were also igniting her desires. She unconsciously began to stroke my penis with her hand, the thick and powerful sensation igniting her desire.

“Ah... I can't take it anymore... I want more... I want my son's cock...”

Dahyun's rationality had long been thrown out the window; she was immersed in the ultimate pleasure brought by her son.

I was brought to the peak of pleasure by Dahyun's sudden actions, almost reaching climax immediately. I stopped moving, and took a deep breath to calm myself down. 

"Mom... have you finally decided to give in to my desires?" 

Dahyun lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her son's questioning gaze. "I... I don't know... I shouldn't have agreed... but I... I just couldn't control myself... Your cock is just too sexy and alluring... it's hard for me to resist..."

I was overjoyed, grabbing Dahyun and kissing her deeply on the lips. "Mom... I knew you would also be entranced by my cock... Let's start today... Let me take good care of you..." After saying this, I couldn't wait to tear off Dahyun's clothes, revealing her snow-white body. I eagerly licked and kissed the two rosy points on Dahyun's chest, then continued down, biting her lower abdomen and thighs.

“Ah... son... slow down... don't be so impatient...”

Dahyun gently pushed my shoulder, trying to stop my overly rough attack. However, I seemed completely lost in Dahyun's beautiful body, ignoring her resistance. I forcefully spread Dahyun's thighs, revealing her most secret garden.

“Mom... I can't wait any longer... I want to possess you right now...”

I pressed my cock against Dahyun's clits, preparing to insert it. Dahyun suddenly woke up and grabbed my wrist.

"Wait... I... I can't do this... this is just too wrong..."

"Mom... please... just let me have you this once... just this once... I promise I won't bring it up again in the future..."

I rubbed my penis against Dahyun's labia, trying to make her give up her last resistance.

Dahyun had already turned into a puddle under her son's onslaught, her reason no longer able to hold out. "Alright... just this once... you must never bring it up again..."

Hearing Dahyun's consent, I was overjoyed as if I had struck a treasure, I quickly spread Dahyun's thighs and thrust into her hardly.

"Ah!!" Dahyun moaned loudly, her son's huge cock penetrated directly to the deepest point, and her vagina was completely filled. "Y/N...be gentle...it's too big for me..."

"Mom...it feels so good...you're so tight inside...I'm going to move..."

I said and began to thrust hard, my thick cock tumbling inside Dahyun's body. Dahyun was knocked wildly by me, and she lost all reason for a moment. She could only instinctively follow the rhythm and move her waist to suit me.

"Hmm...ah...Junhao...so powerful...you penetrate so deeply...I'm about to be fucked by you..."

Dahyun's eyes were blurred, and she kept moaning incoherently. She had never thought that incest with her son would bring such intense pleasure as if her whole body was about to melt.

I was even more excited when I heard my mother's moans, and my movements became more and more wild.

I listened to my mother's moans, becoming even more excited, my movements growing wilder.

"Ah... Mom... it feels so good... you're so tight inside... I can't take it anymore..."

My breathing became heavier, and my pace quickened. I no longer cared about any techniques of shallow or deep thrusts, only thinking about fiercely possessing Dahyun's body.

Dahyun quickly intervened, "Y/N... slow down... if you go too fast, you'll cum quickly... we finally have this opportunity... you need to try to prolong it..."

However, how could I, who was experiencing sex for the first time, possibly hold back? I was already too deeply enchanted by Dahyun's body and just wanted to reach the climax as soon as possible. I increased the intensity of my thrusts, each one hitting deep inside Dahyun.

"Ah... Mom... I can't take it anymore... I'm going to cum..."

My cock throbbed inside Dahyun, releasing thick streams of semen that filled her vagina for the first time.

"Oh... Y/N... why did you finish so quickly..."

Dahyun helplessly watched as her son pulled out his softening member, a stream of white semen flowing from her open entrance.

"I'm sorry, Mom... I'm just too excited... It's too exciting to do this with you for the first time... I will try to keep longer next time..."

I lowered my head in shame. I originally thought I was well prepared, but I didn't expect to be conquered so easily by Dahyun's alluring body.

"It doesn't matter... This time we finally got what we wanted... You don't have to worry too much about time... We will have many opportunities in the future..."

Seeing that I was a little disappointed, Dahyun couldn't help but feel pity. She sat up, holding my cock with one hand, and wrapped her other hand around my neck and pulled me towards her.

"Good boy... don't be discouraged... we still have time... let mommy teach you now..."

Dahyun took my softened cock into her mouth and sucked it carefully. I felt a familiar feeling of pleasure return and couldn't help but let out a comfortable cry.

"Mom...your mouth feels so comfortable...I'm getting hard again..."

Dahyun glanced up at me with a look of satisfaction in her eyes. She sped up her swallowing speed, sometimes swiping the crown with the tip of her tongue.

"Hmm... um... right there... a little deeper... yes... it feels so good..."

My cock became engorged and swollen again under Dahyun's service, even thicker and more powerful than before.

"Mom...I'm going to insert it..."

I pulled out my cock from Dahyun's mouth, eagerly spread her legs and inserted it again. Dahyun's vagina was filled with my huge penis at once, and the pleasure immediately overwhelmed her.

"Ah...it's too big...Y/N...slow down..."

However, I have been blinded by desire at this moment. How can I care about slow progress? I thrust in and out widely, hitting the deepest part of Dahyun hard with every thrust.

"Mom...I finally have you again...It feels so good inside you...I want to fuck you to death...

Dahyun was fascinated by her son's almost violent offensive, but she knew that she could not let me go on like this, otherwise, I would soon end early again. So Dahyun tapped my shoulder to signal me to stop.

"Y/N... you are too impatient... we still have a long time to enjoy... now you just insert it into me like this... let mommy teach you some new tricks..."

Dahyun stretched out her hand to knead her breasts, her eyes drifting to me: "Look at my hands... caress my nipples like this... They are very sensitive... you can lick, bite and suck... but You must be gentle...otherwise it will hurt..."

I followed Dahyun's instructions and leaned down to kiss her breasts gently. I teased the pink nipples with the tip of my tongue, pursed my lips lightly, sometimes sucked and sometimes licked.

"Yes...that's it...then you have to thrust your cock inside me in small strokes...don't use too much force...this way it can last longer..."

I did as I was told, and my cock squirmed inside Dahyun like a snake, each squeeze bringing a new level of pleasure.

"Ah...Y/N...you are so good...just like this...slowly enjoy your mother's body..."

Dahyun closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the pleasure brought by her son. My lips and tongue moved around her body, like a slippery little snake; while my cock pumped rhythmically inside her body, like a posing enchantress. The combination of the two brought her unprecedented bliss.

Dahyun felt my tongue getting farther and farther away from her nipples, as if I was exploring other parts of himself. She knew it was a good start, but it wasn't enough.

"Here... try playing with my breasts with your hands... just like what I did before... but with gentle pressure... I can get hurt easily..."

Dahyun takes my hand and guides me to move around her breasts. My warm palms gently pressed her breasts, and then used my fingers to draw circles around the nipples.

"Um...yeah...a little harder...and squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger..."

I did as I was told, and Dahyun's nipples quickly hardened in my hands. I seemed to find it very novel, caressing Dahyun's breasts in different ways, sometimes squeezing and sometimes rubbing.

"Ah...you learn so fast...it's so comfortable...now put your hands on my waist...grab my hips..."

Dahyun taught me how to grasp her ass cheeks and then ordered me to thrust in and out of her.

"Now feel free to do whatever you want... Just remember not to use too much force... Let Mom guide you for the rest..."

After I got the right to express myself freely, I was immediately excited. I kneaded Dahyun's breasts into various shapes and dug my fingers deeply into them; at the same time, I thrust deeply into Dahyun's body, and each thrust hit her deepest part.

"Mom...your body is so sexy...I want to possess you forever...never stop..."

Dahyun couldn't help but smile after hearing this. This young child finally truly understood the wonder of sex.

I attacked every inch of Dahyun's skin tirelessly, and her pleasure gradually accumulated to its peak. Suddenly, an electric feeling rose from her spine and spread throughout her body.

"Ah——! I'm about to cum...!"

Dahyun hugged my back tightly, her whole body trembling. I also felt the vibration in Dahyun's body and knew that I had brought her an unparalleled climax.

"Mom... Your insides are tightening like spasms... Your orgasm is so wonderful... I'm about to cum too..."

Dahyun immediately stopped him after hearing this: "No...Y/N...we have more new tricks to try...change your position...let mom kneel in front of you like a doggy...then you start from Come in from behind...that kind of perspective will make you feel particularly exciting..."

Dahyun turned around and kneeled with a blushing face, raising her butt high and waiting for me to enter.

"Y/N... come on... fuck mom hard... like a pussy..."

Junhao was immediately excited and penetrated Dahyun from behind with his still-hard cock.

"Ah...this perspective is so exciting...Mom, your body is so sexy...I want to fuck you..."

I thrust violently, making Dahyun's ass crack with each thrust.

Dahyun thought that the doggy-style perspective would make me more excited, but she didn’t expect that her son’s favourite thing was her buttocks. When I lay on her back and kept thrusting, Dahyun felt extremely ashamed.

"Ah...Y/N...don't slap my butt so hard...it hurts..."

Dahyun begged, but I couldn't stop at all. I galloped across the grassland like a wild horse, slamming into Dahyun's ass again and again.

"Mom...your ass is so sexy...I just like to see it swaying in front of my eyes...listening to the slapping sound is so exciting..."

My hands kept slapping Dahyun's butt, leaving a red mark. Dahyun's face turned red with embarrassment, but she had to admit that this method really made me more excited.

"Y/N...Mom knows you like this...but please be gentle...it will really hurt..."

Dahyun twisted and tried to avoid my slap but was firmly held by me again. I increased the speed, thrusting as deep as possible with each stroke, and slapped Dahyun's ass hard.

"Ahhhh——! I can't help it...you're too fierce...I can't stand it anymore...please be gentle..."

Dahyun couldn't help but scream, her sanity had been completely destroyed by my crazy behaviour. She could only let her son do whatever he wanted behind her and hoped that the storm would pass as soon as possible.

Dahyun's words only aroused my animal nature. I roared like a beast and kept thrusting behind Dahyun. Dahyun could only keep begging for mercy, but her begging became my best aphrodisiac.

"Ah... don't... you're too big... I really can't stand it anymore... please stop..."

Dahyun cried, her body shaking. I, however, acted as if I couldn't understand the human words, and instead intensified my efforts, thrusting harder and deeper into Dahyun every time.

"Mom...you are so sexy...I love the sound of your cries...you should lie down in front of me like a dog...let me fuck as the way I like..."

I said and slapped Dahyun's butt hard again, leaving a red stain. Dahyun let out a cry of pain, but she also felt an unprecedented pleasure.

"Ah... no... don't... but I feel so good... this feeling is so weird..."

Dahyun was so ashamed that she never thought that one day she would be fucked like a bitch by her son, and she felt extremely excited. I also felt the tightening and throbbing inside Dahyun, knowing that she was about to climax again.

"Ah... I'm going again... Y/N... please be gentle..."

Dahyun cried out, her body arching involuntarily. Her vagina spasmed violently, wrapping my cock tightly.

Dahyun's vagina bit down on my cock, making me immediately on the verge of ejaculation.

"Mom... Your pussy is about to pinch me off... I'm going to cum inside... Let me cum inside you... give birth to my baby..."

I roared softly as I made the final sprint. My words made Dahyun even more ashamed, but she was already blinded by sexual desire and could not think about ethical issues.

"Hmm...Y/N...come on...cum inside mom...let mom give birth to a baby for you..."

Dahyun agreed softly. She never thought that one day she would be eager to be creampied by her son, and she even agreed to give birth to a child for him. But at this moment, she just wants me to be released in her body, so that she can reach a higher level of bliss.

Hearing that my mother agreed to give birth to me, I was so excited that I finally reached the peak after dozens of frantic thrusts.

"Ahhhh——! I am cumming! All of it inside you! Make you pregnant!"

I let out a low growl of satisfaction and cummed all my seed deep into Dahyun's womb. Dahyun was also stimulated to orgasm again and again by the scalding heat. Her vagina contracted violently, tightly wrapping her son's cock, as if she wanted to squeeze out every drop of semen inside.

"Oh...god...so much...I'm really going to get pregnant..."

Dahyun said absently that she no longer cared about the consequences and now only wanted to enjoy this ultimate pleasure.

Since the accident, the relationship between Dahyun and me has become closer and closer. At first, Dahyun still had some concerns, fearing that my body would if I ejaculated too many times a day. But she soon discovered that her son's energy was too amazing.

On the first morning after that day, when Dahyun got up, she saw me standing naked in front of the bed. The giant thing under my crotch was already erect and covered with bright morning dew.

"Mom...you wake up...I want you again..."

I smiled and climbed onto the bed, spread Dahyun's thighs with ease, and thrust myself into them.

"Ah...you're here again...didn't it just end..."

Dahyun was a little helpless, but she quickly indulged in the pleasure. Although my speed was not fast, I penetrated deeply every time, and Dahyun soon had a second orgasm.

"Mom...I love you...you are my little evil...I can't get enough..."

I murmured, speeding up and thrusting inside Dahyun again.

This is a portrayal of the mother and son's life day after day. Dahyun was a little resistant at first, but was soon impressed by my love words and skills. Now as long as I am horny, Dahyun will open the door to welcome my invasion. She uses her body to teach me the secrets of sex, and I use my cock to repay Dahyun's generosity.

Sex between us takes up most of their lives. Dahyun's vagina has become my exclusive toy, waiting for my use at any time.

I soon moved into Dahyun's room to stay overnight, and we had sex all the time. When cooking in the kitchen, Dahyun would suddenly lift her skirt to expose her wet pussy, allowing me to penetrate her directly from behind; when taking a bath, Dahyun would kneel in the bathtub and give me a blow job until I couldn't help but erupt in her mouth. So far; when eating dinner, Dahyun accidentally touched my leg, I would grab Dahyun's hand and guide it to my crotch, and then push Dahyun down on the sofa; when watching TV, Dahyun would sit on my lap and move by herself, until my mood comes, we changes to the normal position. The lives of us have been completely filled with sex. No matter when and where, as long as one of us is sexually excited, the other party will cater to it.

No matter where we are, as long as one of them proposes to "fuck until mommy gets pregnant" the two of us will be particularly excited. I will also ejaculate more and thicker semen, filling Dahyun's vagina to the brim.

The tacit understanding between mother and son is also getting better and better. Dahyun knows where my most sensitive parts are, and how to stimulate me to reach climax faster; she also knows how to control her body posture and rhythm, so that she can reach multiple orgasms and prolong my ejaculation time.

Once, Dahyun deliberately rode her hips on the bed and played with my scrotum, which made me only last five minutes before exploding inside her. Another time, Dahyun adopted the method of "nine shallow and one deep", slowly guiding me to rush inside the body, allowing Junhao to enjoy the sex for an entire hour.

Dahyun has mastered these techniques to such an extent that she knows how to drive me into ecstasy and madness. Dahyun is already familiar with where my sensitive points are. As long as she wants, she can make me stay in her pussy for a long time. But seeing I struggling to cum inside her body, she would always soften her heart and let me wreak havoc in her deepest parts.

Dahyun soon became pregnant with my child as I creampied her as frequently as a stallion. Faced with this unexpected result, Dahyun was a little overwhelmed - she had to admit the fact that she and her son were incest and faced social condemnation. But just when she was hesitant, my idea once again made her indulge in physical desires.

"Mom, since you are already pregnant with my child, let's take this opportunity to play some new tricks! I can fuck you and suck your milk at the same time!"

I suggested with a smile, while untying Dahyun's clothes, burying my head on her breasts and nibbling.

"Ah...you little...you are so full of tricks..."

Dahyun hummed softly, stretched out her hand to hold my head, and took the initiative to put her breast into my mouth.

"Mommy's milk must be so sweet...I'm going to suck you dry...and keep fucking you...until our child is born..."

I said vaguely, sucking harder with my lips and tongue.

Under the temptation of my big cock, Dahyun was quickly overcome by desire. She no longer thinks about her child's future, nor does she care about the outside world's opinions. The only thing she wants now is to have intense sex with her son until she faints.

So, with a burst of rapid breathing, Dahyun held my head tightly and allowed me to explore between her breasts. I slipped my fingers into Dahyun's vagina, stirring inside, preparing for the next wild sex.

Under my strong request, Dahyun resigned from the company on the grounds of concentrating on childbirth. In fact, her purpose in doing this was just to give me more time and space to fuck his mother.

Due to the changes in hormone levels during pregnancy, Dahyun's sexual desire is stronger than before, and she is becoming more and more addicted to my big cock. Except when going to the toilet, my penis always remained inside her.

Whether in the dining room or living room or even on the balcony and bathroom, every corner of the home left traces of our intense intercourse. The gurgling juices and milky white semen mixed together, soaking most of the room.

Dahyun lay on the dining table with her butt raised high, allowing me to thrust violently from behind. Her top had been torn off, and her round breasts were exposed to the air, swaying with the impact from behind.

"Hmm... it's too deep... My boy ... you are always so rough... you're going to break mommy..."

Dahyun bit the corner of her lip, reached up to her chest with one hand to rub the erect nipples, and reached down with the other hand to rub the engorged clits.

"Mom, don't you like being fucked bad by me? You said you want our child to be filled with my big cock until he is born..."

I growled, speeding up his sprint.

My penis moved in and out of Dahyun's vagina like a tamping machine. Every time I inserted it, a large amount of nectar would flow out down the top of her thighs. Dahyun's delicate labia has long been red and swollen from being fucked, but she still tirelessly swallows my huge cock.

"Yes...let's let our baby feel...how it forms in mom's pussy...ahh...going to cum..."

Dahyun raised her head, her eyes blurred, and a wanton moan escaped from her mouth.

My movements became more and more fierce. I grabbed Dahyun's waist, pressed her against the table and thrust her hard, and every time I penetrated her to the deepest point. Dahyun's body began to convulse, and a warm juice surged out of her body, soaking my lower body.

"Ha...it's so hot...Mommy's climax...I'm almost there too ..."

I gritted my teeth, and after the last few deep thrusts, I also cummed a large amount of semen, filling Dahyun's womb.

Dahyun lay weakly on the table, her legs trembling, and the clothes underneath her were completely soaked with water and semen. I pulled out my cock which is still hard, it was covered in the mixture that belonged to both of us.

"You're so beautiful...Mom...I can never get enough of you..."

I leaned down and kissed Dahyun's sweaty back.

Dahyun chuckled, turned around and kissed me back.

"Me too...my son...you are the one who really makes me happy.”

[pricesprincess]

t. fushiguro x fem reader x s. kong | 8.3k wc

smut mdni | repost | monsterfucking | knotting

running away is never a good idea, but in this case, it was.

you needed a moment to get away from everything before it drove you crazy. 

your job was the one doing most of it with the hours you had to work keeping you busy and more than tired, so tired you didn't realize your heat was upcoming very soon. 

it would be one of the worst ones yet since haven’t had it in such a long time and without the suppressant that would get you through it, you were royally fucked, being in heat and being single was hell on earth and you hated it so you kept it at bay but at least your feelings and heart were left intact. 

your eyes twitched as you hunched over the desk staring at the computer screen scrolling through the cabins for rent, the place where you could walk around naked and enjoy the peace and quiet by yourself. 

people milled about the work area getting ready for their weekend off but you had put in the request a month ago to take a whole week and a half off. your heats could be tracked thank goodness so you knew the time frame and since you haven’t had one in a while you knew this could last a bit and be intense. 

after enough mindless scrolling you finally found the perfect place, nestled deep in the lush mountainside next to a running river, the description said the sun set and rose through the stained bay window that cast an array of colors over the hardwood floor and had a clawfoot tub with a beautiful view. 

it was a one-bedroom that faced the mountainside with a balcony to enjoy the view and nature next to a dead forest this time of the year, with no neighbors to hear you get off like a nymphomanic. 

the thin walls of your studio apartment didn’t muffle a thing. 

“what are you doing?” your friend and coworker ami asked when she came over to your station leaning against the counter, thrumming her fingers on the marble top. 

you let your eyes drift over to her then back to the computer looking at the pictures, the click sound was something that you were able to drown out since it was something you listened to daily. “getting away.” you replied flatly. 

ami understood all too well as an omega and had enough heats to know what it was like, especially when you have suppressed it for a while, the feeling of when it came on was like nothing else and you needed to be alone for it. 

she leaned forward taking the mouse from your hand to click on another tab with different cabins. “i rented this one for two weeks, it was so nice but the people are close and like to visit.” you looked at it and shook your head. 

your lips drew into a pout as you took the mouse back from her and went back to the one you wanted and filled out the form quickly hoping you could get the slot.

“i don't want to be near anyone, there are woods close by for me to enjoy and the closest neighbor is two miles or more away, which is perfect.” you hummed clicking submit making sure that it went through before exiting the homepage. 

ami stood straight and patted the top of your hand. “you should find someone to help you through the heat, it’s going to be awful since you’ve been suppressing it for so long.” she sing-songed further irritating you. 

you wanted to snap at her, instead, you sighed and leaned back in your chair. “not interested, i don’t need anyone to help me through this plus being mated with someone sounds like hell.” 

it was a scenario that you’ve seen too many times. 

before ami could say anything her phone began to ring on her desk pulling her away from yours to hurry up and answer it. your eyes shifted to the clock again, ten minutes and counting down until you were free for two weeks. 

even though it’s been less than five minutes you opened up your email in hopes of seeing whether or not you got the cabin, every three seconds you hit the refresh button hoping it would be there but nothing but more spam. 

with a sigh, you logged out and started cleaning up your desk stuffing everything in your bag not caring before shutting the computer off. “i’ll see you later!” you called out to your co-workers and made a beeline for the door shouldering it open to hurry up and make it to the parking lot before it rained. 

before work in the mornings, you’d watch the weather channel to keep up with it because more times than not it was always changing. as soon as you got inside the clouds opened dumping rain in heavy sheets coating your car. 

by the time you made it home, the sun had begun dipping below the horizon turning the sky into a burnt orange with streaks of red and yellows that would make a beautiful picture but you had no time for that, with your bag in hand you scurried to your front door thankful for the awning that kept you dry. 

once inside you dropped everything with a soft thud and kicked your shoes off hoping soon that you’d get an email about the cabin, however, seeing that it was almost six p.m. and it was a friday no one would be there to answer the emails but you were excited and ready for a change of scenery. 

standing in front of your wall calendar dressed in nothing but panties while eating ice cream from the small carton you were able to figure out the last heat you experienced was seven months ago and this one was going to be rough, all the built-up hormones were suppressed waiting to be spilled. 

they started to ooze from the cracks and chips leaving you on edge which only irritated you further because you didn’t even want to feel how hot you burned up or how long it’s been since you’ve been laid, almost two years. 

but it wasn’t like you were counting or anything. 

with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the wall and shuffled toward the living room looking down at the faded slippers you wore, the ones that have seen all of your teenage years, now you were pushing almost thirty and still single. 

plopping down on the equally ratty couch that you picked up free from the internet once you were sure it wasn’t bug-infested, the owners at the time just wanted to get rid of it, trash turned into treasure. 

your eyes tried to stay glued on the tv but it was a fight you could no longer win and ended up falling asleep with your head leaning back and mouth open. 

hours later you jerked awake from the slam of the door that rattled the walls. 

“fuck.” you groaned when you saw the ice cream you had in your hand had melted and dripped down on the floor making a creamy mess, the vanilla looked like cum almost, and perhaps that was just because you wanted a load shot deep inside you, it made your blood run hot but you pushed that back to stand up and gathered your bearings before cleaning the mess up. 

your phone vibrated on the corner of the coffee table alerting you to an email, forgetting the rag and melted ice cream in front of you, you snatched it up and unlocked the screen to read your email for the cabin, the one you wanted was now yours for the entire week, all you had to do was get through was two days. 

the smile that made your cheeks ache couldn’t be wiped from your face no matter what, the place you picked was perfect, and the woods were somewhere you could gather food and you could bathe in the river, connecting with nature would help a lot to get through this heat. 

after the mess was cleaned up there was a pep in your step as you started to pack your bags before heading out to your car stepping in a puddle which usually upsets you, but even that couldn’t bring your day down. 

going back inside you changed your socks and shoes then you made it to your car and pulled out of the parking lot. 

even though it was just two weeks you couldn’t wait to get out of the apartment building you lived in, the too-thin walls sure didn’t help when your neighbor's headboard banged in a creaky rhythm or the couple upstairs who yelled daily. 

you twitched in excitement as you pulled up to the sex shop, you needed a few toys to help get off and you had saved up enough money for a sex doll, well it was only just the abs and the removable cock to fit whatever fit your desire. 

walking inside you looked around and then made a beeline for the other side, the back wall was lined with an array of styles, sizes, and colors. 

you scanned the plastic boxes wondering what attachment to change out for something new when your eyes landed on a werewolf cock, complete with the tapered end and a knot that was already inflated. you grabbed it along with a few more toys then paid for it and left the store counting down until you left. 

with everything put in your trunk, you headed to the store next and bought all your favorite things to eat and drink, along with a few books from the bookstore down the street and some cheap wine to help sweeten the deal. 

it was two weeks of self-care that you’ve been neglecting over the last few months and it was building until it was close to exploding and before you let that happen the cabin was your getaway from your problems that have piling up and you’ve been pushing aside until now. 

excitement filled your veins as you drove back to your apartment. 

once inside with all the bags you packed everything and looked at the clock counting down the milliseconds when you could leave and since you still had a day and a half you caught up on some work, sending emails and making phone calls to regular customers who even caught on to your rare good mood. 

“am i that grumpy?” you muttered when you hung up the phone and leaned back in your home office chair, the damn thing was creaky and soon you’d need a new one but with your current pay that would have to wait. 

another glance at the clock and it was nearing dinner time. 

64.media.tumblr.com

monday morning before the sun had a chance to come to the horizon you were already in your car, fingers twitching as you pulled out of the parking lot ready to leave behind your life for two weeks, and thankfully the ride wasn’t long. 

with your windows down the cool autumn breeze filled the car as you passed by knotty trees with bare branches with thick wet leaves of different colors at the base of the trunk, when daybreak happened it filled the sky with a beautiful orange mixed in with purples and reds that was picture worthy. 

which is usually what you would do, but the only thing on your mind was getting to the cabin and settled in before your heat hit which was supposed to be on tuesday and last until saturday or even longer, but you had worked enough overtime to cover a few more days if needed be. 

you had everything set in stone, this trip was important to you for many reasons. a way to get back into tune with yourself, plus this way no one would bother you or call the landlord when you bounced yourself stupid on a fake cock to quell the burning need for an orgasm. 

the radio played the local station at a low volume as the gps voiced the way to get to where you wanted to be the most, only five miles away from your destination your foot pressed on the gas pedal before turning right. 

your tires crunched under gravel as you drove slowly now to take in the scenery, it was breathtaking and it looked like something someone painted where it hung up for millions to see and oh and awe at it, pulling over you stopped and got out of your car to take a few pictures of the place. 

it didn’t take very long for you to pull up in the driveway, your jaw going slack at the beauty of the log cabin, the pictures did not do it justice, the backdrop for it was lush mountains with a few waterfalls splitting them apart that ended in a stream following the path toward the huge lake no doubt for fishing. 

climbing out of your car you left the bags in the trunk and walked around the place taking note of the firepit and the grill with a few chairs that looked comfortable, your feet crunched over the rocks as you peered into the thick of the woods on the edge of the property when the door opened scaring you. 

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. you ok?” a tired voice asked before revealing themselves, a woman who appeared to be in her seventies came out with a kettle hanging from her thin fingers as she eyed you. 

despite your heart beating louder than a bag of cans rattling around you nodded. “yes, i didn’t think anyone was going to be here…there’s not another vehicle around.” you answered confused about who she was and why she was here, when you got here you thought the owner would be gone.

you sent the payment directly from your bank account so you didn’t have to worry about this, you didn’t want to deal with anyone.  

the woman waved you in and shut the door once you were inside taking in the beautiful interior, almost everything was soaked in a deep red and muted browns, tan leather couches were in front of a large tv and the kitchen was small but it held everything you needed and the hallway only had two doors. 

it was an open floor plan with a large kitchen with modern time appliances. 

you followed her further to the kitchen where she sat the kettle back on the stovetop. “my name is may, i’m the owner. i like to greet people and tell them a few rules, or i suppose it’s to keep you safe.” she explained and poured a cup. 

“it’s nice to meet you. rules?” you asked wondering why it couldn’t be put in the email. 

“i’m glad you made it soundly and yes, rules. you don’t want to go out into the woods after ten p.m. the werewolves come over the mountains and a lot of them aren’t very friendly, they’d eat you up.” 

her voice rattled at the end as may turned to you with a chipped teacup. “thank you for the information, i didn’t plan on going in there unless it was daylight anyway, thank you for accepting my application. it’s very pretty.” 

may smiled taking the compliment. “you’re welcome, this property has been in my family for generations but i can’t live out here, my son will be picking me up,” as if on cue there was a car horn outside, “take care, honey, see you.” 

you followed her to the front door and hurried to check the kitchen windows making sure she got inside and watched as the truck kicked up dust leaving you alone finally for the first time in a very long time. 

after checking for cameras because you could never be sure you went outside in the cool october air inhaling the scent of nature, pine trees, and the dirt which never smelled so good. with your bags in your hands, you brought them inside before settling on the couch with the tea. 

the tv didn’t have much to offer so you shut it off and headed outside to the balcony that overlooked the lake with the sun glinting off the surface it was serene, this was what you needed. it was beautiful and for a moment you thought about moving out there, then thoughts of when you had to leave made you frown but that was two weeks away. 

turning back you headed inside and decided to check out the rooms, the bedroom was first. the walls were painted in that same deep red, with a four-poster bed and a mattress that looked like pure heaven, and a heavy oak dresser with a mirror shaped into a cloud on the other side. 

unpacking everything you double-checked to make sure there were no cameras before moving to the bathroom, it was small but still doable. the shower was a combination, and the sink was big enough to hold your stuff. 

ten minutes later you lay on the couch stretching your legs and looking up at the ceiling letting your eyes close shut eventually falling asleep until evening, when the crickets woke you up and for a moment you forgot where you were, in a panic you looked around and sighed plopping back down. 

after another five minutes, you finally got up to look out the windows only to be met with pitch dark until the outside lights were switched on flooding the front and back lighting the area up. you looked at the clock, it was only seven. 

may said don’t go in the woods after ten, there were still three hours to look. 

grabbing a jacket you pulled it on, shoving your arms through the sleeves before making your way outside, the crickets chirped louder creating a beautiful symphony of nature as the moon shone down casting a soft glow over the woods barely lighting up the mouth which made you nervous. 

broken-off branches from the storm that came through the other night snagged on your pant legs and crumbled beneath your feet as you wrapped your arms around yourself coming closer, a sudden painful howl that ripped through the night air that caused you to stop midstep and listen to it. 

it was a mournful cry tinged with a pain you never felt but you could tell it was a cry for something, may’s words of werewolves living close by rattled your brain, enough to make you turn around and head back inside making sure all the windows and doors were locked before turning the outside lights off. 

after sleeping you opted to make a quick dinner knowing that you’d be awake for a while, once everything was cleaned up you settled in the hot water in the tub watching the steam rise from the milky water, your body wash swirled in with it creating bubbles that lapped at your tingly flesh from the heat. 

seeping in the silence you felt your muscles relax, letting go of the tension you’ve been holding onto for longer than you should. stretching your legs out you used the new and very expensive body scrub that promised it would leave your skin feeling soft and supple, something you needed. 

a lot of your time was going to be spent in bed masturbating until your arm or fingers fell off from overuse and your legs would be spent humping the toy like a brainless horn dog until it was somewhat out of your system. 

you watched the water drain before rinsing yourself off and getting out of the tub with a towel wrapped around you, you stuffed your feet back into your trusty slippers and trudged through the house to grab some wine and settle back on the couch turning the tv on to let it play as background music. 

drowsiness set in again and you curled up in the corner pulling the heavy quilt over you and sat your wine glass down before eventually falling asleep again with the tv on casting a glow over the living room until morning. 

sunlight spilled in from the french doors and the stained glass of the bay window bathing the place in an array of beautiful colors that you stared at when you woke up still lounging on the couch enjoying the sounds of nature. 

pulling yourself off the couch you folded the quilt up putting it where you found it before shuffling into the kitchen to make breakfast quickly and enjoy the bowl of fruit out on the backdoor balcony watching the sun glitter off the water. 

you wondered if it was safe enough to swim in. 

with the bowl cleaned and put away, you stripped naked right in the kitchen and walked out to the balcony letting the sun warm your bare skin feeling the cool breeze harden your nipples, tightening them into hard pebbles. 

after a few moments, you headed back inside and got dressed before pulling a book off the bookshelf you brought from home and making something to drink before heading back outside on the balcony sitting down when you heard them. two male voices talking in hushed whispers not far away. 

your ears twitched as you stood up leaning against the railing watching them as they stayed at the mouth of the forest. they were both tall, one with black shaggy hair and broad shoulders, the other had dark short, and fluffy hair with the same stature as the other but he wasn’t as big as the other man. 

he was the same height although. you watched them with curiosity sniffing the air picking up their scent. werewolves. slowly you stepped back not wanting to catch their attention and retreated inside with a sigh. 

may wasn’t lying. 

you weren’t sure what they were doing until there was a knock several minutes later as you sat on the couch. putting your book down on the side table you headed over to the door looking out the small curtain and seeing the werewolves standing there, looking dead at you. 

“we know you’re in there.” one spoke, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. 

keeping the chain on you opened the door so they couldn’t step inside. toji’s eyes widened for a brief second seeing you standing there looking confused as your eyes shifted between them both, intrigued by their presence.  

he wasn’t expecting any omegas to come this far, especially one like you then his nose picked up your scent. shiu glanced at him and then at you. “we didn’t think may still rented the cabin, sorry for disturbing you,” shiu said. 

“do you need anything?” you asked curiously wondering why they would be here for may anyway, but it was no mistake what they were, the smell undeniable, potent and heavy and musky fur. 

they shared a glance then looked back at you. “no, thank you. have a good day.” shiu told you with a warm smile walking away first as toji lingered for a moment looking at you before following after his friend down the driveway. 

you shut the door and watched them from the window with the curtain lifted to see toji looking back at you with a smile that felt dangerous, his teeth sharp when he pulled his teeth back to show off, his scar splitting in half.

ignoring the interaction you looked at the clock, it was only late afternoon, and after making sure they weren’t in sight, you stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of wine and your book settling in the padded chaise lounge. 

everything felt almost like a dream as you read with one leg propped up letting the sun wash over like bath water when you jostled, rippling it. 

four chapters in and you could hear their voices again, murmuring back and forth about something catching your attention. after marking your page you set the book down and stood up to walk over to the railing looking down. 

“you’re ruining my reading time.” you called down resting your arms to lean over more meeting both their gazes, their lips tugged back in a smirk. 

toji chuckled and slid his hands into his pockets, his thumbs sticking out. “well, we wanted to come and ask if we could have dinner with you.” 

your jaw dropped looking at him with a stunned expression blinking fast as you shut your mouth so hard your teeth rattled. “uh, i don’t think so. i don’t even know you, also i’ve heard of the big bad wolf but just add another one.” 

“my name is toji,” he pressed his hand to his chest then jerked his thumb to his friend, “this is shiu.” you looked at him like that was supposed to magically make you all friends. 

they shared a glance and then turned their attention to you. “we could huff and puff and blow your house down or you could tell us your name.” toji teased with a chuckle that made your blood simmer, his gaze was predatory making you nervous. 

shiu shook his head. “we’re not going to do anything like that, don’t worry.” 

“i sure hope not, it’s not like you could anyway.” you murmured and gave them your name while thrumming your fingers against the railing debating on letting them inside, there was no telling what could happen if you got close. 

but it would be rude not to feed them. 

they watched you walk inside and then out the front door, around the corner to wave them in. “dinner then it’s my bedtime.” you called out and headed back inside heading to the kitchen to pull out a meal you brought from home. 

it was easy to heat up and you didn’t need to cook while here, you could focus on yourself when the time came. toji and shiu followed like it was the millionth time they’d been inside, immediately taking a seat at the table. 

“make yourself at home.” you murmured and put the food in the oven before joining them at the table sitting across from them. 

shiu was curious as to what brought you here and so was toji who asked first unable to help himself. “what’s a pretty little thing doing all the way out here?” he asked leaning back as he held your gaze with a waiting smile. 

you supposed that him calling you pretty would flatter you somehow. “i’m on vacation.” it was the truth, but they didn’t need to know the other reason. 

“or are you running away from something? someone?” shiu prompted. 

this time heat flooded your face as the timer dinged saving your ass. you got up to quickly dish out the plates before taking your seat again to eat. 

for a good while there was a silence that stretched between the three of you as the meal came to an end you collected the dishes and washed them. “thanks for the food,” shiu murmured as he attempted to help you. 

you let him help for a moment enjoying the quiet moment and charged air, something was lingering like a string daring you to play with it and see what happens when you tug on it, pulling open a whole new world for you three. 

once they were gone you finished cleaning up and opted for a warm bath before curling up in bed. the water felt good as you planned your day for tomorrow deciding to go down to the edge of the water with some wine. 

with your chair and a book you could easily spend all day down there, the thought of seeing toji and shiu again made your tummy prickle with heat and something else that ached between your legs like a soft pulse of want. 

shaking the thought from your head you washed up and got out to get dried off and dressed, sleep eluded you for the moment so you ended up on the couch again snuggled up under the quilt as you settled on a horror movie. 

it was nearing halloween and you always enjoyed the thrill of a good flick. 

you sunk into the couch as the movie played out putting you on edge which is what you wanted at first, regret trickled in knowing it was too late to turn it off now and go to bed, there was no way you could go to sleep now. 

changing the channel you settled on some reruns of a reality tv show until your eyes fluttered shut and you fell asleep on the couch again until the morning sun woke you up. 

sitting up you looked around and rubbed your eyes before getting up to get ready for the day, breakfast, shower, and a change of clothes later you ended up at the edge of the lake with your chair, blanket, book, and a glass of wine. 

it was a perfect way to relax which lasted for a few hours until shiu and toji emerged again from the mouth of the trees seeing you lounging there. 

you saw them and raised an eyebrow. “i’m not offering you dinner again.” 

toji chuckled and came closer, stopping a few feet away. “what if we offered you dinner?” he asked with a smile that made your blood thicken and bubble. 

going to their place when you didn’t know the woods wasn’t a good idea, you liked having the upper hand. “i appreciate the offer, but i don’t think i should go into your den.” you hummed and marked your spot with your bookmark. 

last night wasn’t too bad and they weren’t awful company you thought. 

“i did bring a lot of food so if you don’t mind helping me.” you murmured and stood up letting shiu grab your chair as they followed you back to the cabin. 

twenty minutes later the three of you were settled at the table again laughing about exchanged stories, weaving together past and present. toji was a heavy flirt while shiu was subtle about his, both of them making your head feel hazy and warm. 

their smells have been affecting you from your heightened sense of smell, your pulse was racing catching their attention. liquid desire started to simmer in your veins like honey, viscous and sweet producing a potent smell for them. 

the beginning of their rut kickstarted your heat. 

toji’s eyes darkened as he inhaled the scent, rich and heady. 

“you both need to leave right now.” you told them pointing to the door, the sudden change had you snippy. shiu had to push his friend out letting you slam the door behind them quickly in such a rush forgetting to lock it. 

your heat started sending a signal to your brain as slick pooled in your panties that felt drenched as you moved to the bedroom pulling open the box you stuffed with the sex toys feeling a soft throbbing in your womb. 

sleeping with two strangers isn’t what you had planned, especially werewolves when you haven’t mated before and you know what would happen if you let them stay even a second later you’d belong to them.

everything happened so fast as you grasped the first toy, a vibrator. ripping the package open you hurried to the bathroom and cleaned it quickly before crossing the hall into the bedroom to shuck your shorts and panties. 

sitting on the bed you leaned back and spread your legs feeling a deep ache as your pussy fluttered in response to the toy that rubbed against your clit, the ache grew like a vine, your body jolting when you turned it on, the feeling pulling a deep moan from you as you humped the vibrator with little care. 

every wave of pleasure brought erotic images of toji and shiu, taking them both at the same time and then letting one watch while the other jerked off before taking their turn. you wanted them to take turns with you like a toy. 

with a cry, you curled your toes feeling an intense heat bloom between your legs melting into your veins and pooling in your cheeks as you tilted your head back squeezing your eyes shut thinking of all the possibilities with them. 

the wet sound of you pleasuring yourself was loud and lewd as your slick pooled between your asscheeks no doubt dripping to the floor, every time you entered a heat especially one like this your arousal always left a huge mess, and oh how bad you wanted toji and shiu to clean you with their tongues. 

your brain was becoming mush rather quickly with each stroke of your wrist, the vibrator wasn’t doing its job which only frustrated you more than anything. 

with a soft growl, you pulled the toy out sighing, and let it drop to the floor before moving to grab the boyfriend replacer feeling your fingers slide against the material as you tossed it on the bed to straddle the fake thighs while you held the craved abs down flexing your fingers into the soft silicone. 

your head was hazy, filled with lust and the need to cum however you could. 

rubbing against the bulbous head you caught it on the soft opening of your wet cunt pushing it in easily with a soft mewl as you sat down on it with a wet squelch, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

for a moment you wondered if they had strayed far but little did you know that they were at your door, huffing and puffing smelling your slick and heat. shiu fought against everything inside him to kick the door down, but he knew that you hadn’t been claimed and that made his blood run hot with desire. 

toji decided to knock earning a look from shiu who raised his eyebrow. 

you stopped despite your brain telling you not to when you heard the interruption. it happened again and you knew who it was. “come in!” 

maybe that was a mistake but you had hoped that they could alleviate you of this, your brain could only come up with a weak whimper when you heard the door open followed by heavy footsteps and sniffing then they were in the room, the scent of testosterone wafted around them strongly. 

toji was the first one to touch you, his open palm felt hot as he caressed your back then your ass, gripping and groping the flesh. “what was that about us leaving?” he teased with a grin while shiu stepped next to you taking hold of your chin to turn your head to face toji who leaned in with a dark grin. 

you moaned as you ground against the toy staring at toji with a fucked out- look, your eyes glassy with bliss. leaning in you kissed him, your tongue parting the seam of his lips licking into his mouth tasting him whole. 

here you were making out with a stranger. well, the more you think about it you did know a little bit about them, but enough to fuck and take their knots? 

he growled into the kiss and kneeled on the bed to wrap his arm around your waist halting your movements so shiu could reach under you to remove the toy slowly hearing you gasp and cry out from the loss of it. “shh, we got you.” 

your head was hazy from their combined touches and kisses, all rational thought leaked from your ears as you allowed them to lay you on your back, shiu followed you down lying between your legs and inhaling your scent. 

“wait! i haven’t shaved!” you protested with a soft squeal and kept your thighs squeezed shut, albeit it’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone you always remembered them liking you being soft and shaved. 

shiu looked up at you from his spot cocking an eyebrow while sharing a glance with toji. “and do you think that’s going to bother us?” he husked drawing his thumb around your clit watching it throb and swell more in size. 

he leaned in pressing kisses against your hairy slick pussy, his thumbs glided against your lips as he spread you open to swirl his tongue around your swollen clit eliciting a moan from you while toji watched from the side. 

“toji..” you glanced at him reaching your hands up to grab him and pull him down, your fingers running through his hair tugging on it as you brought him closer, clinging to him for dear life as shiu slowly thrusted two fingers in you. 

you gasped into toji’s mouth rocking your hips against shiu’s mouth as you reached down to slide your hand into his pants, brushing your hand against his cock that was already lubed with a thick copious amount of pre-cum. 

toji was thick, the knot was huge even when it wasn’t inflated and you couldn’t wait to feel it. you glided your fingers up to the tapered end, rubbing your thumb over the slit before tugging his pants and boxers down revealing his throbbing cock, the girth was incredible and it was beautiful. 

a deep purple with a few veins on the sides and one prominent one that pulsed and led down to a heavy and tight sack that you cupped gently. 

the room was filled with pants and soft growls as you pulled away from toji to focus on shiu now, your hands buried in his hair as you rode his face letting toji suckle on your nipples only adding to the pleasure simmering in your veins. 

you felt warm and tingly all over as shiu stroked his tongue up and down between the lips of your cunt as his fingers brushed against your sensitive spot making you howl and arch your back off the bed while toji kept his mouth busy on your breasts bringing forth a wave of intense pleasure. 

your first orgasm was almost violent, stealing the air from your lungs. 

after denying yourself heat after heat it built up and you were soaking the bed and shiu’s face who lapped up the mess with a satisfied growl sliding his free hand under your ass to hold you close as he devoured you whole moaning. 

it was wet and so loud causing you to cover your face as you squealed and pushed him away. “give me a second!” you cried in between ragged pants. 

toji chuckled and palmed your tit as he jerked himself over your chest. “such a good girl for us. we want to make you our little omega.” he whispered darkly watching you come down from your high with a smug grin. 

agreeing to that idea wasn’t smart but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

“please!” you begged tilting your head back for them while gripping the bedsheets in excitement at the prospect of it all, you didn’t think about the future, just now and how good they were going to make you feel. 

so much was going on and you couldn’t keep it all together as you weathered the storm of bliss they put you in the middle of, thick fingers danced their way across your skin pulling and groping to bring forth more of your sweet sighs. 

shiu moved to kneel between your legs spreading them wider to reveal your glistening cunt causing his cock to twitch. he was the first one to get naked, revealing a hairy body with a full bush of soft pubic hair. “see?” he murmured and jerked himself off with no shame as you watched with a cute little pout. 

toji was next, both men were full of hair, curly and thick. instantly you sat up and buried your face in shiu’s chest then toji’s brushing your cheeks against them. “i don’t care who fucks me first just please do something before i die.” 

your voice was high-pitched and whiny but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care much when all you wanted was to feel their knots and cum a few more times. toji chuckled and slid his arm under your knees to push them back further. 

he pinned you down to let shiu rut his dick against the lips of your pussy, his tip gliding against your clit making you sigh and growl as you gripped toji’s hand feeling tears sting your eyes before coming down in fat salty drops. 

“oh, poor baby. she’s crying.” toji chuckled watching your eyes widen and jaw go slack when shiu pushed the tapered head inside the first ring of muscle as his hands moved to the back of your thighs gripping the flesh. 

you could see him gritting his teeth, grinding the pearly nubs together feeling the way your cunt swallowed him, wet and oh so fucking warm. the velveteen ridges of his cock felt incredible throbbing deep inside the drenched clutch of your pussy that looked so pretty wrapped around him. 

his head hung low to watch himself slide in and out slowly gathering your cream until it formed a ring that dripped down shiu’s knot that grew with each frantic thrust of his hips, he fucked you wildly as toji held you in place for him. 

the bed creaked as shiu dropped more of his weight down pressing into you more. “fuck!” you cried out when he slipped his knot inside, each pulse of your cunt sent him into a tizzy as he fucked you slow and with short and deep thrusts that left you gasping and clinging to him for dear life while sobbing. 

shiu knew how to have you gripping his bicep looking at him with wet eyes before his cock was spurting thick ropes of cum that matted between your pubic hair making a white mess in both of your hair. 

pulling back a little they helped you straighten your legs before wrapping them around shiu kissing him as you and he came down from your highs enjoying the afterglow of such an intimate moment before you looked at toji. 

“was wondering when it was going to be my turn sweetheart.” he murmured and twisted his body to grab your bullet vibrator with a wicked grin as he pet your hair kissing your forehead as shiu held you close to him, his knot now deflated enough to pull out making you whine with the loss of him. 

toji took his spot and turned the toy on. “sure you can even handle me?” he teased looking down at your gaping cunt that was covered in shiu’s essence. 

you narrowed your eyes at him and nodded pushing out another thick glob and sat up to grab his hips pulling him forward with a burst of strength before plopping on your back again. “stop teasing me…i need you so bad, toj!” 

that’s all it took for him to press the end of the vibrator against your clit making you gasp and jerk as he rubbed the tapered tip of his cock against the cum collection wanting to add his own. it was easy for him to glide in you. 

his hand found yours, linking your fingers with his as he leaned down to kiss you forgetting shiu who was kneeling next to you both, his eyes trained on you intently. it should be shameful to let this be happening but you didn’t care. 

not when it felt this good. 

you grasped his shoulders feeling hot white pleasure sizzle before blowing up like fireworks with each stroke, with the way he was filling you your head was so hazy, all you could do was babble about how good he felt inside you as you clawed at his shoulders desperately trying to stay tethered to the bed. 

there was now an even bigger and wetter mess between your legs, a thick frothy mixture of cum webbed between toji’s hairy thighs and the back of your legs that were warm and sticky from sweat as you rocked against him. 

his teeth nipped your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply, inhaling you like you were the air he needed to breathe, one big hand squished your cheeks together as he teased you with the vibrator making you cry out for him. 

toji wanted to feel you coming around him, he needed you again and again. 

before you could warm him your cunt spasmed around him drawing the tip of his cock deeper, nestling it right against your cervix. your eyes locked and you swore that your hearts beat in tandem as he thrust in and then came, filling you with a thick and hot load that seeped from the knot that plugged his cum. 

you clung to him panting and sobbing from the sheer ecstasy that washed over you as your vision cleared to see shiu smirking. “you two forgot about me, how are you feeling doll?” he asked bending down to pat your forehead with a cool rag making you sigh and moan from it as you kissed him gently. 

“hard to forget you.” you murmured against his mouth with a drunken giggle as you slid your hand up to the back of his neck to keep him there for a moment as you peppered his face in kisses and laughs as toji held you. 

the three of you stayed like that for a while until you were able to move on your own to get in the shower where they washed you in tandem. toji took to the top half as shiu took the bottom making sure to rinse the cum splatter off. 

they washed you with great care kissing you. “how does this work?” you asked squeezed in between their firm and hairy pecs grasping at the curly roots with a grin. 

toji held your hips as he kissed the top of your head while shiu brushed the sides of your breasts with his fingers. “hope your place is big enough for the three of us,” toji murmured with a chuckle making you warm at the thought. 

no way that would happen. you’d need a bigger place. 

“i live in a studio apartment, it’s just one room with a small restroom. we’d be cramped.” you murmured and turned around to face toji holding his arms. 

he moved his hands to your waist pulling you closer to him. “on top of each other all the time.” his voice dropped down to a husky whisper as the warm water cascaded over you, with with wet lashes you met his heated gaze. 

“something like that.” you murmured feeling shiu grope your ass now. their ruts were kicking in again and there was no denying the connection anymore. 

64.media.tumblr.com

three days in and you were sure there wasn’t a single inch inside and outside of the cabin you didn’t get fucked on. 

it was hard to pick your favorite. 

when you rode toji outside on the lounge late in the evening with the sounds of the waterfall in the background along with the wildlife and that night he was in his full werewolf form, his fur was soft and a good tether as you fucked him. 

you felt so full with him in this form and connected in a way you never felt with anyone else. in between all the fucking you three talked a lot and spent time together cooking and sleeping in the same bed. 

he nosed at your neck holding you close with thick arms, his claws close to digging in when you clenched your cunt tightly around him. “you feel so good, want you to cum in me please please toji i need it.” you begged softly crying. 

toji licked your tears as he pushed you all the way down on his knot that swelled once it was nestled deep inside, snug and tight keeping you plugged with his cum that he fucked deeper as he ground against you quickly. 

you clung to him and let him knot you again unable to count the many times he has claimed you, in his human form and this one. when he was like this, toji was hulking and beyond huge, able to bend you this way and that way. 

so was shiu. 

that’s how he had you the next morning with your face buried in the couch cushions as he mounted you in his werewolf form panting loud and wet in your ear fucking into you like a rabid animal chasing his high ramming into you with short choppy thrusts that took away your breath with each rut. 

he loved to hear you squeal so while he pulled out he enjoyed using the nipple clamps you brought. shiu tugged on the metal chain feeling your cunt squeeze as you squirmed and gasped pushing back against him with a grunt. 

they both had to have their noses buried between your legs, even at dinner one of them was under the table lapping at your pussy while the other attempted to hand-feed you, their fingers grazing your tongue making it hard to focus on anything else. “you’ve been so good for us, you’re ours now.” 

one time they were both able to slip inside your cunt stretching and filling you to the brim. “you’re taking us so well, and big stretch coming. you got this.” shiu murmured in your ear as kissed you shushing your cries and pants. 

it was an addicting feeling to have them both fucking you, and after training your ass with the toys you brought shiu fucked you from behind as toji thrust in and out of your cunt lazily feeling himself rub against shiu. 

by day six your cunt was sticky no matter how many showers you took, it was gaping with cum, dripping from the parted seam of your cunt. shiu and toji took turns cleaning you with their tongues until you nested against them. 

at the end of the trip, they had brought their belongings stuffing them into your car along with your bag, and went home with you unable to break the connection that they created in the matter of a single night that led to this. 

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing this thing is my baby! i took my time reading and rereading it to make it extra good jkfrt ♡

[drakmanka]

Not sure about unique but it does seem uncommon: my Plateosaurus theriotype!

Plateosaurus was one of the earliest known true dinosaurs, appearing in the fossil record about 200 million years ago in the early Triassic period. They're classified as "Prosauropods" and as the earliest form of later Sauropodomorph dinosaurs. The thing that distinguishes them from later Sauropods is the fact that they were bipedal. Early reconstructions placed them in a quadrupedal posture which is how they got their name (Plateosaurus means "flat lizard" or "broad lizard"). Later examinations of their bone structure and attach points for musculature revealed that they actually were not physically capable of locomotion in a quadrupedal position and trying to do so would actually have broken their forearms due to the forces involved.

Plateosaurus was essentially the giraffe of its time with its long neck and bipedal stance allowing it to graze much higher up than any other herbivores of the time. Which was handy because the trees known to exist at the time were VERY TALL (an early form of Redwood trees, for one, in fact).

My theriotype is a past life, and while I don't know nearly as much about him as I do about my dragon past life I do know a few details. He was the leader of a small herd and his primary duty as leader was to protect the rest of the herd. For the most part this was protecting the young, as Plateosaurus was too large to generally be bothered by the predators of the time (sort of like modern-day elephants actually) once they reached maturity. The young, however, were at risk.

I also remember that my herd slept in a circle with our necks draped across the hindquarters of the individual in front of us. We did lay down to sleep, and essentially used each other as pillows. The other benefit of this is that our young could sleep inside the circle and be protected by the bodies of the adults, basically a safety fence.

I was greyish-blue in color with vertical stripes of a paler color at intervals down my neck, back, and tail. Most of my herd was of similar coloration, with a few variations and exceptions.

Since Plateosaurus fed on the leaves and bark of ancient redwood trees, I sometimes will collect some young leaves and some bark off fallen branches from my family's California redwood (a direct descendant from those ancient trees!) and make a tea with them. It tastes like 200 million years ago and an ancient family I was once the patriarch of.

i want to hear about ur guys’ uncommon or unique theriotypes,, i love hearing about the ones i dont see very often or ever

i think my most uncommon one is that i’m a lizard cladotherian :3

[lucy-mclean]

hi sole! your sharpening is always so soft and pretty, i was wondering if you would be open to share it? hope you are having a wonderful november so far <3

Hi, Anon! Thank you so much <3 Yeah, sure, tutorial under the cut:

What you'll need:

Photoshop (I use Photoshop 2023)

Basic knowledge on how to make gifs

Camera Raw filter installed

Okay so, first of all, I use two different methods depending on the size of the gif. Let's start with the one I use for most of my gifsets which are big gifs (examples: x x x x.)

METHOD #1: Smart Sharpen + Camera Raw

I started using the Camera Raw filter last year and let me tell you, I'm obsessed! It completely changes the game of sharpening. I use this method for all gifs with a 540px width.

We're going to work on timeline so get your gif ready and convert it for smart filters. I'm using this scene from my last set as a base:

Here's the gif after I color it (I usually sharpen my gifs before I color them but for the sake of the tutorial I'm showing you this so you guys can see the difference):

(1) Smart Sharpen Layer: Let's start by adding a Smart Sharpen layer (Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen) with these settings:

Disclaimer: I didn't come up with these settings myself I got them from these sharpening actions forever ago so I don't know which one it is :/. I also wasn't able to find that person's new blog (if they even have one since they've been inactive since 2021) so if anyone knows please let me know and I'll give them proper credit!

Now we're going to go to the 'Layers' panel and click on this little thingy:

This window will pop up and we are going to change the Opacity to 50%.

(2) Camera Raw Filter: Here's where the fun begins. Go to Filter and click on Camera Raw Filter (you'll need to have the plugin installed for it to show up.) I don't know how the Camera Raw window will look like the first time you open it but good thing you only need to change a couple of things!

If it isn't opened yet click on 'Effects' and we're going to change the Texture and Clarity:

Depending on the scene/show/film I'm giffing, or if I want a stronger or softer sharpening, I'll use two different settings, but 99% of the time they are these:

First setting: Texture (+20) Clarity (+10)

Second setting: Texture (+40) Clarity (+20)

As you can see the difference isn't huge but the first setting gives a "softer" look. As I said I'll use one or the other depending on how I see the scene (it's almost always about the vibes yk.)

Feel free to experiment with these two and see what works best for you (although I wouldn't go higher than 40 on texture because the sharpening will look too fake imo.)

Also this filter is soooo good at making low quality videos look 1080p! Every time I've had to use 720p videos the Camera Raw filter has saved me 🫡

METHOD #2: Smart Sharpen

I use this method for smaller gifs. For example, 8 gifs of 268px x 180px sets (like these) or small-ish gifs in complex sets (like the second gifs in this set.)

This process is much simpler since it's the one I explained before but without adding the Camera Raw filter. That's it that's the method. Just a Smart Sharpen layer with the Opacity turned down to 50%.

As I said this method looks best on smaller gifs but to be honest it looks good on big gifs too? Depends on what you like most!

Anyway I hope this was easy to follow and if anyone has any questions please feel free to dm me or send an ask! ♡

[mkmas]

Jude Jazza - A story about a ruthless and arrogant man and an unfulfilled promise (JP ECB)

as usual I don’t own the story or characters, they belong to cybird. some things might’ve translated not as smoothly but i tried to get close to the original tone + eng isn’t my first language so forgive any mistakes ;-; also beware of some spoilers about his backstory

I wonder when it happened.

When my sister was still alive, she and I had a high fever.

(I was in so much pain l felt like I was dying.)

(I remember her asking me to distract her from the agony of the high fever.)

Jude: “What do you want to do when you’re rich?”

It was a playful way to forget, even for a moment, the pain of the day.

Jude’s younger sister: “Anything?”

Jude: “Sure.”

The pained look on my sister's face breaks into a little smile of joy.

Jude’s younger sister: “If that's the case, let's see… I want to go to the moon!”

My sister's eyes, which are the same amethyst color as mine, look towards the highest point in the sky. There, like a jewel dropped into the deep sea, there was a round moon floating in the jet black.

(...... Ha, the moon.)

Jude: "Idiot, even if I had that kind of money I can’t do that.”

(I've never heard of humans going to the moon.)

Jude’s younger sister: “But the Queen’s got the whole world on her palm, right?”

Jude’s younger sister: "If we can go around the world, can't we go to the moon?"

How much money does the Queen have? As I was thinking about whether it was really possible to go to the moon with that kind of money...

Jude’s younger sister: "Hey, brother, promise me. When you become rich, take me to the moon."

A human being going to the moon is a dream too ridiculous to be true. But my sister, who might die tomorrow, needed hope at this moment.

Jude: "I got it. I'll use money, magic, anything to get you there.”

Jude’s younger sister: “Brother, it's lame to think you can use magic.”

Jude: “Keep quiet.”

Jude’s younger sister: "I'm going to go to the moon. I have to get well soon."

Jude: “That's right. We have to get you better."

Only when I was with my sister, I felt something like the outline of happiness. Every time her small hand grasped mine, a warm feeling spread across my chest. But before the feeling of happiness could develop, I always felt sorry for her. Just when I was thinking that one day I would make my sister happy. She was bought with money, and then she died after.

And then I - I swore revenge.

By the time I started my trading company upon graduating from public school, I had the noblemen who killed my sister completely by the scruff of the neck.

Even though they were already busy dealing with taxes, it piled up even more with debt.

-- After their mansion and land were all seized, I went to meet the people who bought my sister.

Jude: “Thank you very much for your time.”

Nobleman: "W-what are you? W-Wa...!"

I grabbed the hair of the most pompous looking nobleman sitting in the chair as hard as I can.

Jude: “You guys are the ones who buy poor children and make them do bad things."

Jude: “There's no point in trying to make excuses. Everything can be backed up."

The nobleman’s eyes widen as I flung the report that contains numerous misdeeds I’ve already investigated.

I dragged him down and stamped on his head as hard as I can with my shoe.

Jude: "Confess. A few years ago, you bought a kid with asthma from a longshoreman."

Nobleman: “Well that’s… Uh.”

Jude: “Confess…!”

No matter how much I hurt them, the noblemen didn't speak.

Then I realized.

They really don’t remember.

When I threatened the servant, he trembled and spilled everything.

Servant: “I buried so many people in the garden that I can't remember who's who…”

When I headed for the garden of the beautiful mansion, I found that only one corner had been dug up in an unnatural manner.

Jude: “…….”

-- So so many. I sit in front of one of the piles and gently touched it with my fingertips.

Jude: “Brother is here... Answer me.”

I didn’t hear anything.

I didn’t even know if she was here.

All I know is that it was already too late.

So then I introduced the nobles to my father and brother, who were still working at the port, sipping muddy water.

(Isn't it great to do hard physical labor with the person you sold your daughter to?)

I had my subordinates watch over as they were weakened by the humiliation of the harsh labor.

I did nothing, I just watched.

Soon after, the nobles, my father, and my brother were all dead.

I killed them all.

-……De.

-……Jude.

Ellis: “Jude.”

(Ellis….?)

(……Ah, I fell asleep.)

It seems that because I didn't get enough sleep, I passed out while sitting.

(--- Even if it's)

Ellis: “What kind of dream was it?”

Jude: “Hah?”

Ellis: “You sounded like you had a nightmare.”**

Jude: “It was a shitty dream.”

Ellis: “I see. Jude is unhappy even in his dreams.”

Jude: “Shut up dumbass.”

Ellis smiles and looks somewhere else.

When I followed Ellis' line of sight, I saw a full moon floating there.

Ellis: "I guess Jude won't be happy until he gets to that moon."

(I know the truth. Even if I went to that moon, I wouldn't be happy.)

My sister whom I promised to is dead.

I can't take her to the moon.

The crazy dream I have is a promise that will never come true.

Ellis: "Hey, Jude. Can you breathe on the moon?"

Jude: “Ah?”

Ellis: "I'm just worried if Jude dies there before I can kill him."

Jude: “You really are fucking crazy. It can’t be helped.”

Still, I only have this promise.

That's why—.

(Someday I'll go to the moon.)

**Just in case this small detail matters (not really but) he was making sounds like people usually having nightmares do. i bet he gets these nightmares often;-;**

*If anything got deleted and i didn’t notice it’s probably tumblr being weird on my ipad bc of storage ahajaj)

TN: OK wow after reading his backstories… my crack theory about jude and the moon some time ago turned out to be at least 70% right? also jude has always been pretty snarky/sarcastic haha even to his younger sister (a little) i have a loooot of thoughts on his backstory but ill dump it after finishing his route. it really is dark and horrible how the rich people bought children and just…. did all that…. i support jude torturing crazy nobles 🙂‍↕️

[gothamite-rambler]

It's been 8 years since the headphone jack was removed from the iphone

Damian texted quickly to Carrie on his iPhone 16 and then opened Apple Music to look for a song to play she told him to listen to, but when he couldn't find his airpods he sighed.

Damian (bothered): God damn, I lost my dongle and now I have no earbuds.

Tim chuckled, wiping his nose.

Tim: Why do you insist on calling it a dongle?

Damian: It's one of the names, and it's a funny word. I get tired of the wireless earbuds sometimes, though. I hope someday the new iPhone re-adds that hole at the bottom.

Tim: Hole?

Damian (sincere): Yeah, the place to plug in the jack for old-school headphones. I’d rather have that than charge my wireless ones.

Barbara (looking up from her laptop): I'm sorry… old-school headphones?

Dick: And do you mean the headphone jack? There are phones that still have that.

Damian (intrigued): Are they Apple phones? The older models have them, but they're basically obsolete. They removed it ages ago.

Barbara (frustration in her voice): They removed the headphone jack from the iPhone in 2016.

Damian: Oh wow, that's almost a decade, like eight years ago—

Dick spit out his drink, shocked, and covered his mouth as he coughed. Barbara could only muster a whimper at how much time had passed since the last iPhone had a headphone jack.

Tim (amused): Damian, I agree with you. I use Android myself, but they decided to remove the jack from those phones too. Samsung took it out six years ago.

Dick (shocked): SIX!

Damian: I know, right? Time flies. I'm more of an Apple user, but those folding phones are quite an impressive technical feat. Did they have those back in the day?

Damian and Tim jolted as Dick fell to the ground, covering his face in shock.

Dick: Back in the day?!

Tim (chuckling): Dick, the first flip phone came out in the late '90s.

Barbara (weakly): 19—1996… Okay, but we were born in the '90s! We're not that old!

Dick: Damn right!

Tim (messing with them): That means you didn't have a phone for most of that time! When the first phones came out, you guys had to be in your teens, right?

Damian (surprised then apologetic): Damn! Oh, I'm sorry! Just my teacher was born in the 1900s.

Dick (meekly, still on the floor for comfort): Please stop talking. That doesn’t mean we're old!

Tim (crossing his arms, mischievous): You know, Damian, they didn't have phones when you or I were teenagers. A lot of the stuff we have now didn’t exist back then. No streaming, no fancy laptops, they even had typewriters in schools.

Damian chuckled, bemused by this information.

Damian: I heard they lacked a lot of technology, but what did they do for fun then? I feel like those old black-and-white shows can only entertain you for a short time.

Barbara whimpered, covering her mouth because she did watch a lot of black-and-white shows.

Dick: Okay, we watched color shows back then! I said color shows… oh my God.

Damian (curious): What about music? Could they download it on an… MP3 player?

Tim (enjoying this, shaking his head): Nope! Didn’t exist yet. All they had were CDs and cassette tapes.

Damian: Oh my God, they're that old!

Tim (laughing and covering his mouth): Damn!

Barbara crushed her paper coffee cup in her hand, her left eye twitching as Dick stood to his feet, embarrassed. He rested his hands on the countertop, trying to regain his composure.

Dick (angry, raised voice): I am… not saying my age to you children! I had a phone eventually!

Tim: Not the one he had. You guys grew up Amish, didn't you?

Barbara: I can still punch you in the throat, Tim. Tread lightly.

Dick: I'm not sure about her, but I watched SpongeBob and Rocko's Modern Life.

Damian: Didn't SpongeBob first premiere in 1999? And what's Rocko's Modern Life? An oldies show?

Barbara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head.

Barbara: Nice save, dumbass.

Damian (joining in on the mockery): How did you guys not go insane from boredom? Did you churn butter, go to church, watch the news?

Barbara (slamming her fist on the table): Look, my dad's a cop; I enjoy the news in general!

Damian: I was just curious about the headphone jack, which seems terribly archaic, but this is fascinating I have relics of the past in front of me.

Tim nodded, enjoying picking on their older sibling and friend.

Damian: I have a few more questions for you AARP members. Do you guys reserve early bird seating at restaurants? Do you use anti-aging skincare products, and did you ever use those papers that help with saving money?

Dick: You mean coupons? Oh no, I'm did it again! No, I can't be that old!

Dick sobbed softly.

Barbara (defensively): Sometimes I like an early dinner! Jesus! And if you want the headphone jack back, you can just ask us for one! I carry a lot because I'm cultured!

Barbara pulled out an iPhone Apple Lightning to Headphone Jack Adapter. Damian was thankful at first, but when he saw the Lightning part, he frowned.

Damian: This is for the older iPhones. They use USB-C now.

Barbara: Dick, hold me back.

Dick grabbed Barbara's arm while sitting on the floor again, and she tried to swipe at Damian with her other arm, offended. Tim grabbed Damian's arm and pulled him away while trying not to laugh. Barbara covered her face, groaning.

Barbara: Fuck, we’re old like Bruce now.

Dick (raised voice, defeated): Stop reminding me!

[hyukascampfire]

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, cream pie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gave him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  

Your silence is enough confirmation from him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  

Can’t things just stay like this? 

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got to close, or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 

“I just... don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  

⚝⭒ 

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late June or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  

⚝⭒ 

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and nineteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  

⚝⭒ 

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 

⚝⭒ 

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  

⚝⭒ 

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  

⚝⭒ 

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 

⚝⭒ 

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  

⚝⭒ 

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 

So you do. 

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once. 

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 

⚝⭒ 

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlines pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath his hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 

Home. You are home. 

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[ughdontbeboring]

Sweet boy

Feyd Rautha x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Yours and Feyds son has a moment and you can’t help your reaction.

warnings none but fluff honestly lol

note: so this was NOT what I was supposed to be working on but I came across it in my notes and just couldn’t stop my fingers 😅 but this is inspired by one of my favorite Feyd arts of him as a child. I’m so upset I can’t find it or the artist. It’s like different drawings of him or his face as a child and he gives the meanest side eye lol so if yall know what im talking about please send it my way so i can tag the artist so others can see it.

If yall like it, love it or fucks with it please share and comment! I love talking to y’all about our mans.

I give no permission for my work to be used anywhere.

it’s fluff and short babe but it’s Feyd so you know 😭 @peggyao3 also again not what I’m supposed to be working on 🥲🥲🥲

x

x

⚔️

The day had been long and tedious but you would not trade it for anything when it dwindles down to become this kind of evening. One which you were lucky to say you had often when your husband wasn’t away for diplomatic purposes. Even then you usually all stayed together more often than not. 

The large tinted floor to ceiling windows on the right side of the dinning room allowing for a view of the planets setting white sun to shine its last bit of light on your blessed life. The tint allowed the room to stay bathed in all its natural colors. Your skins hue still vibrant against the elegant black dress that you had chosen for the day. 

You couldn’t wait to get back to your shared bedchambers and slip into nothing but your silk bed sheets and your husbands arms.

Your eyes drift back to the table you’re seated at with the two loves of your life. Years ago no one could have convinced you THIS would be your life and you’d be the HAPPIEST you’d ever been or could be. None of the of wise women of your home planet could have foretold this. Not even your own visions nor dreams could have conjured enough to convince you this was the life you wouldn’t only lead but love with every once of your being. 

But when you take in your husbands jewel blue eyes that are already watching and only soft for you, you smile happily before your eyes slowly land on the beautiful boy sitting before you and to Feyd’s right from the head of the table.  

And just as your heart swells with more love than either you and Feyd ever thought possible, a loud laugh erupts from deep within your chest. 

You slap a jeweled hand over your mouth to try and contain your laughing from the startled identical faces before you. 

You’re in a fit of giggles as you feel both your husband and son’s look of confusion and it only makes you laugh harder.

You miss your husband’s face of pure awe at the sight before him even if he is confused he can’t help but be in awe of the women he somehow convinced to love him as deeply as you do, full of joy.

You wipe at the tears that have started to spill as you catch Feyd soft questioning eyes.

“I-I’m sorry but he looked just like you with his little evil side eye” you reveal in between laughs. 

Feyd looks on proudly at your son who’s looking between the both of you with his face scrunched up not fully understanding or liking the attention and laughs at his expense. 

Your son had just gave the most evil side eye to the servant who put the extra vegetables on his plate at your request. And all you could see was Feyd. They looked almost identical already and in that moment it was your husband who was a 5 year old boy not wanting to eat the food before him. 

And for all the reasons in the world it made your heart happy. 

“Looking just like your father” you say again as you control your laughing. You can feel the pride rolling of off both of them. “A grumpy baby”. 

“What?!” Your husband yells in disbelief, the fork and meat hanging mid air the same time your son yells his own defense.

“Mother I AM NOT A BABY!” His little voice rages before you with no true anger. 

“Don’t raise your voice at your mother” Feyd scolds quickly.

Your all smiles though. This was all you ever needed. 

“Yes you are, you are my baby always” You tell him as you take in his little face, the beautiful child you both created. The best of both of you. 

He huffs and crosses his little arms across his chest. The angry face he’s trying to pull off is completely identical to his father’s. You could draw it in your sleep the amount of times you’ve seen it over the years.

“Come here” you call to him softly as you push your chair back slightly. 

“No” he says trying to stand his ground that he is not a baby.

“Do not tell your mother no” Feyd scolds again watching the two of you go back and forth with eyes full of love.  if your husband continues on this path and your sure he will, none of your children will ever tell you no or misbehave with you. Feyd has spoiled you almost rotten, your son has received the same attention from his father. The amount of times he’s done wrong and Feyd has come to his defense, you too but you always stress the he can’t be quick to anger.

He had nothing of yours physically expect for you spiced blue eyes, which you weren’t sure how long they last so blue without a constant exposure to spiced air. You were born to parents who were born to parents and so on and so on for as long as you could say who had been born to and live with spice exposure. It was literally apart of your blood. So it made you happy that was the one thing that couldn’t escape your son who spent most of his time on Giedi Prime. So it made you sad to think about the fact that he could loose it one day but you tried to make frequent enough trips to your home planet to help him keep his Fremen feature and traits. 

Feyd allowed him to be born on Arrakis much to a lot of displeasure from some of Giedi Prime. You just couldn’t see giving birth here and raising a child here almost full time, you needed your people, your culture to be apart of his life. Plus you both knew it was the only way for your son to be accepted, he needed to embrace both half’s of who he was if he was going to make a great change one day. Greater change than even you and Feyds union.

It was worth noting all of the people who were displeased with your birthing choice weren’t around anymore to speak on it. 

His personality? It was 60/40 usually, him always leaning towards his father’s ways of behavior especially right now. Right now he was 100% his father’s child. 

“Come here my sweet boy” you call again. 

“Mother I am not a sweet boy! I’m brave and scary” He says as he makes his way around the back of Feyd towards you, very slowly. The posture straight in his small body. 

You pull him in quickly once he is in arms reach. Your hands hold his little precious face gently as you plant kisses all over. You can feel his posture slowly start to loosen.

“Yes you are, you may not be sweet to others that is yet to be seen but you will always be sweet to your mother no?” You ask softly as you stare into his deep eyes that mirror yours. 

You hear a small but confident “Yes, always Mother” as all the fight leaves him and he snuggles into your body embracing you back fully. His little arms reaching around your neck and squeezing tightly. Your eyes tear a little and you know it’s just your hormones. You have a couple weeks before your due it’s still been an emotional roller coaster everyday. 

You’re so wrapped up in your little boy in your arms you don’t notice your husband. Feyd is over the moon seeing his child get the love he never received. Seeing his wife who he adores more than anything loving their child, his child, a child that looks and acts just like him regardless of what he may have done wrong that day. Her love for him was unconditional. 

He loves to see her showering him with love and care even on his bad days when he’s throwing a tantrum. 

This was everything Feyd never knew he wanted and needed. 

He’d burn everything down to protect this, their little growing family. 

⚔️

[nightxcreature]

Christmas Traditions

Summary: Riding through Christmas lights with Dean and your daughter

Pairing: Girl Dad!Dean x Reader

Warnings: None 🫶🏼 Pure fluff!

A/N: I know it’s a liiiiiiitle early for Christmas, but this is loosely based on a night out with my husband and daughter a few nights ago. I hope you enjoy! I am currently working on part three of “Hot-Blooded” and the next part for my soldier boy fic so hopefully those will be out in the next week or so! 👀

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

The rumble of the Impala drowned out whatever Christmas song Dean had blasting from the radio, but it did nothing to silence the cheers from the little girl in his lap. Lights flashed passed us as we coasted by, versions of Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph dancing sporadically around us. Dean’s loud laugh pulled my attention from the bright colors and I watched as he pointed toward a flashing blue figure in the distance.

“Look, Baby! It’s Santa on a Harley!” He bellowed, grinning at the small girl below him, “You love Harley’s!”

The little girl smiled, waving as we passed the motorcycle, “Yeah! I do!” She yelled out, standing between Dean’s legs and grabbing the steering wheel, “Wanna ride a motorcycle wif me, Daddy?”

His smile dropped and he pretended to cover Baby’s ears as he whispered dramatically, “You can’t say stuff like that in here, Sweetheart. Baby’ll get jealous!”

The little girl frowned and placed a sweet kiss on the wheel before whispering, “So sorry, Baby. I wub you.”

Dean grinned wider and turned her to see out the window again, “I’m sure she forgives you, Sweetheart. Baby’d never hold a grudge against you.”

She smiled widely and cheered as we passed a few brightly lit green penguins sliding onto a blue and white rollercoaster, forgetting all about potentially hurting Baby’s feelings. Dean placed a sweet kiss to her head and slid his free hand over to pull me to his side. He grinned as he wrapped the other hand around the little brunette’s eyes, driving with his knees as he said, “Don’t look now, Bud, Santa and Mrs, Claus are kissing!”

“Ewwww!” She’d shrieked, placing a hand over his tightly, “That’s nassy!”

He’d sent me a Cheshire grin and released his hold on her head as he placed a hand to the back of my head to pull me into a sweet kiss…met immediately with a loud, “No! That’s my mommy!” from below us as she tried to wrench us apart. Dean’s laugh bubbled out of him as he placed his eyes back on the driveway and released me.

“She was mine first.” He argued, sticking his tongue out before distracting her with the newest lights around us. His green eyes matched our girls as they caught the bright lights and shone beautifully, full of wonder and delight. His freckled cheeks were red and his hair full of snow from the open window. I chuckled at the sight, a blush creeping up my neck at how good happiness looks on him. Even after all the years of stress and danger and literal death he’s seen, hell, that he’d experienced first hand, he’d finally found his reprieve. I felt a bit of pride at the fact that I could’ve helped in alleviating that pain and sorrow, in more ways than one, and a smile creeped up my face. Though he’d been born to suffer, Dean had persevered and made it out of the shitshow he’d been thrown in and into this beautiful life we’d built together.

“What’re you smiling at, Mama?” He whispered in my ear as we coasted toward the end of the light show.

“A happy man.” I mutter back, placing a kiss to his cheek, “And a wonderful life.”

He smiled sweetly and pulled me closer as we made our way through the arches of lights leading toward the parking lot, “It’s been one hell of a journey getting here,” he mumbled, glancing down to our beautiful girl, “but it was worth every second.”

I followed his line of sight and sighed, leaning against him and smiling softly. The flashes of red, green, and blue lit up our girls green eyes and brought a glow to her own freckled face. The fact that she even exists is a miracle in and of itself, and one I can’t and won’t take for granted. I peeked back up at him and whispered, “Yeah, it really was.”

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

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @k-slla @enigmalynne @envysarchive

@daisydark @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @manicjk @aylacavebear

@suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @justwhisperingfantasies @mgchaser

[megan0013]

soulmate au wherein you start to see color as soon as you make eye contact with your soulmate, but lose the ability when they die

which is why gabriel is adamant emilie is still alive and savable because if she were really dead his vision would have reverted back to grayscale and he can still tell the difference between orchid and amethyst at a glance, thank you very much

fast forward to hawkmoth’s defeat at the hands of the heroes and ladybug’s confirmation that there’s nothing they can do for emilie and that she is, in fact, dead. but that doesn’t make sense because gabriel can still see colors - can still see the blue sky the morning of her funeral, and the pink dress he’d chosen for her to be buried in, and the green grass as her casket descends into the ground

life goes on and the color never fades -

not like those few times it had when he still wore the miraculous

those had been some of the worst nights of his life. when the color of his son’s hair had lost its golden hue and his assistant’s bright blue eyes looked grey (the fact those nights always coincided with nathalie’s weakest never crossed his mind, nor did the way everything around him seemed brighter whenever she took a deep, fortifying breath)

- and then one day adrien asks nathalie if she can see color, why isn’t she with her soulmate?

“i don’t know who they are.”

“how can you not know?!”

“there were a lot of people around when it happened.” she shrugs and then, at adrien’s incredulous expression, elaborates, “i was on a school trip to the musée d’orsay. one second everything was in black and white, and the next i could see color. it happened so fast i don’t even know if he realized it was me he was looking at. and by the time i’d gotten over my shock the teachers were herding us onto the next activity.”

“do you remember anything about him?”

“the details are fuzzy now, but he was older than me by a few years. and he was very tall.” she pauses, thinking. “and his hair was cut short, but dyed bright red.”

adrien’s eyes narrow. “is that why you have a red streak in your hair?”

nathalie smiles and tilts her head. “you know, adrien, i never really thought about it like that. but maybe.”

“how long ago was this?”

adrien and nathalie both turn at the sound of gabriel’s sudden question, completely unaware of how intently he’d been listening to their conversation since the mentioning of the station

“i’d just turned fourteen.”

gabriel calculates the timing in his head, frown deepening as nathalie and adrien turn to a different topic

a few days later an increasingly agitated gabriel bites the bullet and calls amélie, who reluctantly admits that, no, gabriel was not actually emilie’s soulmate and that, apparently, she had known her soulmate for years before she’d met him but couldn’t stand the boy and had jumped at the chance to be gabriel’s soulmate when he’d mistaken her for his

furious, he slams down the phone and goes to find the old photo albums stashed in the back of his closet

and there, on the second page of a scrapbook emilie had made him for their six-month anniversary, in the background of the very first selfie he’d taken with emilie was a gangly, pale girl with a heart-shaped face and familiar bright blue eyes

gabriel’s heart stutters to a stop, eyes flicking from the bright red buzz cut he’d very briefly sported to emilie’s radiant smile and back to the teenage version of nathalie

nathalie

his soulmate

[planetdream]

striped carnations.

characters. hwang hyunjin, reader, lee minho + special guests

genre. angst, flower shop!au. words. 5.6k

synopsis. upon hearing the news that your boyfriend is going to propose to you, hyunjin realizes that he's had feelings for you all along

fic contents: hyunjin is both a chronic overthinker and a hopeless romantic. needless pining. angst. heartbreak. talks of marriage and relationships. suggestive content: hookups; heavy make out + implied drunk sex.

💌 if you think you've seen this before, it's because you have! I deleted it like a month ago lmao....but here it is again <3

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a big fan of flowers. A flower can describe the emotions behind every pivotal moment in one’s lifetime—a wedding, a funeral, graduation, or a life-changing event—though not limited to only those situations; Hyunjin's love for, and belief in flowers reaches across all occasions and sentiments. His admiration of flowers as a whole goes beyond the smell, or how visually pleasing and/or vibrant in color they look. Flowers allow him to express feelings that he feels words simply cannot—even if no one else around him understands it in the way he does. Hyunjin loves flowers because of the stories you can tell with them, and thus, he chooses to document his life with flowers. 

As a small child, Hyunjin would pick flowers at the park for his mother; or one of his various personal art projects. A bundle of flowers bunched up in his tiny little hands as he ran to his mother with the widest, dimpled grin he could make. To his mother, the flowers are a sweet sentiment of his admiration towards the woman raising him. However, to Hyunjin they meant so much more than that—a physical manifestation of a deep awareness that he couldn’t find the words to explain until he matured as a person. This habit of gifting flowers out of pure emotion was probably the one constant in his life other than the crushing weight of heartbreak. 

Heartbreak is much like flowers. It has so many different colors and feels, it takes on a multitude of shapes and smells—and it is pretty easy to romanticize. 

When Hyunjin was in kindergarten, he gifted a daisy to a girl he had a small crush on. She ended up stomping on them, but that didn’t stop little Hyunjin from pining after her. The tradition of Hyunjin picking flowers as a romantic gesture continued in a slightly different way as he got older, and the helpless pining after something unattainable never stopped. Coincidentally, a few of his exes are named after flowers—the unfortunate downside of that is that it still pains him to look at whatever flower the ex had been named after, even if they ended the relationship on good terms. 

These are some moments and beliefs that have shaped Hyunjin—and his future. 

In the second to last year of his high school career, Hyunjin began working at a flower shop close to his childhood home. Morning Glory Floral—located between a convenience store and a bookstore (both of which are frequented by Hyunjin)—is a tiny little flower shop that Hyunjin knows like the back of his hand. He’d originally started out as a cashier and order taker until he eventually worked his way up to being one of three floral designers at the shop. 

He typically runs the shop most days of the week, opening in the early morning and closing in the late afternoon unless he happens to work Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—on those days the store is open until 7PM. Hyunjin usually arrives an hour, or sometimes two, before the shop opens just to get a headstart on things. He prints out invoices, splitting the orders between their type—local, domestic/international; additionally divided between funeral, wedding, and those non-applicable—as well as making sure pre-made flower arrangements are ready for pickup. The shop is fairly busy on a normal day (although that typically comes down to season), therefore, a lot of Hyunjin’s time during the day is making sure things are running smoothly and without delay. 

Floral design is an art. One of the many forms of art and creative expression that Hyunjin excels within. In his mind, floral design can easily be compared to architecture or interior design (both Hyunjin contemplated as career options). The vase is the foundation—who or what is this flower arrangement for? What color helps express the emotions behind the arrangement? Then—what flowers should be used (if the customer doesn’t have a request)? What should be the focal flower that grabs people's attention? Do the flowers chosen represent the overall message? Which filler flowers and greenery should be used? The shape of the arrangement matters too. As do a lot of other minuscule details. 

The details are important to him. Making sure the customer is satisfied with his creation is easy, hardly anything to worry about, but making sure that he’s satisfied with the work he’s done is an entirely different thing. A simple glance at Hyunjin creating a flower arrangement and it doesn’t seem like it takes too much time or energy. He moves in fluid movements, placing one flower after the other, a blank expression on his face. In reality, it’s a time-consuming process and it takes a lot of thought and precision to create the arrangements he does. Still, his hard work pays off greatly. He didn’t know he’d be where he is today, but he’s great at what he does—which is why people always come back. 

His favorite floral arrangements to make are the ones that have to do with romantic love—a date, wedding, or anniversary—since Hyunjin feels it gives him a lot more freedom for creative expression. Like floral design, love is of significant importance to Hyunjin, especially romantic love. Seeing people express their love and admiration for each other via flowers is beautiful to him, as he is a hopeless romantic after all. 

A small order of carnations arrived at the shop one morning. Unmarked and not on any receipt nor written in any book. Carnations are typically cut flowers (as in, used for decorative purposes), so consequently, it’s not unlikely for the shop to have extra, especially since Felix, one of the other floral designers, loves to use them for arrangements. The flowers catch Hyunjin’s eye in particular, not only because they’re striped carnations, but because there are three of them, obviously not enough to do much with unless for a small arrangement. 

Felix, as full of knowledge as he is, once explained to Hyunjin that during the Victorian era, carnations were used to speak very straightforwardly. Unlike other flowers that have many different, complicated, and often overlapping meanings, carnations could be used to respond to something—like a love proposal. If one was asking another for their hand in marriage, the recipient of the proposal may respond with a yes by giving the proposer a solid color carnation, such as pink, white, or even red; however, the yellow carnations mean no. Striped carnations generally mean a refusal of love, almost regrettably so. I love you, but I cannot be with you. A message that Hyunjin is more than familiar with. 

Perhaps it’s an omen. A sign that he’s going to fall headfirst into another relationship resulting in yet another heartbreak. A sign that if he falls for someone again, he may not get back up this time. Hyunjin often wonders if fate is real—he knows it is, he can feel that it's real—but has he been fated to fall in love over and over again just to reach the same emotionally catastrophic end that he always does? Maybe he did something in a past life that would warrant this anguish.

He shakes the thought from his mind, for the time being, choosing instead to blissfully and ignorantly fall victim to his subconscious. He won’t admit it out loud, and when the thought arises, he pushes it out of his mind in embarrassment, but Hyunjin loves the feeling of heartbreak. It stings. In both the worst way and the best way. And while he genuinely does hate heartbreak, it’s almost like he’s addicted to it. 

And then the bell of the door rings, signaling to Hyunjin that there’s a new customer. He looks up from behind the counter and his eyes meet Lee Minho, your boyfriend. 

You and Hyunjin had met in the fourth grade. It can only be described now, all of these years later, as an instantaneous click. You both felt comfortable with each other and eventually opted to do everything together, very soon becoming the best of friends. From grade school to adulthood, you’ve kept a secure friendship. Confiding in each other about everything—when one of you is low, the other is sure to pick them up. 

There’s a sheepish smile on Minho’s face as he approaches the counter. The expression takes Hyunjin aback. The smile is surprising because Hyunjin swears that the older man typically has a permanent scowl on his face. Hyunjin greets him, giving a small smile and a wave. 

“Need flowers for a date?” Hyunjin asks, fixing his standing posture. 

“For something better actually,” Minho’s smile grows wider, as if he cannot contain it. Hyunjin thinks this might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen across Minho’s face. Minho places his hands onto the cold surface of the counter, lightly tapping in it. “I’m proposing this weekend.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops in awe. Never had he thought Minho was a man interested in marriage. Not only that, this means he’d be losing his best friend to married life. Next thing he knows, you’ll start having kids! His mind begins to race around, unforgiving. 

When Hyunjin the two of you were younger, you and Hyunjin would talk about your hopes and aspirations for the future. Of course, the topic of marriage and creating a family entered the conversation. You expressed that when you truly love someone, there’s no need to get the law involved for a piece of paper. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, he felt that your reasoning was a bit childish, joyous of true, deep love. However, when you told him that though, it put a couple of things into perspective—most significantly, how you and Hyunjin are opposites. Hyunjin aches to get married and wants a few children too, he thinks the idea is beautiful. Still, for Hyunjin, the possibility of him actually getting married feels too far-fetched; unimaginable, and unattainable. Would anyone love him enough to want to marry him?

Minho breaks Hyunjin away from the depth of his mind. “I was thinking of a nice bouquet to give them, and you’re my guy for that.” 

Hyunjin exhales as he looks at Minho. He can’t even crack a small smile. He feels he should be happy—but something within him feels wrong. Someone dear to his heart is getting married and he can’t even pretend to be excited. He should be happy for you. He knows he should be happy for you; but he cannot find happiness within himself at all at this moment. 

Hyunjin and Minho aren’t exactly friends. Had it not been for you, they doubt they would have even crossed paths. It’s not that Hyunjin doesn’t like Minho, he’s a cool, upstanding guy; but is he worth being your boyfriend? Let alone, is he worth being your husband? In Hyunjin’s perspective, absolutely not. Sure, from the things you tell him, Minho treats you with love, care, and the utmost respect, but Hyunjin thinks there’s something…off about him, even after four years of you and Minho being together. From Minho’s perspective, it’s obvious that Hyunjin has a crush on you. He’s teased you about it multiple times, but to you it seems highly unlikely that your best friend since practically forever would be in love with you—but it happens. 

“Here, I’ll show you the ring.” Minho fishes into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a black velvet box. He opens the box, places it on the counter, and turns it to Hyunjin. 

The ring is gorgeous. Hyunjin can tell it’s been updated and has had a few repairs, probably a ring kept within the family. He knows this because after looking at so many rings, both through work and in his own free time (self-admittedly pathetic of him to just go looking for engagement rings and wedding bands while he’s desperately single), he’s starting to notice the small differences. 

“Wow.” Is the only thing that leaves Hyunjin’s mouth. 

Minho continues to talk, but it all goes in one ear and out of the other. Hyunjin is lost within his head. One thought after another, layering and locking himself within his own mind. Hyunjin remains on auto-pilot for the rest of his conversation with Minho. Towards the end of it, Hyunjin fishes out the most pathetic fake smile he possibly could. Hyunjin, per usual, promises to do his best at making the best floral arrangement he possibly can. Before he leaves, Minho says something to Hyunjin that sticks with him for the rest of his day. 

“They’ve always liked your arrangements, so just do what you do best. I trust you.”

The carnations are back. Another three. 

Coincidentally, they arrived on the same day that Hyunjin has to create the floral arrangement for Minho’s proposal. Hyunjin can’t lie, while this project was constantly on his mind; subconsciously putting all the pieces together one by one—he absolutely put the entire thing off until the last minute. Hyunjin has never once dreaded coming into work until now. Just the thought of working on the arrangement makes him sick to his stomach. But now there’s no more time left. 

Everything that Hyunjin needs for the making of the arrangement is spread out right in front of him. 

He chooses a white vase as the foundation—white, along with being a symbol of purity or innocence, is also a symbol of new beginnings and marriage, the latter representing what the arrangement means as a whole—sleek and rounded in an hourglass shape. Usually, for engagement bouquets, Hyunjin uses a clear vase to ensure that the flowers stay healthy and alive (of course while being taken care of). However, neither you nor Minho are any good when it comes to taking care of flowers, so Hyunjin figures he can do whatever he wants when it comes to his creation.

The foliage comes first—Hyunjin preps the stems, pulling off the lower leaves that might hang in the water, clipping the ends off the stems before they dive into the water. Floral arranging is not only art, it’s a science. The plants have to be inserted into the vase at an angle so that the arrangement can take shape. The arrangement needs to be balanced and colorful, preferably. Vase arrangements require layering, it’s easier to start with the heavier flowers first; two red chrysanthemums on opposing sides. He cuts the stems so that the flowers hang low in the vase, almost acting as a focal point if not for his statement flowers. 

As a standard for his arrangements and bouquets, Hyunjin chooses flowers that signify love and new beginnings. He also needs to make sure that the flowers he chose actually look nice in the bouquet, as if not, he feels the need to completely start over.

As he works on his creation, Hyunjin allows himself to get lost within his thoughts. Everytime someone comes into the shop, a smile on their face as they’re picking out flowers for their lover; Hyunjin feels something within him break, just a tiny crack at the surface of his identity. For a brief moment, with his work, he’s allowed to peak into the lives—the relationships—of others. Everything from the great moments of excitement to the bad moments that hope and pray to be forgiven. All of it sends Hyunjin spiraling into the depths of his memory. 

He remembers his high school years. Going back to classes after the summer he hit a growth spurt. His voice got a bit deeper, too. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Hyunjin was desirable. Shy as he was, he enjoyed it. And after a few experiences, he’d seemingly gotten over his timid behavior, though still introverted. It was a strange time. He remembers falling deep into infatuation only for things to not pan out. Before the situationship begins, the sharp sting of heartbreak lingers. 

Just a few months back, Hyunjin got his heart broken yet again when his now ex-girlfriend left him to get back with her ex; some total loser named Changbin, of whom she had been originally dating sometime before Hyunjin. It’s not you, it’s me, she said. I just don’t feel the same as you, she said. Maybe we’ll meet later in life, or in the next, she said. He knew she didn’t mean it. That she was just feeding into his past-life and karmic romantic ideologies to lessen the blow. Within that same week (at minimum, three days later), he sees a mutual friend post a picture from a double date including said ex and her boyfriend. 

It stung. Badly. And he’s over it now. In fact, he’s so over it that he can hardly remember her name. Sooyun? Miyeong? See? He can’t remember it. It wasn’t the worst breakup that Hyunjin has experienced. Not by a mile. The worst actually was a couple of years ago, his longest relationship which lasted a year exactly, getting betrayed on the one-year anniversary of their one-sided love. The memory still stings, so Hyunjin prefers not to talk about it—but once it comes time for self-reflection, he thinks of the memories in awe—sickly attached to the distant memory of something that failed to work out. What if? He thinks. 

But three months (yeah, his most recent relationship was only three months; yes, he’s still a bit broken) with someone—constantly talking to them, getting acquainted with their lifestyle, seeing them often, kissing them, feeling them—changes a person; for better or for worse. So, Hyunjin is lucky he got out of it with only hurt feelings. A faint tug at his heart and, understandably, anger surrounding the situation, if anything. Nothing unmanageable that he can’t work or date away. 

Past relationships have driven him into a slump. Depressed and unable to create or live, even, until he finds himself somewhere within the next person—both metaphorically and actually—when he’s really at his worst; the ‘best’ thing to do is to relieve his stress by burying himself inside of someone in an effort to escape intense personal feelings. This occasionally backfires whenever he catches feelings for whoever he fucks and the cycle repeats itself. Over and Over. An unfortunate life lesson that Hyunjin has to continue repeating: spiritually, possibly due to the sins made in a past life; but actually, because he rarely ever learns from past mistakes, especially if it has to do with romance. 

Hyunjin, is, quite simply, a hopeless romantic in every sense of the term, but at a specific level of naivety. Aching to see the good in people or a situation even if it has near-disastrous results to his psyche. Before even speaking to someone, he’d have already envisioned their first few dates, their marriage, and growing old together. It embarrasses him badly. And no matter how many times he has to sit down with himself, reminding himself to calm down, that he should take things slowly, he’s already experiencing heartbreak. 

He’s tried the dating scene multiple times since this most recent breakup. A few dates here and there, and more than a few hook-ups as well (What can he say? He’s a single man). He was mostly encouraged by other friends, and you, to reopen his Tinder account and get back out there. And Hyunjin, easily influenced, did just that. It didn’t last long though, simply due to the fact that he found himself bored almost immediately after each date or hookup. He’s simply wandering through life, boldly yet blindly, without inspiration. 

Then he feels that spark. It’s just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his creation. 

That very familiar, almost sickening spark deep within his soul that he found himself craving after going so long without. Feelings. Of the romantic variety. For you. He can say that he initially realized them during a party hosted by a friend of a friend. You were surrounded by some of your close friends, drinking, and smiling all pretty as you do; and that’s when it started. It was like the universe expanded in a way that could be physically felt—similar to that of an out of body experience—an intensity that feels so right. He could damn near feel the temperature changing in the room due to some kind of universal shift. The vibrations of the music gets heavier, and the chatter of people blurs together—time slows down but is going all too fast. 

But perhaps he’s had these feelings for you for a while now. Maybe since you first met as children. Hiding them deep within himself. Covering up his feelings by searching for you through countless other people. Perhaps it is why many of his relationships never work out. 

It has to be fate calling out to him. Hyunjin clings to this thought and the feeling that it gives him.

Hyunjin questions himself like he does every time he realizes that he has feelings for someone. What do I like about them? He ponders it. Though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Everything. He likes everything about you. From the way you type on your phone to how you order food at restaurants. He loves how concentrated you get when reading something and he likes how you walk a little weirdly. He likes your opinions and the way you see the world. Those small, specific things that make you who you are, are what Hyunjin loves. You as a person, inside and out. The good and the bad. All desirable and undesirable things. 

This is bad. Really bad. The realization feels bad. 

Hyunjin has had feelings for tons of his friends before. He never tells them, but if he does—because hey, life is short—then it never goes past a -with-benefits label. His friends mean a lot to him, and while a romance could strengthen a relationship, it could also weaken one. Some people are meant to stay friends. Perhaps that could change between you two. But it cannot. Hyunjin remembers one little fact: you are in a committed relationship. Of four years. With Lee Minho of all people. 

What does Lee Minho have that Hyunjin doesn’t? He’s just as pretty. Just as charming. And he’s a few centimeters taller. Plus, he’s known you longer than Minho has. If anything happens, you’d certainly pick Hyunjin, right? But Minho wants to marry you and Hyunjin doubts himself as being ready for that type of commitment even though he craves it desperately. 

By the time that Hyunjin has finally finished the final pieces of the floral arrangement and sneaks away from his thoughts, Minho saulters into the store. Speak of the devil. 

He’s smiling just as wide as he had days ago. Tonight is the night that he proposes, Minho informs Hyunjin. To which, Hyunjin congratulates Minho—but he hopes that you say no. He prays that you say no and, just to add insult to injury, you laugh in Minho’s face, despite how crude it’d be. In the pit of his stomach, though, he knows that you’ll say yes to Minho.

Minho leaves with the flowers after a few minutes of chatter; but not before he pays and leaves quite a hefty tip. 

The rest of Hyunjin’s day goes by dryly. A permanent pout rests on his face, as noticed by his coworkers. He’ll just shyly smile so as to not cause any worry. Hyunjin remains on autopilot. Smiling, talking to his regulars and answering the questions he might receive throughout the day. For the most part, though, he retreats to the dark and cozy area of his mind. 

—

He decides to take a refreshing walk back home. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk, and he does it often. More time to think. His headphones are tight against his ears, but not uncomfortable. Hyunjin initially chooses to blast a soft, slow tempoed song before he switches to something more heavy and aggravated. 

The music is cut and a millisecond later, his phone rings. It’s you. Oh, god. You’re going to rub your relationship in his face. 

When Hyunjin answers it, there’s an, albeit fake, smile on his face as if you could see him, and he begins to speak in a typical cheery tone. He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t understand a thing you’re saying and he panics. He stops in his tracks, hand curling to grasp at air in a panic. His eyes widen while he searches for any thought in his brain to console you. 

“Are you home? I’ll be on my way, okay?” He informs you, voice filled with worry. “We can stay on the line until I get there.”

And he stays on the phone with you until he reaches his home; and then the entire fifteen-block walk to your place. Avoiding the eyes of those who wonder whether he might be talking to himself. He hurries, speed walking the entire way—and almost sprinting at one point when your sobs had suddenly gotten worse—in order to reach your apartment in less time than it would usually take. 

He’s buzzed into your building and within a few seconds he’s at the door of your apartment. He doesn’t need to knock, as you open it immediately. Tears are staining your cheeks and you walk up to hug Hyunjin, not bothering to welcome him into your home. 

Now, everything is seemingly on pause, and Hyunjin is comforting you through your own heartbreak. Once again, time is both slowed down and sped up—he’s present but still lost in his head somewhere. Still, he waddles the both of you into your apartment, and kicks the door closed with his foot. 

He notices the flower arrangement he’d made just hours prior, sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin questions. Dealing with those emotions, especially right after they surface, is difficult, and the last thing Hyunjin wants to do is push you into speaking about it—he knows the fresh wounds of a heartbreak all too well. So, he remains by your side, patient, and comforting until—if—you decide to speak. 

The two of you begin rocking side to side slowly. It’s soothing, and you’re able to speak just quietly. 

“Well, he proposed,” His stomach turns, tightening to the point where he becomes nauseous for a moment. Hyunjin even nearly rolls his eyes, but the thing that relieves him is the reason he’s here—obviously you turned Minho down. That, or Minho dropped dead; but that’s not as likely. Yet, the thing that nearly makes Hyunjin sicker is how much he hates that he’s happy that you declined the proposal. 

“And I declined. I-I said I wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Told him I wish we had discussed it a bit more before he did anything so we’d be on the same page. B-but I begged for us to stay together and he said… he said he couldn’t do it.” 

You bury your head in Hyunjin’s chest, weeping a bit more. 

“I know it hurts,” His words get lost in his mind somewhere, feeling as though he isn’t adequate enough to comfort you. 

“It hurts so bad.” You grab his hoodie with your fist tightly, twisting and tugging at it. 

“Let’s just cry it out. That always helps me.” He suggests, hand running up and down your back. 

“Cry with me? Like that scene in Midsommar?” You laugh through your sobs despite the hurt you’re in. Not that it matters to Hyunjin, of course. You can feel him laugh and, fortunately, it makes you smile. 

“Only if you want me to.” He unknowingly returns the smile. You don’t respond, but you ponder it—even as just a joke. 

The room falls silent but the silence is comfortable. That’s what you love about being around Hyunjin. You intrigue him, and while he always wants to know what’s going on in your mind, he never pressures you to speak. Sometimes, we learn more about ourselves—and to an extent, other people—through silence. 

The hug breaks. You fail to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You walk off to sit in the living room and Hyunjin goes to get water for the both of you. He sets the glasses of water down and takes a seat next to you. 

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asks. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them onto his jeans.

Your frown somehow deepens before you speak. “Went to stay with his parents.”

Silence. Hyunjin can tell that you’re lost in thought. He feels a bit odd. Individually, you both have gone through a significant amount of breakups; but each one is different from the last. It’s been so long since you’ve had your heart broken. To see you like this after so long—eyes red and puffy with a tear stained face, bottom lip quivering as you try to console yourself—it breaks Hyunjin. He does what you would do for him. 

“What will help take your mind away?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

You ponder for a moment. “Remember back in February when you and Miyeong broke up? The sleepover we had while Minho was away? We stayed up all night eating snacks and watching romance movies,” 

He nods. Despite being deeply hurt to the point he got sick, the latter part of that week was one of the most enjoyable times that he’d had in forever. The two of you ate, drank, cried, and watched cheesy romantic movies (to which Hyunjin cried more). Through the stuffy fog that is heartbreak, Hyunjin was reminded that, sometimes, life isn’t so bad. 

“What if we did that again for a couple of days?”

Hyunjin ponders it, considers it, but… “We both have work.” He pouts.

“Not tomorrow, though. I just don’t want to be alone right now,” You need him. A crutch. A support system. And you know he’ll never let you down. “Plus, you act like you haven’t stayed over for long periods of time before! Remember the time that Jisung refused to shower out of spite so you slept over here?”

Hyunjin lets out a short chuckle. He knows that when he goes back to his apartment, it’ll be left a mess. But for you, he doesn’t mind cleaning up after Jisung. “Fine. But only because I love you and I want you to feel better, loser.”

—

“You just have to find your thing, you know?” Hyunjin takes another shot. Neither of you are sure just how many you’ve both had. 

“Like, you know, my thing is art, and flowers and, you know, expressing myself with them. It’s the one thing I can always come back to and feel good about. Not betrayed, not hurt, or anything. But good. That shop—god—it’s like the one place in this world that’s for me.”

He’s venting now. He shouldn’t be. This is all about you. Tonight is all about you. So he cuts himself short, words still lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s a momentary silence, eventually broken by you.

“Are you implying that you want to fuck your flower shop?”

“Wha…? No! I’m just saying…I’m trying to help you!” His ears become red.

“Hm. Not sure. Sounds like you’re confessing your love for your job,” Hyunjin looks at you with a face full of temporary disgust. “I’m jooking! Find my thing, something to express myself with, I know, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be.”

Silence once again occupies the room, planting itself comfortably between you and Hyunjin. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. You do, though. 

“You know what’s kinda funny?” 

“Hm?”

“Minho used to mention, from time to time, how he believed you had a crush on me,” You smile. Hyunjin, however, is caught off guard, eyebrows raised with his eyes slightly wide. “I would always laugh it off but part of me kept thinking What If?”

“What if I had been with you instead of Minho. I mean, you wouldn’t propose to me without having a simple fucking conversation, right?” You ramble on. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.” “Two secrets! It’s actually two secrets!”

“One,” You tilt your head to smile at Hyunjin. “I had the biggest crush on you for years. But I was so hurt because you kept going after literally every fucking body else. Wish you had paid attention to me.”

“And Two!” You continue, not as sad. Ignoring the previous sentences that came from your mouth. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you let me?”

He can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth. For a moment, Hyunjin feels ill. He’d somehow missed the signs. You wanted him, too. His eyebrows string together in a brief expression of sadness. He shakes it away. Hyunjin nods and leans in, his eyes close and he puckers his lips. Within a second, he feels your lips on his and then your hand on his thigh. 

Sparks. That’s the only way that Hyunjin can describe it. Your mouth is warm, wet and Hyunjin can only melt into you. The two of you melt into each other. Lips mashed together as your tongues slip into each other's mouths, swapping spit. At this point it’s more than kissing. It’s heavy and messy. It’s full of hurt and passion and the feeling of being missed. Or having something missed out on. Uncertainty. Neither of you have come up for air to interrupt the makeout session. Losing yourselves within each other's mouths—lips and tongue, occasional teeth. 

You end up climbing atop of him to straddle. Breaking the kiss to pin Hyunjin to the floor. You stare down at him, searching within his eyes. “Do you want me?”

“So much.” The two words leave Hyunjin’s mouth desperately. He’s in anguish. 

He tries to sit up, to chase your lips but he’s properly pinned. You plant one soft kiss against his lips. You stand, beckoning Hyunjin to follow you to your room; disappearing into the hallway. And Hyunjin does just that; leaving his sober self to pick up the pieces of a drunken, immoral night. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[van-yangyin]

Slime Head Set for Teen to Elder【Simblreen 2024】 - Weekend 2 ~ 27th

SLIME HEAD, that’s it!  Are you a slime fan and want to be one of them? Are you already one of them? Whether you are or not, buy this set now and follow the steps in instructions! Instructions:  - Rip off your head from the back of your neck.  - Use the special anti pain and to work head replacement spell… Wait a minute! No… it was… Well, never mind, these have been test ones. The next sets will come with the correct instructions…

It’s also quite possible that you’re a real Slime! Which means that you already come like this from birth and don’t need to follow any instructions… it’s very sure that your father or mother is from a non Slime species. But you can use this set anyway… To dye your head slime in another color!

Hope you enjoy this gift! 🍬🍭

🎃3 versions Slime head, Slime head with core and Slime Head with eye 🎃Head replacement located on Detail Skin, Forehead 🎃Teen to Elder ～ All genders and agender 🎃13 swatches 🎃Slime head with core, core has emission map and Slime Head with eye use eye texture of sim 🎃Base game Compatible 🎃Disable for random 🎃All LODs 🎃HQ Compatible 🎃Custom Thumbnails ⚠️This has been an experiment I’ve wanted to do for a long time but really wanted to share it with all of you at Simblreen! It’s 100% functional in game (like head replacement I shared almost a year ago of LightTree Head), but in the future I will add or modify some textures and maps to give it the look I want 100% (I’m still experimenting in Blender with nodes).

If you download my CC it means your agree with my T.O.U (English/Español/日本語). TLDR here

～LOD Information～ Slime Head Ver. : LOD0: 496 poly Slime Head with eye/core Ver.: LOD0: 976 poly

~🎃DOWNLOAD LINKS🎃~

※Choose the ones that best suits your needs.※

🎃PATREON or SFS🎃 (Always free, no adf|y)

☆BECOME A PATREON | TIP ME ON KO-FI☆ 

Let me know if you find any problem or have any suggestions for this CC. 🙏❣️

Happy spooky simming! 🎃

📻 @simblreenofficial, @maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz @alwaysfreecc @public-ccfinds, thank you❣️

🛹 You can find me on Patreon | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Ko-Fi | My F.A.Q. 🛹

[mypillowpaper]

🡻VENT

Hello, this is going to be a rather sad kind of message, the first time I have to talk about a client with such a bitter perspective for me.

Clients are always a reason to celebrate, with many I have developed super long conversations, others have seen me grow on social networks and I have seen them get married, have children or change their lives little by little just like me.

In my community I am always happy to have good experiences with my clients, because even the few times I have not agreed with something, everything has been able to be discussed and come to a good end.

I have been in contact with all kinds of personalities and moods, both my own and those of others, for a long time and I know how to work with that.

Today was not like that. Today I had to deal with something completely different

I had to talk to a person with whom I had accepted a commission 2 years ago, and the last contact or response I had was in March 2023 -1 year and 7 months-

As we are all strangers on the internet and life can sometimes be very fucked up, I clearly did not make any claim and celebrated they return.

Fortunately I saved they files, and I say this because many artists after a certain period of time close them, send them to avoid legal problems or exactly what just happened to me.

I never added such clauses because i have had 2 cases like that and nothing bad has happened (although never for so long)

But with today I think it was quite naive on my part, because this person began to ask me for changes on a work that had been left with the base coloring, and the lineart already finished.

I agreed to change simple things but I also warned that I was not going to accept more changes that had to do with the pose. Not only because of all the time it took (you can change your tastes, and if you liked something before, and now you don't) but it is unfair to me, to my time and my current pending work.

So I limited the changes to the color section, no different from when other clients ask me for changes once the lineart is finished and accepted.

The person first accepted, then deleted the message and asked me for a refund for the commission, since they was not satisfied with my service .

The truth is that I was quite broken down. Because I had never had or experienced those emotions linked to a client.For me it is something incompatible.

But clearly I am not going to do it, my TOS are clear with the no refunds and the situation is clearly cynical, I have plenty of reasons and explanations as to why, but i dont have the objective of humiliating anyone or generate hatred.

That's why I'm not giving names, I'm not giving pictures or anything. I just want to vent because I feel completely discouraged, because I didn't expect a right hook like that. And it's a bittersweet feeling, and finally I hit the wall after 7 years of work.

It's very easy to show up after almost 2 years and ask for a refund when the work is almost finished, and claim that you're not happy with the results.

But being nice doesn't mean I'm going to allow something like that.

So I'm going to rewrite my TOS to make the same clause as my colleagues, and I'm going to keep this low key and private.

My colleagues will know about name and screenshots, because it's important to be careful with these things. But for the rest, it's not fun for me to start any carnage.

I understand the misunderstanding, I can imagine what this person felt when I set a limit (most people don't like it, it's a bitter pill to swallow) but it's also necessary and it's true that during these 7 years, many people have responded well to it and have even given me excellent treatment or negotiated with me.

I have witnessed at least 200 responses much better than the one I had to read today, so I am able to know, perfectly, that nothing that happened was fair. And that it could have gone better if they hadn't demanded things that way, and in a situation where their actions were not supported.

I know this is different, but my head is now like a pressure cooker, and I needed to let it out, to let it go.

Thank you all, for having accustomed me to such nice treatment, that although today I felt naive, I also felt very lucky to have you to have a bar with which to measure correctly.

A huge hug, from your favorite Pillow.