#Also his lil body twisting with clothes clinging to him

[fungal-rot]

Pure Instinct - Surrender

okay so i've been seeing those tiktok ads about that Pure-Instinct perfume and I had A Thot- it was originally supposed to go a different route, but i kinda went everywhere with this LOL.

summary: no outbreak; you bought a new perfume, one that's supposed to entice the opposite sex. but just how well does it actually work?

warnings: MDNI- smut (unprotected p-in-v), joel being a bit of a horndog, semi-desperate sex, oral (f receiving), use of 'good girl' and pet names (darlin', baby, pretty girl, honey), a bit of bulge riding, slight dom!joel, established relationship, no age specification for reader- lemme know if i forgot anything! - also please note i’m getting back into writing. i’m a lil rusty and still getting back into the flow of things; apologies for any mistakes.

w.c.: 2.7k

    ⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

All over the internet you've come across different videos advertising some 'pheromone perfume-' a blend of essential oils that are meant to work with your own natural scent, enhancing your body's pheromones- or something of the sort. Seeing the men become infatuated with their girlfriends and wives, clinging to them with lust-blown pupils certainly had your interest piqued.

After an- albeit, quick- internal debate with yourself, you bit the bullet and looked up the seller's site, coming across different smells like 'Crave,' 'Lucky,' 'Fallen-'

And 'Surrender.'

Sounds sexy. With a smirk you click on it, reading the description,

'Surrender has a sophisticated and mature scent which designed for the woman who wants to feel confident, beautiful, and sensual. Own any room you enter in. You won't just be noticed — you'll make heads turn. Sexy, but not vulgar.'

Sounds dominant.

There were different layers of notes, like magnolia, mandarin, vanilla, sandalwood; the list went on. Seemed like a good choice. You were about to add it to your cart, finger hovering over the button, but then you hesitated. Did you really need this? Was it that important to find out if it was worth the hype? To see if Joel would be unable to tear himself away from you, kissing you hungrily while ripping your clothes off an-

Added to your cart!

It was for science.

You even opted to pay extra for express shipping, heart racing with a giddy bite of your lip.

The day it arrived, you were practically bouncing on your feet with glee. Joel was at work, wouldn't be home for another hour or so. That meant you had plenty of time to get things together and play around with it.

Taking a quick shower then pulling a low cut shirt over your head and shimmying a pair of leggings on, you grabbed your little container of liquid-luck, rolling it over your heat points; a little between your breasts, behind your ears, along the crook of your neck, wrists, and fold of your arms. It definitely smelled alluring upon first apply. Now to let it dry and wait.

-

Keys jingled outside the door, the knob twisting a few times before the entrance swung open followed by a rather exhausted looking Joel Miller who stumbled through. The man heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his keys into the dish and toed of his shoes before padding to the couch where you sat, pushing your cuticles back as you watched a rerun of Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.

"Hi, sugar," you greet, flicking your eyes to him as he flopped down, making you bounce softly. His hair was damp with sweat from being out in the hot Texas sun all day, thick veins protruding from his work-callused hands, trailing up his arm.

"Hm," he grunted in reply and placed his palms over his eyes as he leaned against the back of the couch, chest expanding with a deep breath only to falter for a split second. Joel took in another breath, this one loud and deliberate. With hands lowering from his face, he turned his head to you, slowly, with knit brows.

"D'ya smell that?" He asked, sniffing again with a curious glance of the room.

Now, you had to play this right. You couldn't just outright tell him you bought perfume that would have him slobbering all over you, no. That would defeat the purpose of your little experiment.

So instead you played coy and sniffed at the air just as he did, nose turning up with a gentle shake of your head and small bob of your shoulders.

"I don't smell anything."

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing with a slight slack of his jaw, tongue poking through the side of his teeth while he studied you.

"You don't smell that?" Joel pressed further, almost exasperatedly.

"Smell what, Joel?" A quiet titter sounded with your words, brows arching as an amused grin toyed at your lips.

"Jus'..." Joel trailed off, wetting his lip with a quick swipe of his tongue. The scent wasn't too overbearing. It was sweet, musky, and a hint of something so conversant. Something that always managed to get him hot under the collar. A heat that not even the dry summers he endured on a frequent basis could compare to.

That's when you leaned over him- totally not at all planned- reaching an arm past to grab one of the magazines on the end table. Joel drew another quick breath and it hit him. Before you could retreat he snatched your wrist with a tight grip, pupils dilated widely with parted lips. " 'S' you..." He murmured, attention solely on you and you alone.

The corner of your mouth twitched up into a smug smirk, "Is it?" You hushed back, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin as he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist, slowly trailing up your arm and to your shoulder. A curt chuckle sounded from his chest as his own lips turned up. "Mm, I think so, baby," Now his lips danced on the crook of your neck, taking another whiff.

'Oh, fuck, that's good.' He thought, emitting a low growl.

"Yeah..." He purred, teeth grazing over your pulse point and eliciting a quiet moan from you, "that's alllll you, darlin'."

Hell, if Joel was tired before, he was certainly up now- in more ways than one.

"C'mere, pretty girl," He muttered and sat back, legs spread as he motioned two fingers in your direction. He watched with hungry intent as you crawled into his lap, thighs straddling his. Joel pawed at your hips, rolling them forward against the bulge straining in the confinements of his jeans with a grunt.

"Got me so damn hard an' ya haven't even done anything," With another forced roll, he throws his head back with a sigh. "Ride." He ordered with a strained voice, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You didn't move just yet, however, and took in the sight of him; eyes shut and brows knitted softly, plush lips parted.

"Ride," Joel repeated with a firm smack to the meat of your ass, making you yelp and rut against him once more. You could feel the warm thickness of his cramped length through the thin cloth of your leggings, each continuous grind against your clit made you writhe in pleasure.

Good god, you were doing a number on him. He bucked his hips up in time with yours, panting faintly before sitting up and wrapping his thick, strong arms around your body.

Joel buried his nose into your neck again, allowing your enticing scent to flood his mind. His stomach tightened, and he had to pull you off his lap before he came in his underwear like a damn teen. You whine at the loss of friction, expression forming a soft pout as he laid you down, head against the armrest.

"I know, baby, I know," Joel cooed and tenderly cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, " 'M gonna take care'a ya." He leaned down and planted a quick peck to the side of your nose.

"Always do, don't I?"

The man lowered himself down your body, hands stopping to caress and grab every now and then before slipping his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, swiftly tugging them down and watched as a string of arousal pulled, connecting the fabric to your lips. He smirked, relishing the fact you were just as turned on as he was, but what really caught his attention was-

"No panties?" He quirked a brow, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face as he continued shimmying you out of your pants. "Y'had this planned, didn't ya?"

You chuckled, biting your lip meekly and avert your gaze. Whoops! Caught.

"So, what is it?" He asked, curling a leg into the couch as the other planted on the floor, his head dipping to your center and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inner crease of your hip.

"Surrender," You answered breathily, peering down at him as continued lavishing you with loving smooches and pecks, his wiry facial hair scratching at your body that only fanned the flames in your tummy.

His brows drew together with a vague frown as he lifted his head, "Whaddya think I'm tryin' ta do right now?"

Even though his words made you clench around nothing, you still couldn't help but laugh and bring a hand to your mouth to stop yourself. With a shake of your head you say, "No, dummy. I mean, that's the name of the perfume I bought."

Joel tilted his head back in a slight nod, uttering a soft 'Ohhh.'

"I dunno how I was s'posed ta know that," his head lowered once more, breath fanning over your wet heat and flicked his eyes to meet yours, "but it's fitting."

He didn't even give you a chance to process what he said before diving straight into your folds, tongue lapping over every crevice and drinking you down.

"O-oh, fu-fuck!" You breathed out, thighs instinctively closing around his head as your hand grasped at his sweat-matted brown hair.

He growled into your cunt, bracing his hands on either side of the soft, pillowy flesh of your legs and forcing you open again. Normally, Joel loved using them as his own personal pair of earmuffs, but now? He wanted you spread for him, needed it actually. He'd drown in you if he could, and by god he'd willingly die trying.

His mouth detached for a moment, just long enough for him to stick out his tongue and let a string of drool fall over your labia, watching with a satisfied smirk as it slid down to your entrance. Snaking a hand from under your thigh, he brought two fingers to your clit, brushing the pads of them over it with teasing glides. Your hips twitched and bucked with a soft mewl leaving your throat.

Joel dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his fingers. Down, down, then circling at your hole and slowly pushing in. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest, back arching as you finally got that stretch; so achingly sweet.

His cock twitched at the sound, begging to be let free and seek shelter deep inside your pussy. He had enough restraint (for now) to get you off first.

And they say chivalry is dead...

He latched his mouth back onto you, slurping obscenely as he licked his way up, fingers curling into the spongy spot of your canal.

"Jo- oh- el!" You cried his name brokenly, hand closing a tight fist into his hair with a tug. You could feel the fucker- no pun intended- smirk against you as he pumped his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as he suckled on the sensitive button. Your whines grew more relentless, hips rolling against the flat of his tongue and holding his head in place as the coil in your stomach began to tighten.

Joel felt you clench around his fingers and took that, along with the way you fervently bumped against the bridge of his nose, as a sign you were close. With a wince he reached his free hand to his jeans, fumbling with the button before sliding the fly down, reaching in and finally pulling out his hard cock.

Said hand went back to its rightful place against your thigh while he rutted against the cushions, pre-cum making a mess into the leather.

"C'mon, darlin'," He murmured, taking a quick glance at you and reveled in the sight of your flushed cheeks, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against the arm rest. "Give it t'me, cum around my fingers." You didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, that coil snapped. Your legs trembled and shook as your climax ripped through your body, eyes snapping open and mouth agape, but no sound came out other than a few breathy whimpers.

"Good girl," Joel praised, still subtly grinding against the couch, desperate for his own release. "Good fuckin' girl." You had made a complete mess of his hand, your spend dripping down his fingers, into his palm and down his wrist, dribbling onto the sofa.

After your body relaxed, hand releasing the harsh grip from his hair, Joel pulled his fingers from you, making a shudder run up your spine. He sat back on his haunches, pushing his hand to your mouth and said, "Open."

Complying happily in your blissed-out state, your jaw slacked, allowing him to slide his soaked fingers into you warm mouth, palming himself with his other hand while he watched your lips close around the digits, feeling your tongue lick and clean your slick off them.

With a satisfied hum, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, greedily shoving his way past your teeth and licking the roof of your mouth.

Joel backed away, staring deep into your eyes. He huffed, pulling his pants down further, stepping out of one leg. He was so fucking horny and desperate right now he wasn't going to bother with the other one. This would do just fine.

"Need t'fuck you, baby," He spoke in a hushed tone, and without further warning he grabbed your leg and hooked it around his waist just before sliding right in with ease.

The two of you moan in unison. Either he was fucking huge- spoiler, he was- or you were really fucking tight.

Joel collapsed, a hand splayed next to your head to catch himself so he wouldn't fall directly on top of you as he bared his teeth with a hiss.

"Chris' onna damn bike," He slurred, gently lowering himself further and snaking an arm under you as he lazily thrusted into you.

He glanced down to where you two met, watching as he delved in further, "She's jus' swallowin' me in."

An aquiline nose sought out your neck, the sound of Joel consuming your scent filled your ears once more. He simply couldn't get enough. Hips snapped against yours incessantly, skin against skin bouncing off the walls and drowning out the sound of the tv in the background.

The man above reached a hand under your shirt, groping and squeezing your tit as he lowered his forehead to yours, half-lidded eyes boring into yours intently.

"Fuck," He muttered, eyes widening, hips stuttering, "Fuck, 'm close." Joel was a little ashamed of himself. He couldn't remember the last time he made it to the finish line so quickly.

He was quick to remove his hand from under your shirt, finger dipping to the spot where his cock pumped in and out, collecting your slick before sliding it up to your puffy clit yet again.

"Y'think you can gimme another'n, honey?"

"Y-yeah," You nod, feeling that familiar flame lick up your spine. "Wanna cum on your cock."

Joel's lip curled into a snarl at your admission, eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. His movements blundered, then he pulled out, leaving just the tip slotted in your entrance.

"Please," he whined. Whined.

That fucking did it. Your body tightened for the second time this evening, eager to let go and milk Joel of every last drop he had to offer.

"I'm c-" He interjected with a slam of his hips, making you see stars as he fucked you through your orgasm, the head of his dick tapping your cervix as he pushed himself as deep as he could, jerking into you almost feverishly. Your name fell off his tongue like a mantra while he held you flush against him, your back peeling off the leather with arms wrapped around his back as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky, sweaty scent of him- your personal favorite brand of 'pheromone perfume' he wears.

After his body lightened, he turned his head and placed a listless, yet tender kiss to your temple. You made a move to crawl away, but that made his grip on you tighten.

"Not yet," he spoke lowly and leaned back, pulling you with him. "Wanna stay like this. Jus' for a minute."

His hand smoothed back your hair, the two of you laid there in silence to catch your breath. After a good ten minutes or so, you lift your head to peek at him, "So, I take it you liked the perfume?"

Joel offered a lopsided smile, rolling his head to the side with a swallow, "Loved it, darlin'."

You'd have to remember to buy more in the future.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

hi, hello, thank you for reading. as stated above, i’m still basically re-learning to write. i’m trying to get in the hang of properly pacing out the story, not too rushed but not too wordy either. feedback is appreciated! pls feel free to interact with a reblog or comment <3

[7ndipity]

Sean-Norae (preview)

Selkie Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Selkies are shape-shifting beings from Celtic mythology, able to transform between seal and human by taking on and off their fur coat. Some legends say that if you find and return their coat to them, you're then bound together as mates.

Warnings: supernatural/fantasy themes, swearing, idk what else

A/N: Two Tae posts in one week? Yep! Here's a lil sneak peak at part 1 of another series I'm looking forward to beginning work on.(Supernatural soulmate academia cafe AU, Aka: How many favorite tropes/elements can I cram into one series? Idk, we'll find out I guess!) The full version of pt.1 will be out next month, let me know if you like it!

The song used toward the end is 'Where Love Is' by Kurt Elling.

(Sean-Norae is pronounced 'shan no-ray')

Spooktober m.list

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It was a cold, drizzly November evening, the kind that reminded you that winter was looming ever nearer. Along the city's riverfront, all was quiet, the sidewalks empty, the water relatively calm until a small face with broke the surface, it's dark eyes peering about cautiously, making sure the coast was clear before flopping up onto the bank. Seals were not a normal sight in this area and the last thing Taehyung wanted was to draw any unnecessary attention to himself at this moment.

He squirmed uncomfortably as he began to shift forms, working carefully to wriggle free of his coat, the sleek fur begining to feel like a diving suit a size too small against his now human skin.

Stretching his limbs, he sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly to rid it of any clinging moisture.

He hadn't planned on going swimming today, but something in the weather had brought out a nostalgic note in him, reminding him of home, and he just couldn't help himself. Sometimes, being in the water wasn't so much a choice for him as a necessity or compulsion.

The cold air now pricking at his newly sensitive skin, he quickly redressed in his human clothes, still where he had left them earlier on the bank, continuing to keep a watchful eye out around him as he did.

'Such a hassle.' he thought to himself ruefully, as he yanked the thick brown sweater over his head. The amount of time and effort required to shift between forms irritated him greatly. It may have been considered one of the greatest abilities of the Selkies, but it was also one their biggest weaknesses.

The entire process of changing was an intense ordeal; it was not simply taking the coat on and off, his entire body had to completely restructure itself, bones and muscles twisting and dislocating to accommodate the new shape. It was painful and disorienting and took a toll, leaving him fatigued and queasy as he grumbled to himself while tying his shoes. 'What's the fun of it, if you can't just pop back and forth?'

Climbing to his feet, he picked up the now discarded 'coat' and flipped it inside-out, folding carefully it so that it resembled a soft leather jacket, at least so long as you didn't look too closely.

Deeming himself presentable again, he made his way back up to the main road and set off to what had been his original destination for the evening, a smile creeping across his face as the half moon sign came into view, Café Sean-Norae.

Sean-Norae was a artist's paradise. The owners were married musicians who had wanted to create a space where artists could mingle and find inspiration. And, in his opinion, they had more than achieved that goal.

The walls were covered with all different styles of photography and paintings. In the corner, there was a small stage setup for music. By the counter, there was small bookshelf of plainly packaged 'mystery envelopes' containing poems or short stories for purchase. Even the name itself was a combination of cultures. The owners, Song-hwa and Patrick, had used their Irish and Korean heritages to make up a word that meant 'old song'.

Tae knows he hangs out a little more often than he should, especially for someone who hates coffee, but it was such a relaxed, bohemian atmosphere and he adored it.

"You're late today."

He looked up at the familiar voice, smiling in greeting as you cleared the table next to him.

"I was on a secret mission." He said putting a finger to his lips. "Very hush-hush."

"Clandestine, I like it." You chuckled. "You want your usual?"

"Yes, please."

"Coming right up." You said, giving him a quick smile that made his heart do a little flip.

Okay, so maybe there was another reason he was so taken with the cafe.

From the first moment he'd spoken to you, he'd been absolutely smitten. You were bright and friendly and sharp witted. You had excellent taste in music, often recommending new songs or artists to him. The two of you seemed to have a fair bit in common, both having moved here on your own for university.

He grinned as you returned with his drink.

"So, you noticed I wasn't here." He smirked. "Does that mean you were worried about me?"

"Only that I might have to walk home alone." You replied dryly.

"C'mon, you can just say you missed me." He teased.

"Not happening." You turned your back on him, as he laughed under his breath.

By this point in the evening, the cafe almost empty. The last of the open mic singers had left, leaving the space uncharacteristically quiet, aside from you and one of the other waitresses, Sophie, arguing about some drama you'd been watching, as you and the others prepared for closing time.

"Hey, y/n, why don't you sing something?" Song-hwa asked.

You looked up uneasily. "uh, I don't know."

"Why not?" Sophie asked, "I don't think I've ever heard you sing."

"That's because I don't sing in front of people." You stated, but she persisted.

"Oh, come on, I bet you're great. Please?" She whined, hanging on your arm.

"Ok, fine! Just stop doing that!" You laughed, de-tangling yourself from the younger girl.

"Yay!" She cheered, making you roll your eyes.

You went and picked a song that Patrick could accompany you with on the piano before stepping awkwardly up to the mic.

There was a brief pause before the piano the first notes drifted together, and you began softly.

"Dear heart, why will you use me so?

Dear eyes, that gently me upbraid.

Still, are you beautiful,

Oh, but how your beauty is raimented."

He froze as a strange, dizzying sensation crept over him, slowly raising his gaze to you. Your eyes locked and it was like a shot of whiskey flooded through his veins. His thoughts seemed to slow, he couldn't focus. Something was wrong, he felt like he was under some sort of spell or-or...

Siren song?

No. No, that wasn't right, you couldn't be. Surely he would've noticed before, right? You didn't fit the descriptions from the stories at all.

He looked around, struggling to focus, but nobody else seemed to be bothered by your voice.

His mind was beginning to blur, as if he were drunk, his breaths coming unsteadily. He couldn't take it. He had to get out of here.

He managed to stagger out the door, catching a glimpse of your confused expression just before the it closed behind him.

Swaying slightly, he made his way down the street, trying to put as much distance between him and you as possible.

The cold air on his face helped clear his mind a bit, but he still felt too warm, his skin too dry. The familiar ache came back into his bones. He needed to get in the water, fast.

Ducking down the alley alongside one of the shops, he followed the familiar path down to the water wall and slipped over, ditching his coat on the riverbank in the process, too rushed to bother with changing and dove into the water, fully dressed.

He surfaced, spluttering from the shock of the cold water on his human limbs, but he didn't care, at least he could breathe again properly.

He stretched out, floated on his back, feeling his heartbeat beginning to calm as he breathed deeply.

Able to think more clearly now, dozens of questions began running through his mind. What the hell had happened? The memory of your voice was still echoing in his mind. Even just thinking about it brought back a faint buzzing in his ears. He shook his head in frustration, trying to clear it away.

What were you? Some sort of Witch? Siren? Other? Did you know what he was?

His thoughts darkened. What if you did know? What if you were just playing some twisted game with him?

"What the hell are you doing, the water's freezing!"

He started at the sudden voice that rang out from the shore. Ducking towards the bank, he looked up to see you scrambling over the wall to come to his aide.

Crap, why were you here?

"Are you okay? What were you doing?" You fussed, trying to brush his hair out of his eyes.

"Felt like going for a swim." He said blankly, pushing your hand away. He couldn't be around you right now.

"We need to get you dry."

"I'll be fine." He tried to assure you, but you weren't having it.

"You're gonna catch pneumonia, are you crazy?!" You said.

"I said I'm fine." He snapped, straightening abruptly and walking away.

He only made it a few yards before you called out again.

"Wait!"

He turned around, freezing immediately as his eyes landed on you hurrying towards him, holding his coat in your outstretched hand.

"You forgot this" You said, offering it to him.

Fuck.

[goatseb]

Babygirl what are you doing

[roanniom]

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.  

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. “Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito

[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

[duskholland]

Lingerie | Tom Holland Smut

summary ↠ your co-star Tom offers to photograph you in your new lingerie, and it only escalates from there.

word count ↠ 3.9k

warnings ↠ this is pretty much just pwp I won’t lie. we’ve got some dirty talk, a lingerie-filled photoshoot, a lil bit of thigh riding, oral (fem receiving) and then MxF sex

a/n ↠ quarantine is doing ~stuff~ to me and I couldn’t stop thinking about the concept of Tom being your photographer and getting more and more riled up so....here ya go. enjoy! this is the first time I’ve posted nsfw stuff in a very very long time, so any feedback would be appreciated :) also a huge thank you to @rhapsodyparker for being my fave hype man - love you mate !

18+ !!!! this contains NSFW material, so do not read if you are a minor.

Spending a few weeks in London with your new co-star Tom and his brothers had been the brilliant idea of your manager. When your schedule had presented you with a some valuable weeks off between projects, she’d suggested that bunking down with him in his London house would be the perfect way to get to know the man before you spend the next months acting out your latest project. You’d seen him around at a few awards shows, and he hadn’t been opposed to hosting you, so with a few heavy suitcases and an open mind, you’d moved into the house he shares with his brother Harry and his best friend Harrison.

It’s been three weeks since you first rolled up, and things are going well. You’ve been enjoying getting to know the guys and the city they love so much, and it seems like every day you grow more and more comfortable around Tom - which is only a good thing, given that your upcoming project requires you to tangle with him in a few risqué scenes. But you’d be lying if you said that your feelings for the brown eyed star are merely platonic, and over the last couple of days especially, you’ve found your thoughts wandering. You catch yourself stiffening as you watch him throw back a pint of beer, his sturdy fingers wrapped carefully around the glass. And something in the pit of your stomach stirs every time he sits by you, his thigh pressing flushed to yours. You’ve even caught him staring at you from across the room a few times, his eyes trailing over your figure, and you haven’t been able to stop yourself from imagining his curly brown hair rubbing at your inner thighs.

It’s a game. A dangerous, heated game, and with every passing day, his eyes seem hungrier as they meet with yours, and he seems to inch closer to you. Neither of you have acted on the sizzling tension that ripples between you, but you know it’s just a matter of time before one of you moves a little too close, or touches the other for a little too long, and it all explodes.

“What have you got there, Y/N?”

You’re pulled from your dirty thoughts by a question coming from the man you’re daydreaming about. Tom walks into the kitchen, raising a hand in greeting as he peers down at the package you’re holding. His deep brown eyes meet with yours as you smile at him in greeting.

“Just some clothes. I’m doing a brand deal and they want me to take some pictures and post them on my Instagram,” you explain. You put the package down on the kitchen table and carefully begin to cut along the seam.

“Getting that money, eh?” You laugh as Tom slips into a chair beside you, watching you curiously with his chin resting in his hands.

“A girl’s gotta make a living,” you reply. “Hey, do you think Harry would take some shots for me? It’s always hard to get the angles right.”

Tom hums beneath his breath. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be down for that. He and Harrison are out at the moment, though, so you’ll need to wait-“ He falls silent as you tip the contents of the package onto the table, your cheeks warming immediately as you take in the garments you’ve been sent.

Lingerie. Several different pairs of matching bras and panty sets, in a scattering of different colours and designs. You feel your heart beat faster in your chest as Tom stares down at the pieces, his own face blushing a deep red.

“I think Harry might die if I make him take photos of me whilst I’m wearing this,” you admit, picking up a red lacy bralette. Tom’s younger brother has always been nice to you, but he radiates the sort of nervous energy that can sometimes put you on edge, and you immediately know you can’t ask him to photograph you. “Guess I’ll just have to struggle through this by myself,” you mutter dejectedly.

Tom’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the lace in your fingers, realisation replacing his shock. He sits up straight, stretching out his arms and his biceps flex as he meets your gaze. “I can always help you,” he offers shyly. You meet his eyes and his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m not as good as Harry, but I like to think I’ve picked up a few of his tricks.” Tom reaches out, fingers connecting with the tops of your arms, and your breath hitches as he grins cheekily. “Besides, I’m sure I could help you with some of your angles. If you want, of course.”

The question hangs in the air. As his fingers gently trace over your upper arm, you know this is the opportunity to back out. He’s looking at you through heated, brown eyes, but you know he’ll leave it alone if you decide to draw the line here and maintain the professional distance you’ve been slowly narrowing. But you don’t want to, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by a longing for him to keep touching you, and the idea of him photographing you as you lounge around in this new, sexy lingerie sets your heart racing.

“I’d love that, Tom. Are you free just now?”

He nods quickly, the tips of his curly brown hair wafting in the air. “Definitely.”

[-----]

It takes you about twenty minutes to get ready for the shoot. You’ve been around in Hollywood for long enough to know how best to do your makeup and tie your hair, and much to your relief, the lingerie clings to you perfectly. The contract you’d signed states you only have to post photos in one of the sets, so you pick one with a nice, deep burgundy hue and then walk out into your bedroom where Tom’s waiting for you. His wide eyes fall on you and suddenly you get a little self-conscious, reaching up to cross your arms over your chest as his gaze slides up and down your figure, drifting over every inch of exposed skin. When he drags his eyes back to your face and gives you a bit of a smirk, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“You look stunning,” Tom says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat quickly, averting his eyes as his cheeks gain a healthy colour. “Really, Y/N… You look amazing.”

His compliments bring a smile to your face, and you carefully put your hands back to your sides. You feel tentative and shy, but you approach him anyway and pass him your phone. “Thanks, Tom,” you mumble, meeting his eyes quickly. “Um, I was thinking you can just get a few of me the window, and then after that, maybe a couple on the bed.”

“Sounds great.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he chuckles lowly. “I don’t mind at all, Y/N. There are worse things to do than take photos of a pretty girl like you.” You bite your lower lip as you smile bashfully at him. 

“Okay,” you say. You move over to the window before adding a quick, “I will pay you back, Tom.” You punctuate your promise with a wink, and then turn around and try out a few positions against the window.

Tom gives you a few pointers as he starts to capture your shots. You know what you’re doing, but his advice helps you twist and angle yourself in the most flattering ways. The main focus has to be on the sponsored lace clinging to your chest, and as time goes by and he gradually moves nearer and nearer to you, your thoughts grow darker. You’d be lying if you said the seductive smiles and soft angles you’re throwing out are just for Instagram. It makes your heart race and a heat build between your legs to have him watching you so intently, occasionally chewing on his lower lip as he works. When you turn around and face the window directly, you arch your back purposefully and you can feel his stare hot on the curve of your ass, and as you throw your head back over your shoulder to meet his flushed face, you know you’ve caught him right in the act of checking you out.

“How are the photos?” You ask, breaking the charged silence after a few moments of sustained, intense eye contact. You relax your position as Tom steps nearer and passes back your phone, but he lingers by your side before draping a hand over your back. His hand rests on your naked hip, his touch gentle but it causes you to push into him greedily. He’s warm and he smells like pine trees and man, and your body is thrumming with so much sexual energy that you can feel your lace panties dampening.

“You look unreal,” he says, watching over your shoulder as you flick through the photos. “I’m not even sure they do justice to how incredible you look right now.”

You smile gratefully, favouriting a few of the shots. “You know, I think we’ve got as many as we need, actually. You did a really good job, Tom. Thank you.” You put your phone on the windowsill and turn to look at him properly. When his hand goes to slip from your waist, you reach down and grab at it, pushing it back into place firmly. His eyes meet yours, a curious questioning mixing with the dark lust, and you give him a smirk. “I know you liked watching me.” Your gaze briefly dips down to his crotch, and the way you can see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. Emboldened, you lean up and brush your lips by his ear, “If you want me, you can just tell me.”

You keep your lips by his ear. When he reaches up and wraps his other hand around your waist and pulls you closer, you let your mouth drag down his neck, pressing soft, light kisses to his pale skin. You keep going until he whines, and then you suck against his sweet spot and nibble at the skin, teasing him gently until he wraps his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re such a tease, you know that, love?” He speaks, voice dropping an octave. His eyes are on your lips and the deep red lipstick you’ve coated them with, a burning fire dancing in his eyes. “Walking in here with all that lingerie, kissing my neck like that.” His fingers move from your chin and up to cup your cheek. “I want you,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours ever so slightly. The confirmation makes you wrap your arms around his neck, and you place a kiss just beside his mouth, grinning softly.

“Then have me.”

His mouth captures yours in a heated collision of lips and teeth, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slips back into your hair and tugs at your strands. His hot tongue slips into your mouth as you kiss him back passionately, your body burning from all the pent-up frustration you’ve been pushing back for weeks. The hand on your waist slips up to your back, holding you flush against him as his groans, his face flushed and his forehead sweaty, and your core throbs as you hold him close to you.

Tom breaks the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, and you know you’ve got lipstick smudged over your face, but you don’t care as he leads you over to the bed. You straddle his waist as he sits up against the headboard, his hungry hands trailing over every part of your exposed skin as your heart rate spikes. His thighs are firm and you can’t help but grind down against one of them as he pulls your mouths together again. The friction you get through your wet panties from his tough black jeans makes you whimper into his mouth, and he pulls back with a lazy smirk on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“You’re so bloody hot,” he murmurs, hand brushing over your arm. “Can’t believe you’re here right now, looking like this. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He leaves a few soft kisses to your shoulder, gazing up at you softly, his brown curls strewn messily across his forehead. Your heart skips a beat. 

You run a fond hand through his curls before pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Tom laughs but holds up his arms as you pull it up and over his head, and then you roll from his lap as he wiggles out of his tight jeans and throws him aside. He pulls you back to his lap, this time positioning you so your centre rests over his black Calvin Kleins, and you rock down to feel his length pressing up against the fabric. “Shit, Tom,” you curse, the pressure sending rolls of pleasure through your clit. Your forehead falls to his as his hands move your hips, helping you grind against him as both of you feel a little relief. “I want you so bad.”

Tom moves quickly, flipping the position until you’re the one on your back, your head nestled in the soft pillows, and he’s pressed over you, caging you in with a strong arm either side of your head. He catches your lips in another kiss, and when he pulls back, he lets his teeth tug at your lower lip, catching your moan in his open mouth.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, pulling at the waistband of your red panties. You nod quickly and raise your hips as he tugs them down your body, his large hands pressing your thighs up and apart as he settles between your legs, his eyes drifting down your slippy slit. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re absolutely soaked for me.” He drags a light finger through your folds, applying a very light, very teasing pressure to your clit, and it makes you grind down against him. “So fucking needy,” he coos, finally rubbing your tender bud with a little more pressure. As you gasp and fist your fingers in his hair, he moves his face nearer your core. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a cunt this wet and hot for me. Mind if I have a taste, darling?”

His filthy words make your body shake, and the moment you’ve nodded your head, your back arches from the mattress as his soft, warm tongue slips out and wraps around your bud. One of his hands anchors your hips to the bed as the other accompanies his mouth on your core, and you moan loudly as he slips two sturdy fingers into your wet, aching entrance. It feels unbelievable to have Tom pressed between your legs, his fingers curling and pounding into your heat in a way that makes you cry out loudly. And his mouth - oh, god, his mouth - is unbelievable. You can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he works his tongue so smoothly, teasing lightly through your wet folds before circling back to your bud, kissing it and lapping over it and sucking it until you’re a sweaty, delirious mess above him.

Your fingers ache from the hold you’ve got on his hair, and you suck in a breath as you feel your edge approaching. “God, Tom, you’re so fucking good at that. I’m gonna cum if you keep it up.”

For a wonderful moment, you think he’s gonna keep going. He’s got his fingers pressed flush against your sweet spot and it feels so amazing that you’re about to melt, but then he smacks his lips and pulls back, leaving you high and dry and panting desperately on the sheets.

“Oh, what was that? You were gonna cum?”

You blink desperately down at him, surprised to see him looking up at you so confidently, with that teasing smirk dancing over his face. “Tom, I swear to god, you’re such a dick-”

“Shh.” He reaches up and drags his messy fingers over your mouth, and you part your lips to let them in. You swirl your tongue over his digits, humming lightly as you suck off your tangy juices, his eyes watching you darkly. It feels so dirty, but it sends a thrill down your spine, and your core continues to throb as you pull at his shoulders and bring him back up to you. “I think it’s only fair that we cum at the same time, princess? Don’t you?” He whispers. 

You release his fingers with a pop, sighing frustratedly as you trail your hands down his toned front. His muscles pull taut and tense, and as you grab a peek at the lines of his abs, you find yourself wondering how you ended up like this with him. He’s so handsome it makes you ache, and it’s as if he can hear your thoughts as he presses a few kisses to your jaw.

“And you call me a tease,” you respond, eyelids fluttering shut as he drags his mouth over your neck. “Stop messing around and fuck me, Tom.”

“Mm, so demanding.”

You grab at his hair and tug his face away from your collarbones and up to your mouth, kissing him hard. “I need you,” you whisper hurriedly against his lips. “I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me.”

His lips pull into a warm smile. “Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” He replies. “Condom?” You point at the bedside table and he disappears for a few moments, leaving your body cold and empty. Once he’s procured a shiny silver packet, you watch with wide, hungry eyes as he pulls off his boxers, pumps his length a few times, and then rolls this plastic over his tip before you even get a chance to touch him. He notices your pout and bites his lower lip as he moves back over you. “You can touch me next time,” he promises. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

“Next time?” You mumble, your lips going to his ear as he pushes your thighs apart. You kiss his lobe softly, dragging your teeth over his skin until he whines. 

“If you want there to be a next time, of course,” he adds. You make brief eye contact as your heart pangs in your chest, but then you find yourself distracted as his cock rubs through your aching slit and you curse, gripping his shoulder hard.

“I definitely want there to be a next time,” you promise. His tip prods at your entrance and it takes everything in you to keep back a whine. “Now, please, Tom, let me feel you.”

He presses a small kiss to your lips, and then follows through with your request. Your fingers dig into his arms as his length fills you completely and deeply, your jaw falling slack as you moan loudly.

“You’re so wet for me, love. Feels so good around me-” Tom’s voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet yours, finally in as far as possible. “Fuck, wish I could stay like this forever.”

You scatter a series of hot, breathy kisses to his forehead as you adjust to him, before running a hand over his shoulder and nodding certainly. “You can move now,” you say.

He rocks into you gently, exploring your hot heat with care as his hands move all over you. One moment he’s gripping at the lace on your boobs, the next he’s got his fingers slipping over your hard nipples, and after that he’s pulling on your hair. All whilst his cock pushes into you, gradually growing more fervent, your soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Your groans mix with his as you cling to him, your entire body shaking from the tension building in your body as he fucks you hard and fast.

“I love your pussy,” he rasps, teeth digging into your skin as his sweaty forehead rests on your shoulder. With every thrust, he adjusts the angle, only settling into a proper pace as he hits your special spot and you moan loudly, raking your fingers down his back. “So fucking perfect, baby.” His mouth drops praises all over you and it just makes you feel even more into it as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“You fuck me so well, Tom,” you groan into his hair. The muscles in his back ripple beneath your touch as he fucks you roughly. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He manages to keep himself supported on one arm as the other slips down, his hand roaming between your bodies to find your pulsing bud. As he rubs over your trembling clit, you feel your orgasm build quickly in the pit of your stomach, everywhere feeling alert and hot and needy as you pull him closer.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, Y/N? Let me feel you clenching around me as you scream my name?” His voice is dirty and dark and the way his lips curl around your name makes you clench tightly. “C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

And he rolls his hips against you just as his fingers rub your clit, and it’s so deliciously hot that your head rolls back and your orgasm peaks. Your chest heaves, the lace wrapped around your breasts pushing up against Tom’s hot chest as you cum noisily, your body tingling as a pulsing warmth spreads out from your centre. Tom grunts and screws his eyes shut as you clench and squirm beneath him, and a few moments later you feel his rhythm falter as he reaches his peak too. You rock together as your highs mix and build, your hair sticking to your face as your moans turn to whimpers and your grip on his arm relaxes, and when he pulls out, you’re left feeling empty but satisfied. You breathe deeply as Tom collapses beside you on his side, his hand grabbing at yours as his eyes find yours, searching your face carefully.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say. You shiver from the pleasurable aftershocks, your body feeling light and tingly and completely fucked out, and when Tom pulls you nearer, you let him hold you in a hug against his hot chest, feeling happily settled in his embrace. “Anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

Tom laughs gently, his hand pushing your hair from your face which allows him to kiss you again. It’s softer now, not burning quite as fiercely as it had before, but it’s still unbelievably nice to have him this close to you, loving on you so tenderly. “You really are something else, love,” he compliments. His eyes sparkle brightly as he squeezes your hand. “And I wasn’t lying earlier, I really would be down to do this again.”

He looks vulnerable and nervous for a second, but you quickly smooth away his nerves as you kiss him softly, gripping at the back of his neck. Your lips fit perfectly together, and it’s as if everything has finally slotted into place as you admit, “I would be more than happy to do this again, Tom. Maybe you can even take me on a date.”

His entire face seems to light up, and he leaves a quick kiss on your cheek as he grins. “I would love that, darling.”

[------]

A few hours later…

[@yourusername has posted a new photo]

| image |

@yourusername: good things come to those who wait...

Comments:

@tomholland2013: 🔥🔥🔥

@fan1: omg do u guys think they’re dating

@fan2: why has she tagged tom on her chest like that

@fan3: omg i ship it

[------]

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

[aquaticstyles]

the five senses

hello everyone! while a separate 13k fic is in the works, as promised, here is a lil 2k piece i miraculously came up with at midnight. as always, feedback is happily welcomed!!! happy reading lovies x 

it's been five months since it ended.

you should hate him. you should utterly and fascinatingly despise him. you should hate the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, and the way the sounded. you should forget him—rip every page, crumple him up, and strike a match.

key word: should.

but you don't hate him. you couldn't if you tried. you are utterly and fascinatingly still wrapped around his perfect, ring-encircled fingers. you love the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he sounded. you can't forget him, no matter how much you want to. his ink is still scattered in the novels of your memories, proving to be permanent and stubborn as you try desperately to put fire to its pools.

you are still utterly and fascinatingly not over him.

and you suppose that is why your mind has chosen to drift off to candy land, marshmallow puff trees and gooey caramel lakes, visions of him swimming around, around, and around.

and you also suppose that you shouldn't be thinking of him while another man touches your skin.

key word: shouldn't.

but you can't help it. not when you're reminded of just how differently harry captured your senses and locked them away in the thumping of his chest, throwing away the key.

sight

you can still see him.

his dimples popping, inviting you to curl up inside one of them for just a moment, bunny teeth displayed in an ear to ear grin when he sees you, his lover, his everything, finally in 3D again, because boy oh boy pixelated facetime does not do you justice.

those two endless forests of green paired with wispy eyelashes, billboards for his every emotion, reeling you in and casting you back over and over and over again.

that body of his that makes you positively drool—fresh out of the shower, a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, those ferns that if you had it your way, would never be covered, tempting your eyes to what's below, other markings of ink scattered across a toned bicep, chest, thigh, an endless coloring book for you and only you to paint with your lips, diamond water droplets clinging onto tanned, sun-kissed skin, mimicking your fingers as they slide down the tight muscles, ridges and valleys, of his back, the velvet, rose scrunchie of yours that he has claimed as his own cozying up around those stubborn, chestnut curls atop his head, the ones that cause eyes to roll and skin to furrow between his brows because "they're always in my fuckin' way."

the way he looks when he's napping in the summer heat after taking a refreshing dip in the pool—cheek smushed against a lawn chair, causing his bubble-gum pink lips to pucker unintentionally, begging for a slow, lazy, warm kiss, a van gogh masterpiece of bright blues, oranges, yellows, reds, whites, greens, browns, swirling together in his canvas, those green forests peacefully hidden as his pure, innocent relaxation melts into a scene of serenity before you (you're guilty of laying directly on top of him one too many times, pressing your cheek against the warm expanse of his back and sneaking in a cat nap as well).

how he looks when he enters a room, especially those rooms with a stage and thousands of fans bubbling over with excitement, confidence and swagger exuding from his pores as the spotlights hit him in all the right places, bouncing off the numerous gems and glitter of that night's glamorous get-up. then later the way he looks as his face twists in pleasure during a post-show-adrenaline-rush-dressing-room-quickie.

his reflection in the mirror of your vanity as you do your makeup, broad shoulders leant up against the doorframe, watching you as you carefully add sparkles here and powder there, the glint of curiosity and pure infatuation in his eye, his fingers toying with the smirk on his lips when you meticulously swipe on your favorite his favorite red lipstick, knowing good and well that once he's finished with you there won't be a single trace of crimson left on your lips.

you can see all of him, from the tufts of hair you love to tug and pull and sink your hands into, to the perfect slope of his nose, the sharp pinch of his jawline, his cute ears you poke fun at much to his annoyance, his tongue darting out to wet his perfect, perfect lips, his neck that always seems readily accessible to leave bites and red stains along, the ship stamped on his bicep, his abdomen that isn't too tight or too soft under your touch, just right, the happy trails leading to that one part of him that leaves you aching for days, his thighs, all the way down to his toe permanently labeled "Big."

touch

you can still feel him.

the tips of his calloused fingers tracing down your spine, a valley of goosebumps following in their tracks, a sea of comfort washing over you. fingers intertwined between yours, squeezing your palm, fresh autumn air and central park and new coats and steaming, black coffee. fingers fanned out across your thigh, splashes of pastel purple polish on cuticles and knuckles (he was shaking too much from laughing at something on twitter like an avocado in a top hat or a dog in gucci loafers). fingers following directions on a well-traveled map, tracing over the outline of your chapped lips, up to the apples of your rosy cheeks, to your temples, and entangling into long locks of tangled hair, braiding, massaging and scratching when you've had a tough day, exhausted, hypnotized, harry.

lips against your ear, hushed whispers meant for only you in the midst of a thundering crowd (one too many neat tequilas and risky texts), cold rings sneaking underneath your shirt and spanning out against a piping hot back, the vibrations from the bass thumping beneath you joined by the organ in your chest, sweaty palms and shaky knees as rivers of suggestions flood from his earth to yours, promises that will be proven true later in seductive, blue moonlight.

his sudsy chest cuddled snugly behind your back, sinking beneath bubbles of lavender and rose because he couldn't just pick one scent, your missing puzzle piece, pruny fingers tracing shapes onto your knee beneath the water, vibrations from his giggles when you mistakenly guessed the shape as a dinosaur (it was a banana), warm puffs of breath against your neck, sopping scrunchies stacked on the ledge next to a half empty bottle of red, lips painting across your shoulder down your arm to your fingertips coating you in bright yellow, affection, admiration, addiction.

the prickles of the new addition to his face scratching up against you in the most agonizingly amazing way as his face buries between your thighs, the magic of that mouth of his, pixie dust, an arched back, an eager tongue accompanied by glistening, cherry lips, pleadings of "never shave again."

him buried inside you in the early hours of the morning, legs anchored around his waist, miles and miles of his soft, tanned skin washing against your own, nails digging into the toned ridges of his back, chestnut locks falling onto a sweaty forehead, scorching lips dancing over every inch of you over and over until he reaches that one spot, moans and exhales and crumpled sheets, your temple resting on a swallow, fingertips tracing a lone butterfly, clutching onto the cold metal of a cross, lazy smiles, bed head, halfway closed eyelids, a tranced daze basking in fresh, crisp sunlight.

taste

you can still taste him.

the bitter taste of whiskey coating his tongue as it encircles your own in the back of a taxi, wrinkled suit jackets and bunched up satin, fingers toying with buttons and zippers, giggles when his nose bumps against yours carelessly, a clouded drunken haze of city lights and sparkling sequins.

minty toothpaste covered lips smushing against yours because he just "couldn't wait," spearmint, foamy smiles wiped away on plush towels.

juice from a ripe watermelon dribbling down his chin and leaving a sugary path along his exposed neck and chest, glistening in the afternoon, summer heat, lapped up teasingly by your tongue, causing widened eyes and a harsh gulp, the reflection of heart shaped sunglasses rippling in a crystal clear pool.

a warm cup of coffee sitting on your bedside table, placed there by your lover before he leaves for a run, waiting for you in the early morning glow of your bedroom, the scent from a fresh pot still lingering in the air, the steaming liquid slowly cascading down your throat during his absence.

coconut chapstick coating his lips, stolen from your side of the vanity, even though he has countless of tubes himself he claims using yours "is more moisturizing" when in reality he just likes keeping a part of you with him at all times.

saltwater droplets clinging onto his skin, coating your lips as you leave trails of kisses along his chest and sunburnt cheeks, awaking him from his nap in the shade, waves crashing behind you, seagulls chirping and trying to steal crisps, low grumblings of "what's this fo?" accompanied by a dimple and a smirk ("just cause").

smell

you can still smell him.

the candle burning in his dressing room on tour, the one you bought him that you immediately recognize when you visit him for the first time since he left, a warm batch of butterflies brewing in your tummy when you notice the almost completely burnt through wick, apples and cinnamon.

his detergent, leaving your clothes coated in a fresh linen scent because "no way yeh leaving mine with laundry to do, love" a pair of his boxers that he knows you love to wear folded neatly on top of the rest of your belongings and sent off with a pillowy peck to your lips and promises of "see you tomorrow."

his body wash and hair product duplicates in your shower, dancing with daisies in the steam surrounding him, persisting in the small, tiled space for most of the week, even in his vacancy. sometimes you'll accidentally on purpose grab his bottle of shampoo with your eyes closed, using more than intended (harry goes through shampoo much quicker now).

the diffuser in his bedroom, spewing out vapors of a eucalyptus blend he ordered online after extensive research ("it helps with clear breathin' and relaxation"), another scent that can only be described as pure harry, later encompassing your abode as well due to your incessant claims of how much you love it (one night you came home from work to a perfectly wrapped package on the foot of your bed, a diffuser and the same eucalyptus blend hidden inside).

his cologne perched on your dresser, tom ford, tobacco vanille, harry in a bottle, sneakily spritzed on your sweatshirt when he's not looking (he notices every time), lingering on your pillow case, his purple robe hanging next to yours, and your hand towels, tokens of him dolloped throughout your apartment, a tornado of familiarity swirling you into his galaxy. the same scent filling your nose as it buries into his neck, arms wrapped around him in an ages-long bear hug, his cheek resting against the top of your head, the soft fibers of his sweater tickling your skin.

sound

you can still hear him.

the warm drip of his honey voice in the early hours of the morning, raspy and deep from his slumber, pooling in the pit of your stomach growing thick and heavy until releasing with moans and whispers lost in the rising sun.

that laugh of his that doesn't bubble up often, the one you cause more than anyone else, buckets of giggles that leaves behind tears, crinkled eyes, and hands over tummies.

his thick accent that repolishes itself after he's made a trip to london, mumbles of "bugger," "oi love," "rubbish," and your favorite, "absobloodylutely" leaving his cherry lips more often than he realizes.

his moans. your favorite kind is when you're riding him, locked in a sweaty, pulsating embrace—twisting here and turning there and doing the things you know drive him absolutely mad—those moans that erupt from deep inside him and uncharacteristically replace his typical, filthy language because you're doing him so good that he's left speechless in a heap of tangled limbs and panting breaths.

his voice as it echoes in the acoustics of the shower, the soft patter of the water serving as his own orchestra, notes belonging to rock anthems of the 70s or sometimes his own verses that have been freshly inked in his worn-in journal (occasionally you'll record him singing the new ones—unbeknownst to him—to listen to when he's away for too long).

the clinking of his rings together when he's in full-on discussion mode—using his hands as he elaborately details a story of his childhood or a conversation he had with jeff today or why he thinks salsa shouldn't go in the fridge or the reason behind this lyric and that chord progression.

his keys clanking against the ceramic dish by the door, the sweetest symphony to your ears because he's home.

and finally, the sound of those three words—smooth as butter rolling off his tongue effortlessly, a hurricane crashing and splashing against you, three strings lifting you off your feet and soaring into the clouds, green eyes and rosy cheeks pulling your heart strings, sweet sugar crystals floating from his lips to yours—"i love you."

physically, he's gone, probably off writing another album, undoubtedly doing much better than you are. maybe he's even moved on, cuddled up into another woman's side, whispering things in her ear, tangled up in her sheets.

but in every other way imaginable, he's still with you.

five senses, five million memories.

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

Three 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships 

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w) 

Tagging: @lauraneuuh​

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun 

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less. 

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find. 

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges. 

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop. 

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion. 

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink. 

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?” 

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.” 

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.” 

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.” 

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.” 

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt. 

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign. 

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite. 

“Spicy...but good.” 

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.” 

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to. 

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.” 

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.” 

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly. 

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?” 

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.” 

“Windows?” He cocked a brow. 

“He did say that it was kind of boring...” 

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.” 

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted. 

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Hm. Thanks.” 

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.” 

“You like those tater tots too though.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it. 

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly. 

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation: 

~ 

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad 

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi. 

Bomi: 

Blaze: 

*now kiss* 

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe 

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through  

~ 

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph. 

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.” 

Chapter 27 

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days. 

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before. 

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty. 

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles. 

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins. 

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.” 

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?” 

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?” 

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.” 

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.” 

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes. 

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--” 

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.” 

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out. 

“Its just...what I like to do.” 

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?” 

“Oh...” 

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself. 

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.” 

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.” 

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?” 

“What kind of deal?” 

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.” 

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.” 

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?” 

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.” 

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.” 

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript. 

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?” 

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.” 

“Alright then!!” 

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.” 

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.” 

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN. 

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry. 

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with. 

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach. 

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store. 

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--” 

“Hey! Blossom??” 

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain. 

“You okay?” 

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small. 

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair. 

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck. 

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.” 

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you. 

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.” 

“You’re fine, it’s fine.” 

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine. 

“What are you doing around here?” 

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden. 

“Ahh, I just got off.” 

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind. 

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.” 

“Oh. It’s Y/n.” 

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.” 

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so. 

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?” 

“Cat. Just one.” 

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.” 

“How's that?” 

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.” 

“I...guess I can see what you mean.” 

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much. 

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.” 

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“You don’t have to...” 

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it. 

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door. 

“You coming?” He held it open for you. 

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster. 

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.” 

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles. 

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances. 

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead. 

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor. 

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant. 

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor. 

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips. 

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that. 

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over. 

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good. 

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary. 

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater. 

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric. 

“That probably would be best.” 

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place. 

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently. 

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.  

“How much longer?” 

“At least thirty more minutes.” 

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night. 

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been. 

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky. 

“Not really.” 

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?” 

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?” 

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.” 

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his. 

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced. 

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart. 

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.” 

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--” 

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...” 

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.” 

This. 

What the hell was “this?” 

“I’m not following...” 

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.” 

 You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all. 

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.” 

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one. 

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper. 

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes. 

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.” 

“W-why?” 

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.” 

“Minho...what are you saying?” 

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”  

“I-I’m so sorry.” 

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...” 

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“You do?” 

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves. 

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...” 

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable. 

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?” 

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it. 

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust. 

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm. 

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.” 

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could. 

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud. 

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.   

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.” 

[wh6res]

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase. 

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name. 

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights. 

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face. 

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering. 

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel. 

so he watched from the sidelines. 

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore. 

and then you left home. 

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing. 

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later. 

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that! 

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point. 

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!” 

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface. 

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it. 

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time. 

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced. 

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived. 

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once. 

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive. 

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin. 

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory. 

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car. 

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins. 

he missed this, your complete and utter misery. 

but he wasn’t done yet. 

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you. 

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral. 

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.” 

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop. 

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one. 

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch. 

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss. 

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery. 

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears. 

you never dared step foot out of your apartment. 

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be. 

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes. 

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head. 

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment. 

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface. 

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under. 

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop. 

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment. 

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt. 

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit. 

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic. 

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers. 

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself. 

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans. 

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin. 

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files. 

hands shaking, you clicked on the video. 

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand. 

wait a minute. 

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries. 

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best. 

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her. 

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis. 

this doesn’t make any sense. 

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself. 

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms. 

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen. 

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there. 

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic. 

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin. 

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom. 

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now. 

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall. 

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning. 

he’s come for you. 

he’s come to finish the job. 

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard. 

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up. 

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you. 

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes. 

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him. 

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water. 

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet. 

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong. 

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision. 

“nothing? are you sure about that?” 

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat. 

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love. 

“no…” your voice breaks. 

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth. 

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself. 

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat. 

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities. 

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel. 

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart. 

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

[asterekmess]

Okay but... Can you imagine Stiles is coming home from a college party and he's a little tipsy so he decides to walk home only to get hit by a car Erica's driving? Like not seriously hurt ofc but he gets knocked out and Erica doesn't know what to do so she just brings him to Derek who's just... Done. But he also takes care of Stiles because he's kinda hot. Grudgingly ofc because he doesn't want Erica to get a big head saying she hooked them up.

So I went to answer this ask with chitter chatter, but I’d just woken up and I liked the idea so much! Stiles waking up surrounded by beautiful people and Derek fixing him up even before Stiles knows what needs fixed.

I am easily swayed right after waking...so I kind of...wrote this? Just a lil bit, and without a Beta. Hope you don’t mind!

~

“Derek!”

In an instant, Derek was off his bed and across the loft. He threw the door open just as Isaac’s footsteps sounded on the stairs to find Erica standing in the hall and carrying…a man?

She shoved her way into the loft, mouth moving a mile a minute. “I didn’t know what else to do, and he’s just knocked out I think, and you gotta help me. I didn’t mean to!”

Holding his hands up until she hushed, Derek looked at the body in her arms and listened. The man’s heart was beating steadily, and his breathing sounded just fine. He was out cold, long arms and legs hanging limply from Erica’s grip, and even more wet than she was.

Even unconscious, he was gorgeous. Black, or possibly brown, hair was plastered down to his forehead, except for small tufts that stuck up where his temple was rubbing against Erica’s shoulder. His pale skin was dotted with moles where Derek could see, and where he couldn’t, the shape of the man’s broad shoulders was outlined by the t-shirt clinging to him.

Erica’s hair was damp, but the man was absolutely soaked. There were puddles growing on the floor from where his clothes dripped.

“What did you do?” Derek asked.

“It was an accident! Are you gonna help me or not?”

Turning his head to Isaac, Derek ordered, “We should still have that first-aid kit, go get it.” Then, he pointed at the coffee table. “Set him there for a second. He needs dry clothes.”

Derek very specifically didn’t think about the fact that he was going to have to strip a stranger down while they were unconscious, then dress them in his own clothing. In his own scent. He didn’t.

Instead, he just pulled a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his dresser, flipped on the light, and got started.

“Explain,” he said as he peeled the wet cloth up. The instant the man’s happy trail came into view, Derek redirected his vision to Erica’s face over the man’s shoulder where she was holding him steady.

Erica bit her lip and helped Derek tug the shirt over the ball of the man’s shoulders. “I swear, it was an accident.”

“I know that, but what happened?” Derek asked. The neckline of his spare shirt went dark with water as they pushed it over the man’s head, but at least it fit his broad, broad shoulders.

“He just walked into the road,” Erica said. At Derek’s look, she began to pout. “I’m serious! It was pouring out and I looked away from the road for a second, and then he was just standing there! I hit the brakes, though, and I barely bumped him.”

“You hit him with your car?” Isaac cried, appearing at the bottom of the stairs again. He crossed the room and dropped their tiny first-aid kit on the table within Derek’s reach.

“Accidentally,” Erica hissed.

Next came the pants, so Derek just had Erica help him shift the man to the couch, then yanked the soggy denim down to his ankles, like ripping off a band-aid, he assumed. It hit the ground with a disgusting plop and was swiftly joined by damp shoes and squidgy socks. Derek didn’t stop to look at the surprisingly hairy legs he’d uncovered. His own sweats stuck a little on the man’s wet skin as he pulled them up, but then the stranger was as dry as he was gonna get.

Grabbing the kit, Derek kneeled at the man’s feet, following his nose to the spot that smelled like an injury. His ankle was twisted, by the scent of it.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?” he muttered, pulling a bandage slowly and steadily over and around the man’s pale ankle. After a second, he twitched away from Derek’s hands, and Derek had to grab at his calf to hold him still as he tucked the last edge of the wrap into place.

Now that the excitement was wearing off, Erica shrugged. “He wasn’t bleeding, why would I need to?”

Isaac had sat down on the coffee table, keeping a good margin between himself and the puddle, and he snickered into his elbow.

“Erica,” Derek groaned, “you used to be human. You know there are plenty of—” He froze as the heartbeat he’d been monitoring sped up just slightly. “He’s awake.”

Just having the guy conscious made Derek feel a little less guilty about thinking the tilt of his jaw as he looked up at Erica was slightly mouthwatering.

After a second of silence, the man spoke in a deep, rich voice. “Y-you have beautiful eyes.”

Erica giggled and leaned over him even more. “I have beautiful everything.”

“Y-yeah,” the man agreed.

“You already hit him with your car,” Isaac said from his perch, “now you’re gonna torture him too?”

The man turned his head toward Isaac, the angle still keeping Derek from seeing his eyes. He could smell the attraction and interest coming off the man though, which didn’t fade even a little when he got Isaac in his sights. 

“Huh?”

“She’s married,” Isaac explained.

“Oh,” the man said. He looked back up at Erica. “Good for you.”

For some reason, that was the thing that broke Derek. This was all so ridiculous. Erica had hit a guy with her car, and now he was laying on Derek’s couch lusting after two of his Betas. Derek snorted a laugh and lifted the hand he had on the man’s calf to rub at his eyebrow.

When he looked up, the man was staring back at him. He’d propped himself on his elbows, and Derek could see his entire face properly now. Having the light on made it easier to tell that his hair was a dark brown, but his eyes were nearly gold, catching the low light and nearly glowing.

With all the benefits of Alpha sight and smell, Derek got to watch the dilation of the man’s pupils as they made eye contact. He caught the twitch of the man’s mouth as it fell open, and the sudden burst of actual arousal that bloomed from his skin.

In all fairness, Derek was pretty sure he himself was no better.

“You’re not married, are you?” the man asked desperately.

Forgetting to breathe, Derek just said faintly, “No…”

Finally managing to drag his eyes away from the man, Derek found Erica grinning wickedly at him. He pointed a finger at her with his free hand, while the other squeezed gently at the man’s foot. “Don’t start!”

[maddestzoomer]

late-night drives

warnings - i don't think there are any aside from a small amount of cursing and a lil bit of angst :)

word count - 2.1k

summary - you go for a late-night ride with steve harrington

a.n. - just thought this was an interesting concept, and so i put it into writing haha. also, i guess this could serve as a second part to stop thinking 

.`.

It was two in the morning as you got dressed, pulling on an old sun-bleached t-shirt and some jeans, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

Maybe you wouldn't be doing this if it weren't so uncomfortably hot in your room- the type of hot that made your sheets cling to your body and your skin break out in a small sweat. Maybe if your mom would bother to turn the A/C on, well, maybe you wouldn't be sneaking out.

Tonight was different from the regular, though. Steve had invited you to hang out, and the thought of doing so made gave you something to look forward to. It wasn't often only the two of you hung out.

A part of you wondered if he would actually even show up. You, of course, hoped he would- so that you would be able to spend time with that charming brunette. But the clock on your nightstand sprouted doubt and worry in your mind as the time went on, causing you to pick at your nails as you gazed from your window.

All that doubt and worry was left behind when you watch a car pull up in front of your house.

'Shit...' You thought to yourself. All of a sudden, the reality of the situation seemed to come crashing down. You could feel your heart beating in your chest. Why the fuck did Steve have to have /that effect. The one that made it hard to breathe and even harder to think.

Stop thinking.

You began walking from your room, attempting to be as careful and quiet as possible. You'd studied the hallways floors before, so you knew where to and where not to step.

As soon as you close the front door, you felt pure energy. It may have been three in the morning, but it no longer felt like it. The tiredness faded away with a soft summer breeze, causing the smallest of smiles to pull to your lips.

Quickly, you walked Steve's car, hopping into the passenger's seat and shutting the door behind you.

"Well, look at that!" Steve greeted with a smile as he shifted the car into drive "You know, you're basically a juvenile delinquent now."

You rolled your eyes, though you smiled softly "That's definitely a good way to greet someone." You joked, buckling up.

Steve chuckled softly, rolling down the windows. How he managed to look so awake and ready at 2 am, you had zero clue.

The sprinklers from your neighbor’s yard hissed softly, though that becomes distant as Steve pulled further away from your house.

Steve turned the radio on, flipping through a few stations before finding one he liked, a station playing something by New Order.

Steve, like you, doesn’t sleep all that much. His mind simply doesn't let him sometimes. With all that has happened, sleep is a rarity. He could be absolutely exhausted (mentally or physically), laying in bed with 20 milligrams of melatonin in his system and he still would be kept awake. So he drives. It helps calm him down.

The red lights paint his face in vibrant shadows as he taps on the steering wheel to whatever song was playing. Then, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, and a muscle twitches in his clenched jaw.

“Are you alright?” You asked with a frown, surprised at the hoarseness of your own voice.

Steve shrugged with a slightly casual smile, the light turning green. He slams on the accelerator, causing you to tightly grasp the side of you seat. No one else is on the road (thankfully).

Steve slowed down slightly, not wanting to worry you.

“I don’t get it,” Steve finally said, shaking his head a bit. He sent a glance your way “I just don’t get it.”

“Don't get what?” You ask with a slight frown

“What am I supposed to be doing?” Steve asked as he slows to a stop at another red light, again glancing over to you.

“I dunno. Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to do?”

“If anyone knew the answer to that question,” You smiled softly, sadly, “we’d all be a lot happier.”

Steve shakes his head with a very small smile, then turns onto a road you knew well.

“We’re going up?” You asks. There was a high up hill in Hawkins, one that allowed for people to overlook the town below. You had visited there a few times, mostly because of how calm it can be there.

“I feel like looking down on something,” Steve replies “Makes my problems seem... smaller. Ya know?”

You nodded a bit, still with a small frown. Sometimes, Steve worried you.

The wind and crickets are quickly drowned out as he rounds curves and climbs up the mountain, pressing your shoulders back and forth in you seat.

“I think... at the very least, you know where you belong,” You finally said quietly, when Hawkins is below you and there was less twisting hill available to climb.

“Here. I think.” You added softly, eyes being drawn to the window. Maybe it sounded a bit off when you said it, but you absolutely meant it. He belonged here... right? Such a small town could be pretty shitting with the generally conservative mindset, but at least it was safe, right?

Steve tilts his head, eyes still glued to the road. The headlights bounce off of the signs and flash in both of your eyes. “Maybe... Hopefully.” He said, tone uncharacteristically unsure of itself. Contemplative.

The wind cuts through your clothes, making you shiver and cross your arms over your chest. Steve sees it out of the corner of his eye. He made a quick glance in your direction.

“There’s a sweater in the back.” He says softly, beginning to make another turn

You nodded thankfully, reaching to the back, grabbing the dark blue sweater, and pulling it over your head. It smells softly of pine and coffee, and you swiped off a few crumbs that fall when the fabric rests on your stomach.

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I went to a tea place today,” Steve says, slowing down and pulling over to the side of the road. “Just to watch, I guess. I wanted to see what people do.”

“And?” You asked, looking to Steve. Tires crunch on gravel as he slows the car to a stop on a pullout

“Everyone seemed to have something to do. Grab a coffee and go to work. Sit down for a couple hours and study some stupid summer course. Meet up with a friend and talk about nothing. They all- well,” he parked the car, turning it off and opening the door to step out

You followed him, now grateful for the woolen sweater. Once you were out of the house, it seemed to get a whole lot cooler

“I guess they all seemed to know what they were doing. And I was just sitting there, like 'Fuck. I could be doing something- I should be doing something.'" He said as he climbed onto a rock, then sitting on top

You hesitated a moment before joining him on the rock, taking a seat next to him. The two of you were close to one another, shoulder to shoulder.

“Maybe that was where you were meant to be,” You finally said with a small smile, settling down next to him. He drew his knees up to his chest, taking in a deep breath. It was obvious he didn't agree.

“In that coffee shop. Wondering about the lives of those people. Maybe that’s what you’re meant for, Steve.”

“Yeah... but that doesn't pay bills. Wondering can only do so much.” He murmurs with a small, sad smile, eyes dancing over the lights of the town beneath him. Distant noises drift up- a car honking, a coyote yelling, drunk college kids running around- and you are reminded that this night is not just yours and Steve's

The wind plays with the hairs on the back of your neck as you tilt your head back to stare at the stars. You knew Steve wasn't really asking for an actual answer- at least, not from you, not tonight.

He just wants someone to hear him. That's all he ever wanted. And he knew you would listen because you always listen. Not many people listen actually to what Steve has to say. They write him off as an asshole air-head, as a boring little boy with parents who didn't give a fuck what he had to say.

You know Steve isn't that, though. You know Steve is far, far more.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Steve took your hand into his own, interlocking your fingers with his. Your eyes grew large, and a pink blush dusted over your cheeks, but Steve didn't notice. His eyes stayed on the town below.

"This town is such a fucking shithole..." Steve said quietly as he absentmindedly ran his slender thumb over the back of your hand. You frowned a bit 

"It's not too ba-" you cut yourself off when Steve faced you.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The look on his face said more than enough. Steve's gaze was soft but somewhat saddened.

"Steve?" you finally ask, then pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. "Why do you think you don't belong?" you finally asked.

Steve looked down at your interlocked hands. "Because... I don't know. This place is just full of bullshit people with bullshit brains. So many of them... They just- They aren't like you." He said this softly, calmly. Saying it out loud made his heartbeat in the back of his throat. It made his chest a little heavy.

You frown as you look at Steve, shaking your head a bit in confusion. "W-What does that even mean?" You asked, tone obviously confused. Your heart also began beating faster

Steve smiled a moment, looking up to the sky a moment. "Jeez, Y/N..." He bit his bottom lip a moment. Tearing his eyes away from the starry sky, placing them on you, smiling slightly more at your confused frown

Steve let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. His grasp on your hand became slightly tighter, though it still remained gentle and comforting. He smiled softly, remaining quiet for a few moments before saying "I like you, Y/N. I really, really like you."

A strong wave of realization hit you. First, your eyes grew large, then your mouth fell open. Your reaction was, simply, pure awe. Shock, even. Was Steve saying what you thought he was? Or- did you somehow misunderstand him?

Your silence began making Steve a bit nervous "C'mon, Y/N." He let out a quick, sharp breath that was a failed attempt at a chuckle. "You're scaring me." He said, beginning to frown slightly himself. Was telling you how he felt the right idea? Fuck, Steve was beginning to think it wasn't

You kept your eyes on Steve. "I umm..." You looked down a moment at your hands- how nicely they fit together, how nicely /you fit together. "I... like you too, Steve." You looked up to meet Steve's gaze again.

Steve surprised you when he let out a quick laugh. It made you flinch a bit, thinking this may have been a stupid joke. But then, you saw the bright smiling curled to Steve's lips. You hadn't ever seen such a brilliant and genuine and fucking /happy smile plastered on Steve's face before, on anyone's face for that matter.

It was a truly beautiful smile. One you thought you would remember forever. You thought, for a very quick moment, that you would want wanted to see that smile forever. It was a smile that filled you with happiness, with genuine gladness. That smile put you at more ease than any spoken words possibly could.

A small thought made itself comfortable in your mind. 'I want to see that smile every day until I die.' The thought wasn't alarming, invasive, or untrue. It was a comfortable, calming truth. It was like a warm weighted blanket or a mug of hot cocoa between cold hands.

Maybe someday you would tell Steve what you truly thought. But that day... it wasn't today

[sopeverse]

jin as your boyfriend

genre: fluff and smut, do not interact if you’re under 18

warnings: unprotected sex, choking, eating out, cum-play, praising, soft-dom!jin

okay, so jin has literally been in love with you for years

when namjoon had first introduced you he was immediately attracted to your looks

but he wasn’t able to form coherent words around you

he was so nervous around you

he’d make up an obvious lie in order to leave whenever you entered a room

leaving you to wonder whether he simply didn’t like you

when it was actually the exact opposite

he was just too in love with you to actually talk to you

and his English lowkey sucked lmao

until Namjoon accidentally let it slip that you had a small crush on him

he wouldn’t let his nerves hold him back any longer

he’d offer to teach you some korean, and in return you helped him with his English

he was just happy he got to spend more time with you

jin would finally confess when you were tutoring him in a quiet café

you had your head buried in a thick book, not aware of jin’s loving eyes staring at you warmly

when you looked up at him after awhile he’d lean in slowly, giving you time to react before his plump lips pressed against your own

he smiled into the kiss when you slowly reciprocated 

you pulled away hesitantly, smiling up at him lovingly before muttering,

“finally.”

before cringing slightly as Jin let out a high pitched laugh, disturbing the peacefulness of the café

from that moment on your guys were nearly inseparable

the rest of the boys even jokingly pegged you as the ‘mom and dad’ of the group

and namjoon would constantly bug you for stealing his ‘spot’

but he was secretly happy for you and Jin

you’d have such a close relationship with the rest of the boys

they’d even add you into the groupchat

and jin couldn’t be happier

hE’S THE SWEETEST BOYFRIEND

posts about you all the time

even the fans found it incredibly cute

whenever someone made a hateful comment about you he’d be so pissed and made sure to show you off even more

just to show how happy you made him

also if you ever get down or insecure he’ll always be there to reassure you

he’d let you silently cry into his shirt while muttering small words of encouragement 

“how can you not see how beautiful you are?”

and he’s just leave a small peck on the tip of your nose as you softly smile

and a grin would make it’s way onto his face as his thumbs gently wiped away your remaining tears

he’d buy you matching pink clothing

only because he’s a sucker for seeing you in his favourite colour

this boy would also cook for you 24/7

you bet he also bought you couple aprons

you rolled your eyes at first

but found yourself wearing it anyway

despite the teasing from the boys Jin’s beaming smile made it worth it

whenever he’s on tour he’d send you cute lil voice messages of him sining because he knows it helps you sleep

he kisses you aLL THE TIME

nose, forehead, cheeks and lips

he just absolutely adores having his lips on you

his kisses will always start out super slow and gentle

but then he’d nip at your lower lip slightly

before you know it he has you pressed up against the wall as his hands roam your body

also the cuddliest boyfriend ever

he just kind of clings onto you at night

and when he spoons you he’ll leave lil kisses on your shoulder and neck

did i mention he loves kissing you???

but most of the time he wants to be the small spoon

he just loves having your small arms wrapped around him

morning after cuddles? yes please

having your naked body pressed against his feels like a dream to him

he’d just admire your sleeping face, taking in the way your eyelashes softly brushed against your cheeks and the small puffs of air you occasionally let out

he would wake you up by softly kissing your collarbone and neck, hovering above you as you slowly awoke

and when you did he’d make sure to give you a morning you’d never forget

he’s also S U P E R protective of you

if someone tries to flirt with you he’d just silently enter the conversation and drag you away

(leading to hot and heavy jealous sex in the first empty room he saw ;))

jungkook and taehyung would then playfully hit on you just to rile up jin

cause they’re lil shits

he also secretly leaves his sweatshirts and hoodies laying around your apartment just so you’ll wear them

nothing gets his heart racing faster than seeing you in his clothes

he especially loves bringing you shopping

he’ll pick out the most revealing outfits 

so he can brag about the fact that he’s your boyfriend

“can you believe this is my girl? I mean look at thiS BEAUTY!!”

cue to your blushing face and Jin laughing widely

he fricking loves to spoil you

he’ll leave little presents for you around your bedroom

by little I mean versace and chanel bags

and whenever you’ve had a bad day at work/school he’ll make sure to treat you like a princess

he’ll buy your favourite food and watch your favourite movies

Also, he won’t admit but when he writes love songs they’re secretly about you

everyone can see how crazy about you he is

jin literally worships the ground you walk upon

he just loves you so much

jin is such a soft dom in bed

he likes to take control but he also wants to make sure you’re comfortable

he’ll trace his plump lips over your soft skin, leaving small kisses behind

also loves to sink his teeth into the skin of your collarbone and neck

having you marked as his own causes his length to twitch in need

this boy is a sucker for you riding him

being able to see your face twist in pleasure as you circle your hips on top of him sent blood rushing to his head

HAIR PULLING

whenever he takes you from behind he’ll bunch up your hair, just to hear the small whimpers that leaves your kiss-bruised lips

he will also grip at your throat gently 

his praises never end when you suck him off

“you’re doing so well baby.”

“don’t stop. your mouth is amazing.”

kissing his tip just to tease him

he has the b i g g e s t kink for cumming on your tongue

he can feel himself about to burst right when you stick your wet tongue out and look up at him with bashful eyes

kitchen sex, public sex, mirror sex

you name it and he’s into it

also uses his husky voice to send you over the edge whenever he’s pounding into you

“you like that princess?”

SO MANY PET NAMES WITH THIS MAN

he’ll rub the tip of his cock against your wet clit, just to tease you

he never felt the urge to fuck someone so hard until you were staring up at him in desperation and begging him to finally ruin you

he may not seem the type but

he L O V E S going down on you

having your hands tug at his locks as you release onto his awaiting tongue makes his cock harden in need

jin just wants to please you what ever way he can

he treats you like his princess whether you’re in the sheets or not

© sopeverse — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

[yesloverboy]

Touch Me (MGK x Reader)

Requested: Anon!

“Would you do a mgk one shot where him and the reader go to a big rave festival, like edc or something, and they're on x and it is just amazing them? Like their so into everything around and each other? Maybe a lil smut”

Note: I’ve only been to a rave once so this may have been a bit of a stretch, but oh my god did I love writing this. I also (do)n’t recommend that you use illegal substances. 

word count: 2,278

[Warnings: 18+ for smut, voyeurism, swearing, and drug use.]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

 “Colson, I’m bored,” you whine, body reclining in a heap of pillows and blankets on the hotel bed. Your boyfriend is seated at the desk across the room, furiously scribbling away at his journal. You know interrupting him at a time like this is rude, but part of you doesn’t really care anymore. Hours had passed since Colson has spoken to you, and you’re starting to become impatient.

 You had been on tour with Colson for weeks, and he’s barely had the time to even look at you, let alone enjoy your company. Now the band is in Las Vegas of all places, and all Colson wants to do is keep working. You had always admired Colson’s work ethic, but he has a tendency to work himself to the brink of collapse. Even though you want your boyfriend to give you attention, you also know that if he doesn’t take a break soon he’ll be close to burning out.

 “Colson, please,” you try again, desperate to break through your boyfriend’s creative trance.

 Colson eventually sighs and turns to look at you, slamming his notebook shut. “What is it, Y/N?” he sounds exhausted, and you know that being cooped up in a hotel room isn’t making it any better. Colson is the kind of person who feeds off of other people’s energy, and yours alone isn’t going to cut it.

 “Can we please go out and do something?” you ask, careful to keep your voice delicate, “We’re in Las Vegas for god’s sake. You deserve a little break.”

 Rubbing his face, Colson gets up and sits at the end of the bed, shoulders slumped forward. You crawl over to meet him, snaking your arms around his back and onto his broad chest. Pulling him tightly against you, you place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck, hoping the small gesture is enough to ease his nerves.

 “You know we can’t go anywhere right now,” Colson murmurs, a large hand linking comfortably around your wrist to hold you in place, “Everyone will recognize us.”  

 As much as you hate to admit it, he has a point. Humming thoughtfully, you think back to when you and the band first rolled into town on the tour bus. The flashing neon signs had advertised everything from magic shows to strip teases, but one event stuck out in your mind among the rest.

 “What about EDC?” you find yourself asking, not quite realizing that you’re thinking out loud.

 “That rave thing?” Colson asks incredulously, twisting from your grip to look at you. “Is that this week?”

 “According to the flashing neon signs all along the strip, yeah I’m pretty sure it is,” you look at Colson expectantly, feeling that deep down he’s probably going to say no. Sure, you and your boyfriend are known partiers, but ravers are a whole different story.

 Much to your surprise, Colson doesn’t say no right away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to meet yours, raising an eyebrow as if to say; Go on, convince me.

 “Well, if you think about it a rave is kind of perfect,” you explain, “we can enter through the VIP section and by the time we slip into the crowd, no one will recognize us.”

 “We don’t have anything to wear,” Colson argues, a smirk beginning to form on his face.

 You roll your eyes, “Oh my god, Colson. Where is your sense of imagination?” 

...

 After about an hour of rummaging through yours and Colson’s suitcases, you were finally able to pull together some impromptu rave outfits from your boyfriend’s stage wear. There honestly wasn’t much in the both of your luggage that was rave appropriate, but, from what you could see online, it seems that the less clothes the better. For some reason, the idea of dressing up and pretending to be someone else excites you. Colson, on the other hand, doesn’t seem as thrilled.

 “Baby, aren’t you worried that people won’t know that you’re mine?” Colson complains, trying to mask the concern in his voice as he begrudgingly allows you to smear some of your body glitter on his neck and shoulders.

 Using your glitter coated hands, you grab the sides of Colson’s face and pull yourself up on the tips of your toes. Placing a soft kiss to his lips, you face the worry in Colson’s eyes.

 “Nope,” you reply, “I’ll be with you the whole time, silly.”

 Colson sighs, “But you look so good like that.” Your boyfriend gestures to your body with a tattooed hand, making your cheeks turn pink.

 Considering the fact that you and Colson weren’t prepared for a rave, you had decided to dress up your old bikini with one of your boyfriend’s long, Off-White belts and a pair of platform sneakers. It’s nothing spectacular, but you’re definitely showing off way more skin than you’re used to.

 “Oh whatever,” you giggle, “by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be looking even better.”

 You dig through your suitcase and pull out a large, shredded cropped t-shirt and hand it to your boyfriend. It’s a shirt that you usually wear to bed, but you figure it’s something no one would ever expect Colson to wear.

 “What the hell is this?” he asks.  “Gotta cover that MGK back tattoo somehow,” you smirk, delighted at the opportunity to force Colson into a crop top.

 Rolling his eyes, Colson tugs the shirt over his head, the ripped hem only reaching to the middle of his torso. You can feel your mouth fall open as you watch the thin fabric cling to your boyfriend’s chest, accentuating every ripple of muscle perfectly.

 “I look ridiculous,” Colson complains as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, “Worst of all, I still look like me.”

 “Not for long,” you say, dangling a bandana in front of his face. You had snagged a few from one of Colson’s merch guys at the beginning of the tour, and now is the perfect time to put one to good use.

 You help Colson tie the bandana around his neck so that he can pull it up over his nose and mouth later. Sure, a few dedicated fans still might recognize the two of you, but under the flashing lights you were almost positive that you would have no problems blending in.

 With an excited grin you squeeze Colson’s hand, “Ready?”

...

 As you and Colson approach the VIP entrance, you can feel your stomach bubbling up with excitement at the sight of laser lights flashing in the distance. The far off roar of the crowd gets your heart pumping as you step forward, the gentle hum of the bass buzzing beneath your feet. You are just about to pull Colson through the gate when he grips your arm firmly, bringing you to a full stop.  

 “Hey baby, gimme just a second, okay? I’ll be right back,” Colson says, ducking away and jogging back towards the parking lot.

 Confused, you lean against the fence by the entrance and decide not to question Colson’s motives. More than likely he was probably going somewhere quiet to give his daughter a quick, goodnight phone call. The image brings a smile to your face as you think about how big your boyfriend’s heart is. Colson would bend over backwards for the people he loves, and you felt so lucky that you got to be one of them.

 After a few more moments of being lost in thought, you catch sight of Colson returning with a huge smile plastered across his face.

 “Where’d you run off to?” you ask.

 Colson reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag with four little blue pills inside.

 “I figured if we’re going to go to a rave, we might as well do it right,” Colson replies, shaking the bag in front of you triumphantly.

 You bounce on your heels excitedly, and give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek. Of all the things you and Colson had done together, ecstasy had somehow flown under your radar.

 “Want one, baby?” Colson asks sweetly, leaning in until he’s inches away from your face. You nod back vigorously, wanting more than anything to get the night started properly.

 “Then come get it,” he grins, popping one of the blue pills into his open mouth.

 Using the bandana around Colson’s neck for leverage, you pull your boyfriend down to your level and connect your mouth with his. Colson pulls you flush against him, not caring about the crowd of people inevitably watching from afar, fingers digging possessively into the small of your back. Gripping your jaw roughly with a single hand, he dispenses the pill into your open mouth with the tip of his tongue.

 Pulling away from Colson, you swallow the pill. He tries to lean in for another kiss, but you step just out of his reach. As breathless as Colson’s touch makes you feel, you know it’ll be even better after the ecstasy takes effect.

 “Easy there, rockstar,” you coo, tugging Colson’s arm in the direction of the VIP gate, “let’s get this party started.”

...

 As it turns out, the flashing lights and distance music at the gate are nothing compared to what it’s like amongst the crowd. You and Colson had rushed past the VIP pool parties and roped off bottle service sections in favor of the pulsing, sweating mass of people at the center stage. Colson allows you to pull him along, his bandana secured firmly over the lower half of his face.

 Of all the concerts and music festivals you had been to, you had never been able to feel the music radiating through your body quite like it is right now. As soon as you find that the two of you are sufficiently lost in a sea of strangers, you can feel Colson’s long arms weave around your abdomen, pulling you closer. You grind your hips against his, allowing your body to move in tandem with the rhythm of the music.

 You grin as Colson’s hands wander up your body, lingering over every curve. Usually you wouldn’t be okay with this much public affection, but under the kaleidoscope of neon light and sound, nothing seems to matter. Everywhere you look, people are melting into one another, and you find yourself wondering how something so public could be this intimate.  

 As your hips gyrate to the beat, you realize it’s nearly impossible to know how much time is passing. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest and, suddenly, it feels as though Colson’s touch isn’t enough. Despite the amount of people around, you are desperate to have him closer.

 Turning to face your boyfriend, you wrap your arms around his neck, leaving your face just inches away from his. Colson grabs your ass, sharply pulling you so that your legs are woven between his. Teasingly, you roll your body, riding against his upper thigh. As his grasp on you tightens, you decide to lick a stripe on the part of the bandana where his mouth should be. To your satisfaction, you can feel his length harden in the leg of his jeans.

 You try to look up at Colson innocently, but something in his eyes has darkened beyond the point of return. With one arm still firmly holding you in place, Colson slowly runs a free hand down your exposed stomach. Your breath hitches as one of his fingers plays with the waist of your bikini line. Pleading with your eyes, you try your best to protest against his touch but the contact feels far too good for you to care.

 Colson’s hand slowly sinks past your waistband, palming your heat possessively. His fingers rub against you teasingly, careful to avoid making contact with your clit. The ecstasy pumping through your veins makes every touch better than the last, and you know that if Colson could hear you, you’d already be a begging mess.

 As if he can read you mind, Colson slips a finger inside of you. Your nails dig into Colson’s shoulders as you rock against his touch. All of the blood in your body is singing as it flows through you, and you feel more physically connected to Colson now than ever. You moan as your boyfriend inserts another finger, but the sound is lost amongst the crowd as it continues to envelop the both of you.

 With shaky hands, you lift Colson’s bandana enough to connect your mouth to his, the movement of his hand getting more frantic as you breathe into him. You can feel your orgasm building with the increasing tempo of the music, the added vibration stimulating your body in ways you didn’t think possible.

 It only takes one final curl of Colson’s fingers before you’re clenching around him, your orgasm overtaking you in waves of burning hot pleasure. Using both hands to support your trembling body, Colson kisses you deeply. The sensation isn’t as intense, but it brings you and your hazy thoughts back down to earth.

 Even though you can still feel the music vibrating within your chest, you can almost swear that yours and Colson’s hearts are humming to the same rhythm. You continue to move and sway against him, not willing to let go just yet. Colson seems to share your feelings and leans into your embrace. You smile contentedly as he begins to pepper gentle kisses along your neck and jawline, his touch is as gentle as the beat of butterfly wings.

 It might be the drugs talking, but you can definitely envision yourself doing this again. Very, very soon.

Masterlist

[writtingrose]

Finn X Reader - Accidental Daddy

SUMMARY; Accidentally calls him daddy and he gets turned on

WARNING; SMUT, slight breeding kink, like one chocking bit

REQUESTED BY; Anon

WORD COUNT; 1,907

Listen to; Neck and Mirror by SoMo while reading. It helped me write this.

Finn slid his key card into the slot and watched the light turn green before slowly pushing the door open. Rubbing a hand over his face as he groaned, he rolled his luggage into the room. He had been late getting into town, which meant he was late starting his press day and hadn’t been able to check into the hotel on time. To day he was anxious to fall into bed would be an understatement.

Setting his luggage to the side, just before the small hallway holding the bathroom stopped, Finn froze in his place. On the floor in front of him, strewn everywhere, was women’s clothes; and not just any women’s clothes. No. He would recognize those shorts of Y/N’s anywhere. After all, they were the same pair of shorts he has imagines pulling off himself dozens of times.

Raising his eyebrow, he proceeded into the room, leaning against the corner of the hall as he peered over at the bed. The sight in front of him was almost enough to make him cum.

Y/N laid out on the king-sized bed, hand between her legs as she moaned softly. Finn nearly groaned as he grabbed his crotch, adjusting his growing erection. Months of fantasies and memories from cold showers filled his mind as he watched her silently. She must not have heard him come in, or just didn’t care. Maybe she was expecting someone? She didn’t have a boyfriend that he knew of, but he also didn’t know much about her. After all, she spent most of her time with Sheamus, her tag team partner, or Carmella. And, believe it or not, Finn could be quite shy.

Still he watched her, completely entranced by the way her body jerked and arched as her hand moved. Her moaned were getting louder and louder as she thrust two fingering into herself, flexing them in search of the one spot she knew would drive her crazy. A small gasp left her mouth as she found it, eyes fluttering open as her back arched off the mattress.

“Finn, fuck!”

His eyes widened as he began to unbutton his slacks, now froze in place. Maybe she had heard him come in. However, there was no way she could have known it was him. Which means... she was thinking of him. Groaning quietly, he took a step towards the bed as his normally clear blue eyes turned darker; the demon waking. She whimpered, tongue darting out to run over her lips as she bucked her hips up into her hand.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Fuck me daddy.”

A loud, feral growl left Finn’s throat as he flicked the zipper on his slacks down, his hand delving in to grab his cock.

“Well, what do we have here, love?” He smirked as her eyes flew open, connecting with his.

“What the hell Finn!?” She scrambled to pull the blanket up over her body, hiding herself from him. “How the fuck did you get into my hotel room?”

He chuckled darkly as he approached the edge of the bed, pushing his slacks to the ground.

“Got checked into da wrong room ‘m guessin’.” He licked his lips as he reached for the blanket, slowly pulling on it. “Can’t say ‘m sorry t’ough.”

Y/N blushed furiously as she struggled to keep covered. “F-Finn I can really explain.”

He growled, suddenly ripping the blanket from her as his hungry gaze wondered over her body, “I t’ink yer callin’ me te wrong name, princess.”

She whimpered slightly, licking her dry lips as she shook under the power of his gaze. “B-Balor?”

She had heard stories of the demon, seen him in the ring, even fantasized about him taking her like the slut she craved to be. Yet, she never thought she’d be here. After all, Finn the man always seemed too shy to do anything and lord knows she wasn’t going too.

Chuckling, he grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge as he kneeled. “Try again.” He kissed from her knee up, stopping at the outer corner of her thigh. “Get it right, an’ I’ll give ya a treat.”

Y/N fisted her hands in the sheets, legs spreading even further for him as she watched his every move, shaking in anticipation. “Daddy?”

Finn smiled sadistically as he flattened his tongue against her clit, licking from top to bottom. Her hips jerked up, vying for more pressure. However, he had other plans.

He looped his hands under her thighs, holding her still as he sucked harshly. His tongue alternated between her clit and darting in and out of her dripping pussy. She squealed and tangled her hands in his hair, holding his face where it was.

“J-Just like that daddy,” she whimpered. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve thought about your tongue in my tight little twat, or your cock stretching me until I can’t take it.”

Finn hissed as he looked up at her; long, slender fingers replacing his tongue as he licked his lips.

“E’ry time I touch my dick, I t’ink ‘bout fucking ye.” He curled his fingers inside her, easily finding her g-spot and beginning to assault it. “Ye screamin’ fer my cock, hand on yer t’roat while I destroy my pussy.”

Y/N whined and nodded quickly, pussy convulsing around his fingers.

“Yes, yes! I want it all Finn, just let me cum please!”

He quickly withdrew his fingers, hand coming to cover her throat as he leaned in, nipping her ear.

“What te fook did ye call me?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he nestled his way between her legs, the swollen tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. Teasing her, he eased in an inch and pulled back out, over and over as she huffed and writhed under him.

“Was gonna give ye what ye want.” He chuckled and smirked down at her. “Let ye cum all o’er my face b’fer I fooked ye, but now...well.”

He held her hips, slamming his forward until his balls rested against the flesh of her ass. Y/N cried out, somewhere between pleasure and pain as his thick cock stretched her beyond anything she could imagine. It was heaven and hell at the same time and she loved it.

“Now, yer gonna take my cock ‘til yer drippin’ me cum, like the slut ye are.”

Y/N whimpered and nodded, her nails digging into the firm flesh of his back, leaving angry red trails.

“Yes daddy!” She panted, clinging to him as he pushed her deeper and deeper into the mattress.

He kept an unrelenting pace as his lips found the spot on her neck, sucking harsh enough for the skin to turn purple with his mark. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, twisting and teasing her nipples as his cock pulsed inside her.

“Always knew ye’d be a ‘lil slut.” He nipped harder, Y/N crying out as he did. “Bet you’d beg fer me cum, wouldn’t ye?”

She nodded quickly, throat dry as she bucked her hips, her orgasm building steadily. Finn chuckled darkly as he once again slid his hand around her throat, pressing lightly. He let his eyes roam over her; from the marks now lining her neck to his cock pumping in and out of her. He couldn’t help the deep groan that feel from his lips as his cock swelled, filling her even more.

“Better hold that back.” He grits his teeth and held her hips, guiding them against his thrusts as he rubbed her clit. “Daddy cums b’fer the sluts do.”

Y/N whined as shew bucked, her body shaking with the effort. “D-daddy please, I can’t fucking hold it back. Need to cum, need to cum on your cock!”

Finn just smiled, the demon loving the sound of her begging as he used her to chase his own pleasure.

“First ‘m gonna cum yeah?” he panted and thrust harder, deeper, his cock pulsing uncontrollably. “Gonna fill ye up, let it drip out as I breed ye.” He licked his lips and bit into her shoulder blade, leaving an indent from his mouth. “Bet ye’d like that wouldn’t ye? Tie ye to me ferever.”

Y/N gasped as she threw her head back, orgasm building to impossible heights as she fought it back. “YES! Yes, please! Finn, Balor, Daddy, all three...let me cum please! I can’t keep it back.l

Finn threw his head back and roared as hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock; splashing against her walls as he filled her.

“Cum ye slut, show me what ye got.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Y/N let out a scream as her body convulsed, her orgasm rocketing through her. Finn smiled, holding her against his body as he mumbled sweetly in her ear.

“Tat’s right princess,” He smoothed her hair back. “Cum for daddy.”

He rocked his hips gently, riding out both of their highs as he kissed the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes away. Y/N just looked up at him, lopsided grin on her face, eyes half closed with exhaustion.

“Mm, dunno how they mixed it, but happy they did.”

Finn just chuckled, the hazelly blue of his eyes shinning through once more as he placed light kissed on her face,

“Aye lass, I am too. We should have done that a long time ago.” He eased out of her body, biting his lip as their mixed cum leaked onto the bed, leaving a stain. “Let me clean ye up sweetheart, t’en ye can sleep.”

Y/N Just hummed in response, body too spent and relaxed to make much more of an effort. Finn chuckled gently as he got off the bed, making his way to the bathroom. Once there he grabbed a rag and wet it with warm water before making his way back to her. In the short time, he had been gone she had managed to fall asleep, completely worn out. He smiled to himself and used the rag to clean the evidence of their escapade from her thighs and swollen pussy. Once done, he placed the rag in the dirty hamper and crawled in bed beside her.

He gathered her into his arms and pulled the blankets over their naked bodies before turning the bedside light off. Y/N mumbled lightly as she moved her head to his chest and threw an arm over him, eyes peaking open.

“Nex’ time, as much as I love Balor, I’d like to have Finn too.”

Finn snorted and laughed as he nodded. “Aye love, ye’ll get me. I know the Demon can be a bit much.”

She giggled lightly and nodded. “Maybe for the first time. But I really liked it too, liked knowing I could bring that side out.”

She looked up at him and kissed him gently as he smiled.

“Can’t believe it took ye callin’ me daddy fer us to get together,”

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh? We’re together, are we?”

Finn blushed ever so slightly as he shrugged. “If ye wanna be. I know I’d like it.”

A slow smiled spread across her face as her eyes fluttered closed, relaxing against the warmth and softly his arms provided.

“Yeah, I’d like that too.”

Finn smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. He kissed her gently before relaxing against the sheets, sleep overtaking them both.

 Yello lovelies! So, funny story. I had about 900 words of this written on Monday and my computer crashed, meaning I LOST IT ALL. Rewriting this to the standards of which the lost part was at was difficult and I still don’t feel like it lives up to them. But oh well. Also, this was my first attempt at ‘demon Balor.’ Enjoy.

ALSO, why do I want to write a part two for everything I post 😂😂

Much love, Rose xx

THIRST SQUAD: @biforbecky2belts @the-beastslayers-queen @theeblueehazee @mox-made-me-do-it @rollingwithrollins @sassyspacedust @finnsauroraborealis @xprincessofthefallenangels @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @new-zealand-chic @wefunloveruniverse @instantbouquetdestinysblog @cobrakai1967 @theworldofotps

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 9

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 6,398

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“What’s with the sour face? I know your idea of fun on a Friday night is locking yourself up alone in your room all by yourself, but come on! Going out with a few peeps for a night on the town ain’t gonna kill ya!”

I heaved out a sigh as Anna turned us into the same parking lot we’d just seen Xion’s car go into. “It’s not that, I just… I thought it was only going to be the two of us tonight. We haven’t seen each other since… well, you know… and so much has happened and I just wanted a nice evening, just you and me, talking and catching up.”

“And we can still do that,” she nodded, pressing a couple buttons on her dashboard. As the convertible’s top started to rise and all the windows slid back up, she parked in an open spot right beside Xion’s little blue Prius and powered down the engine. “But now we get to party at the same time! Besides, this way I can meet all of your new friends too!”

Snatching my Ice Palace cap off my head and tossing it into the back seat, I gave a tiny huff. “These people aren’t my friends.”

A couple of loud thuds against the left side of the car made us both jump in our seats before glancing to the source. Roxas and Xion had smooshed their noses up against the door windows, mouths wide open, lips suctioned against the glass and cheeks puffing in and out as they made funny faces at us. Anna snorted then burst out laughing, asking me, “Do they know that?”

“I wasn’t talking about those two. Lea and them are my friends. Well…” I snagged a pale tendril of my hair to twist around my finger as I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. “...sort of…it’s all still very new...” Then I shook my head and tightened my ponytail. “In any case, I meant everyone else that’s going to be at this thing. They’re not my friends because I don’t know any of them.”

“So this is how you get to know them,” she grinned, nudging her shoulder into mine. “Come on, sis, this’ll be fun! I promise!”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” I grumbled.

Just then, we watched Lea go sliding across the hood of Anna’s Porsche in one smooth motion, bringing him to my side so he could open the car door for me. He bent into a half-bow, sweeping one arm out with a smile, “M’lady.”

Anna giggled. “Ooooo, such a gentleman! I don’t believe I’ve gotten your name yet.”

“Lea,” he leaned into the car, stretching across me to shake hands with her. Once again, I caught the faint whiff of cinnamon and had to resist the urge to squirm at his closeness. He smirked at her and winked, “Also answer to Mr Hottie-With-A-Body.”

...so he had heard that.

Great.

Just dandy.

My kingdom for a rock to crawl under right now.

“And you would be the sister, I take it?”

She grinned, “Anna. I’m thinking I like you already, Mr Hottie-W-”

I discreetly pinched her arm, shutting her up.

He didn’t seem to notice as he looked past her to where the other two were still making like a pair of pufferfish against the glass. “And those gremlins out there are Xion and Roxas. They’re harmless, just don’t ever feed ‘em after midnight. Hey!” he raised his voice so they could hear him. “Knock it off already, twerps!” They both pulled away, Xion hiding a snigger behind one hand while Roxas razzed his tongue. Shaking his head, the smile returned as Lea at last backed out of the car to straighten up again, “Well then, shall we?”

To my credit, I only hesitated for a second before exiting the vehicle, tugging at the hem of my skirt slightly as I stepped out onto the asphalt. Ugh, I hadn’t even had a chance to change out of my work clothes before getting sucked into all of this, so I didn’t even have the small consolation of being dressed comfortably. My eyes followed Xion and Roxas as they ran ahead to 7th Heaven, or so the gigantic, yellow neon sign hanging above the door proclaimed.  It was a rustic, wooden building with a small set of stairs leading up to the wraparound patio. There was a warm glow coming through the fogged windows and muffled music could be heard from within.

Anna pushed a button on her key fob and the Porsche beeped as all its doors locked. Then she latched onto my arm, practically skipping as we made our way to the entrance. Lea dashed out in front, taking the steps two at a time and holding the door open for us. As we climbed up onto the deck as well, I could now hear the murmur of voices and laughter coming from inside as well. I gulped, my stomach sinking.

If it weren’t for Anna clinging to me like a two ton anchor, I’d probably have made a break for the hills by now.

And she knew that, which was exactly why she was doing it.

Traitor.

And so it was that I, with little choice or say in the matter, was dragged by my sister into the dreaded bowels of El Diablo.

...I’m not sure what I’d expected to hear upon descending into the terrifying Underworld, but it certainly hadn’t been the perky pop beat of Barbie Girl.

A strange, but oddly fitting soundtrack for eternal damnation.

The music was coming from a small stage all the way in the back of the place where some young woman was badly singing karaoke under spotlights. Between us and her was a massive, dimly lit room packed with tables and people cheering her on as they drank their presumably alcoholic beverages. Off to one side was a long bar, crowded with customers and tended by a brunette who, ahem… could only be described as the very epitome of the term ‘one busty babe.’ The wall opposite the bar was lit up with flashing lights from a row of retro pinball and arcade machines.

“We usually stake out one of the back corners for ourselves and spread out from there,” I barely heard Lea say over all the noise. I glanced back at him to see him squinting as his eyes scanned the darkness before his face brightened and he pointed off to our right. “Over there! Follow me.”

Anna gave my arm a reassuring squeeze and I replied with a thin, shaky smile.

There were just... so… many… people.

We navigated through the throng behind Lea, his blazing hair like a guiding light in the shadows, showing us the way. With every step we took, the knots in my gut pulled tighter and my knees grew numb.  This was it. It was time…

...to mingle.

(Shudder.)

The three of us came to a stop at a large table. Half the people seated were all still in their work duds too, making me feel a little better about my attire, but not by much. Everyone looked up to warmly greet Lea before all eyes turned to me and I resisted the urge to shrink behind Anna. “Hey guys!” Lea shouted over the roar of the pub. “This is Elsa and her sister, Anna! El here is the newest scoop slinger at Ice Palace, so you’ve probably already seen her around.”

“So you’re the fresh meat,” one woman smirked at me. I recognized her from the greek food place that was Ice Palace’s neighbor. “Pleasure. Name’s Megara. My friends call me Meg.”

“Tiana,” the girl sitting next to her in a cute green dress smiled.

“She’s a server at that lil Cajun grill also in the food court,” Lea supplied before cocking his head at her. “Boyfriend couldn’t make it tonight?”

She immediately frowned and averted her gaze. Meg gently pat her on the back, shooting him a tiny scowl, “Smooth move, ya knucklehead. They broke up.”

“Oops,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, don’t sweat it, Tiana. You know what they say - gotta kiss a few frogs and whatnot.” Crickets from the table. “Heh, get it? Cuz you work at… aw, too soon?” He cleared his throat, “Oookay, moving on! Next, I’m sure you’ve seen these three over at Lucky Cat.” He waved a hand towards a familiar blue-haired chick, her stocky coworker with slicked back, chocolate locks, and what I was guessing was Roxas’s doppelganger, not Roxas himself. Lea pointed to each in turn, “Aqua, Terra, and Ventus.”

“You’re the place with the super sweet tabby I got to cuddle earlier!” Anna said excitedly.

Aqua laughed, “That’s Chirithy, Ven’s pet. He likes to bring him into work sometimes. The cat’s so well behaved, management doesn’t mind.”

Ventus scratched the back of his head with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’m lucky. He’s sorta become the unofficial mascot of our café.”

“Then Grumpy-Pants over here is Squall and-”

“That’s Leon,” a guy with a scar slashed across the bridge of his nose corrected with a growl into his beer.

“Riiiiiight, forgot you were rebranding,” Lea snerked. “He works over at Buster’s Swords, the replica weapon shop in the mall. And last but most certainly not least, this little one here is Naminé,” he indicated a petite blonde sitting between Ven and Leon, who gave a shy wave. “When she’s on the clock, you can find Nams at The Crayon Box for all your art supply needs.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” she nodded at us. “We’re currently rooting on our friend Ariel,” she pointed to the stage. It was only now upon second glance that I recognized the girl up there currently murdering Barbie Girl as the redhead from the fish store. 

Lea winced as a particularly bad note was hit before he snorted. “Girl’s usually got a voice that’d put mythical sirens to shame, but she’s just getting over a cold. Couldn’t talk for three days. Now that she’s started getting it back, there’s no keeping her away from the mic. RIP eardrums.” Then he clapped his hands together once, “Alrighty, on to Table Numeros Dos!”

...numeros dos?

As in more than one? As in this wasn’t it? As in more people?

If I survived this night, it’d be a miracle.

At least the first table hadn’t been too bad. Everyone else had done all the talking, which was a-okay by me.

...unless… crud, did they think I was boring now? Or worse, that I was sticking my nose up at them? Well I wasn’t! Trust me, there was absolutely zero nose sticking up going on here! My nose was down! Way, way, way down! So far down, it was past the secret civilization of mole people and halfway to China by now!

Dammit, only five minutes in and pretty sure I was already screwing everything up. And I hadn’t even done anything yet!

Lea shifted a couple steps over to an adjacent booth against the wall and Anna followed, tugging me into a stumble after her. Grabbing the attention of this new group, he announced, “Yo, everyone! I’d like ya to meet-”

“Elsa?”

I locked eyes with a golden gaze I knew all too well at this point and blinked. “Rayne?”

She scrambled out of the booth to hurl herself at me and I staggered to stay upright under the sheer might of her hug. Then I heard her gasp, “Anna too?! Get in here, girl!” I grunted as Anna dogpiled into the embrace. “Haven’t seen you since you were an ankle biter at summer camp! What are you doing here?! In fact, what are you both doing here?”

“What are we doing here?” I repeated incredulously as we all pulled apart, my eyes flicking down to her belly then back up. “What are you doing here? Did you forget you’re, uh… drinking for two now?”

A squeal from Anna, “Oh my gawd, Ray-Ray, your friggin’ preggers?! Congratulations! Who’s the lucky stud who knocked dat fine ass of yours up?”

My sister, ladies and gentleman. Ever the classiest of dames.

Rayne turned, yanking her husband out of the booth and onto his feet beside her. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she smiled smugly. “This is Riku. Riku, meet Anna, Elsa’s little sister. And don’t worry,” she turned her attention back to me, rolling her eyes, “all my drinks are virgin.”

“Though Ray is what you might call an empathic drunk,” Riku snerked, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

I quirked an eyebrow, “A what?”

“The more people get liquored up around me, the drunker I get without sipping a single drop. It’s an odd phenomenon, I don’t do it on purpose, but not complaining either. All the perks of intoxication, none of the hangover!” Then she furrowed her brow at me, “But no, seriously, what are you doing here? This ain’t exactly your scene.”

“I kinda kidnapped her,” Anna hummed out a tiny, evil laugh. “She’s my hostage tonight. She’s gonna have fun whether she likes it or not!”

I was firmly in the “or not” camp.

Rayne grinned at her, folding her arms together, “Then that brings us back around to what you’re doing here… where did you even come from?”

As the two of them began to catch up while Riku listened in, Lea snagged my elbow, pulling me over closer to the booth once more. 

Oh. Right. Socializing. I’d almost forgotten.

Ahhh forgetting. T’was a better, simpler, blessed time. Now, as I was presented with another small horde of new faces, I felt my heart rate spike and my chest tighten as the butterflies battled for dominance in my stomach again.

So be it. Once more into the breach! Come on, Elsa, you can do this!

“Now then, before I was so rudely interrupted-”

“Shove it, Red!” my roommate snapped.

“Screw off, Raindrop!” He stuck his tongue out at her, then sniggered to me, “Remember, verbal abuse says you care! Anyway, I’m sure you’re already very familiar with this mall rat we all know and love, given he’s almost a big an ice cream junkie as I am.” Sora beamed up at me from his seat. “But have you met this half-pint’s amazing, intelligent, beautiful and might I add way out of his league girlfriend, Kairi?”

He was gesturing to a pretty redhead dolled up in pink who smirked around the straw in her drink as she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Sora beside her. “Any comment to that?”

He shrugged, leaning back as he laced his fingers behind his head and his already impossibly huge smile somehow managed to get even wider. “Can’t argue facts!”

“She, like her boy here, is also a local mall rat, but we take pity on these poor schmucks who have nothing else in their pathetic, empty lives and let them hang out with us cool kids whenever we all get together like this,” Lea teased.

“Hey now, ex-mall rat!” she harrumphed before proudly puffing up her chest. “You’re looking at Mickey’s newest hire as of today!”

Lea arched an eyebrow, “No shit, really? Congratz, princess! Welcome to the crush of the daily grind. It sucks! Enjoy!”

Kairi snorted. “Please, it won’t be all that terrible. I’m gonna work a counter in the jewelry department. I can already tell my favorite part’s gonna be helping customers with the charm bracelets. Look!” she jangled the band she was wearing around her wrist before lifting up one of the little trinkets dangling from it. “This one looks like a thalassa shell star from my home, Destiny Islands!” Then she narrowed her eyes at Sora, one corner of her lips quirking up. “Now if only this lazy bum would get a job too, we’d be set!”

“Gimme a break, Kairi, I’m working on it!” Sora half whined, half laughed.

“Uh oh, do I smell trouble in paradise? We’ll leave the two lovebirds to it then,” Lea then turned my attention to a slender chick with short black hair sitting next to Kairi, who waggled her fingers at me with a crooked grin. “This is Yuffie! She works with Squ- ‘scuse me, Leon over at Buster’s Swords.” He lowered his voice to a whisper behind his hand, “She likes to steal the merch for her own personal amusement.”

She scoffed, “You shut your whore mouth, I don’t steal! I just… borrow for quality testing!��I’m doing a community service here, really!”

He shook his head, “Uh huh, sure, whatever you say. So what’s on the menu for today?”

Couldn’t tell from where exactly, but she suddenly pulled out a pair of ninja stars as her lips curved wickedly. “Shurikens!”

“Nope!” Leon pressed one hand to the edge of his table, leaning his chair back onto its hind legs so he could stretch an arm across the booth and snatch the weapons from her grasp.

“Hey!” she lunged after them but only ended up faceplanting into her own table. “Give those back, jerkface!” He ignored her, just taking another swig from the bottle in front of him. “Wow, rude much?!”

This place was an absolute madhouse.

 “Oof, that’s rough! Better luck next time,” Lea consoled her before pointing to the next person wedged into the booth, a girl with a blue bow tying back her brown hair. “And here we have Belle! Total bookworm, so no surprise her nine-to-five’s at Enchanted Castle Books.” She didn’t acknowledge us, just stared dreamily off into space while absently stirring the liquid in her glass with a straw. Lea sighed, “Yeah, she’s a real head-up-in-the-clouds sort.”

“I got this,” Yuffie chimed in before using a hand to shade her gaze as she raised her voice, “Hey, is that Gaston I see?”

Belle snapped out of it, eyes round in horror as she gasped, “Where?!” before ducking down to use the table for cover.

As Yuffie cracked up, Kairi swatted her in the shoulder, “Mean!”

“Gaston’s the local musclebound, meathead neanderthal who’s set his sights on Belle as his next conquest,” Lea explained.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Yuffie’s eyes gleamed as she produced a third metal star. “I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

“For the love of- another one?!” In a quick blur of movement, Leon had once again confiscated her toy, much to her dismay.

“Finally,” Lea jumped in once again, clapping his hand down on the shoulder of a carrot-top sitting on the end with giant purple headphones covering his ears, “this regular chatterbox is Neku, who gets his paycheck from Towa Records, the lil music store around the corner from the food court.”

Yuffie huffed, “I dunno why Orangeylocks even bothers to show up to these things since,” she leaned across the table to lift up one of his hulking muffs and yell into his ear, “he never bothers to take the stupid ‘phones off!”

He slapped her hand away with a glare and said nothing, simply crossed his arms and slouched further down into his seat.

Still I hadn’t said a word to anyone besides Rayne. Partly because all the anxiety was squeezing my throat shut - trust me, the terror was real. But even if I had been brave enough to actually make small talk with this pack of total strangers, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise. It was all just happening so fast. But hey, maybe I could get away with the whole not talking thing. This Neku guy seemed to be and he was getting along just fine. Maybe the secret was in the headphones.

Note to self: look into the possibility of purchasing ear buds with first paycheck in the hopes of avoiding human interaction at all costs.

“Okay, almost done, just one more table to go,” Lea chirped.

Hearing that was both a relief and a minor heart attack all rolled together. The good news: one more table, woo! The bad news: one more table, ugh!

As Lea led the way once more, I snagged Anna by the elbow. It was her fault I was in this mess, so there was no way I was letting her abandon me. She was my security blanket, dammit! She managed to get out a hasty “we’ll talk more in a minute” to Rayne before staggering along behind me. We were brought to the neighboring booth which took up a corner so it was slightly bigger. Thankfully, that didn’t equal a larger group seated here. Even better, I already knew two of the faces.

“Rox! Xion!” Lea grinned down at them. “So this is where you guys got to. Was beginning to think I might have to send out search parties. I-”

“Kristoff,” the name escaped my lips before I’d even realized it as I locked eyes with my coworker.

Make that three faces I recognized.

His eyelids drooped before he looked away with a harrumph, taking a deep drag from his mug.

Well fudge. Guess he was still mad about the phone.

This night just kept getting better and better!

“Brr, did it just get a few degrees colder in here? Ah well, forget it, just leave Lord Sourpuss here to his brooding,” Lea snerked with a roll of his eyes. “For the rest at the table who haven’t already had the pleasure, this is Elsa, the Ice Palace newbie, and her sister Anna who tagged along for funsies.” 

He tossed a hand towards a guy with amber eyes, messy raven hair, and was the poster boy for goth fashion. “That ray of sunshine over there is Vanitas - living, breathing proof that all our moms were always right: your face really can get stuck like that. Wow, misery really does love company, huh? Just look at those identical scowls.” Both Vanitas and Kristoff looked highly unamused with Lea. He responded with a smirk, leaning down to bring his face closer to Vanitas, “What’s with the pout, widdle man? Did one of the other kids steal your binky?”

“Bite me, jackass,” he deadpanned.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Lea waggled his eyebrows as he straightened back up. “Anyhoo, as you might’ve already guessed by just taking one look at the edgelord, Vaniboy here works at Halloween Town.”

“Halloween Town?” Anna echoed, tapping a thoughtful finger to her lips. “Isn’t that the line of shops that are kinda like Hot To-”

“Say that knock-off, poser, wannabe of a store’s name and die,” Vanitas sneered.

Lea said, “Don’t mind him, he’s just cranky cuz he missed out on afternoon naptime.” Vanitas flipped him the bird, which went totally ignored as Lea shifted his gaze to the other side of the table. “Woah, talk about a mismatched set. What are you two doing hanging out with Mr Negativity here?”

He was now addressing a sweet-faced brunette with bright green eyes and the boy beside her with sandy blonde spiked hair, a skull and crossbones printed on his shirt. The girl chuckled, “Oh come on, Van’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, once you get past his personality,” the guy sniggered. Vanitas just looked away with a soft tch.

“Meet Olette and Hayner. They- wait...” Lea glanced around the table a second time with a frown, “There’s usually one more of you. Where’s Pence?”

“Couldn’t make it,” Olette sighed, plopping her chin in her palm. “Had to finish his programming project for his Computer Sciences course. Said he’ll be at it all weekend.”

“Bummer,” Lea shrugged. “In any case, these two plus their missing amigo wait tables at Le Grand Bistrot, this hoity-toity restaurant on the opposite end of the mall from the rest of us. Though didn’t you guys get shut down recently for a rodent infestation?”

Hayner banged a fist against the table, “Ugh, will people stop talking about that already? We didn’t get shut down, it was one rat and it was just that klutzy garbage boy’s pet, got it?!”

A snort from Roxas. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Can it, pizza boy!” Hayner shot back.

“Touchy, touchy,” Lea tsked before his eyes made one more sweep of the surrounding tables. “Anyway, looks like that’s everyone! How ‘bout it? Got it all memorized? If not, don’t sweat it, it was a lot. And even more might show up later, who knows, these things are always sort of a random grab bag but that’s half the fun! In any case, feel free to take a seat.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go order a drink from the bar. Did either of you want me to grab you anything while I’m over there?”

“Is this a menu?” Anna picked up the glossy, colorful sheet of plastic from the table, looking over the list printed on it with a low hum. “I think a basket of the Cactuar Fries would be good for starters. As for drink, hm… Ooo, the Golden Chocobo sounds amazing! What about you?” she tilted it to give me a better look.

I shook my head, “Just water for me, thanks.”

Her tongue blew a raspberry, eyes returning to the menu. “That’s no fun. Lessee here… aha!” She smiled up at Lea, “She’ll have a Shiva, heavy on the rum.”

“I will most certainly not have a-”

“Got it!” Lea darted off across the room, cupping a hand to his mouth and calling out, “Oh, Tifa!”

Anna then proceeded to flump down into the booth next to Kristoff, giggling as she peeked up at him. “Hi! You’re cute!”

He blinked at her, all traces of the previous doom-and-gloom wiped clean off his face as it reddened slightly. “Uh…?”

She wiggled in closer to him, which seemed to fluster him more as he scrabbled over into Vanitas, who elbowed him back hard for making him almost spill his drink. Oblivious to the domino effect she’d created, Anna whipped her head back around to me and patted a hand on the space she’d freed up at the edge of the booth. “Whatcha waiting for, Sis? Sit!”

I stared blankly at her. She beamed back at me. I glanced over to everyone else. Everyone else watched me expectantly. I then flicked my gaze down to the open seat. It just lay there, being a cushion.

...psssst, dummy. Her telling you to sit? Was your cue to actually sit!

Still my feet didn’t budge an inch. Instead I looked over my shoulder back towards the door leading outside. So close, yet so far.

Clearing my throat, I took a small step backwards and held up a hand, “A-actually, you know what? I think I, uh... left something... back in the car! Yeah, that’s it! So I’ll just, er… I’ll go get-”

“I said sit!” Anna grabbed my wrist and jerked me down onto the plush bench beside her.

Well then. I guess I was sitting.

I suddenly felt a light brush of something against the back of my head and I twitched away, looking behind me. Rayne was leaning over the divider between our two booths, hands outstretched, apparently with the intention of petting both Anna and me.  “Pretty,” she cooed in delight. “Pretty, pretty hair. So soft!”

From somewhere beyond the separator, I heard Riku mutter, “It’s starts.” His voice was muffled. I suspected due to facepalm. Taking a small bundle of my hair and tucking it between her palm and two little fingers, Rayne then set the other three fingers and hand to work unraveling one of Anna’s pigtail braids.

Anna didn’t seem to mind, instead just turning her gaze to the rest of our booth and flashing a smile big enough to rival one of Sora’s. “It’s so great to meet everyone! This is super exciting! Isn’t is just so exciting?” she asked me. I opened my mouth, but Anna was already gushing once more, “And oh my gawd, so, so, so, sooooo much fun! I’m already having a blast! Are you having a blast?” Again, this question was aimed at me. Again, I didn’t even get so much as a peep out. “Aaaah, lookit her, she’s having a friggin’ blast! This is awesome! So how long have you guys all been getting together like this? Who started it? Was it just a small group at first? Were you guys always friends even before these Friday nights began? Do you ever change it up, get food and drinks somewhere else? Or is it always the 7th Heaven? Why is it called the 7th Heaven anyway? What’s the story there? What’s the food like? No, what are the drinks like? Did I pick good ones? I hope I picked good ones! And I just love that they have karaoke here! Anyone else going to be singing later? Ooo, here’s an idea! We could all go up and sing one together!”

Typhoon Anna had struck again, leaving round eyes and silence in her wake.

I was guessing most everyone else at the table hadn’t even caught half of that, the torrent of words had been coming out in such a rush.

The hush over the table stretched until Vanitas at last broke it with a flat, “Yeah, no, I’m out. I’ve had about all the pep I can stand from that pack of idiots,” he flicked a wrist towards the half the table taken up by Xion, Olette, Roxas and Hayner, “without having to deal with… this,” he cringed, gesturing to Anna. Then he downed the rest of his beverage. “Later, losers.” And with that, he vaulted himself over the table, shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and slinked off.

“So…” Anna dragged out the syllable, “...he’s pleasant!”

Certainly one word for it.

“Vani bail early?” Lea rejoined us. “No shocker there, he usually does. He's always been more of a lone wolf. Make room, Fun-size!” he looked down at where Xion was seated at the opposite end of the booth from us. She scooched to clear a spot for him and he plopped on down, setting a full, opened bottle on the table in front of him bearing a red label that boasted the title Ifrit Amber Ale. “Ladies, your drinks n’ fries are gonna need another minute. Someone’ll be by to drop them off when they’re ready.”

A small smile braved my lips, “Thanks, how much do we owe you?”

Or rather, how much did Anna owe him? Since A, she was the one that’d ordered it all and B, I’d yet to earn a single cent to my name.

Soon though. Payday was coming.

He batted a hand, “Don’t worry about it, my treat. And, uh,” he snerked, “you might want to keep a closer eye on what Raindrop's up to over there.”

I blinked. I had been feeling a faint tingle in my scalp as Rayne had continued to play beauty salon back there this whole time, but I’d just been ignoring it. Now both Anna and I turned to discover she’d weaved locks of our hair together into one thick, auburn-and-platinum braid.  “I made a pretty!” Rayne giggled, punctuated by a hiccup.

Biting back a grin, Xion called, “Hey Riku! Control your woman!”

A hand shot up and grabbed Rayne by the scruff of the shirt. With a squeak, she disappeared behind the booth separator.

“So,” Olette shook her head, one corner of her lips tugging up, “how are you liking it over at Ice Palace?”

...shoot, she was talking to me, wasn’t she?

I was so not prepared for this.

Glancing up from where my fingers had already begun disentangling the braid Anna and I shared joint custody off, I pursed my lips to one side. “Hmm, well… it’s pretty good actually. This is my first job ever, so I was a bit anxious.” Understatement of the millenia. “But it’s been going well. And I like the people I work with and get along with them and uh…” I eyed Kristoff out of my peripheral, who still seemed rather dazed by Anna and the apparent lack of the phrase ‘personal boundaries’ in her vocabulary, “...and they like me and are very kind and welcoming and… certainly not mad or anything at me for, oh I don’t know, hypothetically lobbing and busting their phones, like I would ever do something so silly as that, why would I even mention such a thing, that’s so random,” the jumble of words finished in a weak chuckle.

It was beginning to become clear to me that the tendency to babble might run in my family.

Only mine was of the nervous variety, whereas I don’t think Anna had a nervous bone in her body.

At last sensing my gaze on him, Kristoff shook himself out of his stupor and looked back at me. Then he frowned, narrowed his eyes and stared down at the table, nursing his drink once more.

“Oh yeah,” Xion snorted, “I can definitely feel the love simply overflowing from that side of the table.”

“Sounds like a sweet gig,” Hayner chimed back into the conversation with a smirk as he crossed his arms. “But then, anything’s gotta be better than working at some lame dump of a pizza place.”

“Ouch, shots fired.” Lea cocked an eyebrow, “What’s with the drive-by, my dude?”

Roxas snickered, “Ignore him. He’s still just sore about the whole rat thing.”

“There wasn’t a rat thing! I told you already, it was just some dumb pet so it doesnt count!”

“Sure,” Roxas sighed, “Just keep telling yourself that, man.”

“That’s it!” Hayner snarled, slamming both hands down on the table as he rocketed up to his feet. “It’s time we settle this like men!”

Olette groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Tell me you did not really just say that, you total caveman.”

Hayner stabbed a finger towards Roxas and growled, “You.” Then jerked a thumb into his chest, “Me.” He pointed at one of the arcade machines, “Struggle 9000. Loser buys rounds for the table for the next five Fridays.”

“Come on, you two,” Olette interjected, “is this really-”

Lea clamped a hand over her mouth, one index finger held up to his lips, “Shush, I want free booze.”

“You’re on!” Roxas shot back, eyes flashing. Then the both of them were ducking down and crawling under the table to exit the booth before dashing over to where the video games awaited them, elbowing each other the whole way.

“Wanna go root the boys on?” Olette asked Xion.

“Pfft, root nothing. I’m taking on winner and curb stomping his ass. Play my cards right and I’ll have them both buying our drinks for weeks to come.”

As Lea slid out of the booth so the two of them could get up and leave, Olette laughed, “Oh, I bet Hayner would be simply thrilled by that prospect.”

“Please, you think that bonehead’s gonna come out the champ?” Xion scoffed as they walked off. “Rox has got him beat, no contest.”

“Wanna bet?”

That was the last thing I heard from Olette before a happy shriek barely an inch to my left drowned out anything else that might have been said.

Gee thanks, Anna. Really, who needs hearing in both ears anyway?

Our order had arrived, which apparently was what had gotten her so excited. A heaping bowl of shoestring fries now steamed in front of us, covered and smothered in some chunky green sauce. Anna’s drink started out orange at the bottom and faded into a yellow at the frothy top where in the absence of one of the standard teeny decorative umbrellas, it was instead garnished with a fluffy, yellow feather. My drink was a chilly, neon blue color and served in a tall, skinny glass with wafting mist and a frosted rim.

“Bottoms up!” Anna singsonged, clinking her beverage to mine before chugging down half of it in one go. I pulled a face at her, scrunching my nose with a grimace. She puffed out a content sigh as she put the glass back down at the table. “Ah, that’s good!” Then her eyes darted between me and my drink a couple times. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get your drink on, gurl!”

“No thanks,” I nudged the Shiva away with a fingertip. “Someone has to drive us home, so I guess that someone’s going to be me.”

“Pssh, details,” she waved a dismissive hand while she tested out one of the fries. Eyes lighting up, she shoveled a couple more in her mouth before pushing my drink back towards me. “C’mon, one sip won’t kill ya! Besides, you’re hurting Lea’s feelings over there, he spent his hard earned munny on it just for you!”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he shrugged and grinned. “You do you, El!”

“Dude, work with me here! You’re supposed to back me up on this, I-” Anna cut herself off in a gasp. Seemed there had been a lull in the karaoke, so someone had kicked on the big vintage jukebox off to one side, which was now pumping regular tunes out of the overhead speakers. “I love this song!” Her hand clamped down around Kristoff’s wrist, “Dance with me!”

“Wha-?!”

I was all but shoved out of the booth as Anna bolted off, dragging a wide eyed and stumbling Kristoff behind her. I watched her go, shaking my head with a tired smile. Anna would never change. But then, who’d want her to? She was kind of perfect the way she was, chaotic energy and all. Sighing, I took a seat again and looked up.

That’s when I froze.

Because that’s when it hit me.

Somehow, my booth had gone from being packed to being empty. Well, almost…

There was still me.

And there was still a certain redhead.

And to be fair, my plan had been to spend the evening with a redhead. Just said redhead was supposed to have been petite, female, and my sister. The redhead before me now? Checked off none of those boxes.

So instead of the night of sisterly bonding like I’d been looking forward to, I’d somehow wound up in a bar. 

At a table. 

With Lea. 

By ourselves. 

Just the two of us.

Alone...

Help! SOS! Frantic smoke signals! I was not mentally or emotionally equipped to deal with this situation!

Commence cardiac arrest in three… two… 

Author’s note: Hi, yes, welcome to Cameo Palooza, where we got references coming out the wazoo! This chapter and events in next chapter were originally all supposed to be one chapter, but the references just kept going and going… I honestly didn’t expect them to go on for as long as they did, but here we are xD Not gonna lie, I took an odd amount of pleasure in giving Lea and Elsa drinks to match to their respective elements/summons. Also lil fun fact: There are real alcoholic beverages out there called the Shiva and the Golden Chocobo, just google it if you’re curious and I think the recipes should pop up like the did for me! Also, there are in fact green Cactuar Fries out there in the real live world too - I’ve seen foodies post pictures!

Next chapter… how will Elsa deal with this latest challenge in human interaction she’s come face to face with? Will this be one step closer to strengthening the bond of her new friendship with Lea? Or will it all end in utter catastrophe thanks to her awkward penguin ways? Will we ever find out the secret of the Cactuar Fries’ green ooze? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to any new followers out there (howdy! :D) and to those of you who’ve liked and reblogged previous chapters, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[florbexter]

For a TinCan prompt: a lil piece with belt loop tugging or hands in each other's back pocket - oof I love both of these so much and can totally see TinCan doing it! (On a side note, I know your taking a break and I'm not expecting you to write this anytime soon (or at all if you don't want to)! Take your time, focus on exams and come back to us refreshed! Hope it all goes well!)

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt and your kind words! It’s a bit late but I hope you like what I wrote ❤

TinCan Ficlet [AO3]

Can was used to Tin’s undivided attention whenever they were together. He was even used to have Tin’s attention when they weren’t together. No one replied as fast as Tin to his messages and no one picked up his phone as fast as Tin when Can called. Maybe he was spoiled, but maybe he soaked up and sought the attention because Tin didn’t shush him, didn’t belittle him and didn’t roll his eyes whenever he got a little too excited about stuff. Okay, truth to be told he did roll his eyes, but it was different. Can had not much experience with relationships but he could tell that every time Tin tried to be annoyed it was laced with a extra layer of affection.

It was Can’s affection, it was his, it. belonged. to. him.

Jealousy, Can had learned, was a twisted knife in his belly, it burned and stung and his sister actually cut him once with a knife so he knew what he was talking about.

And it was weird that he wasn’t jealous of all the IC girls who ran after Tin, who made fan clubs and had weird facebook pages dedicated to him. He didn’t care about them at all. Because Tin ignored them. Can would be surprised if he even knew they existed.

But there were things Tin didn’t ignore. People he cared about. And Can had learned that Tin was intense when he cared about someone.

And that those someones sometimes weren’t Can.

Sometimes it was a dog and a little boy.

“It’s my dog, why aren’t I the hero?”, he muttered to himself and kicked against the grass. Not that he wanted to gain points with the little brat. Nong Phu had shown him his tongue when Tin had been occupied with petting Gucci. Which actually was okay because Can had made a face at him first. Why did that boy have to cling to Tin so tightly? It was his football it was his dog it was his park… it was the park nearest to his neighbourhood which made it his.

It was late in the afternoon and no longer as hot. Nevertheless, Can stood in the shadow of a tree, because no longer as hot didn’t mean that you didn’t sweat a bucket with every step you took. It didn’t seem to bother the little kid who chased after Gucci, who chased after the ball, Tin in the middle of it making sure nobody was stumbling over their own or canine feet. Can was sure that he had never seen Tin in a football jersey. It was of some European National Team, looked expensive as hell and Can was also sure that Tin had no idea what a real football fan would pay to wear something like this.  

“I think Gucci is thirsty,” Tin shouted and Can saw that Gucci trotted in his direction. The patches of grass beneath his paws were dried out stubbles or sad areas of dirt. It wasn’t really a park, Can had to admit. More a tiny plot of land no one had built on yet. “I’m good enough to be your water boy mhm?”, he asked when Gucci reached him but unscrewed the bottle of water for him anyway. “Since when do you like to run around so much? Are you trying to impress the brat or Ai Tin?” Gucci made a sound that could have been a huff or a very tired bark and slobbered the water out of Can’s hands. “You’re allowed to bite the boy,” Can whispered. “But not hard, okay? A tiny little nip.” As an answer, Gucci shook himself and laid down next to Can’s feet. He panted, clearly no longer in the mood to play but he didn’t let Tin and Nong Phu out of his sight. Or it was just the ball they were kicking back and forth. His ball, Can thought with another wave of annoyance. Without Tin’s nephew, he could lay in an air-conditioned room complaining every time Tin moved beneath him and trade cool sips of lemonade with kisses.

But it didn’t take long that the heat wore Tin’s nephew out and he demanded ice cream. He looked like Can imagined Tin had looked as a boy. Arrogant and the aura of someone who knew that his wishes had to be fulfilled or else… the sweaty hair, red cheeks and scraps on his knees destroyed his better-than-you attitude a little bit. 

“There is a place down the streets which sells ice-cream. If it can meet your high expectations your highnesses,” Can mocked, picked up the ball and put Gucci on the leash. Nong Phu just heard that the place wasn’t far away and bounced ahead. Can met Tin’s raised eyebrow with the brightest smile he could produce without actually hurting his face and started to follow Nong Phu.

He didn’t come far.

Tin tugged at the belt loop of his trousers and he stumbled back against his chest. “Woha,” Can breathed out and struggled to find his balance. Tin was a sturdy presence behind him, the heat of his body seeping through their clothes, making Can’s skin burn. He smelled Tin’s sweat and the spicy cologne he wore all the time. His heart began to beat like crazy. “Why so prickly?”, Tin asked in a rough voice, let go of Can’s loop and slid his arm around his waist to hold him secure against his body. His breath tickled against Can’s ear and everything in him tightened in response.

“I’m not prickly,” Can answered with a pout and his treacherous body leaned back, making itself heavier against Tin. He moved his head so Tin’s lips grazed his skin and a shiver run through him. He felt Tin’s finger on his belly, flexing as if he struggled against his desire to grab Can harder and if Can ever wanted Tin to lose a fight it was now.

“After the ice cream, I will drive Nong Phun home, okay?”“Do whatever you want.” “Oh… I know exactly what I want,” Tin murmured and Can could no longer hide his pleased smile. He laid his hand above Tin’s and squeezed. Tin kissed him behind the ear before he let go of him and Can exhaled shakily. He needed a cold ice cream immediately.