#Buy Iron Filter

[thegnomelord]

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself. 

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back. 

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake. 

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release. 

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach. 

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

 Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC how you first meet them pt.2

Slashers x f!reader

Includes Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Stu Macher

Warnings: mentions of murder/violence, some stalking/harassment (not by slashers), ill intentions, pre-relationships, reader is a bit self deprecating, shitty friends

Bubba Sawyer

Of course you’d been dragged on a girls trip, and of course the minute the engine blew in you were shoved from the back seat onto the side of the dusty, gravel road, laughed at and told, “go find a mechanic”

God forbid your so called friends, which now you were rethinking the decision to even be here and with them, chose somewhere to travel where there was actual cell service

So here you now were, standing on an old porch that you weren’t even sure was properly attached to the house barely kept upright and covered in chipped paint

“Hello?”

A few more knocks on the creaky front door echoed out before your patience ran out, turning the handle and finding it to be unlocked

“Uh, hello? If I’m breaking and entering just let me know but this place seems abandoned”

You cupped your mouth and spoke, just to cover all your bases in case you were actually entering someone’s home, although the cobwebbed walls and moth bitten carpet spoke otherwise

“This isn’t creepy at all…”

Wandering aimlessly through the houses threshold, you searched for something that you help back on the road where all your friends were waiting

Or maybe you were just hoping this would buy you time before you had to walk 4 miles back to tell them you came up with nothing, no mechanic, no help

Your eyes glanced across the room, taking in all the items scattered about, some miscellaneous and some meticulously placed

Then your curious gaze landed on an ash tray sitting beside a moldy plate of what looked like some kind of meat

Although the fluffy possibly-poultry wasn’t what alarmed you, the smoke filtering from the end of a half smoked cigarette resting on it did

“Boys, we’ve got a fresh one”

A deep voice hollered, a rough palmed and smelly hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the hale scream that had popped from your lungs due to shock

Before you could even think to fight against the obviously strong body pinned to yours, you were being dragged towards an open basement door and thrown down the narrow, wooden staircase like a rag doll

“Take care of er’ will ya?”

The voice of your captor yelled down from the top step, slamming the door behind himself and surely locking it in the process

Disoriented and nurses a now slight headache, you mustered the energy to prop yourself up, hazy eyes bouncing about the room before they landed on what could only be described as a large, terrifying figure standing a few yards away

He wore a stained and tattered apron, brown stains you were hoping were dirt and not dried old blood

One hand gripped a cleaver, whatever he was chopping up before you entered the basement sat mutilated on a work bench, the stench of iron heavy in the air

Despite all that, the man seemed frozen, staring back at you through the eye holes in a poorly sew together mask

“I didn’t even wanna be here,”

You started before you I could stop yourself

“My so called friends dragged me out of my room a few days ago for a last minute road trip, and of course when one of them decided to bring their fuck ass car without checking it out first, it literally gave up on itself and then I get sent out to look for help but guess what! We’re in the middle of nowhere so I found this house and well it’s your house so that’s just my luck”

The man only blinked, body language clearly taken aback that you weren’t screaming bloody murder

“Just, if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least knock me out first so it doesn’t hurt?”

A loud knock at the door startled the two of you, followed by the man from earlier noisily coming down the stairs

“Why haven’t you taken care of er’ yet bubba?”

The man didn’t yell but he definitely sounded upset by this turn of events

The other man, who you now knew was called Bubba, shuffled awkwardly in his spot, rubbing the back of his head before robotically motioning to you, still sat on the floor

“You like er’ huh?

You watched the exchange quietly, although unable to contain the confusion set on you’d features

“Fine, but she’s yours to deal with, you remember what happened last time we took in a stray”

At that you pointedly turned around, staring up at the man that regarded you in terms like you were a dog

“Well I’m not a stray, technically you kidnapped me-“

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this seemingly abandoned town, one minute you were checking the map for your exit and then you missed it

Now you were here, coming to a stop as you realized you needed gas and weren’t anywhere near the hotel you had booked for the night

You definitely weren’t getting the rooms deposit back

Pulling into an empty parking lot, you pulled your phone from the passenger seat only to come up dry when the cell service was next to nothing

Then, before you could warn your heart not to jump out of your chest, a knock on your side window pulled a startled yelp from your throat

A man, not too old but not young either, stood on the other side of the car door, neutral expression morphing into a cheesy smile when your gaze met his and exchanged a few seconds of awkward, panicked staring

Brows raising in realization that the stranger, while sketchy and probably holstering a gun, could maybe help you figure out where you were and where to go

Opening the creaking door to your vehicle you pocketed your pepper spray just in case before hoping out of your seat and into the chilly night air

“You lost?”

“No, I intentionally ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere”

The man chuckled, albeit seeming taken aback by the brash sarcasm about your current situation

“Well good thing you ran into me, little lady”

The man who still carried about like this predicament was the most normal in the world smiled wider when your face pinched up in confusion, placing an open palm out to you

“I’m Bo, and you are, darlin?”

“Someone who knows not to shake hands with a complete stranger”

“Feisty”

“Oh, I’m getting there”

Despite the night breeze tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but enjoy the slight banter you were getting into

Although probably dangerous and wildly crazy to be out so late just walking around, this Bo character as charming, and something about his stare was growing increasingly comforting

“You know people don’t usually show up here, especially at night, all alone”

“But do they at least have gas in their tank? Because that’s already one up on me”

Bo threw his head back, whipping his hat off to push back the hair that fell towards his forehead in the fit of deep chuckles

“I’m normally not too inclined towards outsiders, but if you’d like a room for the night, I’d be happy to oblige little lady”

Art the clown

You strode through an alleyway, hands in your jacket pockets as you made your way back home

It was just your luck that the last night plans your friends picked for Halloween happened to be a party at the house of a guy you don’t even know

Especially your luck when only 20 minutes in you were all already abandoned, you’d ride gone and with it your phone charger

Thus, you nursed a bruised ego in a pirate costume, clutching your phone with one hand even though the battery was lost past dead

“Hey you!”

A distinctly male baritone called out from behind, you sped up not bothering to turn and face whatever stranger wanted a late night chat in the middle of an empty, dark alley

“Well that’s not very nice!”

The man responded to himself, deep chuckle furrowing worry lines between your brows

Just your luck, just your damn luck

Turning the corner to what could be described as more favorable to due the abundance of street lights and open space, the lack of people still has your nerves on overdrive

That was until you nearly ran smack into a body around the corner

Although expecting a gasp in surprise or shout in anger, all you received was a shocked expression, one such as a mime would use

Whoever this man was, was clearly wearing a very intricate costume, clown makeup done to the 9’s and a fully tailored suit to match, with a hefty, tan bag slung over one shoulder

All of your courage of wanting to leave this awful situation, and fear of what would happen if you didn’t took hold, before you knew it you were panicked and leaning forward, watching with just as much curiosity as the clown eyed you

“Listen you don’t know me, but there’s this guy following me and if you could just pretend to be, I don’t know, a friend, I would appreciate it”

The clown seemed to understand immediately, bright grin tossed on his features as the stranger that had previously had your full attention came to a stuttering halt

“Lady, I was talking to you back there”

“Oh! Sorry I just was meeting with someone and well, here they are!”

You laughed nervously, awkwardly leaning into the clown and patting at his shoulder, gazing at the stranger, you saw a look of terror cross his face right as he stumbled back a bit

“Yeah, got it”

And then he was high tailing it back the way he came

Glancing back at the costumed man you stood alone with, you caught how his face held a look of something utterly terrifying before he caught your eye, cheesy grin returning

“Thanks..”

You questioned for his name, grinning softly at the way realization of your ask spread across his face

Hand motions went left and up, down and right, then he paused, pulling the bag from his shoulder to rummage through it, pulling out what could only be described as junk, metal and rusty and junk none the less

Although the way he motioned to the item, placed it in your open palms and played a scene before you, you took to guessing

“Metal?”

“Sculpture…?”

He moved his fingers like a painter would stroke a canvas

“Art?”

That single word had the clown clapping his hands, tucking his body with a faux bow like you’d discovered something only a genius could

Laughing something genuine for the first time that night, you pondered if you should just take your chances and leave for home, or stick around a bit more with this concerning but most definitely interesting person

“So.. what else do you have in that bag?”

Stu Macher

Being the new student in a town where everyone already had friends, or at least those they only socialized with, was difficult

You’d only been here a week or so and you already wanted to move again, alas, that wasn’t exactly up to you

All you could do was hold your head high, and suck up the annoying situation you’d been tossed into

Now, a new school was bad enough, imagine your surprise would you found out there had recently been a string of grisly murders, unsolved and rampaging

Which is why you’d been an outcast since you’d appeared, like they all assumed it must be you, the murders starting, you arriving, it all was too much of a coincidence, despite the fact that it was

“Look at her, I’m telling you that girl gives off crazy”

Off handed comments like those weren’t unusual, yet today, after switching to a new class because of this exact issue, you’d had enough

“I bet she’s the killer”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your evidence?”

The girl gossiping with her friend abruptly stopped her ‘private’ conversation when she heard your quip

“Excuse me?”

You stood, in fact you stood so fast it made the chair screech across the floor, catching the attention of the rest of class

Luckily the teacher had stepped out and you could finally say what you needed without worry of authority looming over

“You know, if I’m supposedly killing students, like you say I am, why so proudly speak about it around me?”

You strode up to her desk, arms crossed with a look of disdain

She seemed taken aback, lips moving like a fish and head bobbing as she glanced between you and her friend

“Well, I-“

“If you really think I’m doing all this, why would you piss me off?”

The girl was at a loss, face paling as you simply said what you needed, before turning and grabbing your bag right as the bell went off, students funneling out behind you

Opening your locker, you startled when a body came crashing into the locker beside yours, arms crossed and looking at you with squinted eyes yet a wide grin

“So you’re the new girl?”

He wasn’t half bad looking, in fact, you found yourself heating up the longer he gazed down at you

He had this odd air about him, like someone holding too many secrets and hiding them far too out in the open, something that only seemed to allure you further

“And a murderer, haven’t you heard?”

You joked, taking out your next classes books before shutting the locker, the look on this guys face was utter curiosity, something you hadn’t received yet while being here

“Of course, just let me know what days you spree so I can avoid staying in”

Not gonna lie to y’all, I was so focused on getting this posted I haven’t spell checked or done a once over, there will and most likely are errors!

[euphor1a]

Just the tip

* part of “boyfriend chronicles” — can be read as a stand-alone.

ꨄ pairing: mingyu x f!oc

ꨄ genres: non idol!au, established relationship, fluff, smut, slice of life.

ꨄ summary: he tried his best, he really did. but lord, for how long could he control himself when you looked like a pretty, little angel, all his to ruin?

ꨄ rating & word count: 18+ ; ~9.5K  

ꨄ warnings/tags: fluff (called me single in 100 languages typa way), plentiful pda, they’re so in love that it repulses me /j, profanity, explicit sexual content; dom/sub undertones (a bit of switch action as well), semi-public sex, breast play, biting/marking, size kink, praising, pet names, fingering, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, “just the tip”, unprotected, penetrative sex, big d*ck!gyu, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), creampie — this is a work of fiction and it doesn’t represent mingyu in any way.    

ꨄ a/n: this series is slowly starting to look like my villain origin story 😔... like wdym i can’t have kim mingyu 💔💔? *sigh* anyway, it’s been a while, enjoy <3!

His footsteps are light despite him being in a hurry. It’s almost as if he could start flying at any moment. Mingyu wishes that was an option. The sunlight filtering through his living room windows barely makes it to the kitchen, where he’s struggling miserably. 

Large, shaky hands grip onto the petite looking sliders he has just finished making, carefully placing them inside the various colorful lunch boxes splayed out on the kitchen island. Mingyu is heaving ever so slightly, a bit of perspiration starting to collect on his forehead. He’s nervous. And it’s silly, he knows. But he can’t help his rushing heart that is hammering against his chest. 

It’s been over ten minutes since you texted him that you’re on your way to the park you two are going to meet up for your date. And he’s still here, in his pj’s, trying to finish packing the picnic basket as quickly as possible without absolutely destroying it. Even though Mingyu woke up criminally early with the intentions to cook everything himself, he somehow managed to fall behind because of the stupid cupcake batter that refused to make anything edible out of itself. 

With what feels like the umpteenth sigh of the day, he manages to complete arranging the boxes inside the basket. However, he almost slips while hurrying to reach his bedroom. A string of curses leave Mingyu’s pouty lips, the muscles in his arms flexing to support his whole body against the wall. He still needs to get ready, leave his house, and buy some sort of dessert from the local bakery before finally meeting you.

Thanking himself for picking up and ironing the outfit yesterday night, he dresses up in a flash. Mingyu ponders if he should do something with his hair, but ends up keeping it the way it currently is. Sure, it is kind of messy, but it also gives him that ‘casually sexy’ look. A satisfied smirk and the bare minimum skincare along with sunscreen later, he regards himself in the mirror for one last time. Looking more than good to go.

That state of peace only lasts for a moment though. Not wanting to be even more late than he already is, Mingyu grabs his phone, wallet, keys and the basket. After another minute of scrambling, he puts on a random pair of loafers and heads out. Even though you haven’t contacted him since earlier, he feels anxious. Who knows for how long you’ve been waiting all alone? 

His long legs help him blaze past the bustling neighborhood, hands clutching on the basket’s handle in an attempt to stop it from swaying unsteadily. Mingyu is so wrapped up in his thoughts of you that he actually walks past the bakery — before realizing and taking a 180° turn. The elderly owner smiles at him brightly as he enters the cozy shop, somehow catching up on what exactly is happening with the usually calm and collected guy he has seen for so long. “Aah, Mingyu! Welcome, my boy! Long time no see, eh? What brought you here all of a sudden? Mayhaps a special day with a special someone?” 

“Hi, Mr. Owen! Hah, really though… I don’t remember the last time I found myself having a little dessert. Glad to be back here! Although, I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t hear the last part…” Mingyu trails off, eyes taking in the pretty pastries and all sorts of baked goodness displayed in front of him. His heart jumps a little when he thinks about how your face contorts in pure joy whenever you ravish the sugar rush from something sweet. “Uh anyway! Please pack me a dozen of these pastel colored macarons! And maybe four of those glazed donuts? Oh my god… are those heart shaped pies?? Looks so cute! Please pack two of them too!” 

The man nearing his late 60s can’t help but laugh at Mingyu’s excited rambling as he points at the things he wants. “Calm down, calm down, I’ll get to everything one by one.” He folds up some new boxes before putting the delicate confectioneries into them. “You really don’t have to say anything though, the answers are written all over your face.” 

Mingyu, who was busy admiring the heart shaped pies, looks up, confused. “Huh?” 

“The question I asked earlier. Which you pretended to not hear. The answer to it is written all over your face.” Owen shakes his head with a smile on his face. 

“Oh–” Mingyu looks down at his feet. Is he really that obvious? But even if he is, should he care about it? Feeling happy and elevated to meet his girlfriend doesn’t always need to be embarrassing. 

“Don’t mind my little teasing now, will you? Do you want me to put these in your basket?” He’s brought back to reality by Owen’s voice. Mingyu nods and brings the picnic basket up on the counter. 

While the old man adds up the prices to write a bill after carefully putting all the desserts in the almost full basket, Mingyu finds himself zoning out. Would you like all the things he’s bringing? What if you have some secret allergy he doesn’t know yet, and you’re unable to eat? A pout forms on his lips. But then he remembers — he’s been pretty late by now, and you’re waiting for him in a place you’re not familiar with at all.

He hurriedly pays and grabs his basket, apologizing to Owen for not being able to hang around longer and leaving immediately. Once he’s outside again, he quickly takes his phone and calls your number. Mingyu almost feels jittery, scenarios going through his head that aren’t exactly nice. Thankfully for him, you pick up after a few rings, greeting him cheerily.

“Mingyu! Hello baby! I’m here already, are you on your way?”  

That alone is enough for the six feet tall, grown ass man to wish he could disintegrate into thin air right now. Not in a negative way, though. He just finds it extremely devastating that you called him “baby” like that. But Mingyu is quick to recover from that feeling. “Hi angel, I’m on my way!! I’m sorry you have to wait there all alone… I’m like a three minute walk away from the park. Do you, maybe, wanna keep talking over the phone?”

“Aw sure! And don’t worry about it please, I’m just standing beneath a large tree and enjoying the scenery! It’s so pretty here!” 

Three minutes feel like thirty seconds with you, as he already gets through the park’s elegant looking entrance. His eyes immediately start searching for you. “Baby, I just got through the main gate! Where are you?” 

“Oh! That was quick, Gyu; should I come over to the entrance?” 

“Nono princess! Stay where you are, I’ll be there. Just give me some directions!” Mingyu insists. To his surprise, you don’t give up for your cause.

“Why?” Your voice is nearly a whine, “It’ll be way easier if I just go where you are!” 

With his heart doubling in his chest from fondness, he sighs, “Fine… I guess. Come over quickly then, will you?” 

“Yep yep, already on my way! I can’t wait to see you!” You giggle excitedly, keeping your eyes on the path as you wander back towards the main gate. Mingyu waits by the side of a decorative statue for you. His gaze is searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person he’s grown to adore endlessly. 

It’s only a matter of seconds for you to spot each-other, two pairs of eyes lighting up with joy. You run to him giddily, colliding into his firm chest that you’ve fallen asleep on several times now. His large arms wrap around your small frame to pull you closer, as if on instinct.

You inhale his scent deeply, a mix of his cologne and the smell of fresh laundry from his black polo shirt. However, you do avoid getting your face smushed up against him— for the sake of your skincare and makeup. Both of you stay locked in each other’s embrace for a while, before eventually pulling away.

“You look so unbelievably pretty, my love.” Mingyu leans down to place a kiss on your head. “And smelling like a dream, as well.” Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you fiddle with the belt loops of his beige trouser.

Only now, you’ve become aware of exactly how fucking good he looks today. This black polo fits him like a glove, paired with trousers that accentuate his long legs. Oh and, he also has a pair of eyeglasses that adorns his handsome face. The whole imagery is pretty devastating to your brain as it fails to process everything your eyes have registered. Why is it even legal to look like this?

You suddenly feel majorly weak in the knees, but Mingyu supports you with his unoccupied hand, flashing you a cocky grin. “What happened, baby?” He teases, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. You hold onto his arms and regain composure, clearing your throat from embarrassment. 

“Uhm, you look… really really great as well.” His eyes twinkle as he smiles upon your compliment, the hand around your waist pressing you into him. Your heart flutters in your chest from the close exposure. Mingyu seems a bit more touchy-touchy than usual, considering that you guys are in public.

“All for you, my angel,” your boyfriend mutters right against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. As if that wasn’t satisfactory enough, he lets his lips brush over the shell of your ear, catching you even more off-guard. What the hell is in the air today? 

“Uhm– let’s go find a spot for our date? Or are we gonna just stand here?” You look up at Mingyu questioningly, doe eyes causing his heart to skip a beat. He sighs, just slightly annoyed with how his mind goes to unspeakable places with just that.

“Of course, baby, let’s find a place to sit down.” He smiles brightly, watching you wrap your smaller arm around his. To his dismay, his hungry eyes once again take in how pretty and irresistible you look in this flowy, white sundress. 

The soft material caresses your thighs with each stride; Mingyu wishes it was his hand instead. It’s absurd, but the way this dress has pretty flowers and hearts printed across it makes him wanna mark you up. The poofy sleeves, the sweetheart neckline that shows just enough to drive him crazy — God. Even the way your hair is loosely braided with stray locks tucked behind your ear? He genuinely wants to cancel all plans and take you to his home and do you all day.

It’s crazy, really. How can you just look like that and expect anyone to act like a normal functioning human? Mingyu shakes his head a little and inhales shakily. You deserve to get pampered on a picnic date as much as you deserve to get mind-blowing orgasms. 

“You’re not paying attention to me at all…” The sound of your dejected voice breaks him out of his reverie. Shit.

“No, no! Baby, please, I’m sorry… Uh, to be painfully honest with you, I’m distracted because you look so exceptionally pretty, like an angel who’s descended on Earth. But still, I’m really sorry for not listening to what you have to say. I promise I’ll focus from now on!!” He laces your fingers together and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’re such a flatterer, Kim Mingyu.” You try to hide your smile, sounding a bit angry to tease him. Your beloved boyfriend hates it when you call him by his full birth name; and this time is no different. However, to your surprise, instead of throwing a tantrum like he usually does, Mingyu leads you to the side of the path. 

“Wha—” you start, but close your mouth out of shock when he covers your frame entirely and leans down to press a sweet kiss on your lips. Your hands press against his toned stomach for support, your head emptying entirely. His lips are so soft against yours, the heat radiating from his body warming you up a bit too much. 

You pull away first, your whole face heated from his sudden action. As you take deep breaths to compensate for the air you lost during the kiss, Mingyu finally speaks up. “Don’t be mad at me today, my love. Please. I’m gonna be so, so sad. I promise I’ll do better but god, please don’t be upset.” His lips have formed his signature pout, your heart melting at the spot. 

You let your thumb caress over his pout, tip-toeing to peck him. Mingyu’s lips stretch into a smile, his unoccupied hand curling around your waist. “You’re so cute, how can I be mad at you?” You giggle, absolutely adored by this soft giant begging you to not be upset. 

“If I am cute, then what are you, princess?” Mingyu grins, nuzzling your hand before you move it away. You shake your head, not willing to debate on who’s the cutest. 

“Anyway, we should really find a place to sit down and get our picnic started. I was just saying that there aren’t a lot of people in the park right now, but we should still find a place with enough privacy.” 

The way Mingyu nods is like a puppy tilting its head. God, the way you’d commit arson for this guy. With a soft sigh, you continue. “And, I also have my own basket, which I left at an empty space I found by where I was standing. Let’s go there first, then we can move further into the park where not a lot of people will potentially find or bother us.” 

It takes you guys a few minutes to go and fetch your own basket, and probably another ten to fifteen minutes to find a spot for your picnic date. Mingyu is extremely happy with the grassy little patch surrounded by tall bushes and large trees, a big smile on his face as he takes out the picnic blanket he brought along. He can’t wait to show you all the food he made. 

Once he’s done setting the blanket, you take off your pastel pink mary janes and settle down on the blanket with your picnic basket nearby. Mingyu looks at you, a bit surprised. “You’re taking off your shoes?” The question makes you narrow your eyes. 

“And why wouldn’t I be taking off my shoes? To make this brand new blanket dirty?” His mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, before he nods. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. “You can keep your shoes on, if you want. There’s no need to stink up this place.”

“HEY! I’m not that unhygienic, that last time I just forgot about laundry for some reason. I already told you… And I’m not wearing any socks today…” Mingyu trails off, discarding his loafers with a ‘hmph’. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop sulking, Gyu.” You watch him as he sits down as well, adjusting his trousers a bit to be more comfortable in this position. He overlooks you for now, reaching for his basket and carefully taking out the desserts first. Then, he produces a bunch of different tupperwares out of it, placing all the food in the center of the mat, between you two. 

You reach for your own basket as well, cautiously eyeing your boyfriend who seems to be extremely invested in unpacking all the food. The only things you’ve brought along today for the picnic date are flowers, a flower vase, a small canvas and some tubes of watercolor, besides your necessary belongings. Although it’s kinda embarrassing, it can’t be helped because Mingyu insisted on bringing everything for the date. 

“Gyu,” you murmur, hands anxiously gathering the loosely made bouquet inside your basket. It’s oddly nerve-wracking. You’ve never really received or given flowers in a relationship before. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, eyes furrowed as he rummages through his basket. With a sharp inhale, you slowly retrieve the flowers, extending them towards him. Mingyu immediately turns to look at your shaky hands holding a bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs, his face heating up as he realizes what’s going on.

“____, my baby,” he coos, bringing his hands to wrap around your trembling ones. “It looks so pretty, did you bring them for me?” You avoid eye-contact, but nod to give him confirmation. The wave of weird emotions that hits Mingyu is hard for him to explain. Usually, he’s been the one giving flowers to his partners in relationships. But, being on the receiving end for the first time, he feels as if he’s on top of the world. 

“C’mere.” He leans in to grab your waist, bringing you closer to him, before hoisting you up a little to place you on his lap. Mingyu fixes your dress, then  pulls you closer to rest against his chest. His left hand remains wrapped up around your midsection. “Thank you so much, love. I’m over the moon that you got me flowers. I’m so lucky to be dating you, angel.” He presses a kiss on your cheek, your heart almost bursting inside your chest. 

“Do you know Victorian floriography?” you look at him, slightly embarrassed. When he shakes his head as ‘no’, you go on, “It’s the language of flowers. Back then, gifted flowers used to have hidden meanings… But it’s kinda coming back in trend, I guess.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu ponders, “Then, does this bouquet of Jasmine and Lilacs have a secret message as well?” You nod, looking up at him with a shy smile. 

“Find it out later, okay? For now, please explain what you’ve brought along in so many boxes…?” Trying to change the topic, you take away the flowers to put them inside the vase you brought along, settling it in an empty space between all the packed boxes of desserts.

He chuckles nervously, suddenly remembering all the food he brought. “Uh… right. I might’ve gone a bit overboard with it, but I promise, sixty percent of everything you see is made by me, with so much love.” 

“Whoa!” you exclaim. “That’s a lot of things you made with your own hands… I’m honored.” Mingyu presses a kiss on the side of your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you stop yourself from making any noises. It’s… weird that he’s being so intimate while you are pretty much in public. But god, does it do things to you… 

“You haven’t tasted anything yet, though. Heck, let me show you what’s inside first.” He reaches for the closest tupperware, and to your surprise, you see various, colorful fruits, all cut up in small heart shapes and laid out in rows. 

“Omg, so cute!!” you squeal, clapping your hands together in excitement. Mingyu beams at you, clearly happy with your reaction. 

“Hehe, there’s a lot more to see!” He stretches to grab two more boxes, each revealing tteok-bokki, your mouth inevitably watering from the sight. You’ve had these delicious rice cakes made by him a few times prior, and you loved it to bits. 

He leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Should I take out the chopsticks?” Mingyu closes the box with fruits in it, moving it to the side. “Let’s go from spicy to sweet, hm? I also made tiny sliders because you seem to like miniature food a lot! After these, we can have the desserts!” 

You nod in agreement, snuggling up to him more. Receiving treatment like this makes you feel like a princess. Even though you’re not sure how much he has brought along, you internally make up your mind to at least taste everything and applaud the effort he put into it.  

Once you guys are done eating everything he had prepared himself, you urge Mingyu to take a break and save the desserts for the very end. He agrees, not willing for the date to end anytime soon. 

“I brought along something else as well… if you let me go for a bit, I can take my basket and you can hold me again.” You say after a while of chatting about this and that. Your boyfriend eyes you curiously, loosening his arms around your waist momentarily. That is enough for you to grab your basket and settle down on his lap again. 

“What did you bring? I’m so curious! Wait— tubes of paint?!” To add more to his surprise, you take out the small canvas, a literal gasp escaping Mingyu. “What can we possibly do with these? I don’t see any brushes…” 

“It’s so surprising to me that you’re always on Instagram, yet you have no clue about this.” You tease, placing the canvas in a position where both of you can access it very comfortably. He raises an eyebrow at your comment, feeling very attacked. But he refrains from saying anything.

“Let’s just start doing it, okay? It’ll make sense immediately because it’s nothing complicated.” You sigh, taking Mingyu’s palm in yours. He looks confused as you take the red watercolor tube first, getting rid of the cap and squeezing out a generous amount on the top of pinky finger. 

“Oh…” He lets you take his hand and bring it to the center of the tiny canvas, pressing the paint covered finger carefully against the paper. “But what’s that supposed to do? It just looks like a blob of paint…” Mingyu looks at you questioningly as you retreat his pinky from the canvas. 

“Oh hush, don’t be so impatient!” You scold him jokingly, pointing towards a bunch of tissues. “Clean up your finger now! You’ll find out soon enough.” He puffs out his lower lip, reaching for a tissue while grumbling.

You take the tube of blue watercolor and cover your whole thumb with a thick layer of paint. Mingyu watches you curiously while you press on your thumb in the opposite direction of his ‘blob of paint’, trying to get the sizes as close as possible. “That is so fucking adorable?!” Your boyfriend erupts in cute aggression when you lift up your thumb, revealing a heart made with your fingerprints. 

“It’s so cute, you’re so cute, fuck, I–” He stops himself before any inevitable words roll off his tongue. Mingyu is well aware that you prefer to take things slow, and he wants to make sure that you can process everything at your own pace. His thoughts are interrupted by your giggles. 

He tightens his hands right beneath your chest, pushing you close to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “Is it that funny? So fun to watch me lose my shit because of how fucking adorable you are, hm?”

“It’s not like that…” you murmur, goosebumps all over your body. “I just thought that it’s kinda amusing how you were all clueless and nagging about it earlier, then suddenly, you were screaming about how cute this is.” It’s hard for you to not make any sounds when he’s caressing your sensitive areas, but you attempt to keep your voice low and steady. 

Mingyu wishes he could explain how much that tiny heart shaped painting actually means to him. It’s almost like all your heart is into those two blobs of red and blue paint, looking back at him, telling him secrets you’ve never shared with him before. He feels all warm and fluffy inside, his senses all wrapped around your nuances. “Can I keep that for myself?” 

“Of course!” You smile brightly at him, extremely giddy that he wants to keep this small token of your feelings for him which will last way longer than the flowers. “Let the paint dry first, though.” 

“Sure, baby.” He squeezes you in his arms. “Can we have the desserts now? I know it doesn’t look like it, but there are plenty of them.” Mingyu whines, feeling sort of desperate to show you everything he bought earlier. Thankfully for him, you nod, perking up at the mention of many desserts. 

He reaches for the box with pies first, knowing very well you’ll absolutely adore them. And you do, blessing his ears with one of those cute squeals of yours, eyes sparkling at the sight in front of you. “OMG!! So pretty! And it looks delicious!” 

“Mhm, I had a feeling you’d love to have these. Let’s dig in!” Mingyu takes out a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting out some of it on both of your hands. These pies are very conveniently palm-sized. With its crust shaped like a heart, ruby red filling made out of cherries — it sure does make you feel hungry just by looking at it. 

“C’mon, take a bite,” your boyfriend muffles out, mouth already full of the big bite he has just taken. You nod gingerly, taking a shy bite of the pie as well. The buttery, flaky crust, paired up with a bit of the sweet cherries melt in your mouth, a satisfied sound rumbling in your throat. 

“Mm, it’s really good!” The smile on your face is like a whole trophy to Mingyu. You liked it. He’s so glad that he can’t really explain. 

“Yay!!! I got you donuts and macaroons as well!” He blurts out, all giddy looking at you savoring the sweet dessert. Once you’re done with the pie, he reaches for the boxes of both donuts and macarons, earning a small whine from you.

“I can’t eat that much… I’m almost full.” 

“Why? You only ate a little…” A frown forms on your boyfriend’s lips.

“Gyu. I had a ton of tteok-bokki. Then sliders. Then fruits. On the dessert side, I already had a pie. I’m really, really, sorry, but that looks like a lot of macarons and donuts. My stomach will either burst or I’ll just throw up at the end of this!” You try your best to make your point stand, pleading with your eyes for him to understand.

Mingyu heaves out a sigh. “Fineee. You’re gonna take the macarons back home with you, then. I bought these especially for you. And I’m not listening to any complaints about that.” 

“Gyu, that kinda makes me feel bad though… you basically did everything for this date.” 

“Baby, I did everything voluntarily because I wanted to treat you like this. Like you deserve to be treated. And c’mon now! You brought flowers for me, and came up with a fun little activity to do. What about all the dates we’ve had before that were totally planned by you? So pretty please, with a cherry on top, don’t turn me down?” 

You turn in his lap to face him, blinking back the silly tears that clouded your vision. He hums in approval as you wind your arms around his neck and pull him in for a sweet kiss. Although, you pull back soon enough, resting your foreheads together instead. “You mean so much to me,” you mutter, eyes locking with him. 

A strange warmth spreads throughout Mingyu, radiating inside-out and filling up his heart. He doesn’t really know what to say back — simply because he’s over aware of the fact that he is completely and utterly in love with you. But he doesn’t want to hurry, he wants to move with you, as you slowly open up your petals to him, like a flower does to a sun. 

“I wish there were words in my vocabulary capable of explaining how much you mean to me.” He smiles softly, pressing a butterfly kiss to the corner of your lips. Mingyu absolutely adores the sound of your giggle that drifts to his ears. 

“You’re so cheesy, I kinda like it.” 

“Just 'kinda'?” He can’t help his own chuckle. “And here I thought I was getting a lot of charm points for being cheesy.” 

“You can be cheesy all you want, baby. I think most of your charm points come from your physical features at a first glance.” You boop his nose, both of you bursting out in laughter. 

“Are you saying that I’m handsome?” 

“Mhm. Very handsome, in fact. Very tall as well. Very… very big too.” You can see the playful glint vanishing from his eyes. Mingyu inhales a shaky breath. 

“Let’s get to those donuts now. Please?” 

You nod, moving around to get back on your previous position. He bites back a groan as your hands feel around, squeeze and grab on his thighs before you settle down. “What donuts did you bring?” 

“Glazed donuts, cause you really liked them the last time!” He wraps an arm around your waist, adjusting you to be closer to him. Mingyu is well aware that he’s barely holding up. But, he’s trying to convince himself that being closer to you can get him through his… hard times.

“Whoa omg these look so good?!” His inner monologue is interrupted by your squeal. A small smile curls up his lips. 

“Right? Dig in, baby!” He encourages, leaning forward to take a donut for himself. You follow suit, excited to bite into the sugary heaven. 

The sweet dough crumbles in your mouth upon the first bite, the sugar glaze hitting your taste buds just right. As you savor the pleasant taste of it, a satisfied hum rumbles in your throat. “Gyu, this tastes heavenly. Way better than the last time we had it! And I loved the ones we got back then?!”

“I’m so glad, my angel. I’ll get you more the next time we meet up~” Your boyfriend nuzzles your hair affectionately, his heart doubling in his chest from adoration. It’s hard to explain how great he feels simply by seeing you happy, enjoying your food. Maybe, it’s because Mingyu himself loves to eat heartily and cook for his people; he hopes that he can see you like this forever. 

It would be so nice, he would cook for you everyday and help you out whenever you felt like cooking, and dine-out and order in as your heart desires. 

You’re almost done with your second donut by now, but Mingyu hasn’t said anything or even touched his portion after saying that he’d bring you more. Kind of worried, you turn your head to look at him, finding his eyes transfixed on you. 

“... Hello? Why’d you go silent? Is something in my hair or—” you stop halfway when you notice his gaze has shifted to your lips now. It makes you swallow nervously, anticipation building up in your system. You know that look all too well. 

“There’s something on your lips.” His voice is nonchalant, relaxing your senses a bit. You nod, attempting to wipe off the crumbs with your hand, but he catches your wrist, leaning in swiftly to wrap your lower lip between his. 

Goosebumps spread all over your body, hands automatically winding around his neck as he suckles on the delicate flesh of your lips. His free hand rests against the small of your back, urging you to turn towards him fully. 

You really don’t understand how he can kiss you this good when you are yet to open up to his tongue. Your body has already started to heat up, breathing uneven. With shaky hands, you clumsily take off his glasses, his lips curling up in a smile against yours. 

Soon enough, he coaxes your mouth open, his hand letting go of your wrist and cupping your jaw instead. You both moan simultaneously, crazed by the sweet aftertaste of the desserts. Mingyu is extremely eager, taking the lead as always, your body starting to quake from the mind numbing kiss.

Picking up on your struggle to breathe, he pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips. “You have to keep breathing through your nose, baby. You can’t just forget to breathe, even if I’m kissing you so good for so long that your mind goes blank.” 

You flush at the mention of your usual complaint against him whenever he has to give you space to breathe during a make-out. “I… I try, I swear, but it’s…” you trail off between huffs, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Aw, am I giving my princess a hard time?” Mingyu pats your head, nudging you to get back up. You nod, a small chuckle escaping him. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he leans in for a brief peck. “And so pretty, looking like a fairy today.” 

He returns to the kiss with full passion, tongue immediately entangling with yours, a low groan escaping him. You taste so maddeningly sweet, like an endless source of honey to his bee. He suckles on your tongue, his teeth nibbling on your lips, reducing you to an absolute mess. You are, quite literally, shaking, arousal dripping down your core and ruining the pretty lace thong you wore for today’s date. 

“Aah–” you gasp as he trails down to press wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, hands pulling at the sleeves of your dress. You don’t stop him, threading your fingers through the luscious locks of his wavy hair. Mingyu has nearly forgotten that you guys are technically in public, and has made you do the same. He drags your bra strap off your shoulder using his teeth, biting and sucking on the newly exposed skin.

One of his hands is wrapped around your waist to secure you, his other hand slipping beneath the skirt of your dress, stroking your thighs. Only now, you suddenly remember that you’re on a picnic date in a somewhat secluded part of a very public park. “Mm–mingyu– don’t—” you struggle with your words,  overwhelmed by his ministrations. He’s everywhere — touching, squeezing, licking, kissing and biting. “Stop, please.” You whimper, his actions halting immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu lifts his head to assess your situation, looking dazed himself, his voice hoarse. You swallow nervously, your own eyes glazed with tears that had appeared because he made you feel a bit too good.

“We… we’re in public,” You state firmly. “We can get caught in a very indecent state if we keep going.” 

Mingyu takes a look around the surroundings. Tall bushes and plenty of large trees cover this small patch of area entirely. He knew exactly what he was doing when he chose this spot. One would have to wander off very far into the park and physically push off bushes to get in here like you guys did. Which, to him, seems extremely unlikely. 

“I wouldn’t call this public, my love.” He takes both of your hands to entwine your fingers. “And I highly doubt someone would come this far and specifically peek around the bushes to catch us. You do remember how long it took us to get here, no?” 

“Yeah… but, what if—” 

“There are no ‘what if’s, my angel. Even if someone did come this far into the park, they’d still have to manhandle the bushes to be able to see what’s on the other side. Please, trust me…” 

His broken look stirs something in you, and you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “I do trust you. And I want you as much as you want me,” you whisper shyly, your thong uncomfortably damp and sticking to your skin. “But, wouldn’t it be better if we go home quickly, and um, finish what we started…?” 

Mingyu sighs, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as possible. “I don’t think I can hang on for that long, baby. I need you so fucking bad. I’ve been struggling to keep myself together for an embarrassingly long time now. You– You just look so goddamn pretty. Like a tiny little fairy who is all mine to ruin. Fuck, just… just see what you’ve done to me.” He takes one of your hands and guides it to his crotch, blood rushing to your face. 

“If you want me just as much as I do, you must be soaking wet, right?” His whisper is hot against your neck, right hand holding your own to his growing bulge while his left hand slips between your thighs. You gasp when he rubs his fingers against your ruined underwear, a satisfied grunt reverberating in his throat. “Fuck.” Mingyu curses under his breath, his hips bucking up to your joined hands.

“You really want us to go home in this state? Hm?” His voice is a whine, only adding more to your devastation. To be really honest, all logical reasoning left your system the moment he made you feel his hard-on. And then he had to feel your drenched thong in return as well, arousing you to the extent where you don’t really give a fuck about being in the open anymore.

“Hngh, fine— do it quickly.” You whimper, every inch of you begging for his touch, to be relieved. Mingyu smiles, ecstatic upon your words, hungry lips finding yours for a kiss. You moan at the contact, pussy clenching around nothing. 

“As my princess wishes.” He hums, pulling down your dress to reveal your bra. His pupils dilate at the sight in front of him. Even when he dragged down the straps of your bra with his teeth, he didn’t think you’d be wearing a rather provocative lacey piece today. “Fuck,” Mingyu bunches up your dress around your waist, a groan escaping him.

Is this another fantasy of his? Cause no, fuck, you sure do look like it. 

The delicate lace work barely covers anything, his cock throbbing inside the confines of his boxer-briefs. He feels like he’s high. “Baby,” your boyfriend rasps, “do you even understand what you do to me? Hm?” 

“You like it?” your voice is a whisper, fingers digging into his shoulder from nervousness. A part of you knows the answer already, but still, hearing it out loud from him always makes you feel butterflies. 

“You’re really asking me that? Fuck, I love it, you’re so fucking pretty, I can’t believe that you’re real, and mine.” Mingyu groans, one of his hands reaching for your bra and pulling at its cups. His mouth immediately attaches to your left breast as soon as it is released. You gasp, body quivering at the touch. He bites and suckles on the soft flesh teasingly before reaching for your hardened nipple. 

You whimper out his name, fingers gripping on his hair. The way his tongue swirls around and suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves makes you dizzy. More arousal leaks out of your core, desperation cresting higher and higher. You need him in you, right now.

But Mingyu is lost in your breasts, reaching for your right one after a while, teeth dragging over the nipple before his tongue slurps at it. You quiver and whine in his arms from all the sensations you’re feeling. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and he never slacks off at that. 

“You’re so perfect, my little angel.” Mingyu hums, his right hand groping your left boob. “Fits so perfectly in my hand, so cute,” he murmurs before looking up at you. As he meets your tearful eyes, he loses a bit more of his sanity. 

“Damn it, you look so—” he stops short, breathing heavily. Will he ever get used to the way you look during intimacy? Probably not. The flushed face, teary eyes and parted lips always gets him.

“Gyu,” you whine, hugging him tightly. “It hurts, please do something,” your whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. Mingyu can’t help but smirk, wondering if he should tease you. “Need you in me.” your sweet plea stirs him, more blood rushing towards the south.

“Fuck it.” He reaches between your thighs, cupping your pussy. The soaked, warm fabric makes him growl. Your hips immediately start rocking, generating friction — something you’ve been craving for so long now. You sigh in relief, using his hand to stimulate yourself.

“What if someone sees you like this right now? So needy, humping my hand?” Mingyu asks, amused. Goosebumps spread over your skin, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. However, you don’t stop moving your hips, inner walls clenching in desperation. 

“Do–don’t say that,” you whimper, “so embarrassing.” 

“Is that so? But you’re still rubbing into my hand, though.” 

“It’s because you won’t help me…” 

Mingyu can’t help but chuckle, his thumb finding your clit and pressing on it firmly. You scream out, a strong pulse of pleasure spreading through your nerves. He shushes you, alarmed. “Shh, you can’t be so loud today, baby… what if someone hears you and decides to check what’s going on?” 

You bite your tongue, absorbing his words. The thought paralyzes you from embarrassment, but for some reason, your pussy has a mind of its own. “It’s all your fault,” you croon, “it’s all because you can’t control yourself.” 

“I already said this like a hundred times, but, you look so fucking pretty in this cute little dress, baby. So fucking pretty. How am I supposed to control myself? When all I can think about is ruining my sweet angel?” Mingyu rasps, his calloused fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles. You’re certain that your legs will give up at this rate, your whole body teetering from the stimulation. 

“Bu–but—” you lower your voice to a whisper, “people will catch us like this, what then?” He presses a fleeting kiss on the corner of your lips, pushing the soaked lace of your thong to the side and sliding his middle finger between your labia against your slit. You swallow back a moan, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Guess you’re gonna have to keep it quiet in that case.” Mingyu pushes the digit into your sopping hole, making a ‘shlick’ sound that surprises both of you. “Fuck, did you hear that? Did you hear how wet you are for me?” You squeeze him in response, nerve endings on fire. It feels so incredibly good to finally have something fill your aching core. 

“Move, please,” you whimper, getting impatient. As if to test you, he slowly starts dragging his finger down, before pushing it back inside in a rough manner. You muffle your squeal against his shoulder, overwhelmed yet wanting more of him.

Soon enough, Mingyu loses the patience to tease you, his own urges kicking in. His ring finger slides into the depths of your molten warmth as well, your walls clenching around him from excitement. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he hisses under his breath. Slow, languid movements let him feel the way your arousal coats his skin in a silky veil, making him feel kind of suffocated around his crotch.

“Baby,” you whine, “wan’ more, please.” The burning ache for a release fires through your system, every single one of your cells begging for more. A breathy laugh rings in your ears, to your dismay.

“Want what exactly, love?” Mingyu’s eyes are twinkling with mischief, knowing very well that he’s pushing your boundaries right now. 

“Harder,” your choked whisper is hot against the shell of his ear. He clenches his teeth, thumb pressing down onto the swollen nub before anything. A gasp escapes you, face falling to rest in the crook of his neck, breathing uneven. His fingers pick up speed eventually, your lower stomach in knots, a shiver running down your spine. If your mouth wasn’t pressed up against his skin, you probably would’ve blabbered about how good he’s making you feel. 

It doesn’t take long for you to crest up towards the pinnacle, whole body convulsing, preparing itself for the rushing relief it’s about to experience. Mingyu, knowing very well that you’re about to finish, adds a third digit into your slippery warmth, seemingly triggering your orgasm. You muffle your cries in his neck, falling onto him as your legs give up entirely. He holds you securely with his free arm, feeling kinda dizzy himself. His neck is all slobbered up, covered with messy bites you left while trying to silence yourself. 

It takes you longer than usual to recover, finding the strength to stand on your knees. Blood rushes to your face when you regard the state of your boyfriend’s neck, even the collar of his black polo a victim to your actions. Mingyu, on the other hand, barely holding on, finally starts to pull out his fingers from your pussy, your juices leaking out on his hand profusely from the movement. A breathy whimper escapes you, nerves alight for pleasure once again. 

“Fuck, take a look at this,” He holds up his hand between you two, the slightly viscous liquid catching the sunlight and glowing, making you flush. “You treat me s’well, baby, servin’ me liquid gold.” His words only make you even more embarrassed, eyes avoiding him at all costs. The lewd sound of his slurping sends a tingle through your core, droopy eyes shyly catching him lick his fingers clean. You shudder a little when he moans satisfactorily, eyes trained on you the whole time.

In a sudden surge of boldness, you reach out to caress his jawline, bringing him closer for a kiss. Mingyu hums, a smile forming on his lips before attacking your mouth with full force. You gasp and moan while he finds his way to your tongue, the growingly familiar taste of yourself on his saliva causing a new surge of arousal to your core. Quite desperate to feel him now, you fumble with the button on his trousers blindly, undoing it quickly before reaching for the zipper. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu pulls away with a hiss, his stomach tightening from the feeling of your hand lightly pressing onto his clothed cock. Your eyes greedily devour the outline of his boner, almost poking at the material of his boxer briefs. Pussy clenching at the thought of him filling you up, you pull at the waistband of his underwear. 

“My god, Mingyu,” you swallow nervously, unsure how to react as his heavy cock springs out of its confines, slapping against his tummy. You’ve never seen it this angry and twitching, head covered with a light sheen of his pre-cum. Heart almost beating out of your chest, you reach for him, hands delicately wrapping around his length and giving it a few, slow pumps. 

“Baby, fuck—” His eyes shut close, teeth digging into his plump lower lip to restrict any noises. With your thumb, you spread the gathering pre-cum all over his tip, making him whimper in the process. If you don’t get fucked right now, you might just lose your mind. 

“Need you,” you whisper, pressing a fleeting kiss on his nose. Mingyu looks as if he’s pained, a defeated sigh escaping him. 

“My love, I– I need you too. So, so bad, can’t explain.” His eyes tear up suddenly, “B-but—” 

“What happened…?” You ask, alarmed by his expression.

“I— I don’t have a condom.” He frowns, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in the comfort of your chest. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Your heart drops to your stomach because of how devastating his tone is. 

“Nooo! It’s okay… um, we didn’t know this would happen, y’know? So, um, don’t apologize, please. And don’t talk like that.” You nudge him to look at you. 

“Yeah but… what are we gonna do now? We agreed to be safe from the beginning, so–”

“Well, I’m on birth control for my periods either way, so it’s okay.” You cut him off, desperate for him at this point. 

Mingyu looks up at you, hesitant. “Angel, are you really sure about that?”

A sigh escapes you. You know why he is feeling uncertain, you know that you are the reason. “Gyu, I don’t know anything, but I might just go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now.”

He inhales a shaky breath, your words toying with the few last strings of self-control left in him. “Okay, what about this — I’ll only put the tip inside, make you feel super good so you come quickly for me, and then I’ll pull out before I make a mess.” 

Your body shakes from anticipation. “Just the tip?” 

“Just the tip, baby.” 

Even though it’s not exactly what you had in your mind, you agree quickly. Anything to have him inside you. Also, you’re not too sure how that will possibly work out. You’re almost certain that you’ll end up getting more than just the tip.

Mingyu grabs your waist to position you right on top of him, the urgency in his actions painfully obvious. You gladly comply, too needy to say anything. As you feel his bulbous tip lining up against your entrance, you lean in to touch your foreheads together. “Gyu, I can’t wait anymore, need you right now.” 

With a groan, he slowly guides you down his length, only letting his tip and the following inch inside. You whimper, struggling a little as you get used to the stretch. It’s kind of astonishing how even just that fills you up satisfactorily. But still, you crave all of him, your body knowing the euphoria of having him up in the furthest nooks of your pussy very well. “You’re so big,” you murmur, inner walls clenching around him greedily, eager for more. Mingyu huffs out deep breaths, his ears turning red. How cute.

He collects himself in a moment, firm hands around your hips to make sure you don’t slide down further than he intends to give you today. “You feel s’good, so wet and hot, I feel like I’ll melt.” Mingyu sighs, helping you ride him, his thumb rolling your clit in lazy circles. 

You muffle your cries as he moves your hips in a slow and steady pace, inevitably sliding down his cock, little by little. However, he doesn’t really notice it, lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him so deliciously. “Gyu, harder,” you plead, a bit tired of this torturously slow pace. 

Mingyu complies almost immediately, pulling you even closer, his own hips bucking up to meet you halfway, while he continues to guide your movements. You moan out happily, arms winding around his neck. His thrusts are shallow, but the frenzied movements trigger more pleasure in you.

Eventually, he loses control over your movements, momentarily giving up against the fiery impulses running through his nerves. With all the lubrication between you two, you slide down as much as possible with nothing to restrict you. A string of incoherent words leave you, your body extremely giddy to get what you’ve wanted for so long. 

“Fuck, no, this isn’t working,” Mingyu finally regains his senses, groaning as the untouched parts of his cock are engulfed by your warmth. He swiftly pins you down on an empty side of the picnic blanket. “Bad, bad girl.” 

You squirm under him, whining while he pulls out of you, until only the tip is inside. “Now tell me, what should I do, now that you’ve broken our little deal.”

“Fuck me.” you whimper, your eyes teary by now. Mingyu tuts, shaking his head. You try your best to channel your pitiful, puppy dog eyes, ready to beg if that’s necessary.

“Such crude words from my sweet, little angel.” He sighs, “You’re really into testing my patience, aren’t you? Does it make you happy? Watching me lose my senses over your words?” 

“Don’t hold yourself back, please. I want to make you feel good too. Please, Gyu. Fuck me, make me yours, I don’t even care if people see or hear us anymore. Please.” Your voice is broken, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Mingyu swallows nervously.

“Fucking hell.” The growled expletive marks the end of whatever self-control shit he was on. With one hard thrust, he smoothly fills up your touch-starved pussy entirely, coaxing out a loud moan of relief from you. His right hand immediately covers your mouth. “You might not care about some rando catching us like this anymore but I’ll be damned if someone sees you like this.” 

Mingyu lets go of your wrists, putting his left hand on the small of your back to support your body. “Don’t you dare complain about how you can’t walk later. You brought this upon yourself, remember.” He nibbles on your earlobe teasingly before starting to move against you. His thrusts are on the rougher side, your stomach tightening as the pleasure starts to build-up. 

With your free hands, you reposition his palm covering your mouth, suckling on his fingers instead. In response, you feel his cock twitch so vividly in your pussy, a groan reverberating in his throat. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” 

Mingyu pounds into you in a frenzy, quite obsessed with the raw feeling of your spongy flesh gushing around his cock. You moan and cry around his fingers, clenching happily as you feel your release right around the corner. He also picks up his pace, grinding down onto your clit in the process. Your brain has lost all the critical thinking power, salty streaks running down your cheeks as you’re overwhelmed by the sensations.

You remove his fingers from your mouth, desperate to be heard. “‘m gonna come–” 

“Fuck, come for me, love, I’m gonna pull out,” Mingyu grunts, his pace faltering as his movements lose rhythm, inching closer to his own release.

“No, no— come in me, baby. Please. Don’t ruin my dress.” He has no idea what you are on about, but he’d be lying if he said that it doesn’t sound tempting.

“Princess, do you even know what you’re saying?” He still asks, praying that you come back to your senses, for both of your good.

“I want you to come in me.” You manage to blurt out before your body convulses as the orgasm hits, gummy walls squeezing his cock to a halt. Mingyu curses under his breath, putting his fingers back in your mouth before you can scream your lungs out. Soon enough, he also reaches his peak, the thick, milky white liquid filling up your pussy to the brim. 

“_____, fuck…” he whimpers, reveling in the newfound intimacy between you. You urge him to lay on top of you, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“Gyu,” you whisper, “you mean so much to me.” Mingyu nuzzles your face adoringly, pressing butterfly kisses over your bare skin, wherever he can reach.

“And to me, you’re like the sun.” His silly words make you laugh.

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I’m like the earth orbiting around you, thriving because of your warmth and light?”

You flush at his words, beyond touched that he’d think of you in such a beautiful way. “You make me sound so insincere, Gyu.” Mingyu laughs at your pout, starting to get back up. 

“Yeah well, I still have to figure out what your flowers mean, remember?” He reaches for the packet of napkins lying nearby, sighing at the sight in front of his eyes.

“Yeah…” you trail off, “Do that once you’re home, okay?” He nods, seemingly distracted.

“I’m sorry love, I made such a mess.” 

“We.” 

“Hm?” 

“We made a mess. So don’t be sorry. I’ll help you clean up.” You offer him a smile, which he matches happily. 

Mingyu scrutinizes you one last time, making sure that you look presentable from head to toe. “Yeah, everything looks okay… except that your dress is all wrinkled…”

“I told you it’s fine, I’ll fix it up after a wash, don’t worry!” You reassure him, redoing your braid. “And please wash this outfit as soon as you get home, okay? I know it all dried up now, but still…” 

“I could say the same about your panties.” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah, but I doubt it’ll be wearable after today.” You sigh, checking yourself on your selfie camera. “C’mon, let’s go now. It’s afternoon already!” 

Mingyu hands you your basket, holding your free hand as you slowly take a few steps. “Are you sure you can walk?” 

“Yes, positive! I have to get home somehow.” You smile through a wince, making him shake his head. 

“Let’s go to my place. You can go back tomorrow morning after you’ve recovered from the pain. I’ll cook us dinner, help you take a bath, give you meds and cuddle you to sleep.” Mingyu offers, pushing off the bushes so that you guys can finally leave your little sanctuary. 

You both step out on the nearby trail, intertwining your fingers together back again. “Why do you always make it so hard to decline, Gyu?” He gives your hand a firm squeeze, winking at you playfully. 

“It’s a part of the package, baby.” His cocky chuckle infuriates you, but lord, is he right about that. 

This man might just be the end of you. But would you really mind it?

end of act one ♡ next

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 end notes ꒱

wahhh you made it to the end!! thank you so much for reading 🥹🫶🏼; i apologize if there are any mistakes in there, this is very roughly edited jdjfhfjhjff!! BUT i really hope that this was enjoyable and i was able to portray the lovebirds well 🤭! do let me know what you thought of this, please! reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated <333! you can also send feedback through asks if you’d prefer that! 💖

until next time!

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[sixosix]

i. summary it was not your intention to seduce lyney, really, he was just already so very weak for you.

lyney being a sucker for you: the drabble

ii. warnings wc 700, this drabble has been in my drafts since i finished sleight of hand LOL. A Little Steamy, but nothing happens, I LOVE FLUSTERED LYNEY!!

“And that’s a wrap! Thank you, everyone; it all went smoothly as planned. Pat yourselves on the back.”

A chorus of exhausted yet elated cheers rings backstage, not enough to rival the crowd outside, yet it is still much more satisfying to hear. Some of the crew went up to Lyney to pat his shoulder, congratulating him for once again another successful show. Lyney takes it all with a dazzling grin and unwavering confidence. Why, of course. We’ve been working day and night for this.

You ceremoniously step forward and give his side a gentle nudge. Lyney responds with a grin as he reciprocates the gesture. “That was a new one. Did you and Lynette practice that secretly to surprise us?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Lyney says, ironically knowing that he’d have to teach his crew about this as you mustn’t repeat the same trick twice.

Lyney spots his sister resting against a wall a few feet later. “You still want to buy that dessert, Lynette?”

Lynette’s eyes flicker to Lyney, then to you. “I’ll just meet you two there,” she tells Lyney, then walks off without waiting for goodbye.

“Huh, well.” People continue to filter out of the backstage, leaving you and Lyney alone in a dimly lit room, with props scattered all around and taking up enough space to have you and Lyney pressed against each other to not stumble over any of them. “Mon amour, how’d you enjoy the show?”

“It was splendid, of course. I especially liked the part where Lynette stole the spotlight—my favorite part of every show.”

“I understand, but be more nice to the star of the show, will you?” He’s deflated like a popped balloon. “I know you know how much work I put in to perfect everything.”

You laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. “You think I pay attention to you that much?”

Lyney huffs. “You don’t have to be so coy. It’s my job to steal your attention, isn’t it? You’re also my assistant; surely you’ve learned a thing or two about magic tricks?”

“Of course I have,” you cede. “I’ve been watching it all, Lyney, don’t be teased so easily.”

“Well, it just seems to me you haven’t really been paying attention at all,” he feigns a pout.

“Really? Is this a test?” Lyney casts you a sly glance, and you return it with a scoff. “I’ve seen how you deceive them with your actions, distract them with your hands.” You nudge his chest with two fingers, and in the silence, you can hear how Lyney swallows air at the proximity. “You’ve got quite the skill with them.”

“You’ve been watching them pretty closely,” Lyney says quietly.

“Isn’t that the point? It just proves how talented of a magician you are.”

His face is a comical shade of red. He’s weak like that.

“What I learned while being part of your troupe, however, is that I could be saying anything, and my audience wouldn’t really care.” You trail your fingers up, and up, slowly, and Lyney’s breath all but hitches once you reach his neck. “Because I’m making you watch my hands—bring all your attention to what I do and not what I say.”

“Yeah,” Lyney agrees absentmindedly, like a hypnotized man—the irony.

And it’s then you realize that he isn’t looking at your hand at all. His eyes are gazing intensely right below your nose—entranced by how your lips move to mouth your words. You suppose that it still counts as a distraction.

Your fingers reach out to cup his chin, leveling him with a look of disbelief. “Lyney?”

His entire face is a tomato, and half-words are caught in the back of his throat. He gapes at you and looks as if he’s at war with himself.

You hold back a laugh. “I’m surprised you weren’t so critical to a newbie. Did I do that well?”

“That wasn’t fair, and you know it,” he replied weakly after a moment of finding his voice. He then hides his face behind his fingers. “Don’t go around doing that. You can’t try to captivate an audience already so enamored with you.”

“Ah…” Now you feel flustered. “Let’s—Let’s just go meet up with Lynette.” You can’t handle staying in this room for another minute.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Luxury and Lessons - 2

Character: concierge!Bucky x heiress!female reader

Summary: A spoiled heiress is sent to work at her family’s luxury hotel, where she clashes with Bucky, the handsome and strict manager who is fiercely dedicated to the hotel’s success.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 ,-

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The alarm clock blared at 4:45 a.m., but it felt like it was the middle of the night to you. You groaned, barely able to open your eyes, and slapped at the snooze button. Five more minutes. Just five more minutes. But those minutes flew by, and soon Bucky was at your door, knocking sharply.

“Miss, it’s 5 a.m.,” his voice came through the door, way too chipper for this hour.

You groaned again, dragging yourself out of bed, your movements sluggish. It was a miracle you even managed to pull on your uniform without falling back into bed. Your head still pounded from the night before, and your body felt heavy, almost as if you were moving through water.

As you walked into the staff room, you could feel the eyes on you, every pair judging. The silence was thick, the air filled with a palpable tension. These were the same employees who had probably seen the video, who knew exactly who you were and what you’d said. You could almost hear their thoughts: "There she is, the spoiled heiress."

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with only the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of low voices breaking the silence. You tried to make yourself as small as possible, wishing you could disappear under the table. When the meal ended, everyone filtered out, leaving you alone with Bucky.

“You lied,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought this uniform was for new employees, but most of them are wearing the same thing as you. You fucking tricked me!”

Bucky didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you with that calm, unbothered expression that was starting to grate on your nerves. “Miss, like I said before, you need to put in the effort first.”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Me? I look like a fucking waitress!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your outburst. “If you want to wear something more distinguished, you’ll have to earn it. The uniform is a symbol of commitment, and right now, you’re just getting started.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t done.

“Your first task,” he continued, his tone firm, “is to clean up the rooms.”

Bucky stepped closer, his presence somehow even more imposing up close. “You think this is a joke? This is real work. Every employee here starts at the bottom and works their way up. If you want to be taken seriously, you’ll do the same.”

You clenched your jaw, fists balled at your sides. “And if I don’t?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. “Then you’ll stay exactly where you are: someone who’s never earned their place. Also, you still won’t get access to your funds.”

You stared at him, trying to come up with a retort, but nothing came. He had you trapped, and you both knew it. Finally, you huffed, turning away from him. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just gave a small nod, as if your agreement was expected. “Meet me in the service hallway in five minutes. We’ll see what you’re made of.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, feeling smaller than ever.

As you struggle with the task at hand, frustration bubbles up inside you. The bed sheet you’re trying to spread over the mattress keeps slipping, and the steam iron in your other hand feels foreign and cumbersome. "Putting the bed sheet on and then steam ironing it?" you grumble, glancing at Cleo as if searching for some confirmation that this is all unnecessary.

Cleo, calm and composed, finishes her side of the bed and looks at you with a small smile. "Yes, exactly. The guest may not notice every detail, but we do. It’s about creating perfection, even in the unseen." There’s a quiet pride in her voice as she smooths out a wrinkle.

"But why?" you mutter, annoyance creeping into your tone. "The guests don't care. As long as they know the material is silk, they’re happy."

Cleo pauses, her hands still for a moment as she looks at you with something close to pity. "Well… unlike you, we care about our work. For me, this is art."

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in irritation. "Weirdo," you mumble under your breath, but Cleo hears it and merely shrugs, unfazed.

"You might think this is a bother," Cleo says, folding a towel with precision, "but for us, this work pays our bills, puts food on our tables, and keeps a roof over our heads."

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you feel a pang of something—guilt, maybe?—as you fumble with the sheet, trying to get it right.

You drag the mop across the floor, your back aching with each swipe. The floor is spotless by Cleo's standards, but you can’t help but think it's a waste of time. As you lean down to clean a stubborn spot, you accidentally knock over the bucket of water. It spills everywhere, soaking your shoes and spreading across the freshly cleaned surface.

“Damn it!” you hiss, trying to stop the water with your hands as if that could help.

Before you can even think about the mess, Bucky appears out of nowhere, calm and composed. “Let me handle this,” he says, taking over with effortless precision. Within moments, the spill is cleaned, the floor as pristine as before.

Later, you’re stationed at the swimming pool, tasked with handing out towels and keeping the area tidy. You fumble with the stack of towels, dropping them into the water. A guest raises an eyebrow at you, clearly annoyed.

Before the situation escalates, Bucky steps in, his demeanor soothing the guest’s irritation. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he says smoothly, offering a fresh towel with a smile. The guest’s frustration melts away, replaced by a grin of admiration for Bucky.

You watch him work, seeing how effortlessly he manages the guests, how they light up at his attention. It’s obvious he loves the hotel, and it’s just as obvious that the guests love him.

Meanwhile, you can feel their eyes on you—cold, judgmental, full of disdain. It’s clear that they all hate you, and the realization stings.

During lunch, you slip away to a quiet corner outside, the only place you can find peace. You light a cigarette with shaking hands, taking a deep drag to steady yourself before dialing Tom’s number.

“Fuck. Fuck! I hate working here. Tom, I want to go home,” you cry, your voice breaking as the weight of the morning crushes you.

There’s a pause on the other end before Tom’s voice comes through, exasperated. “You’ve only worked for a day and you’re already complaining.”

“My knees hurt!” you blurt out, playing the card you swore you wouldn’t.

Tom falls silent, the unspoken tension thick in the air. You know it’s a sensitive topic for both of you—the accident that left you with bad knees and left Tom more protective than ever. His silence is heavy, and after a moment, he ends the call without another word.

You stare at the phone, your heart sinking. “Is he still mad at me?” you whisper to yourself, the unresolved pain between you and your brother weighing you down as much as the job.

You drag the mop across the floor, the repetitive motion doing little to calm your frustration. Your knees ache, a dull reminder of the accident, but you grit your teeth and keep working. As you move down the hallway, you spot Bucky in the historic room, his back to you as he carefully wipes down a framed photograph. You hesitate, curiosity pulling you closer.

Bucky’s hands are gentle, almost reverent, as he cleans the photo. It’s a far cry from the brusque attitude he’s shown you, and it catches you off guard. You inch closer, peering over his shoulder.

“That’s my great uncle,” you say, pointing to the photo in his hands. Your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Bucky glances at you, then back at the photo. “Yup,” he replies simply, his tone neutral. He hangs the photo back on the wall with care, not bothering to look at you again before turning to leave.

As he walks away, you mutter under your breath, “Asshole.”

With him gone, you’re left alone in the room, surrounded by the faces of your ancestors. You gaze at the photos, trying to feel some sort of connection, some pride in the legacy they’ve left behind. But all you feel is emptiness. These people, with their stern expressions and formal attire, are strangers to you.

You run your fingers over the polished wood frame of one of the photos, tracing the outline of your great-great-great-grandparents. They built this empire from the ground up, turned a simple dream into a thriving business. They must be proud, you think, knowing the Serene Resort still stands after all these years.

But you’re not the same. You don’t feel the pride they must have felt. The weight of the legacy feels like a burden, something you’re supposed to carry but don’t know how. You step back, staring at the wall of history, and sigh. The only thing you feel is the suffocating pressure of expectations you don’t know if you can ever meet.

🏨🏨🏨🏨🏨

You collapse onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day hitting you like a wave. Just as you’re about to drift off, there’s a knock on your door. Frowning in confusion, you pull yourself up and open it, only to find Tom standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

Your eyes widen in relief. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms. “Save me!” you exclaim, clinging to him.

He stiffens, then awkwardly pushes you away. “How hurt are your knees?” he demands, his voice edged with irritation.

You look down, caught off guard. “Umm… they don’t really hurt at all,” you admit, feeling awkward under his scrutinizing gaze.

Tom’s eyes narrow, seeing through your half-hearted excuse. “You really don’t get it, do you? Do you understand why I sent you here?”

You stay silent, unable to meet his gaze. The truth is, you’re not sure why he’s being so hard on you, but you’re afraid to admit it.

Tom sighs heavily, the weight of his exhaustion showing. “I won’t spoil you anymore,” he says, his voice firm but tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly worn out from the day’s stress. “I’m done with this. I’m tired.”

He turns to leave, and you call out, desperation creeping into your voice. “Where are you going? Can I stay with you? I thought you’d be in the presidential suite.”

Tom doesn’t look back. “Nope,” he says curtly, his tone final.

“Selfish prick!” you shout, frustration bubbling over. “If you’re not going to help me, then why are you even here?”

He gives you a middle finger without turning around, his back to you as he heads down the hall.

You slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the room. The anger and hurt mix with a deep sense of helplessness as you sink back onto the bed. Tom’s departure leaves you feeling more isolated than ever, questioning what you’re really supposed to be learning from all this.

Unable to sleep, you throw on a robe and quietly slip out of your room. The cool night air greets you as you step onto the balcony, hoping the fresh air might calm your racing thoughts. To your surprise, you find Bucky standing there, holding a steaming mug of hot milk.

You approach him, wrinkling your nose in distaste. “Eww, you drink hot milk? Are you twelve?”

Bucky takes a measured sip, clearly unfazed by your comment. “The CEO, your brother, really cares for you,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle.

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. “Him? Impossible.”

Bucky glances at you over the rim of his mug. “He was supposed to be on the other side of the world. But when he heard your call, he dropped everything to be here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You hadn’t realized just how far Tom had gone for you.

Bucky’s gaze softens slightly. “Some people make sacrifices for you. The least you could do is be grateful.”

You frown, feeling a mix of frustration and something else. “You’re so fucking mean.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Because you’re spoiled. Besides, we’re the same age.”

You’re taken aback. You’d assumed he was older, given his no-nonsense attitude.

“There’s one thing I keep wondering,” Bucky continues, looking out over the balcony. “Today, every time you get humiliated, why don’t you use your status as the hotel owner?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Because I’m not really part of it.”

Bucky studies you for a moment, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Then maybe it’s time you start acting like you belong.”

Author's Note: Hey everyone, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! I’m currently grappling with a writer’s block and have tried various methods to spark new ideas, but nothing seems to be working.

Any feedback or suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your support!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[johnslittlespoon]

Gale finds John sitting on the steps of the back porch, elbows resting on his knees, head lifted to the sky, ever reminiscent of ‘45 when looking north was the only reprieve from chain link and barbed wire.

He shuts the cabin door quietly behind him before he follows John’s gaze, and then he sucks in a sharp breath, hand frozen on the porch railing.

The night sky is alive, rippling in brilliant luminescence, slow waves like sun rays filtering through cracked glass across the vast open space.

“Wow,” Gale whispers, lowering his hand to his side.

John’s eyes glimmer when he turns to look at him, refractions of emerald and indigo and magenta dancing across his irises. It feels like another lifetime that Gale watched similar hues paint his face while they huddled behind brick walls and peeked out at the bombs as they coloured the land– he can hardly reconcile the boys they were three years prior with the men they are now.

“I was gonna come wake you,” John murmurs as he turns his attention back to the light show, scratching at the collar of his shirt. “Just hard to look away, y’know?”

Gale does know, gaze jumping between neon shards and dark, sleep–mussed curls, unsure which he’s more keen to settle his eyes upon. He moves forward instead of deciding, sitting down on the step next to John, inhaling the familiar smokey scent carrying on the breeze from the cigarette that dangles from John’s right hand.

“You ever seen ‘em before?” Gale asks as he stares up at the vibrant patterns, pressing close to John to soothe the night’s chill.

“Never seen anything like it,” John says, quiet, plumes of smoke spilling from his lips, reaching up in a futile effort to join the holographic flares. “You?”

Yes. I've seen you.

“No,” Gale shakes his head, picking a ribbon of maroon to fix his eyes on. “Never thought I’d get the chance to.”

There are a lot of things Gale hadn’t thought he’d get the chance to experience, back when home felt like a universe away, and iron gates felt like a life sentence. Yet he still can’t help but yearn for something else, and though what he aches for should feel small under the atmospheric anomaly, the lights dim in comparison to the radiance of the man at his side.

He thinks the colours are even prettier when he glances to the side to watch them glide across the angular planes of John’s face, chest fuzzy at the look of pure boyish wonder that seems to smooth out the divots and lines and marks made by time.

He wants to tell him everything. Somehow that thought is almost scarier than all else he’s endured.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

not sure if this is/will be anything, but i had to get my feelings out in writing after seeing the northern lights last night. literally cried like a baby while sitting on the top of a mountain alone watching them– it's been my dream since i was a kid, and i never thought i'd see them so young, or at all, really. a part of me feels a little healed and i'm still in awe. <3 then i got to thinking about john and gale buying and fixing up a small cabin together out on the edge of lake michigan, a sanctuary in the forest, a place to hide away from the world after the war ends. healing as friends, but the feelings never go away, and some rare pining gale. a love confession during a once in a lifetime event, etc. perhaps will turn it into a oneshot at some point, but for now here's a little drabble to make up for inactivity. x

[imaginesforeons]

Hello first timer here, May I please request for Yandere Nanami with a Frail reader wherein reader is trying to hide and escape,but their sickly coughing gave them away

Yes! Thank your for your patience <333

Yandere!Nanami x Sickly!Reader

~You try to hide from him, lost in clouds of gold~

CW: Past kidnapping. Reader has a coughing fit and it gets a little intense.

WC: 940(ish)

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

You pushed against the iron door with all your strength, yet it stayed still, frozen on its rusted hinges and fixed as any mountain.

Wheezing, you slid down the door’s front, collapsing on your knees, trying - and failing - to catch your breath. Each gasp was a struggle, and there was a familiar burn rising from the bottom of your chest that meant nothing good. Your sickness had chosen now to act up. It felt like everything was against you.

Fruitlessy, you pushed at the door again, fingers scrabbling against it. Suddenly, you jerked back with a hiss, cradling your hand. Wincing, you saw one of your nails, broken and twisted and leaving a small trail of blood coursing its way down your palm.

Cursing and biting back tears, you forced yourself to stand, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. Leaning against the door, you allowed yourself a few seconds to catch your breath, casting your eyes around the room.

For the first time in months Nanami had taken you outside. After what had felt like an eternity, he had taken you from the house in the countryside, freeing you from beige walls and padlocked doors. The only reason he did it was because you had finally earned a bit of his trust through weeks of fawning and keeping your head down. It had lasted long enough for you to bolt at the first opportunity you got, disappearing into an almost endless warehouse, forgotten and left at the edge of the sea for nature to take over.

Now you were here, breath rattling in your lungs like skeleton trees, sequestered away in some far-off corner that knew only dust and dirt.

You still hadn’t seen Nanami since you ran. You haven’t even heard him, and when every noise you made echoed across the walls like gunfire, not even catching the sound of your captor’s footsteps had to be a very, very bad sign.

Shifting, you brought a shaking hand to your nose, covering it with your sleeve and breathing through the fabric. Motes of dust were floating everywhere. Above you, part of the ceiling had fallen in, allowing sunlight to cleave its way through, hitting the dust motes and lighting them up into glittering clouds of gold.

At first glance it was very pretty, but you were stuck in the miasma, surrounded by microscopic particles of dirt, grime, and ash. You took another pained breath through your sleeve, but it did little to filter the air. You choked on a cough, and you quickly slapped your hands over your mouth, body shaking with the effort of trying to keep it in. There was a moment where you thought you’d be able to keep silent through sheer force of will, but then your lungs spasmed, leaving you hacking until blackness spotted the edge of your vision.

Drawing in a rasp of a breath, you stared up at the slivers of sky coming in through the caving roof, blinking tears from your eyes. You rolled to your knees, readying yourself to stand, when you heard something.

Barely there, it was the slightest echo of a footstep. You stiffened, peering around a corner, and saw a flash of gold. To your horror, it wasn’t sunlight or dust floating in the air, but Nanami, stalking through the warehouse with the surety of a leopard on the hunt. Behind his glasses, his eyes roved over every nook and cranny, studying his surroundings with a sharp intelligence.

You gasped. It was your first mistake. Because you were still in the cloud of dust, you pulled in a lungful of it, and because anything other than perfectly crisp air was hell on your lungs, your body was immediately thrown into a fit of terrible spasms. You gagged, trying to keep your coughs in, clasping your hands desperately over your mouth again, but it was no use.

It was all too much; the air, your anxiety, and the threat of Nanami all convalesced, and you broke out into earth-shattering hacking. It echoed through the warehouse, and the last thing you saw was Nanami’s face whipping towards your direction before your eyes fell shut with the effort of your coughs.

You sputtered and choked, and each time you desperately tried to breathe, all you did was inhale more of that foul air. Wheezing, you fell back, scratching at your throat. It felt like you were drowning, and a ringing started to fill your ears. You could feel your heartbeat in your skull, at your fingertips, and when you tried to open your eyes, black swarmed your vision.

A hand found your neck, coursing under it to cup the back of your head, cradling it as something was brought to your face. You pawed at it weakly, but it was fitted over your mouth easily. Suddenly, a rush of crisp, sharp air rushed into your lungs, cool and cleansing and with the slightest taste of mint on your tongue. You took in great, greedy gulps of it, and slowly your vision came back.

Staring down at you, your head in his lap, was Nanami.

When he saw your eyes open, he hummed, shifting your head back to the ground. Before you could speak, a muscled arm found its way behind your back, while the other went under the crooks of your knees. Lifting you effortlessly, he carried you from the warehouse, out into the freshness of the ocean air. When you took your first breath outside, you nearly cried.

“I assume,” he began, looking down at you through his glasses. “That you won’t try that again.”

You could only grunt. Exhaustion pulled at you, and your head lolled against his shoulder. A few seconds later, and you fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.

[sushiwriterhere]

foggy

summary: "Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were lightly fogged, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bob floyd x f!reader word count: ~2.9k warnings: idiots pining, car sex (lol), hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: Inspired by me thinking about Bob's glasses getting all fogged up. y'all i wish i could apologize for this but all i can think abt is this man and how someone once said they wanna chew on him like a polly pocket.. anyways please let me know what you think ! no beta we die like men tagging: @sebsxphia @theharddeck - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like luv bob soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

You were usually far more behaved than this, really. You paid attention in your classes, did your work, showed up on time to your job–kept it all together. But there was something about him, about Bob, that just made that tiny part of you want to be reckless. And he had no idea. 

There he was, along with the rest of the group like every Friday, sitting and watching them play pool. They’d hoot and holler, order drink after drink, and he’d sit and laugh along with his peanuts and his Shirley Temples or lemonades. And it made you want to jump his bones.

It was a smidge ironic that as a bartender his non-alcoholic drink choices were part of what got you going, but what could you say? A man of multitudes and contradictions was appealing, and Bob was just that. Best weapons system operator around, shy as all hell, and damn smart. He always tipped generously, never put his phone on the bar, and had interrupted more than one creep on a mission to try and ruin your Friday night (flirting is for tips, not for keeps!). 

But any time you tried to move it past your brief interactions, he always slipped away. You figured it wasn’t necessarily on purpose— he seemed to be friendly otherwise, just probably not interested. So you resigned yourself to the occasional small chat when making drinks or he came in while the Hard Deck was a bit less noisy—and ever so often, finishing while imagining just what it would feel like to have his body pressed up against yours. 

And this Friday began like every other. You came in right as lunch ended, and busied yourself with prepping more limes than you ever wanted to see again in your life. There were glasses to be stacked, napkins and straws to be refilled, and liquors to be restocked. Patrons would start trickling in around 5 or 6, with the majority starting to filter in around 8, clearly coming from dinner or work. By 9, the Hard Deck would be packed to the brim with fighter pilots and other people from the nearby base. 

Your favorite fighter pilots would make it in at 8:45 pm every Friday, like clockwork. They’d take over the pool table with a direct eyeline to the bar, and stay till the early hours of the morning, sometimes till closing. Rooster usually bought the first round if the weather was nice, Hangman would when the weather was shit. More than once you’d tried to discern a pattern beyond that, but they seemed to have some sort of system. 

Bob would always buy his own drinks. 

He’d make his way to the bar, smiling gently at you and waiting patiently while you fielded other customers. Then he’d place his drink order and ask for a refill on his cup of peanuts, and stand there humming something to himself while you poured him a drink. Tips came in cash, straight into your palms and always paired with a soft smile that made your knees weak and your pulse hammer.

Tonight was no different. He ordered his lemonade and handed you cash with a warm smile before returning to what appeared to be an increasingly hostile and heated game of pool. Sitting on the sidelines, he seemed to just be content observing the madness. 

When Hangman approached the bar during a momentary lull, you expected it to be for another round. Except he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, and crooked a finger at you to beckon you closer. 

“I have a secret to tell you, only it’s not really a secret.” He had a coy smile on his face like he was about to tell you he’d taken a cookie from the cookie jar. 

You really wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you had to admit sometimes Hangman was entertaining and you figured your shift would at least be somewhat more lively with his antics. So you just shifted closer to him while maintaining an eye on the bar in case someone needed anything. 

“Do tell.”

He pointed a finger back towards the game of pool just as Rooster sunk a shot and Phoenix high-fived him, “You see Bob over there?”

You narrowed your eyes. You definitely didn’t like where this was going. While Hangman was all huge ego on the outside, you knew he wasn’t really like that on the inside, so it made you suspicious that he was deciding to pick on Bob. Usually it was all in good fun, but you had a soft spot for Bob and you really didn’t want to be caught up in any hurtful gossip.

“Play nice in my bar, Bagman.” You said, scrubbing a bit more aggressively at the countertop than you meant to.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m playing very nice, I’m being a wingman instead of Hangman tonight.” Wingman? “Bob over there, has a very big and bad crush on a certain someone.” 

You hoped this was some sort of prank, because Hangman had one perfectly manicured finger pointing at you. You felt your face go bright red. 

“That’s not playing nice.” God, why was this happening? 

It was one thing to harbor your little crush on Bob, to let yourself check him out while you were sure he wasn’t looking, it was another to have Hangman mock you by telling you that Bob liked you back. 

“He really thinks he’s being subtle,” Hangman continued as if he hadn’t heard you speak, “But he refuses to let us buy his drinks whenever we’re buying a round just so he can talk to you. I swear he spends more time up here or staring at you than he does hanging out with us.”

Saved by a customer, you let your attention drift away from Hangman and what he’d said to you. Even though he lingered, leaning on the bar, you tried not to focus on him. 

What did he mean Bob had a crush on you? That couldn’t be possible. A few weeks prior you had almost asked Bob out to dinner after not charging him for his drink, hoping that that would be enough to start a bit of flirting. 

Instead the WSO had placed enough cash to cover his drink and a very generous tip on the bar and stammered out something about needing to get back to the game of pool him and Rooster were losing. So you took that as your hint. 

Ever a patient asshole, Hangman was still there after you finished making drinks. Clearly being decently drunk wasn’t enough to keep him from being a pain. He just kept looking between you and Bob and not saying anything. 

“You’re scaring other customers.” You wanted this to end, the observation, you wanted to get out from under his knowing gaze.

He flicked a cherry stem at you, and without flinching proceeded to make you feel like you were officially the world’s least subtle person, “It’s not hard to see that you and Bob wanna jump each other’s bones, I think once you get it out of your system you’ll be perfect for each other. Just have to get over that first hurdle.”

And with that, Hangman walked himself back over to the rest of the group. You stood there in stunned silence trying to process exactly what just happened.

-

Like you said before, you were usually far more behaved than this. But nevertheless, you now found yourself pressed up against your car in the corner of the Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bob’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist. 

Anyone could see. Hangman or Rooster could step out for a breath of fresh air, maybe even a drunk cigarette (no one was allowed to tell Mav), and see you pulling Bob’s shirt out of his standard-issue khakis and running your hands over his stomach. You had always known he was hiding some serious muscle under his uniform. Someone could see you, weak in the knees for the quiet, but beautiful, Bob. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said quietly against your lips as you scratched at his back and trembled in his arms. “We shouldn’t–shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. You deserve better.”

Was it wrong that him being so respectful made you want him to ruin you all that more? What you wouldn’t give to be in your, or his, apartment right now, protected by four walls and free to strip and see all of him. But for now, you’d have to take the cards you were dealt. 

Grasping behind yourself, you yanked the back door handle against yourself, feeling the door give against you and open slightly. You pushed Bob off you gently, just enough to pull the door open and grab his collar to pull him into the car with you. He made a choked off sound, and you honestly weren’t sure if it was because of you grabbing his shirt or if he was surprised. 

“Wait,” He managed, and you froze, “I... Will you sit in my lap?”

You were going to die, here and now, with him almost hovering over you, his eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, time seemed to turn into something syrupy as he slid fully into the car, shut the door, and pulled you into his lap. 

You both sat there for just a moment, panting and staring at each other. Maybe you owed Hangman an apology for doubting his wingman skills, but you weren’t sure you wanted to inflate his ego more than it already was. 

However, he did deserve some credit. After he had dropped that bomb on you, Bob had come over and asked if you were alright, claiming he’d give Hangman a talking-to about whatever he said that had clearly upset you. You just stood there staring at him, until he started to squirm slightly under your gaze. 

It was in that moment you had blurted out, “I have a crush on you.”

He had stared at you for a split second before he whispered, so quietly you weren’t even sure you were supposed to hear it, “Oh my god, I want to kiss you so badly.” 

It had taken everything in you not to drag him across the bar and press your lips into his. Instead, you managed to tell him that you had your thirty minute break in five minutes, and to meet you in the parking lot by your car. It was probably the most reckless thing you had ever done.

So that was how you ended up in the backseat of your car, Bob’s tongue running along the seam of your lips, whining slightly when you opened your mouth to feel his tongue glide over your teeth. You could tell he had his feet firmly planted on the floor by the steady rhythm of his hips against yours. That part of his actions seemed so confident, so assured in comparison to the slight tremor in his hands against your hips, but you wanted him to let loose a little, show you just how much he wanted you. 

The car rocked gently with your movements. He was panting as his forehead leaned against yours, and he let out a particularly high pitched whine as you grabbed him by the back of the neck to force your lips together again.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he ground out as you both pulled away again to catch your breaths, “See you every Friday and Hangman, ah, Hangman makes fun of me.” 

You groaned at his confession and twisted your hands into his neatly combed hair. Honestly, you couldn’t judge his hesitancy, for god’s sake you thought he barely liked you as a friend. Plus, you’d firmly asked more than one patron to leave when they tried to be too forward. Bob was never too forward. 

“Been, fuck! Been, trying to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t want him to be a gentleman, you wanted him to ruin you. Grabbing his wrists, you shoved them under your shirt and sighed as he got the message, rubbing your nipples over your bra. 

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his more firmly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered as his lips marked a path down your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he tugged the collar of your shirt to the side.

“Bob...” You could feel the heat in your stomach building, the familiar tingle in your fingers.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” With one hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, and the other dipping into your bra, the flood of physical sensations was almost too much. 

You moaned into his mouth and shuddered against his grip, raking your hands through his hair and feeling just how much he liked the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp when the rhythm of his hips stuttered.  

When you came it felt like a star bursting in your chest, everything went fuzzy around the edges as he rocked you in his lap and you rode out your orgasm. It felt like Christmas morning, your birthday, and every party all rolled into one. You shuddered as he kept your hips moving against his, clearly close. 

But you would have none of that.

Still trembling from your own release you unbuttoned his khakis with shaking hands and reached in to grasp him. He stared down at your through lightly fogged up glasses, clearly shocked. 

“Fuck, wait, are you sure—!” Was all he managed to get out before you were on your knees, doing your damndest to swallow him down.

He came with a choked shout, one hand on the back of your head and the other clawing at the worn leather of your seats, grasping for something, anything to keep him tethered. For a moment you stayed on your knees, reveling in the feeling of what had just happened. 

He was a fucking vision from this angle. His usually perfectly done haired was wild from you running your hands through it, his khakis were haphazardly open and his softening cock was laying against his stomach where you had rucked his shirt up. Breathing wild, his chest rose and fell quickly, and his fingers resting on the seat twitched in a matching rhythm to the ones in your hair.

Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were fogged up, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them. 

You wished you had a camera to capture the moment. 

The moment was broken when Bob reached down to pull you back into his lap and move his lips softly against yours. It took you a moment to register that he was whispering sweet nothings to you–a combination of thank you, and all sorts of compliments that made your chest ache. 

A sudden alarm sound made both of you turn in opposite directions at the same time, smacking your foreheads together. Suddenly any sexual tension had completely dissipated, replaced by both of you melting into laughter. Leave it to you and Bob to top off humping in your car like teenagers by giving each other concussions. 

“I need to get back to work.” You whispered as he inspected your forehead for any lasting injuries, “That was my alarm.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, as if he was savoring your final moments together. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Do this part right?”

“I’d love that.”

-

You almost made it to closing without anyone noticing that you and Bob had both conveniently been gone for most of your meal break. But the crew crowding the pool table was far too observant for their own good. To his credit, Bob got himself almost fully back to his normal appearance, and you slipped into the bathroom to make sure you were presentable again. 

“You should say thank you to people who do nice things for you,” Hangman was back, toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as he turned a sly grin in your direction, “I’ll take a beer in compensation, though.”

Pretending not to know what he could possibly mean, you continued to clean up. “Making sure all your cups are on the bar by closing is not exactly free beer material.”

He scoffed and stole another garnish, “You might think you’re slick but Bob’s been staring at you uninterrupted since you got back from your little break.”

“According to you he stares at me regardless.” Sorry, Bob.

“Yeah, but now he stares at you all mopey, which means you must’ve gotten the other stuff out of your system–”

You threw a piece of ice, the universe granting you with perfect aim for once, and watched as it hit his collarbone and slid down his shirt. He jerked backwards with a hiss. 

“Okay! Just take your beer and shut up.” Why did he have to be like this?

“Why thank you sweetheart, consider your debt settled.” With a wink, he was gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably would give Hangman a thousand free beers just to see Bob in the backseat, glasses foggy, and staring at you like you hung the moon. But he didn’t have to know that.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #1

Masterpost

Next

Warnings: implied past non-con, blood

Silas strolled through the markets. He didn’t venture out into human areas often, except to hunt, and these streets were largely unfamiliar to him.

The market was flooded with smells and scents foreign to him. There was all sorts of human food stalls, and some of them intrigued him. But there was no point in wasting money on things he could only taste and would make him nauseous later. Besides, that wasn’t what he was here for.

Silas went deeper into the crowds, breathing in deep. The scent of human despair grew strong with every step, and at the end of the trail would be his goal.

Vampires did not keep slaves. It was a point of pride that they hunted every night; a valued skill to be able to rule the streets and feed a nest without a single death.

But Silas lived by himself, and in the shadow of a much bigger nest of vampires, ever since his father had exiled him.

His territory was tiny, as to not offend their generosity, and he was tired of being so utterly alone. A companion that could talk and think would be welcome; almost like he had a home den again.

Regular meals would also be nice. A single human could supply him easily without putting him in the sights of the ruling nest.

And he’d be rescuing the human from slavery, treating them well like their masters didn’t. Surely that would be a handsome enough reward for their blood. Merciful, even.

Three birds, one stone.

He pinpointed the slavehouse by scent before he saw it. Despair and dread filtered towards him, as strong as any rancid perfume. It was a disturbing smell, one that made his stomach flip with anxiety.

The building was large, and sounded busy. Chatter and the sound of iron against stone reached his ears. 

A salesperson met him at the door, smiling at first, and then his face fell when he saw Silas’s eyes.

No human had slit pupils.

“Hello, sir! What can I help you with today?” Silas smiled at him, as was polite, and the salesman shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m looking for a companion,” he said quietly, trying to make up for frightening him.

“Certainly, any gender preferences?” Silas hadn’t thought of that. In all his research about caring for a human, he didn’t consider gender. Maybe he’d relate more to a man?

“A man, please.”

“Right this way, sir.” The salesman led him through the warehouse, passing by rows of chained slaves. They seemed organized by category of work, then sex. Interesting.

“Forgive me,” said the man, “but I wasn’t aware vampires had slaves. I don’t mean to imply anything untoward of course.”

“We don’t.”

“I see. Well, here is our lovely collection of bedfellows. I’m sure one will be to your taste- er, preference.” 

Silas’s stomach turned icy. He hadn’t meant sexual companionship. He scanned the row of slaves, all of them chained to the floor by the ankle. They looked miserable. The smell of fear was at its peak here in this awful section.

Now that he thought about it, maybe this was for the best. One less person stuck in sexual slavery. 

Now who would he buy?

Slowly, he made his way down the line of men. They all had different appearances, clearly meant to “appeal” to different people. But it didn’t matter how they looked, Silas was interested in the scent of their blood. It was only fair, he couldn’t buy all of them. 

Even if he still had access to his father’s money, he couldn’t afford it.

___________________

This buyer looked different. Strange. He couldn’t place it until he saw the flash of the man’s fangs. A vampire. 

He’d never heard of a vampire owning anybody. It was usually catch-and-release, right?

The vampire wasn’t looking at them quite like a regular buyer. It was a good moment before he realized the vampire was smelling them.

He shuddered, and the vampire’s gaze turned on him.

___________________

None of them smelled particularly appealing, until he came to the end of the row. This one was small and looked tired. 

Poor thing.

But he smelled delightful, and Silas was interested. However, there was only one way to be sure he tasted as good as he smelled.

He bent down and murmured to the slave. “Just relax. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

The slave looked up at him, his honey-brown eyes wide.

“Would you mind if I took a sample?” The salesperson looked nervous at the request. “Just a taste,” he reassured him. “Not even an ounce.”

The salesman nodded, too terrified to refuse.

___________________

Oh god. The vampire was going to drink from him. 

Please don’t let it hurt. Please, god. 

The vampire cupped his cheek and gently but firmly tilted his head to expose his neck. He screwed his eyes shut.

“Relax,” said the vampire, and he tried his best to obey him. The vampire kissed his neck, a mere brush of his soft lips, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on the little patch of skin. Venom, probably.

He felt the vampire’s cool breath, and then a slight scrape of what was surely the tips of his fangs.

But instead of a stabbing pain, he only felt a mild pressure. A slight tug and some trickling warmth told him he had, in fact, been bitten. 

He gasped as the blood left him, his heart pounding as the vampire swallowed it down.

The vampire pulled away after a moment, licking his lips, and he tried not to flinch at the sight of red on the man’s mouth.

___________________

His blood was even better than Silas could have guessed. Deep and rich, with a hint of sweetness. Utterly delicious.

And if this was how good he was mistreated, how amazing would he be healthy?

He wiped away the excess drops from the slave’s neck, licking them off his thumb. He stood.

“I’ll take this one.”

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat @annablogsposts @tobiaslut

[sergle]

ironically i love thrifting but ive never thought about using ebay, do you have any tips or keywords you use on it to find deals and shifty stuff/wording to look out for?

honestly I don't find ebay to be shifty for buying stuff! people are scared about using it sometimes and I think it's a little funny lol I guess the tip would be that if you search for an item with vague enough terms, you'll get some SHEIN-esque mass produced clothes muddying the results. and you know it when you see it, because those listings look like shit btw. this type of thing:

like, these are real listings and everything, and you'd get the product, but they are obviously not what you're looking for. you can ignore these, but if you want to filter them out, you can just narrow the search to SPECIFICALLY pre-owned items.

There isn't really any wording to look out for-- the only other thing would just be to make sure the stuff you get can be returned, bc sellers can specify whether or not they'll take the items back!

[xenosagaepisodeone]

imageboard culture in the 2010s was very mobilized against what was perceived as "mainstream nerd culture" , but ironically the reverence towards utter dogshit media that could be used to filter 'normalfags' likely contributed to the expanding commercialization of their respective hobbies (not that they weren't commercial to begin with). building a defined culture with regimented behaviors around media consumption is the exact opposite of what you want to do to keep something obscure. you think the studio licensed to produce an anime tie-in for Hyperdimension Neptunia: Beach Volleyball Gakuen-hen is going to minimize advertising and shy away from branding opportunities after a bunch of people buy blu-rays? people were out here thinking that they could outsmart capitalist expansion via strategic consumption. and the end result was marketing departments adopting the term 'waifu'.

[sundew199]

Random Reiner HCs (sfw)

A/n: a mix of relationship and non-relationship, some are modern day. Again these are just my headcanons, and just for fun :)

Will sing girly pop songs with you in the car, does not care.

Cannot sit on the couch for longer than 5 minutes or he’ll fall asleep and stay asleep for the rest of the day, you better hope and pray y’all don’t have plans

Has a HORRENDOUS farmers tan 💀, looks like he’s still wearing a shirt when he takes his off

Will only play videos games if Gabi and Falco ask him too, other than that he doesn’t play that often, but does like to watch you play your games. It’s like having your own narrator/commentator :)

Sets at least 10 alarms to get up for work in the morning but doesn’t wake up to any of them, you have to wake him up after the nth alarm by practically shoving him off the bed

Garbage disposal, will eat anything you cook without hesitation and don’t even think about buying snacks because they’ll barely last a day

Physical touch is one of his love languages 100%. If you don’t feel like cuddling in bed he’ll still find a way, like making sure his foot is touching yours 😭

He’s Bob the builders long lost brother, you’ll mention wanting a piece of furniture vaguely and he’s already putting together a mental list of the materials he needs to build it for you

Naturally fit, doesn’t need to go to the gym often to maintain his physique

Bisexual. (And I will not be elaborating)

Doesn’t mind doing skincare with you or letting you use him as a makeup canvas you just gotta convince him first,

Ironically isn’t that great with money, not extremely irresponsible but you have to hold onto his wallet or he’ll buy the entire store if he feels like it

Played sports in school, but never got that into them. He was naturally good and coaches loved him but couldn’t find the passion

Old man trapped in a younger body, swears he feels 50 when he’s only in his early twenties

He snores but SWEARS he doesn’t

Lowkey really bad at texting people back, prefers to call. And if he does call, clear your schedule cause it’s not going to be a quick one (you don’t mind hehehe)

He can be sooooooo dramatic if he wants to be. Over little inconveniences mostly he just wants to be babied, baby him >:(

Drives a truck and I mean like a 90s model Chevy pickup that he’s had since high school that he’s fully restored and is insanely proud of. Has not even considered getting a newer truck because he just can’t let go his older one (first big purchase he made, so it’s sentimental, leave him alone)

Very rarely has a filter, and not in that kinda way, he just sometimes says what he thinks out loud and you have to pretend you didn’t hear him and move on 😭

Is so blind to flirting, like total blindness. You had to finally spell it out to him that you LIKED him and not as a friend for him to realize what you were doing. It’s gotten worse since you and him have been together because he still doesn’t realize when other people flirt or throw themselves at him (he can be such a himbo, I love him)

Cat person

Very in tune with his emotions. Wasn’t always like that since he had a rough childhood but after going to therapy after high school he doesn’t conceal his emotions anymore and can be upfront at times

Does NOT play about you. Reiner is a very sweet caring person but the second he notices you’re uncomfortable around a guy/girl a flip switches and he turns into the intimidating beefy dude that no one wants to fuck with. (It’s lowkey so hot)

Worships you, (obviously) by buying flowers at least every week or two so that way they never die. Date nights, weekend trips, the whole nine yards. He loves spending time with you and showing you how much you mean to him

Grew up catholic, doesn’t practice anymore due to the conformity pushed onto him. Isn’t really religious in general but does believe in a high power.

Wants a big family. At least two kids, maybe more if you’re willing. Doesn’t like the idea of his child not having siblings like him and also just loves family orientation in general. Definitely a big family guy. 

Good with kids 😈

If you use any lingo around him like say: girl, girly, pookie, bae, dawg, homie, bro, etc. he will eventually start to use it unironically until he can’t stop. (I may be projecting but it’s funny so idc.)

[featherandferns]

'shut up' (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

a fascinating new thing spin-off celebration fic for 300 followers (per this and this request haha)

content warning: drinking; anxiety

word count: 3k.

blurb: it's been a month since the moment on the hammock. JJ calls you 'baby' like it's the most natural thing. But some things have been left unsaid. Maybe one night, at Pansy's, where things seemingly started, one of you will kick up the nerves...

Ironic, how the first time you played at The Wreck you actively avoided JJ Maybank’s gaze. Now you seek it out. Whenever you feel the stage-fright creep up on you like a spider stalking in the night, you dart your eyes across the small but ever-growing crowd and find your boyfriend. He watches you like you’re some star-studded bigshot. Like you’re Beyoncé or something, holding the stage and audience in your palm. It does something to your stomach, still, after the month the two of you have been officially together. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to having JJ look at you that way, so clearly and unapologetic. If you’ll ever get used to having the knowledge that he knows the songs are about him.

So, as you sing the closing lyrics to the final song of the set, you can’t seem to break away from his gaze. You know your friends will tease you both about it later, and that whilst you’ll shrivel up under the light-hearted scrutiny like a prune, JJ will grin and bask in the attention. The two of you seem to equal out the scales.

“Suddenly, everything is easy. I’ve never felt something so deeply. Cause with you, with you, I breathe again. Baby you’re my oxygen.”

When you and Pansy harmonise for the fade-out, you finally pull your focus from JJ’s smiling face. Instead, you smile at your bandmate and best friend. Bob your head along to the steady beat of the drums as the song ties off to a close.

The crowd breaks into applause. Cheers and whoops and hollers triumphing over claps that make you laugh into the microphone.

“Thank you,” you grin.

There it is again. Your eyes falling onto JJ and his on you; opposite sides of the magnet, attracting. He nods at you, proud, and you feel your grin turn mushy, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a failing attempt to restrain it. Damn him.

“Thanks for being a great crowd, guys! We’re The Wallflowers! Buy our shit!” Pansy shouts gleefully.

Routine as always: the lights flick on, the microphones disconnect, the Reggae playlist kicks up, and the crowd tumbles into conversation, pours over their drinks, perhaps filter out the doors. The Pogues wander up to the stage as Mike shrugs off his bass and Pansy her guitar.

“You guys were dope,” John B grins from below the small stage.

“Like always,” Pansy winks at him.

“I’m liking the new stuff,” Kiara smiles at you.

“Thanks! I’m trying to mix things up a bit more,” you say.

JJ’s holding out his hand for you to take. You use his help to jump down from the stage, standing by his side. Try your best not to retreat when he leans down to kiss you in front of everyone. It’s not that you don’t want him to you; it just still feels somewhat surreal that he wants to, and does so, freely.

“We still hanging out at yours, Pansy?” John B wonders.

“Mhm. Empty house kids,” she grins. “Sides, we need to celebrate our new drummer who did a fucking awesome job tonight.”

As if on cue, Xander wanders across the stage from where they’d been hiding behind the drumkit. They grin down at everyone, their brow piercing catching the light of the restaurant and twinkling.

“You’re already killing it,” Kiara says.

“Yeah, way better than the last guy,” JJ adds.

You elbow him. The look that you flash him, however, tells him that you’re not mad.

Benny had quit the band not long after you and JJ became a thing. Things were already messy from the fight at the fair and the tone was forever changed. It was obvious that yourself and Pansy were honouree Pogues now and that if Benny couldn’t pull his head from out of his ass (Pansy’s words, not yours) then there’s no room for him in the band anymore. The two of you had talked about what went down. It was awkward and uncomfortable and painful, to look at someone who you once saw as an irreplaceable friend and now only recognise as a decent drummer. Benny confessed that staying in the band with you, knowing he couldn’t be with you, would be too painful. You refused to let yourself feel guilty. You wouldn’t change how things went down and selfishly, if it meant you got to keep your friends and JJ in your life, then Benny would have to slip through the cracks.

JJ’s arm slinging over your shoulder, tugging you closer to his chest, has you tuning back into the conversation again. You wrap an arm gently around his waist. His tee shirt smells of salt water and cheap cologne. It’s so wonderfully him that you have to keep from burying in it. It’s strange how a few months ago you’d almost come to peace with the fact that you’d maybe journey through life alone romantically, with nothing but good friends and music to accompany you, and now here you are, fitting so well under JJ’s hold that it’s like you were made to be there.

“So once she’s finished up there, her and a few of her friends are gonna come over. If that’s cool with you, Pansy,” Mike finishes saying. By ‘she’, he means his now official girlfriend, Tara.

“Of course! The more the merrier!”

You smile at your little group of friends. Slightly misfitting and far from what you’d expect, but perfect, nonetheless. Pansy and JJ’s effervescent energies; Kiara and Mike both laid back and argumentative at the same time; Xander’s stories that allotted perfectly with Pope’s; John B flitting in and out of conversations seamlessly, like a school of fish leisurely navigating through a sea of kelp and coral. And you, surrounded by so much love you don’t really know what to do with it.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Baby. JJ started calling you that a week after the moment on the hammock. You liked it, being someone’s baby. Being his baby.

“Mhm,” you smile up at him.

With that, you filter out the restaurant. You’d already agreed with Kiara’s dad that you’d tidy up the band stuff tomorrow morning, before opening. This was your fourth time playing there, so it was a well-made routine by now. Walking towards the cars, Kie steals you away to have you ride with herself, Pansy and Xander in the pick-up. The boys pile into the Twinkie and Mike has to duck his head hopelessly as he clambers in. Oh to be six-foot six. The conversation that comes between the four of you is light and easy, with anecdotes about school being tossed around like a volleyball on the beach. By the time you pull up to Pansy’s house, your chest aches from laughing. The guys pull up just moments later in the twinkie as you climb out the pick-up.

“You guys giving my girl laughing gas or something? She’s grinning like a mad man,” JJ hollers as he jumps out the van. 

“Just finally in the presence of someone who’s funny, is all,” Pansy jabs. Your friends ‘ooh’ in return.

JJ takes your hand and the lot of you climb up the stairs to Pansy’s house. There’s an unspoken agreement to hang out near the pool. People swipe up some beer and liquor and mixers on the way. Pansy connects to the speaker and you all relax into seats and loungers. Conversations carry from the cars to the garden like driftwood on the tide. JJ practically pulls you down to sit in his lap. An arm coils around your waist comfortingly.

“This okay, baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

Your skin prickles pleasantly. Baby.

“Mhm,” you nod, looking at him. He presses a kiss against your lips, fast and fleeting.

Then the two of you are accepting red solo-cups filled with beer and smiling into the chatter. JJ gets tangled up in some heated debate, leaning forward and energetically arguing his case through a grin. His arm tightens its hold on you, though never painfully so, whenever he does. For the most part, you’re content in listening along. Nodding and laughing. Whispering jokes into JJ’s ear that you don’t quite have the nerve to toss into the group, and basking in the laughter it draws from him.

When Tara does show up, ‘a few of her friends’ ends up being nearly ten people. They’re all nice enough, smiley with drinks in hand, but they’re also all buzzed and way more extroverted than you will ever be. The pitch of the conversation rises by about three notches. It’s harder to follow along with a conversation and harder still to sit in your blissful observation position on JJ’s lap. It seems Tara’s friends are hellbent on ‘including you’ in the conversation, but their way of doing so involves grilling you with questions. They’re not rude or invasive, but you don’t like being under so many eyes, waiting on what you have to say when you don’t really have much to say at all. Instinctively, you start drawing shapes on the back of JJ’s hand that’s resting on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure? Think you’re painting a Mozart on my hand there.”

“You mean Monet,” you say.

JJ rolls his eyes. Presses a kiss to your cheek. “Smart ass.”

There’s a roaring round of laughter. You sigh and try to ease the tension that’s forming in the back of your throat. It’s so dumb. These are your friends. You’ve met Tara before and she’s lovely. A little intimidating in a could-be-a-bikini-model-six-foot-four-long-perfect-hair way, but still lovely. Her friends aren’t mean Kooks. They’re all pretty chill. They seem to be meshing well with the rest of the Pogues, too. You catch Kiara’s eyes as you scan the conversation. She frowns the moment she lays eyes on you.

‘You okay?’ she mouths.

You nod. You don’t want to be a party pooper. Everyone’s having fun, including JJ.

He squeezes your thigh, grabbing your attention once more.

“Come on,” he says, moving to stand up. You frown but shift onto your feet, with JJ in tow.

“What’s up?”

“We’re going inside for a sec,” he tells you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I’m fine. Really.”

JJ looks down at you. Whilst his expression doesn’t exactly change, you get this feeling that his thoughts are ‘yeah, right.’

“Well, I wanna check out this Kook mansion and I need a tour guide,” he replies.

You smile at that, despite your efforts not to. Hands interlocked, you follow JJ out of the small gathering and into the kitchen. Flush like you’re on fire at the wolf-whistle John B sends your way when you do. In both your and JJ’s spare hands are your solo cups, half full of beer. There’s a pleasant hum to your thoughts, giving everything a colourful edge almost.

“You’ve been here before, remember,” you say to him as he guides you both through the empty house. It’s almost insulting that three people live here, at most.

“Well, I spent most of it in the bathroom so—”

“Oh! Really?”

He grins down at you and you laugh.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to spend it in the bathroom!”

“Mhm,” you grin, rolling your eyes. The two of you make your way up the stairs. Automatic lights flick on as you do.

“I’d rather spend the night sat with some cute Powerpuff girl than hang out with the loser Kooks downstairs,” JJ says. That has you flustered. You squeeze his hand.

“Shut up.”

“You did it again.”

“Shut up!”

JJ imitates you, shrivelling up under the compliment, and you laugh and swat at his arm. His lifelong mission to make you accept a compliment is one month in and currently unsuccessful. As you guys wander down the seemingly never-ending corridor, you remember something you and Pansy did once. With that thought, you take the lead, pulling JJ behind you as you guide the two of you into one of the may spare bedrooms. It smells a little musty, though nothing like a museum. It’s fresh must: like worn-down reed diffusers and fresh cotton that never got tainted. On the bed lies tons of winter clothes as if someone was halfway through clearing out a wardrobe.

“Where are you taking me?” JJ asks, humour light in his voice.

“To my secret spot.”

“Ooh.”

“Ooh,” you echo teasingly, flashing a smile at him over your shoulder.

Handing your cup to JJ, you pull the window open and glance out, checking you have the right room. There’s the extension’s roof, underneath, solid as a rock. Smiling, you gesture your head for him to follow and then you’re climbing onto the roof. JJ chuckles a little.

“Didn’t know I was dating spiderman, but okay.”

“You can’t tell anyone my secret identity,” you joke in reply.

You’re watching where you’re placing your feet, checking your balance. Holding out your hand for your beer, JJ passes over the cup then grunts as he clambers out to join you. The two of you settle on the roof top. It’s a starry night tonight. The universe seems as though it may stretch on for miles. Countless sparkles of light illuminate above you, basking in the absence of light pollution.

“Woah.”

“I know, right?” you smile.

JJ grins up at the sky, captured in awe. It’s adorable how boyish and young he seems when he does. Some things that mother nature does can stop anyone in their tracks: young and old, fat and thin, rich and poor. Beauty doesn’t have limits. You would know, looking at one of the most beautiful things on the planet, right before your eyes. Dirty-blonde hair brightened by natural highlights from too many hours on the water, under the sun. Crinkles by the eyes that never quite go, even when he isn’t smiling. A jawline taken from a sketchbook and a smile that can make someone fold at the knees and swoon at the heart. You take to admiring your boyfriend the same way he admires the stars.

If you told childhood you that you were now sat on top of Pansy’s roof with your school-long crush, sipping beer and watching stars, you’d send her to A&E for a stroke.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, not drawing his eyes from the view above.

“So?”

“So,” he smiles.

“You’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to stare, aren’t I?”

JJ’s smile takes on a little edge, like he’s proud. He glances down at you. “Like how that sounds. ‘Boyfriend’.”

You flush. “I mean, you are, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I?” he teases.

You roll your eyes and gently shove his shoulder. JJ laughs. The sound makes you smile, like a reflex.

“Shut up.”

“Might start taking a shot for every time you say that to me.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, because you can’t think of something else to say.

JJ guffaws. He slinks an arm around your waist and tugs you nearer to his side. You rest your head against his collar bone with a sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you eventually say into the almost-silence. There’s the carrying sound of your friends’ chatter from below, managing its way up to the roof.

“Of course I am,” he says, teasing worn down. “Come on – thought we made that happen on the hammock.”

“Well, so did I, but we never officially said anything,” you quietly tell him.

JJ swallows. He knows what you mean. It’s impossible not to. That day went from being one of the best, to one of the worst, to one of the best days of your life. Things were left unsaid from it but things changed, nonetheless. The spot next to JJ was reserved for you; his texts became more flirtatious, more sweet, more sensitive; the two of you would kiss, whenever and wherever (something that you still can’t quite get used to); and you and JJ would spend time together with nobody else around. The ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ thing felt pointless. The ‘I love you’ thing, however, felt a little less right being left untouched.

“I gotta tell you something,” JJ says. He shifts so the two of you can meet the other’s gaze. You swallow down the nerves.

“Don’t tell me: you’ve got the clap,” you deadpan.

JJ smiles. He laughs silently, shaking his head. You still can’t believe he finds you funny. That he wants to hear your jokes more than anyone else’s.

“Not quite.”

“Gonorrhoea?”

“Shut up,” he sniggers, shaking his head.

You point a finger at him, grinning. “Aha! You said the thing!”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?”

“Nothing’s impossible if you just believe in yourself,” you hum, perhaps a little more drunk than you thought. Maybe that’s just him though. JJ tends to have that effect on you.

The only way it seems that JJ can think of shutting you up is to kiss you. You smile, slipping your hand over his atop of the grainy fabric of the roof tiles. Kissing JJ is like seeing a supernova: impossible to describe; faultless and insurmountably beautiful.

“What I was trying to tell you,” JJ says the moment his lips break from yours. Then, another kiss. “Is that” – another kiss – “I love you.”

You break apart with that, falling short of breath. You slowly open your eyes. Glance up to his, near reluctant. Wait for his jeer down to his friends or the punchline to follow, because surely – surely, he doesn’t. Could he? He’d sort of said it on the hammock, but when you pushed, he pulled away, and it made you wonder if you misinterpreted it. There’s a difference between having a thing for the quiet, weird girl and being in love with her.

Maybe all of these thoughts read easy on your face, because JJ’s half-smiling, half-frowning, and thumbing at your cheek.

“I mean it,” he quietly affirms. “I’m in love with you.”

“How do you even know that?” you whisper.

JJ smiles fully now. He shrugs. “I just do. I just…I don’t know. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I didn’t even know it.”

“Everything?”

Your quietness? Your weird sense of humour? Your awkward punchlines? Your baking? Your crocheting? Your music? Your singing? Your body? Your figure? Your face? Your smile? Your voice? Your brain?

“Everything,” he nods reassuringly.

Kisses you once more, firm and fierce, and you kiss him back. That familiar zip chimes up and down your body, lighting up your neurons and firing away at your synapses. Being told by JJ Maybank that he loves you feels akin to Gabriel declaring to Mary that she was chosen. That you’re special, and beautiful, and maybe somehow sexy. That you’re talented and wanted and funny – he thinks you’re funny. He’s taken the time to know you and to understand you. He waited for you and you waited for him. And now, here, it’s like he’s the king of your heart. Maybe you ought to crown him for showing you these colours of the world and for teaching you the language of his tongue. For changing your life in every way a person probably can.

There’s only one type of crown you can think to give.  

“I love you too, JJ.”

Thanks for 300 followers everyone &lt;;3

[bogunicorn]

i'm bored so it's time to throw rocks*, here are the types of reality tv/game shows i think the inquisition companions would watch

cassandra would watch one of those romance ones, like too hot to handle or love is blind, and get really, really invested. she's active on the reddits for her favorite shows. all of the cheesy, painfully heterosexual-but-strangely-sanitized reality TV horniness works well on her, she's the intended audience 100%. she's genuinely sad about it when couples break up after the show ends.

varric likes interpersonal dramas and gossip and backstabbing, he watches the vh1 dating shows. he knows most of it is fake, but that's what he likes about it, and he appreciates the classics. anything with "of love" in it, he loves it, he's there. he thinks newer shows work too hard to convince people they're actually real because he thinks embracing the fakeness makes it more fun.

solas has been watching reality tv since the OG: survivor. he's seen every season. he has very strong opinions about play strategies and a personal ranking of the best players of all time just ready to go if you just ask. he's convinced he would win if he was on it, but deep deep down he knows he would never get the votes to win at the end because he'd be seen as a villain and won't apply.

vivienne thinks she's above this kind of garbage tv, but she actually really likes the masked singer. she's pretty good at guessing the celebrities, but she doesn't put much effort into guessing after a point. she's in it entirely to relax and quietly fantasize about being on it herself, because so much of her life is about playing games of intrigue and survival and perception. she records the episodes and skips most of the judging because she doesn't think the judges are funny and gets annoyed when they make stupid guesses.

sera likes the obstacle course-type shows like wipeout and the floor is lava. anything where people have to come up with creative solutions and also might get hit with a giant thing made of foam and get smacked around like a rag doll. sera has been trying to convince people to team up with her and apply for this type of show for ages and it never works out. she also likes the really weird off-brand ones that only ever get one season, like who wants to be a superhero or opposite worlds.

blackwall likes the circle. he always quietly roots for the catfish. no reason.

iron bull is a drag race superfan. come on, one of them had to be. he's been watching since the season 1 vaseline filter days. he approaches each new season with the masculine seriousness of a suburban dad planning a fantasy sports lineup and correctly predicts every winner three episodes in. he would absolutely volunteer for a makeover episode if he could. his favorite queens are usually the pageant queens; he likes the sparkly ones, and the pageant queens always end up covered in rhinestones.

dorian loves innovation and being judgy, so he loves shark tank and anything similar. he enjoys episodes with absolutely terrible inventions just as much as the good ones, and is the kind of viewer who actually will go ahead and buy something he saw on the show -- including the really stupid ones, because he gives them to his friends as joke gifts.

cole watches those shows that are equal parts talent competition and sappy backstories, like american idol, x-factor, the voice, stuff like that. he always cries a little when someone does a ballad. he never votes because he can never decide who deserves to win the most, and he doesn't watch the results shows because they make him too sad.

cullen watches HGTV and gets belligerent if you point out that house hunters is fake. unclear if that's because he thinks you're being a wet blanket or because it was news to him and he doesn't want to admit it.

josephine likes strategy and competition, but the grime, physical danger, and "eat this gross thing" challenges of survivor aren't fun to her. instead, she's really into big brother. josephine is convinced that she would win big brother if she was ever on it, and she's correct, but she can't take the time off work.

leliana is an OG ANTM fan. she'll dabble in other shows that center on makeup and fashion, but she always ends up going back to the classics and the older seasons, as she feels like the current era of ANTM is too gimmicky and self-aware. the human rights violations are allowed if they make good TV.

*this is for fun don't actually throw things at me please

**also if you like this and think "i'm gonna give this fine person a follow because they're so funny about dragon age", i made a new DA sideblog at @skyholdstarbucks where i'd post anything similar to this in the future

[seat-safety-switch]

Learning about the world is the sole reason for human existence. We're given this glorious puzzle box when we're born, and we need to figure out as much of it as we can before we kick off. To satisfy this purpose, humanity has developed a whole shedload of cool specialty tools.

Hundreds of years ago, there were a lot fewer tools. You didn't have to know so much, and the chance that you would invent the electromagnet, or discover a new kind of onion, was pretty good. Now, there's still lots of things we haven't figured out, but because it hasn't happened yet, we don't know what they will be. Did that make sense? What I am trying to say is: you need to buy some more tools, because the best kind of tools are the tools that make tools. Took me long enough to get to the point, right?

When you're a teenager, you might think that you're hot stuff figuring out the two-wrenches trick. As an adult, you teach yourself to MIG together two chunks of iron, and then build terrifying race cars. You still have a lot of money, space, and time to get to the point where you're running half of an industrial machining operation just to turn down an oil filter socket so that it fits over your friend's aftermarket valve cover. Such is a life well spent.

Head on out to the garage right now and figure out what tool you're missing. Maybe you can invent it yourself, and then it will forever be named after you. Just let me have a free one, so I can put it on the shelf with all the other specialty tools that I won't use instead of a hammer and profanity.