#I think in the beginning dream would try to tone himself down because he’s scared to chase hob away bc look at what happened to his other

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

[haespoir]

try again: ldh.

never not, pt 2!

⨯ pairing: ex!haechan x reader

⨯ word count: 1.4k 

⨯ summary: sleeping with your ex wasn't the best idea when you're too much of a coward to face him after. thankfully, haechan's anger seems to be enough courage for the both of you.

⨯ warnings: uhmmm no content warnings that i can think of... fluff n angst is all i've got.. haechan is desperate and reader gives in easily... just like me fr

⨯ playlist: try again, jaehyun / clementine, grantperez / wayo, bang yedam / universe, thuy 

⨯ extra content: part one

⨯ a/n: finally... part two is here!!! i hope you guys enjoy it.. i wanted to include more angst... but i couldn't do it. feedback is always greatly appreciated 🩵

. . .

Waking up to an empty bed has Haechan livid, like absolutely enraged. No one could calm the male down, not that they even wanted to try. It was an unspoken rule to just let Haechan feel his emotions; the male felt everything so intensely that it was useless to even attempt to help. 

He couldn’t believe it. If there weren’t bruises scattered along his neck, he would have believed it was some horribly fucked up dream. It was so cruel of you to leave him like this. Even if he had more than a few drinks the night before, he was honest and true in his intentions of wanting to talk. Maybe somewhere along the way the execution was messed up, but he was determined. 

Which is why he gives himself time to cool off. Barging into your apartment when he was seeing red was not a wise decision, he knew that much at least. Haechan was not the same immature kid he was when you guys began dating, and he wanted to prove that to you. 

He did. 

He really did. 

But old habits die hard. 

haechan [1:05 pm]: i gave you three hours since i’ve woken up  haechan [1:05 pm]: answer the damn phone  haechan [1:05 pm]: you’re not getting off the hook that easily haechan [1:30 pm]: don’t leave me on read  haechan [1:30 pm]: i know where you live  you [1:31 pm]: is that a threat?  haechan [1:32 pm]: it doesn’t have to be  haechan [1:32 pm]: talk to me haechan [1:32 pm]: please  you [1:36 pm]: tomorrow  haechan [1:39 pm]: not a fucking chance  haechan [1:40 pm]: i'm coming over you [1:50 pm]: the code is the same

You weren’t sure how you were going to prepare for this one. The walk of shame out of Haechan’s room was already enough emotional torment for the day. You weren’t ready to face him. You couldn’t think of a single excuse, and you knew Haechan was ready to eat you alive. 

Before you can even stop it, the tears begin to pool. You don’t even attempt to fight it as you sit on your couch, the tears rapidly decorating your cheeks. How did you tell your first love that you were a coward? How did you tell him that you loved him so intensely it scared you? At some point during your first year of college, you had begun to spiral when every icebreaker in a class involved Haechan. 

What do you like doing? 

Hmm, you usually watched your boyfriend's game with his friends.

Who’s your closest friend? 

Oh easy, Haechan. 

Girls night? 

Sorry, you were hanging out with Haechan. 

Being so dependent on him was terrifying, but you knew that you couldn’t stop. So you had to cut him off; there were probably better ways to go about it, but you didn’t give it much thought. 

It was so unfair to him. 

You can’t even begin to fall down that rabbit hole because there’s a sudden pressure on the couch next to you. Haechan was faster than you thought; in fact, it was probably a record speed for Haechan to arrive somewhere. He was someone who enjoyed being fashionably late, anything to make a grand entrance. However, for once, he decides to enter quietly. After all, the fact that the code to your apartment was still his birthday was something that he hoped had more meaning than just being a memorable set of numbers. 

“Why are you crying?” You flinch visibly at his tone. You remind yourself that you did this to yourself. Haechan had months of pent-up frustration, and you were prepared to take the entire thing. 

That was a lie, by the way. 

Because you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. “Do you want a snack? I bought some clementines recently.” You’re deflecting; you both know it. Without giving him a chance to even reply, you rush to the kitchenette in your studio apartment. Once you’re far enough, you steal a glance at Haechan. 

Seeing him spread on your couch like that squeezed your heart in ways you could not describe. He looked like he belonged there, like there was no place in the world better than your couch in your small apartment for him to be. Even now when you feared that this would turn into a screaming match and that you both would be left with a hurting heart once again, you knew that you would always love the man who sat in your living room. 

He was your universe, your everything. The fact that two years had gone by did not change the connection between you two. It was like you had never left his side; you were his perfect puzzle piece. 

And you prayed, as you gathered a few clementines and a plate, that you hadn’t ruined it completely. 

Once you’re seated next to him again, you allow yourself the small distraction of peeling the citrus for him. Without realizing it, you’re both sitting in silence; you’re peeling the small fruit and handing each piece to Haechan. It’s like you’ve fallen into a familiar routine. He takes each piece of fruit without much thought, savoring the tart flavor. He swears it tastes best when you’re peeling it for him, even going as far as to remove the pith for him. He always complained that the small strings were too bitter. Someone as sweet as him shouldn’t be eating it, you used to say. 

Unknowingly, Haechan’s anger seems to disappear as the nostalgia creeping through his body appears. After all, he was always him when he was with you. 

“Why did you do it?” His voice is small when he speaks as if eating had drained him of all the anger coursing through his veins. 

“I had to. You consumed my every waking thought,” you reply, feeling the tears beginning to well up. “It’s such a shitty excuse, I know. But I should not be in my general ed classes thinking of marrying my high school sweetheart.” Your attempt at a joke is poor because it’s true. That was something you both knew; there were many nights where you two had laid in his bed, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you discussed married life. 

But when you realized just how deep you were, you became scared. Terrified. It was so overwhelming to be in love with someone like Donghyuck. The fear of the unknown had beaten you down. 

“That’s so unfair, and you know it,” he says in disbelief. So he was right last night. “I had spent so many months thinking I did something wrong; that there was something wrong with me. You made me think I was unlovable.” 

Your heart breaks into a million pieces at his words. Had you done that to him? How could he even look at you right now? 

“Oh, Hyuck,” you sniffled, letting his nickname slip into your vocabulary as if it had never left. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your hands are cupping his face, wiping the tears that spilled from his eyes. Your fingers smelled of citrus as you wiped his tears. At that moment, your love was an offering of your soul and sincerity, an act that spoke volumes to him. “Forgive me,” it declared, “I love you so dearly.” 

“That has never been the case. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t fallen in love with you at least once in their life.” You can only hope your sincerity reaches him.  

“Well, there’s Renjun…” You roll your eyes at his attempt to be humorous, feeling a bit better knowing that whatever was going on in his head wasn’t bad enough for him to not crack a joke. 

Without a word, Haechan is wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his head into your shoulder. “What about you?” he murmurs. “How many times have you fallen in love with me?” 

You chew your lip, not fighting your instinct when your hands go to his hair. “I don’t think I could count,” you say. “I fall in love with you every day.” 

“Even now?” 

You hum, pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head. “Even now.” 

That seems to satisfy him. Quickly, he’s pushing onto the couch, the plate of citrus quickly forgotten as he cuddles into your side. “We’ll be alright, right?” It’s a question, but you think it’s more for him than it is for you. You hum again, intertwining your fingers with his. “I want to try again.” 

This time you don’t fight it. After all, you were his clementine. His inevitable lover. 

[biscuitbox23]

“I’m alright on the other side, what about you?”

Summary: After your death, Daryl starts to lose his mind. He hallucinates about you in the woods, taunting him. well, that's what he thinks.

Author’s Note: I had to admit, I almost cried while proofreading this, not because the story is sad but because of the amount of grammar mistakes (I have a love/hate relationship with Grammarly).

warnings: mentions of character death, violence, typically angst shit.

Word count: 1.1k

Daryl's heart ached with a fierce longing for you. He spent countless nights consumed by anger and bargaining with fate, but nothing could ease the pain of your absence. The emptiness he felt inside was all-encompassing, and he knew that only you could have offered him any measure of solace.

He kept blaming himself for it every day despite your recklessness. You were torn at the hip by a walker and had to go through the hell of letting the blood flow and allowing the horde of walkers to rip through your body. Daryl tried his best to keep you alive.

He walked through the woods, away from the prison for now. It was quiet, other than the occasional squeaks of squirrels and rustles of the wind. Your death was recent, and it had an enormous impact on him. You were the type of person who feared death, so you did what you could to survive. You didn't want to give up because you were scared. He acted like a knight saving a fallen princess. It was ill-fated from the start.

You had met Daryl and his brother at the beginning of the camp when the situation was unfolding. Despite Daryl's rude attitude and his brother's questionable behavior, you always checked in on them. Making sure they were doing well. However, as the world around them crumbled, things started to change. Daryl's brother disappeared, and now you were gone too. For Daryl, his world had crumbled beneath his feet, leaving him lost in a sea of chaos and despair. Even so, you were always there for him, always willing to offer a helping hand or a kind word. You even helped him find Sophia, not because you wanted anything in return, but simply because it was the right thing to do.

But there was a saying, 'If you're a good person, you die out there.' 

You were good enough to try and get him a way to escape on one run. The only thing is, you had no other way out. The best you could do was look at him with a deep sigh. The look on your face still haunts his dreams.

You left with acceptance. You didn't beg for your life at that point. It was just a sigh of acceptance, knowing there would be no way out. Back in camp, when things went wrong, you were like a scared little mouse that Daryl had to save your ass almost all the time. And it was okay for him. 

"Still sulking over me?" You chuckled smugly.

Daryl felt himself jolt up from the ground. Your voice echoes through the woods. as if you were still there, sharing a cigarette with him like it always was. He enjoyed your company, and he needed it more now.

"Y/n?" Daryl breathed out. 

"Hey, Dare," You puffed out smoke from your lungs as you leaned on a tree, "Guess you get a little jumpy now, huh?" The cigarette hung between your middle and pointer finger, tapping the small paper-wrapped intoxicant with your thumb to let some ash out. The ash trickled down like snow to the ground.

Daryl doesn't respond, just watching you look around at the trees as you lean back to the tree. Your eyes met him, a big grin forming on your face.

"Come on, you used to talk to me a lot. What's bothering you?" You looked at him with a chilled-out smile.

"Nothin' just missed you..." Daryl said, his voice hoarse and husky.

"I missed you too, Dare," You chuckled, "at least you were the last person I saw when I died..." You shrugged sheepishly. Your tone was casual, almost as if you weren't terrified anymore. 

"Don't..." Daryl sighed deeply, "Don't remind me... please."

"Well, you gotta live with it," You scoffed, now on a tree trunk, taking a sip of a beer. Every time Daryl looked away, you started moving from one place to another, "live to fight another day, Daryl."

"You're the one who killed yourself to save me," Daryl spat as you looked over at him lazily.

"I didn't kill myself, Daryl. I sacrificed myself," You smiled, sitting on a log now. You held onto a leaf, examining the intricacy of nature. Your clothes changed too. You wore an orange-shaded striped sweater and jorts, like when he first saw you.

"No, you didn't. You killed yourself. You do not even know how long I have left," Daryl shook his head, feeling himself starting to lose it a little.

"Don't say that," you rolled your eyes.

"I have every right to. You were stupid to do that and sacrifice yourself for me," Daryl sighed deeply.

"I had no choice. There was nowhere to run," you said sheepishly.

"It could've been me in there, don't you think?" Daryl spat his tone with rage and anger.

"No, but you can protect yourself," you shrugged as if you weren't bothered. "I can't, but you got Judith's formula, didn't you?"

There was an eerie, long pause. 

"It's okay, Daryl," your tone became gentler, more reassuring, "you can't save everyone, and that's okay."

You went over to him and hugged him from behind. He refused to look at you, knowing that once he looks at you, all he sees is his imagination. Despite his desperation to forgive himself and the longing for acceptance of your death, his mind can't help but think of you.

"I liked the way you cook squirrel," you smiled softly, hugging him tighter, "It tastes nice..." 

Bringing up the small memory made Daryl feel his heart sink. 

"you're not real, are you?" He asked as he looked at your arms wrapped around his waist. His hand reaches to your fingers, feeling your soft, cold flesh. Similar to when somebody dies in the hospital, their body becomes frigid as ice.

"I am," you console him, resting your cheek on his broad back and the leather bracing half of your face, "I'm living on the other side, Daryl."

"Is it nice there?" Daryl asks quietly, feeling his eyes tear up. He took a small halt but continued, "The other side?"

"Yeah, it's nice..." You nodded, "I'm alright on the other side. What about you?"

"I guess it's alright, too," Daryl's smile formed on his lips.

Knowing that you're happy somewhere brought him ease. It gave him a chance to move on calmly. That was when he opened his eyes, finally seeing you nowhere in the woods. A hallucination in which Daryl managed to move on. Walking back to the prison to finally let go of the burden of you.

———————————————————————

tag list:@richardsamboramylove55

A/n: Hello everyone! Yes I have brought you another tear jerker (i think). I have to admit I wasn’t really attracted to Daryl Dixon when I first saw him I started shipping him with Carol 😭 but anyways, I watched the Judas music video and OML he is so fine. Thank you lady Gaga for giving me the motivation to write about him ❤️

[pokopippitypop]

Eddie needs a break.

Shitty pop music has been blasting in his eardrums for the better half of the night and if he had to listen to one more preppy asshole try to talk him into giving them a discount, he was going to go rabid and bite someone.

The second it seems there was no one scowling at him or watching him in any way, Eddie packs up his tin box and slinks out of the kitchen and closer to the front of the house, where he'd previously passed the staircase. God, he didn't even know whose stupid house this was but the decor had been pissing him off all night. Upstairs was no better, just white walls and scratchy beige carpet. Eddie takes a moment to consider the ugliest painting of an empty vase he's ever seen. Who the actual fuck would want to look at this? The music is still dully thudding in his brain as he lurks deeper into the upstairs of the house and down an unlit hallway. He could finally breathe up here, no flashing lights or droning music or stuck-up rich kids, just a nice dark corridor, maybe there was even a bathroom up here he could smoke in for a minute. Just a short break, one more round for potential buyers and then he's outta here, he tells himself. Eddie surveys the selection of doors before him, trying to determine which would most likely be a bathroom and settles on the end one that's been left slightly ajar. 

Eddie's jaw all but drops when he gently pushes the door fully open. Not a bathroom and also most definitely not empty. There are two boys pressed together, leaning up against the room's desk and very much making out. Eddie blanks for a moment, far too caught up in being suddenly treated with the vision of strong hands sliding up under the back of one of the guys shirt and the soft, breathy sounds they're making together and- for fuck's sake this really isn't a safe place for these two idiots, the door wasn't even shut!

"Dudes-" the two jolt apart and Eddie's next words die in his throat as his brain decides to absolutely fry itself because holy shit, holy fucking shit that was Steve motherfucking Harrington now glaring at him with dark, startled eyes and wet, red lips. What the actual fever dream was going on here? The other boy just bolts, head down as he brushes past Eddie. Eddie doesn't even turn to look at him, just stands in the doorway clutching his tin and gaping at The Steve Harrington and having not a single clue how this situation is supposed to go. Before Eddie can even begin to think of anything to say or do Steve pulls himself to his full height and is dragging Eddie by the collar of his jacket into the room. Steve slams Eddie up against the wall, his forearm pinned across Eddie's chest almost painfully. 

"The fuck are you doing, Munson? Creeping around my house, like the little freak you are. You didn't fucking see anything, got it?" Steve demands sharply, "no one'll believe you anyway but if I hear you've been running that big mouth of yours, I'll ruin you, yeah?" Steve jerks Eddie against the wall roughly. "Got it?" He scowls meanly, waiting for an answer. 

Eddie just looks at Steve, can feel his pulse hammering against his chest. His eyes, although dark and angry are too frantic, too pleading for Eddie to take his threats at a surface level. Eddie knows the feeling, the terror of being found out. He can see it in Steve's face now. He's more scared than anything, fear blatantly etched into his expression, the snarling anger very thinly hiding the fact that Steve Harrington was terrified. 

“Steve, hey, Steve it’s okay, I'm not gonna tell anyone. I promise, it’s cool, man," Eddie starts softly, still trying to push aside his shock at the situation. "I’m uh well come on surely you know about me,” Eddie fixes him with a titled little smile, trying for a playful, calming tone, “I’m gay too, dumbass." 

Eddie watches as Steve seems to calm down a little and properly assess who he's talking to. His hand against Eddie's collar twitches and he seems to be deep in thought for a moment before looking back down at Eddie, his eyes having lost their desperate edge. Steve lets out a breath, pushing back from Eddie slightly, “I’m not gay.”

Eddie can't help but to snort, “I dunno man, kissing boys at parties is pretty gay, Steve.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Steve snaps, releasing Eddie with a pissy little shove, but there's no real bite in his voice anymore. 

“Uh huh, sureee oh! and if you ever wanna casually make out with a boy, you know, in a very straight way, let me know yeah?” Eddie offers just to rile him up. 

“No, Eddie, I’m bisexual.”

Eddie pauses and stares at Steve, not even trying to not seem fully surprised. Steve is just watching him expectantly with a mildly annoyed yet unsettlingly genuine expression. Eddie just blinks at him dumbly before taking on his favourite shit eating grin. 

“That’s a big word for you, Harrington. Congratulations.”

Steve rolls his eyes, his defensive stance melting away into a hand on his hip as he moves away to lean against the desk again. “Jesus Christ, you're a real little shit, aren't you?” He scoffs, very obviously trying not to smile and God, if that doesn't just simultaneously kill all of Eddie's brain cells. Eddie is back to staring at Steve blankly, taking in his messed up hair and the way it droops softly over his face, the way the denim of his jeans sits oh so snugly against his hips, how the sleeves of his stupid polo shirt cut across the muscle of his biceps, the shadow of his eyelashes, how stupidly pretty his eyes are. Eddie is suddenly being confronted by many thoughts and possibilities that he would never have even dreamed of including Steve Harrington in. It had been so outside of Eddie's bounds of reality that he hadn't even fantasized about this, but dear God the floodgates were open now. 

“Well, uh my offer still stands.” Eddie cringes at his own voice, scolding himself for practically throwing himself at goddamn Steve Harrington of all people. 

Steve smiles at him, his eyes flicking over Eddie and holy shit, holy fucking shit Eddie was well and truly fucked. 

“Uh huh, and was that the offer to make out with you in a straight way?” He asks sarcastically, with his prissy little smirk. 

Eddie just shrugs, totally chill and feeling incredibly normal and sane about this situation, “or in a gay way, I’m not too picky.”

Steve eyes him with a wide smile, “Oh, so you’re easy, are you?”

“Steve Harrington!” Eddie gasps dramatically, a hand over his heart, “I am not! You gotta at least buy me dinner first, sweetheart." Eddie knows he’s lying out loud, he would sleep with Steve at the drop of a hat. From the look on Steve’s face, he knows this too.

Steve's looking at him with lingering eyes and this devilish little grin, "I'm sure I could manage that," he muses. 

Eddie must have some insane automatic cockblock protocol installed in his brain though because just when Steve is looking at him like he could eat him alive Eddie blurts out, "you should go find your friend, your boy, uh that guy that- ya know, he's probably freaking out, man but I didn't see who it was, so, tell him not to worry." Eddie finishes his reel with what he can actually, physically feel in an awkward smile.

Steve's hungry expression drops into something soft and affectionate and, nope that's somehow worse. Eddie's stomach goes all fluttery because now Steve Harrington is truly just looking at him. He breaks out into this cute little, appreciative smile, head tilted as he considers Eddie for a moment. Steve runs a hand over his face, and Eddie mourns every second he can no longer see that smile. Steve finally sighs and stands up from leaning on the desk, glancing at the door, "Yeah, shit, you're right, I don't want him getting all paranoid." 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees lamely.

Steve doesn’t make a move to leave though, looking back at Eddie and shifting awkwardly, “uh, sorry for threatening you and shit, man, I was just... you know.” He makes a lame hand gesture in the place of elaborating.

“Nah man, I get it, you’re all good, just close the fucking door next time, better yet, lock it. For fuck’s sake you gotta be careful with this Steve.” Eddie scolds lightly.

Steve signs and looks to the floor, “yeah, I know.” Steve just nods once, easily dismissing the topic. He looks back up and finally moves to the door, pausing to give Eddie one last famous Harrington grin. “I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” Steve practically promises, like it’s a request rather than a simple goodbye, before slipping out into the hallway.

Eddie stands there for several minutes, gaping at the empty space Steve had just left, wondering if he was going to wake up tomorrow morning and find out this was all some convoluted wet dream.

//

hi hi :) might add to this (might not)

[nct-charlee]

Haechan + Charlee (HaeLee)

“It’s the best we could come up with…Haelee.”

masterlist // NCT DREAM

(korean, english)

warning: just one bullet talking about religion (off screen)

WC:

First Meeting

“For obvious reasons, Lotte hated me. The first words I said were ‘Are you sure know your way around here?’ ”

Charlotte was trying to find her way around the company…more specifically trying to find the cafeteria

It was the first time she had ever been on this side of the building, she swears up and down that she knew where she was going (just maybe not from where she was)

She was just looking around, praying she would at least find some type of landmark that she recognized….sadly that landmark was none other than Lee Donghyuck

“Are you new or something?” Donghyuck asked leaning against the wall slightly tilting his head

Charlotte slightly shook her head, beginning to explain where she was trying to go

“It’s my first time on this side. I’m trying to find the um- cafeteria?” She couldn’t remember the right word and said ‘cafeteria’ in english

“Are you sure you know your way around here?” He pushed himself off the wall, “I don’t know about ‘cafeteria’ but I can show you were the cafeteria is.” He had made an action like he was eating something then pointed down the hall

Charlotte stayed quiet and just nodded her head, following him

Not before long Donghyuck had started asking questions, “What’s your name? How long have you been here? Do you even know who I am?”

“Lee Chaewon, Not very long, and of course. Now, do you ever shut up?”

“I am so shocked I actually listened, I think I should’ve known then she would’ve been the boss.” (all the boys agree while laughing hard. Charlee scoffs)

Fan Favorite Moment

During the rooftop fight, while everyone is trying to teach Jisung how to open the champagne bottle, Charlee is seen backing up away from the table. Trying to get away scared

When Haechan realizes what she’s doing he voices a loud “Yah! Where are you going Charlee?”

Charlee flashes him a deadly glare

“Watch your tone Donghyuck”

“Yes ma’am”

Charlee ends up back to her seat and stands behind her chair, using it as a shield

While Jisung is still calling for his parents and not opening the bottle, both Haechan and Charlee scream

“HURRY UP!”

On Screen

“Haelee was the best we could come up with…Sorry.”

Popularity: 6/10

Nicknames: Lotte, Chaewonie, ChaeChar, Lee-Meyers, “Tom”

It’s funny because as much as Haechan loves to play pranks and make fun of her, he knows his limits

Mark says they’ve all learned to say ‘Yes ma’am’ in english whenever she’s annoyed with them or she gives them the look (CharTea ep. 2)

Haechan is probably the person that says it the most

When he says something and Charlee gives him a look or even calling him by his real name he shuts up and sits down saying ‘Yes ma’am’

LOVES himself Charlee. Hugs, attempted kisses, hand holding. everything AND ANYTHING

Charlee is very resistant of his rizz (no she isn’t, she giggles and twirls her hair)

Off Screen

Charlotte LIVES for annoying him

“Awhhh Hyukieeee~”

They’re both the oldest of their families so once again it’s hilarious that they both jokingly baby each other

Charlotte also lives for his hugs, as much as she hates them on screen

They’re both Christian and years ago they went to a sunday service together. Nowadays they don’t really have the time

One of the first tattoos she had gotten was dedicated to 8dream, each member had a little doodle she drew that reminded her of them

His was a teddy bear with a bow that had the initials ‘l.d.h.’

[pearlsandpemberly]

in here alone, together - klance

Summary:

Space is vast and mostly empty, so much so that getting lost is easy. The universe keeps expanding and Lance gets further away from home with each passing second. The thing keeping him in orbit is the man with a mullet at the centre of his own universe. Or: a quiet night filled with want, desire, and restraint.

Inspired by this art: https://www.tumblr.com/midnightlie/190896795129/blue?source=share

Genre: Romantic Fluff, Falling in Love

POV: Third Person

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51493681

Note: I miss them sometimes <3

He starts with a quiet gasp, a short sharp intake of breath as Lance’s eyes fly open to see nothing. The darkness overwhelms his senses and he sits up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk as he waits for his vision to adjust, taking time to steady his breathing and not disturb the boy next to him.

In time, the soft blue glow of the ship’s corridor lighting makes itself known through the small strip at the base of the door – a design flaw that surely would not save the paladins should the ship breach – and Lance begins to make out the outline of his hands clutching the mattress as well as his legs and bare feet. The details remain unfocused and Lance doesn’t try to make them out, moving his hand to rest on his chest. His heart thuds at a steady rate but he waits, anticipating its halting or taking off away from him – vivid colours and sounds echo around in his mind, the remnants of his dreams reluctant to leave him.

The whirring of the castle thrums through each room, its slow steady movement unnoticeable to its inhabitants. Their enemies and allies are planets and galaxies away, but they still exist in the minds of the brave paladins and are most prominent in the awake paladin. Lance’s nails dig into his chest, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor beneath him as the images of friends and foes dance around his head.

The dancing ceases when fingers make purchase on the hem of Lance’s shirt, skin grazing his back – Lance shudders, welcome to it.

 “You’re awake.”

Keith’s words are quiet, barely puncturing the silence. Lance’s response is quieter, his hum vibrating in his throat. The other paladin keeps his fingers slightly twisted in the cotton but makes no other movements, though Lance can feel his eyes boring into his back. The air thickens and he finds himself swallowing, trying not to choke.

The two so often find themselves at each other’s throats, exchanging harsh words and insults – even as they had learned to work better as a team, interactions between them are not without light teasing or mockery, Lance’s mouth turned up at the corners with smugness and Keith’s eyebrows furrowed with irritation. So, it came as a shock to Lance to find out that, when alone, he cannot find the words to say and that so-quick-to-anger Keith softens his tongue and intensifies his expression in a manner that both excites and scares Lance. When alone, their conversations were civil, then they became personal, and now…

Now they are this. And here Lance is, in Keith’s quarters for the umpteenth time, something he can no longer claim is an accident because it isn’t and it hasn’t been for a long while.

The mattress shifts behind him and a gentle breath fans on the back of Lance’s neck. One of Keith’s fingers traces a small circle on his back over his shirt, and he represses another quiver of anticipation.

 “How dangerous,” Keith murmurs with no bite. “You’re thinking.”

 “I know,” Lance replies, eyes fluttering shut. “Sorry.”

Keith’s hand disappears and Lance instantly wants to complain, but he stays silent – until he feels a feather-light touch where his neck meets the curve of his shoulder. The squeak that escapes him is embarrassing, but Keith doesn’t laugh.

 “Don’t apologise – let’s lie back down. You need to sleep.”

The low pitch and smooth tone of Keith’s voice combined with the pads of his fingers brushing against him fills Lance with a heat that threatens to overcome him, but he refuses to bolt – too many times had he left before anything could occur, and Lance is tired of running.

So, the two manoeuvre themselves so they’re both laid back on the mattress, the width made for one only allowing so much space between them. Lance lies on his back and Keith balances on his side, body facing Lance, eyes never leaving his face. Lance has to clasp his hands together to hide how they are trembling, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, unable to bring himself to look at Keith. His will is trying to run away from him and he isn’t quite sure if he’s ready to surrender himself to it, especially when Keith is looking at him like that.

Keith Kogane has always been intense: at first, Lance thought it was a stuck-up nature combined with a myriad of anger issues and all around dickishness. Though Lance could be brash with his words, they were quick and constant – Keith would stew and then lash out with short sharp sentences that were brief but got his feelings across. Lance could sulk like nobody’s business, but he was very good at making it everyone’s business, whereas Keith was quiet, brooding at the edge of the room in a manner that didn’t invite attention (with the exception of Lance’s).

But when they’re alone, Keith’s intensity manifests in another way: his words are still quiet, but his sentences lengthen and divulge into details he usually avoids. Sometimes his eyes fix on a point in the room and do not move when he talks, but when he listens, his gaze holds Lance’s with a concentration that Lance may have teased him for if it didn’t entrance him. The colour of Keith’s eyes, the dark indigo that most definitely were influenced by his Galra heritage, pull Lance in – Keith once asked him if there was something on his face that made him stare so, and the self-conscious expression that overcame Keith had Lance exclaim far too loudly that he thought his eyes were ‘just really cool’. It was the first time Lance had ever seen Keith blush – it was also the first time Keith had smiled in a way that weakened Lance at the knees.

The indigo is now an inky black in the absence of light – somehow, it’s more intense and Lance is weakened still.

The pair do not speak and the atmosphere begins to weigh on Lance’s chest as he finds it harder to draw even breaths. Their bodies are barely an inch apart but he longs for Keith to touch him again – he can sense the heat coming off the other boy and it scorches him.

After several agonising minutes, Lance rolls to lie on his side away from Keith, balling his fists up as he hugs his arms to his body. He wills himself to calm himself down, letting out deep breaths as the urge to get up and run back to his room begins to catch hold in his head. A thin layer of sweat covers his body and sticks his pyjamas to his skin, and Lance has the ludicrous idea to pull off his clothes.

He shifts slightly and feels his left shoulder bump against Keith – what part of him, Lance doesn’t know – and he realises that they’re closer than he initially thought, which sends a jolt through him. Keith’s breathing is steady and shallow, now a whisper on his nape.

It takes a second for Lance to swallow, licking his drying lips as he asks: “can you sleep?”

It takes several seconds for Keith to respond, and when he does, his hand comes to touch Lance’s hip, eliciting a gasp.

 “No.”

The hand is trembling against Lance, fingers spasming as they almost hover over his pyjama shorts. As Keith shuffles forward by the smallest degree, he lets out a shaky sigh.

And Lance knows that Keith is just as overcome as he is. And so, he moves so his back connects with Keith’s chest. Keith’s forehead comes into contact with the back of his neck.

Keith’s hand flexes on his hip, inhaling heavily through his nose as it dares to move upwards, trailing up Lance’s waist and ribs, moving over his shirt that simultaneously makes Lance feel grateful and greedy. As Keith reaches his left shoulder blade, he traces back down his spine, fingers splayed as he reaches the hem of his top. When he dips underneath and touches the skin of his back, Lance lets go of his held breath, his vocal cords whistling slightly as he does. Keith repeats the movement, the moisture from his hands sticking on occasion to Lance’s equally sweaty skin, though neither care. The heat becomes a fire that runs through Lance’s veins as Keith’s touch becomes more hungry, his shaking fingers gripping onto him as he explores Lance at a rate that is both too fast and all too slow.

The pressing against his nape intensifies as Keith’s nose nudges against Lance, his top lip occasionally grazing him as Keith gasps. As the hand moves to caress his stomach, Lance arches his back when a pair of lips secure themselves onto his neck. The sensation is both dry and wet, Keith’s bitten and peeling lips contrasting to the warmth of his mouth and tongue that glide over Lance’s skin. He tastes him with fever, uncertainty mixed with desire as Keith’s careful kisses begin to lose control, moving towards the left juncture where his neck and shoulder meet.

Lance keens when Keith bites down gently, his left arm having unwound from his body and is now reaching behind him, clutching onto Keith’s left thigh. His restraint is long forgotten, the gasps and whines leaving his mouth shameless. When he pushes his body even closer to Keith’s, the feeling of Keith’s want both scares and excites Lance, and the sound he pulls from Keith only heightens his own desire.

Half of Lance’s body has moved so he’s almost lying on Keith, pushing himself closer and closer and closer still. Keith’s hand has travelled all across his front and has now come to hold onto Lance’s throat, touch soft but desperate. The sensation of Keith’s fingers and his mouth made Lance lightheaded, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he let himself become Keith’s.

His mouth comes to kiss Lance’s jaw near his ear. “Lance,” Keith growls, his voice rumbling against his skin. “Please – please, can I…?”

Keith is asking, begging Lance, and the words go straight to the pit of flames stoking in Lance’s abdomen. Keith’s fingers come to cradle the right side of his face, and Lance forces down the last bit of fear eating at him, turning his head to face the other boy.

Their faces are but a couple of centimetres apart and the inky eyes stare into his own, pupils blown and intoxicating. Keith’s hair is mussed and his mouth agape, lips slightly swollen. His chest is moving rapidly up and down, his own shirt rucked up so Lance can just make out his lower abdomen and hips. Lance doesn’t need light to know that Keith’s face and neck are flushed.

He is the most beautiful thing Lance has ever seen and for a moment, they are transfixed, frozen in the moment before everything changes forever.

And Lance breaks first, closing the gap between them. His lips capture Keith’s, left hand leaving his leg to touch his cheek.

The fire turns into an inferno as Keith groans into Lance’s mouth, setting him ablaze.

Their awkwardly bent limbs move and their inexperienced kisses adjust as the two cling onto each other: Lance twists his body so their fronts are flush against each other, quick to tangle his fingers into the mullet he hates so much. Keith’s hands move to grip his waist under his top, nails raking up and down his back every so often. Gasps and sighs pass between the two as they explore the forbidden, indulge in their shared long-time desires, and hold each other with a belief that if either one of them let go, then it will all end.

Every inch of Lance’s body is like the surface of the sun, burning and brilliant – Keith’s touch is like a lick from a flame, consuming and engulfing him. Lance moves to put his weight on Keith, slotting a leg between his, their chests crushed together. They are the closest two people could really be and yet he still wants more, still needs more, if not to make up for all that they have missed, all that they had avoided due to fear of rejection or change. And even now, a trace of fear stains Lance’s heart as he feels his control slipping away from him, and he pulls Keith’s hair a little too tightly.

The moan that Keith emits is unlike any sound Lance has even imagined the boy was capable of making, but he knows he must hear again. In an instant, their bodies are rolling once more and Lance has the air taken from him as he finds himself pushed into the bunk, now lying on his back as Keith hovers over him, gasping for breath. Their legs are interlocked and Keith’s hands are either side of Lance’s head and he’s staring at him like a blind man who is seeing the stars for the first time, and Lance feels all the emotion he holds for this boy alone surge to the surface, sticking in his throat and burning his eyes.

Keith descends with a careful precision, moving down to kiss his throat, tongue and teeth careful but overwhelming, hands coming to run through Lance’s hair and massage his scalp. He grazes against Lance as he trails towards his collarbones and the sensation of their bodies moving with each other with mutual trembling desire threatens to kill Lance before he is given the chance to explore such a terrifying and wonderful thing, and he clings to Keith’s shirt, his cries wanton. The material creeps up, exposing Keith’s back, his muscles contracting as he shudders under the feel of Lance’s nails scrabbling for purchase upon his skin.

Keith moves back up, kissing all the way along Lance’s jaw, lips soft and adoring. With slow deliberation, he places kisses along his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his chin. When a tear forms at the outside corner of Lance’s left eye, Keith kisses it away and then lightly brushes his lips over his closed eyelids. Lance simply quivers under such a tender touch, hands resting on either side of Keith’s ribcage, waiting impatiently for the attention to return where he longs for it most.

When the sensation disappears and several seconds pass, Lance opens his eyes to see Keith gazing at him, not quite smiling but expression soft, his eyes mirroring Lance’s burning. His hands come to cup Lance’s face, thumbs still shaking as they stroke along his cheeks.

Lance moves his own hands to copy Keith, letting his fingers entwine with the black hairs that slightly obstruct Keith’s face. His vision is blurred but every detail of his features shine through and Lance believes that he could die here and be content with it.

 “Are you okay?” Keith’s voice is barely above a whisper but strains with affection and concern. He touches the corner of Lance’s eye again, capturing the moisture ready to fall.

Lance nods and pulls their faces towards each other, kissing Keith’s bottom lip. “Never better,” he mumbles against him, pressing another chaste kiss to his top lip. “Keith, I – I can’t stop – I want –”

Keith kisses back, furrowing his eyebrows with the intensity of it all. “Me too.”

Because they have wanted this for longer than either of them care to admit. To be thrust into space with no warnings or plans and to form a universe-saving team without an ability to refuse with a group of people that they either like, don’t know, or despise for no real reason is an isolating experience, and neither one wanted to say that for them both, the person they despised the most became their solace in this vast unending adventure, and over time had crept their way into their heart. And now, finally, here they are. 

The imperfect formation of their lips, the hunger in how they open their mouths to each other, the overwhelming sheer intimacy of their tongues touching becomes all at once too much for Lance. Sobs begin to wretch their way out of him and he cries freely because he is so happy and enamoured and frightened, because his heart has been cracked open in the early hours of the morning and is spilling its contents out in front of the person he has admired since his first days at the Garrison, because he is more vulnerable than ever and has something so beautiful that could be lost tomorrow if one thing goes wrong.

Keith pulls away, looking down at Lance with worry and amour, and it only makes him cry harder. And Keith, who usually blanches at tears, wraps his arms around Lance in an instant, pulling him to his chest as they roll once more. Lance burrows his face into the crook of Keith’s neck and chokes on his sobs, relishing in his warmth as the inferno calms, smouldering inside the two hearts of the embracing pair.

When Lance wakes to the morning announcement, he is still nestled into Keith, whose hand is so gentle on the back of his head, so careful that he may fall apart if he loses concentration. His other hand is squeezing Lance’s fingers, held between their chests with an intimacy that neither one ever wanted to forget. 

[frannyzooey]

The Storm

Ezra x Frankie Morales x Din Djarin x f!reader - The Cabin Universe

rating: explicit - foursome, cum play, possessive dirty talk, piv, oral (both m and f receiving), probably OOC everyone, based on the book “Credence” by Penelope Douglas. I literally have nothing to say for myself - this is pure, indulgent filth for my bestie.  

a/n: this is dedicated to my whoreo @krissology for her birthday today! You are the literal best in so many ways and I know you have high hopes for this, so I hope it delivers! I love you!

--

You don’t even know how it started. 

Well, that’s not true, you did. 

You just never imagined you would ever find yourself in the middle of something like this - something so sinful, so filthy, so decedent. Like a fever dream or a late night fantasy, your fingers working your soaked clit under the sheets as you tried to cum to the image conjured by your hungry mind. 

This wasn’t a dream - though the blurred outline of your thoughts right now made it feel like it, the sliding of your coherent mind into a deep pit of lust, your inhibitions lost in the darkness - this was real life. 

A real cabin. 

Real men.

Three, in fact. 

You couldn’t sleep. An ache gnawing at your gut as you shifted restlessly in bed, one that had been ever present for weeks now since you moved into the cabin with them. It’s one you thought you’d just have to live with even if it would eventually drive you insane because how could you choose, especially between three brothers?

Ezra: the eldest of the three, taking you under his wing immediately upon seeing how unprepared you were for the harsh winter in your neighboring cabin and you had noticed immediately the way his eyes lingered on you while trying to keep his tone light and polite. 

He’s been teaching you to fish, to hunt, to survive a winter as brutal and unforgiving as the one you are about to face and the heat between you has been building during each one of these lessons. He’s always so close, his soothing cadence right in your ear, his hands always guiding you, teaching you and you can tell he wants to succumb to the want pulling the two of you together but is torn between holding onto a semblance of responsibility, arguing with himself that it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you like this while you’re stuck in their cabin.

He’s trying so hard to be a good man, but you wonder what it would be like if he just let go and took what he’s been wanting. 

Frankie: your sunshine, your friend, the one you get along with the best. He’s been warm and welcoming from the beginning, even more so than his brother.

His sweet cheeked face with those loose curls drew you in, his teasing and his good nature pulling you closer and the way the crinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiles just for you makes you ache, the breadth of his shoulders and his scent when you tuck your face into the nape of his neck during snowmobile rides even more. 

You know what he wants, have seen the way he looks at you when you borrow one of his shirts or when you slip out of the bathroom in just a towel, but you also know he’s waiting to hear you say it. 

Din: you actually thought he hated you, with how he had treated you in the beginning. Sometimes indifferent, sometimes cold, sometimes bordering on resentment and disgust with the looks that flashed across his handsome, dark face but something about his looks lately had made you think differently. 

He’s been watching you now with something akin to want, if you had to pin it down; a longing for...something, you aren’t quite sure what and if you peered into the deepest part of your soul, you’re pretty sure you would find that you wanted him the most. His intensity scares you though, makes you afraid for what he might do to you, what you might feel if you let yourself give in and so you’ve kept your distance, avoiding his gaze whenever it was (always) pinned on you. 

These thoughts swirling in your head just like the snow outside, you had come downstairs to watch the storm through the picture window in the living room. Maybe drink some tea while you watched the fat, crystalized flakes drift lazily down through the air but were surprised when you saw them awake themselves, watching TV. 

Frankie had made room for you on the couch, patting the cushion next to him with a friendly, tired smile as he took in your bare legs below your sleep shorts and when you sat down, you had let your gaze flit over to Din - the light of the TV illuminating his features as he watched you from a chair by the fire. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”, Frankie had asked, turning his head to face you and when you looked at him, you could feel his warm breath skimming across your mouth, his eyes dropping down to look at it. 

It had started just like that - an innocent question followed by a couple more, one of them “is this okay?” before he leaned forward to kiss you and even though Din was sitting right there in the room, you couldn’t help how you immediately gave into his warm, lush mouth. 

You were so tired of fighting it, tired of hearing them bring other girls home to fuck in their rooms while you heard the moans through the walls, tired of how much you wished it were you and so you took that kiss. And another. Another. 

Your hand rested on his cheek, pulling him closer as you shifted to face him and the soft sound in the back of your throat at how he tasted made him bolder, his hands gripping your hips to guide you onto your back into the couch. 

His solid, firm body settling on top of yours with a weighted grind of his hips, he kissed a hot, open mouthed trail along the side of your neck to taste what he’s been wanting for weeks and your face tilted towards Din; the snow outside falling, falling, falling. 

You could see how hard he was through his pants, his hand settling on top of his cock with a squeeze through the thin material while he watched the two of you on the couch and the lewd heft of it outlined in fabric made your mouth water, made your fingers itch to touch it. 

You found yourself crooking your finger at him, beckoning him closer because even though Frankie had you pinned on the couch underneath him, you still couldn’t choose. 

Din getting up to come closer, Frankie slipped his fingers between your bodies to cup you firmly between your legs, the thick digits digging hungrily into your pussy through your sleep shorts and when he felt the damp fabric slide under his hold, he whispered “show us something wet, baby.” 

The words made you close your eyes with a moan, a rush of slick leaking as you fluttered around nothing and his fingers worked their way under the fabric, dipping the pads of them just inside you as he rested his nose against your chest with a groaned fuck. 

They had peeled off your shorts together, Din helping you sit up so he could tug your shirt over your head and the way the two of them were moving together, it was almost like they were one unit. a shared mind; Frankie voicing din’s thoughts out loud. 

“He wants a taste, baby”, Frankie told you, his hands pulling your thighs open while Din made his way between them. “Will you let him?”

Before you could answer, Din lowered his head to give your hip a kiss. 

A delicate one, much softer than he looked like he would give before laving his tongue over the hardened bone and then he looked up at you and held your gaze before dragging his teeth over it, ending it with a sharp bite. 

“Din!”, you cried out, reaching your hands down to stop him and Frankie caught them in his grip, gently pinning them above your head. Your soft sound of protest was caught by his mouth when he lowered it to you, his lips meeting yours the second Din’s met your cunt. 

Your fingers curled above your head, holding tight onto nothing as Din parted you with his tongue and you rocked your hips into the wet heat of his mouth, seeking relief. He did it again, a slow, thick lick upwards to settle against your clit before circling it, another one just to make you whine into Frankie's mouth and you tensed your thighs around his cheeks, his sparse beard catching on the soft skin. 

Frankie licked your mouth open, stealing the air from your lungs with how hard he was kissing you, his weight pushed into the hold of your wrists and when he pulled back to palm himself over his pants, he grinned at how dazed your eyes looked when they instantly dropped to watch. 

Your lips were swollen and perfect, your gaze fixed on the thick ridge of his cock as he stroked it through his pants and you slid your tongue along your lower lip and moaned when you watched him slowly undo his belt buckle with one hand. 

Working the button open of his jeans open and tugging the zipper down, he pulled himself out and his cock, heavy and hard between his thighs, was so much better than you had been dreaming about; Din’s mouth making you close your eyes on the perfect sight. 

“Fuck his mouth”, Frankie ordered above you, his fingers gathering milky drips of precome before sliding his hold down the stiff length, fucking his fist inches from your mouth. His dark eyes took in your writhing body on the couch as you did what he said. “Fuck his mouth like I’m gonna fuck yours.”

Your eyes flew open, his hand releasing it’s hold on yours and when you reached to circle your fingers around him, he let out a deep groan of content, settling his hand over the top of it to help you stroke. 

The weight of his cock fit your in your grip perfectly, your mouth watering with it so close to your lips right now and he sought the warmth of it out, pushing his hips forward to slide the thick tip of it along your bottom lip until you opened up. 

You could barely concentrate on sucking it, your tongue smoothing over the underside, gliding a circle around the velvety, rounded head while Din’s tongue did the same to your clit and you when you moaned around Frankie's cock, he gave you a little more. And then a little more. 

Inch by inch, a push forward before a pull back and you tried to work what you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, rewarded with a salty spurt on the back of your tongue. 

“You look so fucking good like this. I knew you would”, he groaned, his large hand cupping underneath your chin to help you open up wider and as he pushed deeper inside the wet cavern of your mouth, you gagged on the thickness of him, the stretch, the heavy weight. 

“Take a little at a time, baby”, he murmured, brushing your hair back from your forehead as he let you pull off to catch your breath and glistening strings of saliva coated him, matching the one dripping down your chin right now. 

“Fuck”, you strained breathlessly, arching off the worn couch into Din’s mouth as he spread you wider with his fingers before licking a wide stripe up through your soaked, sensitive folds and you could feel the way your cunt clenched around nothing, his tongue now tracing the hole of your entrance before pushing inside. “Keep -- please, yes.”

He had never been so hungry for a cunt in his life, never felt like he would die if he didn’t make it come right now on his face and the need for it only grew with how much you begged for it, your fingers sliding through his curls to tug him closer. He would happily die here, his mouth buried in your drenched center, his nose brushing over your clit as he nuzzled his face deeper and your moans were suddenly muted, the muffled sound covered by Frankie's deeper groan as he slid back into your mouth. 

Din wanted to hear you, but he also knew that Frankie needed you just as much, so he splayed his hand open along the inside of your thigh and pushed - gently enough to open you up wider for him, but firm enough to keep you in place. 

One hand on Frankie's ass, your fingers digging into the soft flesh to push him deeper into your mouth, the other hand buried in Din’s hair to pull him closer and you were gone - your body moving in tandem with them, mindless with pleasure.

They were gonna make you come - you didn’t know if it was more Din’s mouth or the weight of Frankie on your tongue or the idea of them both, having you like this and getting their fill - but you could feel it building in your core; slick dripping into Din’s eager mouth. 

Your thighs started to tremble, your belly clenching, the peaks of your breasts hardened points with how much they ached to be touched and it’s like they could sense it because you suddenly felt the reassuring weight of their hands settle on you; one breast each with a possessive squeeze. 

“You're ours”, Frankie chanted above you, the muscles of his ass tensing under your hold as his cock swelled in your mouth. “It’s gonna be like this all winter. Your pussy is ours to fuck. Your mouth, your ass --”

He knew Din wanted that last one, wanted to hear it too and the groan that crawled out of Din’s chest into his throat vibrated into your cunt, the feeling of it tipping you closer to the edge. 

You sucked harder, your hold on Frankie's cock tightening along with your mouth and he curled over the top of you, his hand braced on the back of the couch as he started to come. 

“Fuck -- you feel so fucking good. Keep going, baby. I’m gonna fill your mouth--”, the strained words slid into a deep groan as he did it, a thick spurt of cum splashing along the back of your tongue before quickly filling your mouth and the salty tang of it made you crave more, your hand pumping him to get every last drop. 

You were so close, so goddamn close to coming you could taste it, Din’s tongue relentless against your clit right now with quick licks and when he started to suck on it, you tried to curl into the feeling, but Frankie held you down. 

“Make her come, Din”, he said, his breathing still heavy above you, his cock softening on your tongue. “Make her cum so you can fuck her. I want to --”

“What is this?”

Ezra's voice startled you, Frankie sliding out of your mouth while Din ignored it and you watched Ezra come closer, Din shoving his pants down to free his cock. 

“Birdie, look at you.” Ezra's voice was a reverential drawl, a hush that darkened as he slowly knelt next to the couch to drink you in and it’s like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch first, so he touched nothing. 

His dark eyes roamed your nude body, the urge to cover yourself disappearing completely when you felt the blunt, rounded tip of Din’s cock sliding up through your soaked folds before he guided it down, down, down to rest against your tight ring of muscle. 

“Don’t”, you frowned, wishing the word sounded more firm than it did. “I don’t want that - not yet. I --”

You didn’t have to explain yourself to him, though his stern expression told you what he wants will happen eventually and he positioned himself back at your entrance before sliding all the way in down to the base in one swift, filling push forward. 

“Yes”, you breathed, your eyes slipping shut as Frankie shifted to kneel by your head, guiding your face to his. He kissed you just to taste himself thick on your tongue, Ezra's dam finally breaking as he ripped his pants open to pull himself out.  He circled your wrist to bring your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around it and just like always, he showed you how to do it; his broad hand engulfing yours. 

Din reached for your other hand, your thighs cradling his hips as he pushed into you over, over, over and your fingers entwined - something deeper felt in his hold; something he couldn’t say with words. It was like he was holding your hand to anchor you, but it was really more for himself - the firm squeeze a reminder that he is here with you, that you were his even though the three of them were with you. 

You briefly wondered what you must look like from above, these three men possessively crouched over your body, devouring you, claiming you for themselves while you begged for it. Like predator and prey almost, or like demons and an angel, they had plucked you from your existence and pulled you down with them. 

You were never going to make it out of this without being forever marked by them; something they were working hard to do now with the bruising grip they had on your skin, the way Din’s hands held you in place as fucked into you, the way Ezra filled your head with his soothing words, the way Frankie kissed you until you couldn’t think.

“Do you feel what you do to me, birdie? Do you feel how much I’ve wanted you?”, Ezra said above you, his head tipped back to the ceiling with a filthy groan while his hand worked yours faster under his grip. The words were a callback to the ones he uttered in the kitchen earlier that day, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, his cock pressed against the curve of your ass before you were interrupted by Frankie. 

“How much we all want you”, Frankie continued, his lips dragging against your temple, his broad hands splayed over your breasts, palming the weight of them with a squeeze. “We aren’t ever going to let you leave, baby. This is how it’s going to be every day.”

“Din”, you cried out, your ankles tightening over his lower back and his hand flexed in yours, a wordless I’m here, I’m here. “I’m gonna come, please --”

You knew the others were in the room, could feel them next to you, had felt them seeping into your being since the day you walked through that door, but with the way he was fucking you, Din was commanding all your attention, like he was the only one. You and him. 

“Keep fucking her, keep fucking going, because Jesus --”, Ezra could barely get the words out before he came, ropes of cum splashing hot on your stomach, the milky liquid pooling on your skin. 

He didn’t even give it time to cool before he swiped his fingers through it, immediately seeking out your clit where it was nestled just above the stretch of you around Din’s cock and the second he touched it, you were lost completely. 

It’s too much - Frankie's mouth now on your neck, your face tilted to press into his soft curls with a broken moan, Ezra's skillful fingers working, working, working in slick circles while he sucks the peak of your breast into his mouth and Din’s hips pounding into yours, a soft grunt for every push inside. 

You are going to come and you should be embarrassed about how open you are right now, how exposed, how filthy you must look with cum smeared on your chin and stomach, but you can’t -- not when they are making you feel this wanted, this adored. Not when you feel the hunger they have for you; the need. 

Your body is buzzing, the tingling spreading through your hips and down, creeping up through your chest, hardening your nipples as Ezra twirls his tongue around one and strokes the other and you reach to grab onto anything; your restless fingers finding purchase on din’s thigh and Frankie's hair. 

If they froze when you came you might have been able to take it, but they didn’t - your soaked cunt pulling Din deeper, your fingers digging into his thigh as your hips locked up with a stutter, your moan filling the high beamed room as the silent snow piled up outside and they still kept going, burying you deeper and deeper, just like the storm outside. 

In a minute, Din will come inside you, staking a claim on your cunt for the others to see. He’ll pick your limp, sated, sleepy body up off the couch and carry you into the shower, where he’ll let you rest your cheek against his firm chest as his soapy hands caress your skin, washing away the way they marked you. 

He’ll kiss you, his hand curled possessively around the nape of your neck as he guides you backwards into the cool tile, tugging your knee up around his hip, making sure you know you’re his and making sure the others know it too by the sounds he’ll pull out of you that will echo in the small stall.

But that’s in a minute. 

Right now you’re still falling, buried under these men and this storm, suspended in this moment just like the swirling flakes of snow outside. 

It’s going to be a long winter. 

--

tagging CC: @highsviolets @javierpcna @javier-pena​ @charnelhouse​ @djarinsbeskar​ @astroboots​ @silksaddle​ @krissology​ @loversandantiheroes​ @thirstworldproblemss​

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Oh my god i just found you're writing and I'm obssessed. First of all, I'm in love with your edgy!karl series. Seriously, it's amazing. Second of all, I had a little idea that you can take as a request if you'd like. I was thinking edgy!dream/clay but with a shy innocent girl. And a hint of some fear play kink? Like she's all cute and he's so edgy shes scared and intimidated by him when they meet and it turns him on knowing shes both scared of him AND attracted to him at the same time so he uses it against her(consensually of course)

can we call him alt!dream? ;) also,,, i rly like this request...

𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fighting, smoking, language, oral (fm. receiving), fear play, asphyxiation, sight size kink & praise, dominance

The movie theatre dimmed, the beginning credits of the film reeling as a montage of a city played in the background. You settled back in your seat, accepting the fact that you had been stood up, determined not to let it ruin the movie you had already paid for. That’s right; instead of treating yourself to a new pair of shoes or a set of notebooks, you agreed to meet up with a sleazy guy from class after weeks of him pleading.

You sighed slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you realized you hadn’t even wanted to see the film and had only agreed because he suggested it. Someone moved into a seat near you, his legs stretching as he slumped down, purely due to his towering height. You stiffened, crossing your legs to inch away from him at the sight of his various tattoos peeking out from beneath his dark corduroy jacket.

He carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, revealing an eyebrow ring as he swept his bangs off his forehead momentarily. You tore your eyes from him as you noticed the cigarette balanced behind his ear. Even with the seat between the two, you could smell the smoke on his clothes mixing with the faintest hint of vanilla.

You folded your hands in your lap as you noticed him give you a once over. He reached towards you, making you flinch slightly before you realized he was holding out his bag of candy to you. “Want a jellybean? You look upset,” he motioned, voice low as he whispered.

You shook your head quickly, muttering a thank you and playing with your fingers. He shrugged, watching you for a second more before turning back to the movie. He tucked his arm behind his head, chewing on his lip as if debating whether he should keep talking to you or just let you be. You weren’t really sure which outcome you preferred.

On one hand, he fit every one of your guilty pleasure fantasies, while on the other, he terrified the hell out of you. It was more of an intimidating feeling, residing in the way each of his movements caught your attention and the way you could barely keep your eyes off his grungy appearance. Your mind drifted from the plot of the movie and towards the images of his tattooed hands wrapping around your throat and giving you a reason to be scared.

“You here alone?” He asked, popping another jellybean in his mouth. The action made you think of your grandpa waning himself off of tobacco when you were younger. Those jellybeans were blue and a flavor of comfort for you now, while the man before you seemed to only fish for the red ones.

You nodded hesitantly. “I got stood up,” you mumbled, making him shake his softly. “What about you? Are you here alone?” You wondered where you had gathered the courage to talk to him, his demeanor making you want to run, but his voice was a symphony to your ears in the darkness of the movie house, drawing you closer with each of his lulling words.

He wet his lips. “So far,” he answered. He stuck out his large hand for you to shake, his skin was coarse against yours as his finger reached to brush against your wrist. “I’m Clay,” he added, his name rolling into your mind and nestling itself into your memory just due to the tone of his voice. After you gave him your name his mouth curled into a soft smirk. “It’s nice to meet you,” he remarked. You blushed for an unknown reason, thankful for the darkness to mask your emotions.

Someone entered the theatre, marching up to Clay and leaning down to his ear. “Dream, we have to go now,” the guy whispered into his ear, just loud enough that you could hear him. Clay's face twisted into an annoyed expression while the guy turned to leave.

Clay straightened his jacket on his shoulders. “Not to seem to forward, but can I get your number?” He queried. You raised your eyebrows at him, basking in the fact that despite his friend’s agitation, Clay was taking his sweet time making his move on you.

As if you were acting on instinct, you grabbed a pen from your bag as he held his hand out to you again. You found a bare spot on his skin and wrote your number as clearly as you could manage with your shaking hands at the way his eyes watched you alluringly. Without thinking, you blew on the ink, trying to keep it from smearing. You froze, realizing what you were doing as he bit back a smirk.

He was completely eating up your awkwardness.

He reluctantly took his hand back, being pulled up by his friend. “I’ll call you,” he whispered on his way out, heat rushing to your ears.

The movie ended shortly after he left, sending you back out onto the city streets and away from your cocoon where you had forgotten about the sleazy classmate and let thoughts of Clay weasel their way into your nerves. As you stepped through the doors, your phone began to ring, kick-starting your heart at the thought of it being Clay. Instead, it was a friend of yours asking how your date had gone. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled a piece of gum out of your purse.

Her ramblings went deaf on your ears as a car violently pulled up to an alleyway a block from you. You squinted as you moved closer, your apartment being in that direction anyway. A few men got from the car and that’s when Clay stepped into view from behind one of the buildings, flicking his cigarette to the ground and snubbing it out with the toe of his heavy boots as he watched them get out. You could see your number still written on his hand, mixing with his tattoos.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking tiredly at the group of men that had come from the car as his friends began to shout at them. Clay chewed on his lip, looking around and away from the conversation before his gaze met yours. His eyes widened slightly before he turned back, an attempt to keep the attention away from you.

One of the car members grabbed for Clay’s jacket, yanking him closer as if to get him to pay mind to the man talking. Clay sent him a cocky grin, towering over him. With his normal height and his boots, he had at least a foot on the guy. One of Clay’s friends separated the two, breaking the groups into a brawl while shouting was accompanied with fists and elbow jabs.

You turned, walking in another direction as briskly as you could without bringing attention to yourself and the group of boys in the alleyway. Little did you know, Clay was watching you leave and kicking himself for it.

The next day, your mind was racing with Clay’s whereabouts. He seemed like he had his opponents under control, but what if one of them had brought a knife or another weapon? It wasn’t unusual for boys in the city to butt heads like they were, but the fact that you’d let one nearly pick you up the night before was boggling.

You gripped the strap of your bag as you crossed the street, stepping onto the sidewalk and adjusting your skirt. You kept your head down as you passed various people coming and going from their apartments before your ears picked up on a familiar voice. You picked your eyes up, spotting Clay and a small group of guys walking together. He popped a jellybean in his mouth after chiming into their conversation.

You held your breath as they neared you and that’s when you noticed his bruised face and scraped knuckles. Your number was faded on his skin, but still apparent on the back of his hand. He smiled at you, breaking off from his group and walking backward to match your pace. You bit back a smile. “Glad to see you’re okay,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact with him. His friends called out for him and he waved them off, walking in line with you.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I would have called last night but…” he made a gesture to his torso as he trailed off. “I broke a rib. I didn’t really… I don’t.” He laughed sheepishly as you raised your eyebrows. “I’m fine. It’s good,” he brushed.

You picked your gaze off the pavement finally, focusing on his discolored black eye and busted lip. He didn’t seem to be too hurt, but he wore his wounds well. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked, voice changing slightly. You drew in a sharp breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before it could get further knotted in the wind. A few people narrowed their eyes at the two of you and you wondered how you looked together. What kind of juxtaposition it was; his tall, dark figure looking like death in Doc Martens while you barely passed his shoulder in height with your less intimidating color scheme.

You debated how to answer him. Your eyes flickered to his dangly earring; a silver ankh. He ate another jellybean. “I was at first. I’m still kind of weary of you, I guess,” you muttered, making a smile bite into his features.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, which you were beginning to believe was a habit when he was coming up with what to say. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

You shook your head. A blush crept to your cheeks. “No, I kind of like it,” you mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. His hand slipped into yours and you could feel your chest tighten.

“You like being scared of me?” His voice was dripping with allure, making you bite your tongue in a flushed embarrassment. “You just keep getting better and better,” he teased, making your ears burn.

You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but God, were you thankful for Clay’s hands as they kneaded your ass, his lips pressing against yours. He ground his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth as your nails sank into his tattooed skin. His tongue pressed past your lips, his large hand moving to fist in the sheets beside you before dragging up your shirt to grip your breast.

You breathlessly moaned as he broke your kiss, lips trailing down your body as he sat back on his knees, dragging your underwear off as your shirt was also discarded to the floor. He looped his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth as his concentrated stare shifted to your eyes before he buried himself between your legs, your body tensing as a groan ripped through your body. Your fingers carded through his soft blond hair, tugging slightly in appraisal as he pulled away from you.

Clay looked up at you again, slowly pressing one of his long fingers into you, you moaned his name, reaching one of your hands up to grip at the headboard above you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, voice deep with lust as his breath fanned against your wet core. He pushed another finger into you as you nodded. He pressed his lips to your thigh. “I can’t believe you’re scared of me,” he mocked, making you whimper as his fingers pulsed against your sweet spot.

He pressed his lips to your core again, tongue teasing at your nerves as you caught your lips between your teeth. You moved your knee further up his arm for a better angle, driving him deeper. He pulled away, his fingers speeding up. “So needy,” he chuckled, the sound enough to send you over the edge if you really thought about it.

“Clay, please. I want you,” you whined softly, your thighs threatening to close around his head. His eyes sparkled devilishly, leaning away from you before tugging your legs towards him. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, jaw tensing as you moaned around him.

He grabbed your hips, flipping your body and pushing your shoulders into the mattress. You heard him unbuckling his belt and your fingers knitted into the sheets beneath you. He pulled you back by the shoulders, hand moving to hold onto your neck. “Maybe I should give you something to be scared of,” he chided, making a shiver run up your spine as he pushed your thighs apart driving himself up into you. You were sure you would tear in half at the sheer size of him, but you bit back your whimpers at the pleasuring pain.

One of your hands moved to grip onto his arm as he thrust into you, his teeth threatening to dig into your shoulder as you moaned. His other hand moved to tease at your nerves, his determination to summon your orgasm sending your head reeling. You tilted back your head, resting against his shoulder as his hand tightened around your throat.

He let go of you, dipping you against the mattress again as his fist knotted in your hair. He steadied himself, leaning on one of his arms beside your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he thrusted into you at an ungodly pace, lips hovering beside your ear as he grunted your name and how good you felt.

You pushed your hips up against him turning your head enough that he pressed his lips against yours, the vibrations from his moans sending heat throughout your body. Clay’s tongue slipped into your mouth roughly, tasting your whimpers and lust. His teeth dragged against your lip as you felt him throb inside of you.

He pushed your shoulder back, moving you on your side as your leg curled around. At the new angle, he could drive himself deeper into you; dark green eyes focused on yours as his warmed breath cascaded over your chest. His hand moved to your jaw, running his thumb against your burning lips as his sights were almost hungrily looking upon you. Your breathing became shallow as he smirked at you, moving his hand to your throat again.

He leaned down, slowing his pace to drag in and out of you as his lips were close to your ear. He applied pressure, your breath hitching in your throat. “So pretty. Good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, making you moan as he kissed you again before speeding up his thrusts. You moaned out his name again, finishing as your eyes fluttered shut. He chuckled darkly, pounding into you harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips pressing to the skin behind your ears, digging his face into your hair as he chased his high.

He exhaled, breath blanketing your skin before he kissed your shoulder, cheek, and finally your lips in a quiet appraisal. You pulled him into the spot beside you. He ran his fingers through his hair as you curled against his side, his other hand brushing softly against your arm. You knotted your fingers with his, brushing your thumb against where your faded number rested. “Didn’t you just break a rib?” You asked, finally noticing the slide bruising on his side.

Clay chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think I was running on adrenaline until a second ago,” he groaned.

Dream Tag List: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Didn’t Know That You Were Pregnant [Request]

CHAN:

It was supposed to be a relaxing day out with the rest of the boys, going for a walk around the Han River and taking photographs with Hyunjin but your stomach was beginning to cramp and you were having back pains. 

"Maybe you should sit down," Minho said as he noticed how slow you were walking behind them, panting out of breath you walked over to some of the benches beside a fence and sat down. 

"Here," Felix called out as he rushed to your side and gave you a bottle of water, Chan glanced over at you smiling weakly as he noticed how sick you looked. The fact that you'd been sick for most of the week was starting to worry him but you pushed it aside as nothing more than a sickness bug that would pass sooner or later.

"Maybe we should call it a day, you look worse than you did yesterday," Jisung said in a worried tone he didn't mean for it to sound mean but he was worried about you, as were the other boys. Jisung's eyes kept looking between you and Chan as he walked over to your side but you let out a yelp in pain, at first, you thought you'd dropped the bottle of water that Felix had handed to you but then you felt pain radiate up your back and around your abdomen,

"Gross, Y/n needs to control her bladder." Minho laughed as he saw the pool of fluid by your feet and assumed you had wet yourself but that was when Chan's face ran pale and he began to calculate in his head. 

"I-I think my water broke," You mumbled as you looked over at Chan, he was piecing everything together over the last nine months, you'd gained weight, you'd been suck more often not to mention the weird cravings you'd been getting. 

"Holy shit." You yelled out as you struggled to get up from the bench, holding onto your stomach where there was barely even a bump. 

"I'm going to be an uncle?!" Jeongin screamed out loudly enough that the lady that was working the hot chocolate stand looked up to see what the fuss was about. Chan took your hand in his, walking with you towards the car so they could get you to a hospital but all of the boys were freaking out more than the two of you, yelling about how they weren't prepared and nothing was ready since you had no idea you were pregnant. 

MINHO:

You always thought those who claimed not to know that they were pregnant were being dramatic but now you knew first hand that they weren't. Sitting on the maternity ward with your sleeping daughter in your arms while Minho sat beside you on the bed just watching her sleeping. You had been home when you felt a bad pain spreading over your body, you figured it was nothing until it got to the point you couldn't focus on anything but the pain and headed to the doctor. 

"I can't believe you created another human." Changbin muttered as he walked into the room with a look of surprise on his face,

"Neither can we," You laughed as you laid your head on Minho's shoulder still remembering the look of shock on his face he had when you told him that you were going to have a baby. It was as if someone had drained all the colour out of him and for a few moments you thought he was going to pass out but he took it well and spent hours shopping for everything you were going to need online and having it delivered to your apartment that you shared together.

CHANGBIN:

"Where have you been I've been calling all day?!" You yelled out as you stood in the doorway of one of the studios, Changbin was chilling with Jisung and Chan while he claimed he was working. 

"What's wrong? Is something wrong?" You groaned at his nagging questioning and looked down at your stomach, the bump was starting to bother you but you put that down to weight loss until about an hour ago when you felt something move inside of you followed by a gushing of water to your feet. 

"I'm in labour, so if you answered your phone I wouldn't have had to drive all the way here instead of a hospital," All three of the boys started to laugh with one another thinking it was some kind of prank but as soon as Changbin saw the seriousness on your face his smile fell to the floor. 

"You're really-"

"Yes."

"And I'm going to be dad-"

"Not if you don't get me to a fucking doctor!" You yelled out as another contraction hit you, bending over in pain as you tried not to fall to the floor in a puddle of tears from the pain that you were experiencing. 

HYUNJIN:

"Besides a little weight gain, there had been no other indication that you could have been pregnant?" A nurse asked as she looked at you at Hyunjin, the two of you had been surprised by home birth. You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to use the toilet only to realise you weren't in need of the toilet but a doctor. The two of you ended up delivering your daughter on the bathroom floor over the phone to nurses and an ambulance team that had been stuck on the roads. 

"No, I didn't even know I could. I was on the pill and we were using condoms." You mumbled as you glanced down at your sleeping daughter who was strong considering you hadn't been taking prenatal care or going for regular checkups, it was a miracle she was delivered as well as she was and as healthy as she was. 

"Well, the hospital will provide you with a crib and some emergency supplies but you will need to do some shopping soon." She began writing everything up that you would need, Hyunjin was already so taken with your daughter he could hardly take his eyes off her.

JISUNG:

As soon as the water hit the ground you knew you hadn't accidentally wet yourself and Chan knew from the look of it that it wasn't piss that had come out of you. 

"Y/n!?" Jisung yelled out as panic washed over his face, he was sweating as he rushed over to you, sitting you down on the sofa in the dorms as he began yelling out for someone to call an ambulance. 

"Relax, she's in labour," Chan said calmly as he watched the two of you but that did nothing to settle you, both you and Jisung turned to him with wide eyes, 

"I'M PREGNANT?!"

"SHE'S PREGNANT!?" You screamed out together as the boys around you began to laugh, Chan shook his head at you before looking around. 

"Felix call an ambulance, Seungmin get a blanket and Minho pack up some clothes for Y/n." The whole time Chan barked out orders Jisung was doing his best to coach you through the pain, giving you breathing techniques he'd seen in all of the movies and TV shows where people were giving birth.

"We're going to be parents." He whispered over and over again as if he was trying to convince himself that it was true and it wasn't some kind of dream that he seemed to be having. 

FELIX:

Felix brought you to the hospital as soon as you said that you were in so much pain you couldn't get out of bed, doctors were running tests on you while you sat in a hospital bed crying into a pillow. 

"Mr Lee, Miss Y/l/n?" You glanced over at the door to see a set of doctors all rushing around outside the door, getting something ready while another came to speak to you. 

"It appears that you're pregnant, in fact, you're currently in labour." You started laughing at the male doctor thinking it was some kind of joke but when you noticed he wasn't laughing you stopped and sat up in the bed. 

"I'm what?" Felix's hand wrapped around yours as he tightly squeezed your hand, come to think of it there was a high possibility that you were pregnant but the two of you had been careful and used protection all of the time. 

"I would assume this is a shock but we need to check to see how far along you are in your contractions," A female doctor came into the room and began introducing herself while you and Felix stared at one another dumbfounded about how this could have happened and when. 

"Would you like to stay in the room?" The mid-wife asked Felix who turned to leave but you gripped onto his shirt pulling him closer to the bed, 

"We're in this together, don't even think about walking out of that door." You warned him as the doctor began to see if you were ready to push or not, 

"Almost there, I would say another hour or two at the most," She smiled looking up at you both as you worriedly looked at one another how you were going to break the news to everyone since you had no idea you had been pregnant in the first place.

"I need to call my mum," Felix stuttered as he looked at you, you nodded your head looking around for your phone. 

"I need to tell my family." You bit down on your lip not knowing if you were excited, worried or scared or if it was a mixture of all of those emotions at once. 

"I would make some arrangements quickly," The doctor teased before leaving the room, you turned to Felix wondering where to start with the conversation.

SEUNGMIN:

"I'm telling you that there is nothing wrong with me, I just feel sick." You grumbled to Seungmin who was pacing around the room a nurse had placed you in, he'd insisting on taking you to see someone as soon as you started to feel sick and dizzy that morning and now you had been waiting around for hours. 

"The tests have all finally came back, we wanted to make sure it was 100% positive before we came in here," The same nurse that had admitted you explained as she held a clipboard to her chest with a worried expression on her face, 

"When you came in we asked if there was a chance of pregnancy and you said no-"

"Because there isn't, I'm on the pill and we use protection," You told her as she continued to give you a worried look, that was when she began showing you all of the tests that they had done to prove to you that you were eight months pregnant and in early labour which was why you were sick and in so much pain. 

"I-I'm pregnant?" You stuttered out staring from the charts to her face as Seungmin sat down on the chair beside your bed, 

"But we were careful," He mumbled as he looked at you, 

"Not all contraceptives are 100% effective, some are just 99.9% you're the lucky, 00.01% That gets pregnant," You knew she was trying to make you feel better but it only made it worse as you thought about how the baby had nothing waiting at home for them when you eventually got home. 

"I'll get the boys, they'll become builders for the day." Seungmin mumbled as he began to call Chan on his phone frantically. 

JEONGIN:

Jeongin laughed down the phone when you told him you were sitting on the maternity ward of a hospital delivering his baby but as soon as he didn't hear you laughing a chill ran through him.

"You're joking right?" You groaned at him through the phone, rolling your head back against the bed as another contraction hit you making you scream out louder than the rest before it.

"Why would I joke about pushing a watermelon out of something the size of a pea!?" You yelled out down the phone to him while the midwife flinched from beside you wondering how you had been clueless about the pregnancy in the first place. It wasn't as though you were trying to get pregnant you were only together for two years, he was still young and how was JYP going to react to him getting a son or a daughter. 

"Please come to the hospital innie, I'm scared," Your voice cracked as you began to cry but Jeongin was already on the way, getting Minho to drive him as fast as he could so he could be by your side by the time his son or daughter came into the world.

Tagline: @taestannie​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @minholuvs​ @sw33tnight​ @kneel-begyourpardon​

[mypoisonedvine]

claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I.  Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned.  “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter.  It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

//

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

[jenomark]

I want to request nct dream reaction to them having a bad day and struggling to tell their s/o, but they finally open up and feel really happy💕 please make it super fluffy

Mark: In a pair of powder blue pajamas with his hair dripping wet, Mark sat on the edge of his bed and stared off into space. You didn't know where his mind went whenever he seemed absent. You were gentle with him, letting his mind wander where it needed to go in order to replenish itself. Mark worked so hard, and you could see the wears and tears on his face and body, the way his shoulders sagged, and the dark circles underneath his eyes. "Hey," he said, turning toward you, no idea of how long you were standing there. "I'm done washing up." You nodded and walked over to him, sitting behind Mark on his bed and reaching for his hair brush. Slowly, you brushed his hair back from his face, the intimacy of the moment helping Mark relax. "This feels nice." he said, leaning back against you. "You have no idea how bad my day was. I could use a little tender love and care." Mark smiled dreamily and closed his eyes. You didn't know when he would talk to you about everything, but you hoped you could see him be truly happy and satisfied again.

Renjun: "It feels a little bit like swimming in the deep end." Renjun said, looking down at this hands. "I like it there, but I'm scared I might drown." You were listening intently, your entire body facing him, your eyes trying to catch his. But Renjun could only look down at this hands as he recounted how he'd been feeling lately, his honesty making your heart hurt. You didn't know what to say, which was fine because he had asked you not to say anything. "I don't even know if I like to swim." he said with a humorless chuckle. You yearned to reach out for his hand and to kiss his mouth. You thought his words were killing you slowly, but then he smiled so brilliantly you could feel warmth touch your chest. "It actually feels much better saying all of this out loud." Renjun said. "I know there is no one else I would rather say this to. I'm so happy you're mine and you're here for me."

Jeno: It was unlike Jeno to be so distant. Usually touchy-feely and full of cheerfulness, Jeno's smile never quite reached his eyes. You played with his fingers, softly rolling your thumb over each joint, before enclosing your hand around his. Jeno watched you closely, his eyes scanning your body language for signs of what he knew to be true: you wanted to help him, to ease his pain. "Ah, I don't really want to tell you what is bothering me." he said. "It will just make you worried, and I hate seeing you that way." You prepared a whole speech about why he should trust you with his struggles, but Jeno shushed you with a flick of his eyes. "But..." he continued. "I think I really need you right now." Jeno squeezed your hand tighter and tried to smile genuinely, to show you that he was being honest. He didn't want to talk about it, but he knew that sometimes, he needed the help.

Haechan: His jokes were quick and witless. You could tell that something had been annoying him since he got home from work, because he wasn't trying to tease you like usual. Haechan was quiet, his words short. "What?" he asked when he caught you staring at him. "Something happened." you said. "Do you want to talk about it with me?" Immediately, Haechan forced out laughter and began to act like nothing was ever wrong. When you didn't react, he let the silence consume him. "Can you tell me everything is going to be okay?" he asked. "Just this once, even though it might not be. Can you tell me there are better days waiting?" You went to him and sat on his lap, holding his body against yours and rocking him slightly. "Everything will be okay." you said. "Bad days come and go. Tomorrow will be better." Looking down, where his face was pressed against your chest, you saw the beginnings of a small smile.

Jaemin: You were rubbing his tense back, your hands working over his shoulders and down the sides of his arms. Jaemin moaned in reply. He didn't have to say anything for you to know that he had a rough day, because it was written all over his face. You were expecting to massage him, maybe help him feel more relaxed, but you were not expecting Jaemin to start talking. He turned to you with a serious look on his face. He looked worn down and tired, but still as handsome and as youthful as ever. "You give me good advice." he said. "Really? Do I?" you asked, your voice a little too chipper in your attempt to keep the conversation lighter. Jaemin noticed how upbeat you were and widened his eyes in surprise. Suddenly, it was like he was trying not to laugh at your change of tone, or how terrified you looked, like you had done something wrong. Jaemin released his laughter, the sweet tinkling of it easing the atmosphere. When he was done laughing, Jaemin nodded. "Right." he said, pecking you on the lips. "I feel much better."

Chenle: His mouth hung open, his pink tongue shooting out between his lips before moving along his bottom row of teeth. For minutes, Chenle had been eager to share something with you. You didn't want to force it out of him, so you just waited. Daegal was on your lap, her fluffy white head begging for your attention, but Chenle's sweet face was all you saw. "If I told you something, I think it would make me feel better. But I don't know..." Chenle said. He raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that he was the one who had spoken. You listened intently, placing one of your hands over his. "Ahhh..."he said, shaking his head and looking down at your hand on top of his. "I'm not good at things like this." You smiled to show him that it was okay, that he could keep talking. Chenle opened up his mouth, and suddenly, all of the words were pouring out in long sentences. When he was finished, he looked pleased with himself that he had managed to share a little part of himself with you. Chenle kissed you and smiled brightly. "As expected, you always make me feel like I'm on top of the world."

Jisung: It was a bad phone call. Jisung's body stiffened, his long arms sticking to his sides. "I'll be right back." he said, already walking to his bedroom so that he could be alone. You could tell his day wasn't the best, and that the phone call had made it even harder. Feeling sympathy for your boyfriend, you stood outside of his closed bedroom door and touched your fingers to the wood. "Jisung?" you called. "Can I do anything? Do you need anything?" You wanted to give him his space, but you didn't really want him to go through anything else alone. Without saying anything, Jisung opened the door, and you could see how emotional he was getting. "Come here." you said, opening your arms. Jisung went into your open arms for a hug, and you could feel his entire body relax against you. It didn't take too long for him to open up about his hardships, his trust in the palm of your hands, and his heart always with yours.

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”

[nojey]

unnoticed

quackity / alex x streamer!reader

genre: fluff -> angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): cursing, suggestive jokes

synopsis: you had known alex since you started streaming but none of your viewers knew. you started getting closer and eventually you started streaming together but your viewers didn’t like that.

“(y/n)!” alex screamed into his phone after you answered the facetime call.  “yes, my love?!” you screamed back. alex giggled and asked, “do you want to stream sometime soon? i mean like, we’ve known each other for a few months and we haven’t streamed together, i know you’re a fairly new streamer but i even asked dream if you could come onto the smp, and i have something planned- well karl and sapnap helped me plan it- but that’s not the point, the point is-” he rambled.  “alex? are you asking me on a minecraft date?” you asked. “no! well, maybe, okay yeah. i’m asking you on a minecraft date.” he confirmed.  “i’d love to go on a minecraft date with you, alex.” you said, blushing a bit. 

truth is, you’ve had a crush on alex for a few months. when he first slid into your dms you didn’t really expect it, but it turned out to start a beautiful friendship. you always flirted with alex in hopes that he’d notice, but it never seemed like he did. he never retaliated back but little did you know, he was just too shy to.

“uh- okay great! tomorrow, at 3pm your time, stream it. we’re going to have a lot of fun. wear pajamas, or you know- just be comfortable okay?” he rushed. you laughed a bit and said, “yes alex, of course. bye now,” then smiled and hung up. 

you immediately went tot twitter and started a thread: @(y/s/n): this weeks stream schedule (times are pst): @(y/s/n): tomorrow @ 3pm: minecraft date w/ someone i haven’t streamed with yet  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ↳ @ quackity: i wonder who this might be hmMmMMmm @(y/s/n): tuesday @ 1pm: i somehow got invited to an among us lobby w/ corpse, sykkuno, valkyrae, disguised toast, quarterjade, masayoshi, peterparktv, jacksepticeye, and ludwig  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ @(y/s/n): wednesday @ 1pm: if things don’t go well w/ person on monday- looking for a mc boyfriend! ↳ @ quackity: WELL THAT’S RUDE TO ASSUME THAT THINGS WONT GO WELL (Y/N) @(y/s/n): thursday @ 3pm: chitchat w/ nihachu !! @(y/s/n): friday @ 2pm: pummel party w/ ??

as soon as you tweeted all them out, you looked at replies and saw that quackity had replied to both monday and wednesday schedules. giggling to yourself, you replied back to him.

@(y/s/n): @ quackity way to make it obvious alex, if you wanna date me just say it (¬_¬) @(y/s/n): @ quackity how can you assume that it will go well alex (Ő-Ő) ↳ @ quackity: i just know (y/n)!!! truST ME!!!!

laughing once more, you plugged your phone into the charger and went to bed, excited for what alex had planned for you two tomorrow. 

getting ready for the minecraft date was very nerve wracking. the only thing you could think about was whether alex considered this a real date or not. deep inside you hoped that this was a real one. 

the ringing from your phone disrupted your thought. looking down on the screen you saw that the one person you were thinking of was calling you. 

“hello?” you answered. “hi, (y/n), are you ready?” alex asked. “uh, yeah, i just- i just need to start my stream and introduce what we’re doing.” “okay, um- i’m going to send you a link to the dream smp discord server. join it and join vc 4.” he replied.  “for sure, see you then.” you smiled. “see you.” he said and hung up.

“fuck,” you said and wiped your hands onto your pants. you definitely weren’t ready but still, joined the discord server and joined vc 4 then deafened. you set up your stream and hit go live.

“hey everyone! as you may know, if you follow my twitter, today i’m going on a minecraft date! uh no, no one knows who it is yet, but i have a feeling a LOT of you already know who it is.” you said, reading chat and wiggling your eyebrows.

“okay, i’m going to join the server and then share my screen when he’s standing in front of me.” you started playing some music so your viewers didn’t get bored while they waited for you to start. 

once you were logged into the smp you privately messaged alex and asked him where he was. before he could answer you turned around to look at the walls you were surrounded by and screamed out after seeing quackity’s naked body behind you. 

“chat, i’m okay, just got scared. um anyways, yeah.”  you said and showed your screen, revealing the man himself. “quackity!” you screamed into your mic. “jesus christ, (y/n) we can save screaming my name for later.” he said in a suggestive voice. you then started punching him and after each punch you said, “stop. saying. suggestive. comments. we haven’t even started the date yet!”  “okay, okay, okay! i’m literally going to die, (y/n) stop!!” he yelled out. you kept hitting him to see if he was lying but after the second punch quackity was slain by (y/mc/n) showed up in the chat. 

ranboo: i see that the date is going well

you started laughing uncontrollably while alex was silent. “(y/n),” he said in a more serious voice. you hummed as he continued his sentence. “why did you kill me?” “i wanted to know if you were lying. was that a canon life? i think that should be a canon life.” you laughed. “no it wasn’t a fucking canon life. (y/n) you’re not even an official member of the smp!” he said. “i could be,” you said wiggling your eyebrows and crouching up and down. “anyways. follow me, i’m bringing you to where we’re having our date.” so you followed him and when you reached your destination you were at party park with karl and sapnap standing in front of you. 

“hello boys. what are you doing here on our date. is this an amusement park date, quackity? i didn’t take you for that type of guy. it’s kind of cheesy.” you rambled. “no! this isn’t where our date is happening. jeez, have a little more faith in me (y/n).” he said, moving his minecraft character to look at you slowly and creepily. “well there wasn’t much to begin with,” you said, chuckling a bit. you heard karl and sapnap giggling to what you had said.  “hey! take that back!” quackity said, punching your minecraft character. you audibly gasped and turned to look at karl and sapnap again. “you guys saw that right? he just hit me.” you said, faking shock. they both quickly nodded their heads. “i can’t believe you would hit me on our first date.” you said, turning to look at him this time. “you literally killed me!” he yelled out.

so this went on for about 30 more minutes till quackity explained to you that your date would pretty much be a minecraft manhunt with quackity, sapnap, and karl hunting you but you had to find something instead of defeating the enderdragon. if they killed you and they won, you owed alex a real date. no stream, just them. 

“you’re going to hunt me for our first date?” you asked in disbelief. quackity then nodded his head up and down in a very fast motion. “mm cool,” you said as you punched him and ran away in a different direction.

it had been about 45 minutes and you killed karl and sapnap twice, but quackity had not been seen the whole time. but as you were running away from sapnap, quackity appeared in front of you and you faked trying to kill him, letting him just kill you because you wanted to go on that second date with him. 

(y/mc/n) was slain by quackity ranboo: date still going really well, looks like you guys are really hitting it off!

“awe man, looks like i have to go on another date with quackity!” you said. sarcastically faking the disappointment. reading your chat for the first time this stream, it wasn’t your usual happy messages. instead they were filled with negativity.

i don’t see why quackity wants to go on a date with them why did dream let them on the smp?? there are so many other content creators who deserve to be on the smp way more than they do they’re so fucking annoying begging for attention much?

so you grew quiet and just listened to quackity end off his stream while you ended yours without saying anything. but once he finished saying goodbye to his stream, you immediately said bye to him.

“i’m gonna go now alex, thank you for the minecraft date. text me the details for the next. bye.” you rushed.

alex found it really weird that you had just left like that, you guys almost always stayed on call after he finished streaming for at least 3 hours just talking. but he let it slide, hoping it wasn’t something he had done.

you went onto twitter to update about your streaming schedule. @(y/s/n): looks like my stream schedule may be moving around because i’m going on a second date with @ quackity!

alex quickly went to go reply to it but gazed over the replies to your tweet and wasn’t very happy with them. you don’t deserve to go on another date with him you’re literally just using him for clout what an attention whore leave him alone already!

knowing that you barely ever got hate, he quickly called you instead. thinking very hard about what he was about to do. looking at your phone you saw that alex was facetiming you, you wiped your face from the tears that had fallen and sniffled, hoping you didn’t sound too congested.

“hello?” you said. “hey um, i have to tell you something.” he replied. the serious tone of his voice got you very nervous. was he about to confirm everything your chat had told you or even the tweets you just read? “i really like you, (y/n).” he said. you looked at your phone in surprise and he continued. “and i really don’t know if you feel the same way about me but i read the replies to your tweet and i know that you’re a pretty new streamer and i just don’t want you to already be getting hate because of me, you don’t deserve that. you’re an amazing person and i just, i don’t want to be the reason you’re getting hate. so i think it’d be best if we just laid off talking to each other for now.” “i like you too, alex.” you whispered. “but i respect your decision. goodbye for now?” you said, offering a smile to the screen he was displayed on. it looked like he was just as shocked as you when he told you how he felt. “uh, yeah. goodbye for now. don’t be a stranger (y/n).” you smiled once more and hung up.

as soon as you hung up you started crying again. you really liked alex, but maybe you didn’t show that well enough, because if you did, maybe you guys would’ve been together at this point.

the next day, you streamed normally with a faked high energy that nobody seemed to notice, this time not paying attention to your chat. deep inside you really just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep all your stresses away. it really sucked to find out the guy you’ve had a crush on liked you back but he decided to end whatever you guys had going on.

but your chat couldn’t know so you kept a fake facade on, hoping no one asked about him.

though to alex, it looked like you were so unbothered by him pretty much ending your friendship. he started slightly believing the tweets that mentioned how you were just using him for clout. but after really thinking about it, he realized, why would you have been friends with him months before, without any of your fans knowing if you really were just using him. so he scolded himself and went about his day.

you were ending your stream with a big smile, as soon as you hit that end streaming button that smile was gone. you changed into a hoodie and curled into your bed. you just looked up at your ceiling and started crying, you pretty much lost the guy you really liked. your feelings being unnoticed by the public eye.

[jadelynlace]

I love your writing so much and am absolutely obsessed w/ Ink Drinker! I was just wondering how things would go down if either Ivar or Reader had a very vivid dream about the other cheating on them?

Feeling very angst-y as of late lol

Thank you! I'm so so glad you're here & reading it!

First and foremost, I don't write detailed accounts of cheating; that's in my request rules, and they apply to Ink Drinker, as well. Please be mindful of them. Because both characters in this AU have been cheated on, I do think it would be something that they have confided in each other with; as in any healthy relationship. It's an extreme limit for both of them.

I’ve actually discussed this exact concept with a mutual:

Ivar always has vivid dreams; ever since he was a kid, and on the off chance that he actually gets to sleep, they're there. I have tossed around the idea of him having a dream where you get with Aiden, and the whole thing seems so damn real that Ivar wakes up nearly crying. And when he jolts awake, you're not there. You're already up, starting coffee and breakfast for him so you two can eat it in bed.

Again, I'm not going to go into detail regarding the dream, but it's enough to jar the poor man. Calling your name in a weak cry, almost as if he's a child who's convinced something is under his bed before he tries to find you.

You offer him a smile and he looks distraught; angry and broken while trying to understand how you could do this to him. You told him last night that you loved him. His gaze catches you immediately, making you halt your actions and you turn to him.

"Ivar? What's wrong?" You ask.

"Are you cheating on me?" He peeps and God, if that thought alone doesn't break your heart, the tone of his voice sure does.

"No, Ivar I'm not," You answer firmly. "Where is this coming from?"

"You didn't try to get with Aiden?" He asks, and when you step closer he steps away.

"No, Ivar," You reply.

"Are you sure?" He peeps.

"Positive. You're scaring me," You whisper. "Why do you think I would get with Aiden?"

"It was just a dream?" And you understand suddenly what's eating at him, and the poor man is so confused as his subconscious world bleeds into the material one that he can't differentiate the two.

"It was just a dream," You say back. "Ivar, please, I wouldn't do that, not to either of us. And especially not to Aiden," You add as he nods.

He's around you in an instant, and long inhale through his nose as his arms crush you. You take to trailing your hands over his back, your mind spiraling on what could have caused him to dream something so horrid. Even as the hug lasts well past one minute, flowing towards two, you're in no hurry to pull away from him, because you're better at understanding how his mind works now. He needs this moment to ground himself, and you'll give it to him.

"It felt so real," Ivar whispers and you move your head slightly in an attempt to nod against him.

The rest of the day, Ivar is clingy. Ivar is so impossibly clingy that even getting up to use the bathroom is almost impossible. You two had plans with Hvitserk and Thora, but you call and cancel them, saying that you and Ivar are both feeling under the weather, and the excuse works in your favor. You don't even begin to try to wrap your head around what Ivar's feeling; he refuses to even draw that day and that alone tells you how dark his thoughts are.

You find him on the couch, absentmindedly staring at the television, and his vision hardly shifts when you stand in front of him. Slowly, you climb into his lap and you swallow thickly when he pays you no attention.

"Can I tell you something, Ivar?" You ask and he nods, eyes finally falling to yours. "Actually, it's a lot of things," You correct, and that catches his attention, thinking maybe, just maybe the dream was a warning.

"Yes," Ivar whispers back.

Your hands cup his cheeks, pushing his hair from his face and he tries so very hard to offer you even a weak smile, but he fails.

"I love your eyes," You start. "They're so impossibly blue, I think they make the oceans jealous. And the scar on your eyebrow, it's exactly opposite the one dimple on your chin. The one you get when you smile just right, that's my favorite smile. And your mouth, how you can say the stupidest fucking things, but also the sweetest. I love to hear you talk about your passions, your dreams, what you want to name our first baby," You say. Your hands crawl slowly, landing on his shoulders.

"I love your shoulders. One of my favorite tattoos is this one," You start," drumming your fingers against the ink that lives there. "And your neck, it's my favorite place to wrap my arms when you hug me. And I love your arms, not just because of the tattoos but because they hold me, and they're strong, and one day, they're going to hold our children. And our grandchildren. They've remodeled our house, they danced with us at our wedding. I like when you prop them behind your head when you're watching television, or when you're laying in bed. I love your hands, too," You then say.

"This one, especially," You point out, grabbing the band that lives on his ring finger. "I don't know what it is about seeing you wear your wedding band, but it's so attractive," And that makes Ivar finally crack a small smile. "These fingers tangle with mine when you hold my hand when you drive. They draw, they produce incredible art, Ivar. They hold your tattoo gun, they help clasp necklaces behind my neck when I need you to. They trace my skin like an ancient language that only you're fluent in," And you kiss the very knuckles you're talking about.

"And this," You say, tapping your fingers on his chest. "Makes you human. And I love how you put your heart, and your soul into everything you create, and everything you do. I know it beats for me, and it will until the day you die. Just like mine does, for you," You lean back slightly, taking your hands to his stomach. "I know your anxiety makes your stomach hurt, and I know that you pay no regard to the foods you're not supposed to eat because they're too damn good. And I love how you love cookies, no matter if it's five in the morning or five at night. And I love how ticklish you claim to not be," You add, wiggling your fingers and it makes the man suddenly chuckle, squirming slightly.

"I love your thighs," You then start. "I remember putting my hands on them after you crashed, and even then you were a smart ass. You went on and on about how you liked it when I touched you there. You always hold my hand over your thigh when you're driving. And you have that tattoo, too, that I can't imagine the look on Floki's face when he put it there," You smile. "I love your legs. Every day you prove to me that you're more than them, and every day you show the whole world that you aren't defined by the two things you almost lost. I loved all the star gazing we did at the center and walking with you when you took your first steps. They stood with me when we got married, and they're going to chase our children through this house. And your back—”

"Stop, baby," Ivar whispers. His hands finally cup your cheeks as his thumbs stroke under your eyes, and it's then you see him smile. "I know all of these things,"

“You’re not going to let me finish?” You tease. “I think this is the first time you’re not letting me finish,” And that makes Ivar snort. You only giggle at how he rolls his eyes, flicking them towards the ceiling and then back to you.

“I should be saying it to you,” Ivar says, ending his sentence by pulling you closer before his lips meet yours. “It felt so real, baby. But I know it wasn’t—this, is real,”

[whosjunglejim4322]

Best friends brother!Johnny

Warnings: voyeurism, jerking off, blonde johnny bc yes this is a fair and just warning, spitting, inexperienced (of age) reader, finger fucking, teary eyed orgasm

You know it's wrong, on so many levels. You should retreat back to the room, should leave him to do whatever it is he's doing. But it's as if he did it on purpose, cracking his door open after hearing your footsteps and rummaging downstairs as you fixed yourself a glass of water.

It had been closed when you passed previously, warm light illuminated underneath the door, from somewhere inside his room.

There's always been a...tension, for lack of better term, between the two of you for about two years now. It's incredibly hard to not seem so obvious around him, with his plush pink lips and tall, lithe frame. He'd purposely make eye contact with you during dinners or movies, just to watch you squirm and look away, cheeks hot.

Its not fair, he carries a tangible aura around him, the type that makes your belly warm and heat spread throughout your inner thighs. Maybe it's a crush, or simply just you, being irrationally attracted to a man who's pretty and definitely has big dick energy.

But still, you can't ignore the voice of reason that echoes in the back of your head as you fight the urge to sneak a peek, having heard soft, but purposeful expletives in a low voice that could only be his.

It's not even necessarily panick that you feel, inching closer and closer on the tips of your toes, your brain filled with vivid, fever inducing images of what he could possible be doing, even if it's already blatantly obvious.

A part of you wants to rationalize, but the other half has not even a hint of doubt that he's doing it on purpose, a cruel punishment of some sort.

Tonight he'd caught you staring a bit too hard, a bit too shamelessly. Your bestfriend and their parents were engrossed in a coversation after dinner, you and Johnny on opposite ends of the long grey couch.

He was wearing a black tee that fit snug around his biceps in an unmissable way, slim grey sweats on his bottom half that allowed his thick thighs, among other things, to be seen clear as day when he sat down.

As always, your gaze gravitated towards him like a magnet, pupils wide as you divulged in raking over his entire figure. From his tousled, and recently dyed golden hair, to his elegant yet sharp profile, and then lower. And lower. You were confident enough that everyone else was too distracted to notice, that he too was engrossed in the conversation being had.

But then you felt it, his eyes, burning holes into you. This time, when you met eachothers stare from where you were sat, something deranged and idiotic inside of you decided that you wouldn't look away this time, that if he wanted to play this game with you as he seemingly had been for the past couple years, that you'd play along too.

Something about it felt oddly safe, like, what? Your bestfriends older brother is going to rat you out and tell everyone that you're staring at him? Not likely.

So, you glanced from his lips and then back to his hooded eyes, something inside of him whirring at the small but obvious notion.

To your surprise, he was the first one to break. You had almost gasped, as if the whole time you'd been in a trance and forgotten where you were, who he really is. He cleared his throat, running his slim fingers through the front of his hair before standing, quickly.

"Feeling tired, gonna go to bed early."

He'd stated, politely yet in a manner that felt all too unusual in comparison to his usually steady, confident tone. No one else seemed to notice, but you definitely did. You felt stupid, staring at his broad back as he trotted to his room.

Once he was at the top of the staircase, you could have sworn he threw you a glance over his shoulder.

He didn't leave the room after that, and now here you are, being severely unhinged and deciding that it's a good idea to listen closely, and eagerly, to the pants coming from behind his door.

Maybe you're letting your fantasies get the best of you. What if he's not even doing that? As unpleasant as it is to think, what if all this time you've just been this hormonal mess around a person who is just existing as the sexy and somewhat flirty man that he is?

Afterall, he is effortless in nearly everything he does, it's not like it's hard for him to capture the attention of others. Maybe he's weirded out, what if it's all just in your hea-

"Fuuuck, Y/N."

Your eyes go wide, heart pounding so loudly you're almost scared he might hear it. You feel like every nerve in your body has been struck with a live wire.

There's no fucking way.

But then he moans again, louder this time, and you find your inhibitions almost completely disappearing as you saunter in the dark to a position where you can peek inside to get a clear look.

Nothing prepares you for the sight, not the thoughts your subconcious conjures up on nights where the need to relieve yourself becomes overwhelming.

He's so pretty, his head thrown back against his headboard, heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You don't even pay attention to what he's doing yet, too focused on the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows, the shape of his jaw.

But it's impossible to ignore the way his bicep is flexing under his minisrations, leading your eyes south to where his large hand is gripping the base of his thick shaft.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He's big, the tip slightly darker than the rest, almost plum in hue. You can't take your eyes off of his long fingers, the way they're wrapped around his dick. You wonder how it would feel if it were you, jerking him off like this, being the source of his guttural groans.

It's just all so filthy, the sounds, the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You feel slick between your thighs, overwhelmed at the sight of his manhood that surpasses any and every expectation that your daydreams have created, deciding to watch his face again and tuck the memory of his lewd expressions into the back of your mind for later use.

But it's as if your heart stops, when you lift your gaze to see that he's already staring right at you, eyes lowly lidded and indescribably dark as he continues to jerk himself off.

It feels surreal, like maybe this is all a dream and you'll wake up soon and greet him in the kitchen during breakfast or something and all of this will just be another reason to be overwhelmingly nervous around him.

But it is real, in fact you're sure of it because that's his voice, clear and resonant calling your name, beckoning you with a lascivious, yet welcoming cadence.

"Come here."

Your feet move on their own accord, brain not yet in sync with your body, still trying to comprehend the fact that this is all really happening.

You know you look nervous, bewildered as you step into his room, a room you've seen and snuck into many times before with your bestfriend to steal vinyls from his collection. Except now, said bestfriends older brother is stroking his dick while you suddenly rethink being so overly confident earlier tonight.

You instinctively close the door, too worried about someone seeing despite the fact that your bestfriends room is on the other side of the house, his parents on the first floor.

You realize as soon as it clicks shut, that you've solidified it; whatever is about to happen. Though you're not as scared as you thought you'd be, more so fascinated and unbearably aroused as you approach him where he's sat on the bed.

He pats the space between his legs, just below his knees as to not make you apprehensive or nervous. You do so, eyes wide with curiosity and exhilaration. You fold your legs underneath yourself, heart hammering from behind your ribcage as you sit.

"You know," He begins lowly, hand still wrapped around his hard cock, stroking slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if this whole thing is as casual as eating dinner together. "It's rude to work me up so much and then not even say hello while you're spying on me."

Your cheeks burn, gut twisting with a mixture of arousal and embarassment. You look everywhere but his eyes, knowing they're on you, examining your every expression.

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't trying to spy, I just heard you and-"

He interrupts with an amused chortle, loving every minute of your shy fidgeting.

"And what? Just had to look, huh? I knew you would, always had eyes for me," He states in a manner that has your sex throbbing between your legs. "You were really bold tonight, I mean look how hard you made me baby, could barely stand it."

You can't resist peering up at him through your lashes now, his countenance hungry and full of desire; it almost has you whining, the source of your sexual frustration sitring right in front of you professing that you're the reason his dick is being fisted in his palm.

"I didn't even know that you thought of me like that, to be honest."

He chuckles, head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

"I do, I have for a while now, after I knew for sure that you felt the same way. You think you're so slick, staring at me like that."

His hand quickens in pace and you finally find some courage within yourself, his admittance leaving you slightly breathless but the comfort of his room and the quiet of the house allowing for an appropriate atmosphere.

As appropriate as this could be.

"Johnny, I want to touch you."

It almost comes out as a whisper, you can see him swallow.

"Go ahead baby, you can touch me."

Your fingertips trace the inside of his thighs before you hesitantly grasp his dick in your hands, disbelief clouding your senses at the realization of what's happening, and that it can't be taken back now. Not that you want it to.

You take mental notes of the moment, the softness of his golden skin, the slight stickiness of his precum and the curve of his length. It's so pretty upclose.

His own hand is suddenly wrapping around yours, dwarfing it completely as he shows you the pace he enjoys, the contact causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

"Just like that," He bites down on his plump bottom lip, a flutter of heat suddenly rushing between your legs. "Have you ever done this before?"

He removes his hand but keeps it close to yours, allowing you to work as you shake your head in a silent confession.

"Are you okay with this? Really?"

You both regard eachother with a shared gaze, the softness of his voice giving you more butterflies than you'd like to admit.

"Yes, yes I'm really okay with it."

At this you pick up the pace, twisting your hand in the same manner you saw him demonstrate earlier, taking pride in the groan that leaves his throat. You feel like you're on fire, but in a good way.

"Y-You moaned my name earlier." You state, free hand wandering over the thighs you've dreamt of riding, and over his agile hips. His skin is silky.

He hums in admittance, cock twitching.

"I was thinking about you, about this. I've been cumming to the thought of you more often recently."

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, his arm reaching out towards you, smooth knuckles caressing your sweltering cheek.

More often, as in, he's done it before. As in, you haven't been the only one fantisizing. It feels like your head is spinning.

"You're really so clueless, don't even realize how fuckin' horny you make me."

He bucks into your fist, your senses becoming overwhelmed. It's the arousal fogging your brain that finally leads you to speaking more than just a few words per sentence.

"I just wasn't sure, I spend more time than I'd like to admit thinking of all the things I want you to do to me, all the things I want to do to you," Your palm twists over his tip, his mouth slightly agape as he listens with rapt attention.

"Your dick is much prettier in person, you should feel how wet I am right now."

It feels as if you've just run a mile, out of breath. A bead of pearlescent precum cascades down his frenulum.

"Can I?" He asks, the strain in his rough voice evident. You nod eagerly, gasping as he suddenly reaches out and clasps his large hands just under your arms, to pull you onto his lap, sitting you on his thighs.

"Open your hand for me sweetheart."

You do as he asks, worked up beyond belief and even more so as he purses his lips and spits into your palm.

You're gripping him again as he cups your pussy through your leggings, middle finger tracing your slit through the thin material. It's a foreign feeling, having someone else touch you so intimately; you're not prepared for the surge of desire that washes over you.

He senses this in the way your wrist slows, rythym faltering just slightly. You pick it back up as he slips his hand past your waistband, the warmth of his digits against your slick folds all too much to bear.

You let out a soft mewl, and he slips his middle finger inside of your warm, welcoming walls, sucking in air through his teeth as your slick coats the digit.

He begins to thrust into you in time with the pace you stroke his cock, the sticky sounds of your wetness driving him more wild than it does when he's picturing it inside of his head.

The moment is so vivid, for both if you. His fingers are so much longer than your own, skilled and curling inside of you as his middle digit nudges your cervix. The pressure of him rubbing your sweet spot has you barely holding your eyes open.

"Feels good, sweetheart? You like when I finger fuck you?"

You're fully in it now, senses overtaken with a yearning, a need. You're already so gone yet irrevocably present, the depravity in his voice causing a knot of desire to swirl in the pit of your abdomen.

"Y-Yes I love your fingers J-John- oh!"

You hiccup your words as he adds another finger, his eyes glossed over with astonishment at how wet you are, coating his silver rings and soaking his palm.

"You love em' huh?" He uses his free hand to wrap around your throat, gently but firmly, forcing you to look down at him. The knot of his eyebrows and the parting of his lips is enough to have you twitching around him.

You're using your fist to fuck just his tip now, as you've noticed even despite the haze of your arousal how he's more sensitive there. You wonder if he's as close as you are, as he suddenly pulls you down to his parted lips, pressing your mouth to his.

This feeling is different, it's blissful in an agonizing way. Your body is tingling all over, the pleasure reaching a sweltering peak. He pulls back but doesn't move his lips from yours, delivering slow and sloppy pecks as he speaks.

"I want you to fucking cum, show me what you do when you touch your little pussy to the thought of me."

It feels like you might cry, the sob you let out never reaching past your lips as he places his palm over your mouth; fingers fiercely fucking you through your orgasm. You notice he's cumming too when spurts of warmth drip down your fingers.

Still, he's so focused on you, the way you're writhing. Nothing will ever compare to this.

"Shh shh, that's it baby let it go, fucuuuck-" he grits through his teeth, unbearbly handsome face blurry through the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

Your thighs tremble atop his lap, his cock half hard and still in your hands. He slips his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, tongue lapping at your release.

It has you twitching, underwear almost soaked through.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth just to kiss you again, sweetly and with a softness that gives you whiplash.

"I think I'm gonna steal you, from now on." He mumbles, after the two of you finally catch your breath. You can feel the corners of his mouth lift as you hum in agreement.

"Guess I'll have to stay the night more often." You reply, nibbling on his plump bottom lip. You can hardly believe any of this really just happened.

He grasps your jaw.

"Only if I can have you again for breakfast."

[classyklancey]

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he’s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.  

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

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MASTERLIST

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