#baby blue umbrella

[withinthebrain]

Beach Business

A business man he was, properly dressed in his suit and tie, a top hat rightfully donned atop his head. And there he sat, rather relaxed, his legs outstretched in a beach chair. The waves calmly kissed the sand, as the business man quietly gazed, at the vast horizon, miles across the ocean. A business man was he, his dress shoes speckled with sand. His chair, half-sunk, bore witness to the real weight of his world. Yet here, mere yards from the shade of the baby blue beach umbrella, a business man sat, relaxed. Photo inspo @premier-regard

[kpop-bbg]

[arminsumi]

「 🔴 RECORDING 」

found footage of satoru's student years... recorded on the camcorder that he carried around everywhere.

warnings : heavy angst, fluff, implied death, not proofread

[ the first footage is one minute long. there's two blue eyes widening comedically on the screen. the resolution is low and the audio is tinny. ]

"Ooo it works... well hellooooooo there... i'm... GOJO!! SATORU!! and this is... suguuuuruu getooooo... oh look at that walk, you're such a model."

[ the camera is on suguru, who's walking with bad posture. he doesn't like the camera. ]

[ he has his old hairstyle; this was recorded before his hair was long enough to be in the bun style. he hides his face from the camera. ]

"... aw, he's a model that doesn't like cameras. anyways... this is the beautiful... STUNNING... hot... talented... playing-hard-to-get... (haha kidding)... y/n~"

[ the camera pans to you. you can hear the flirty tone in satoru's voice. ]

"... we are currently walking through the gates of hell..."

[ the camera pans to the school. the resolution clears for a second to show a blue sky with slowly drifting clouds. ]

"okay. we have arrived in hell; look there's satan himself—"

[ the camera pans to yaga. ]

[ the footage ends with yaga confiscating satoru's camera and scolding him. ]

[ a video starts off shaky. the camera is dropped on the train floor and suguru sighs. ]

"satoru...... did you just break it after having it for one day?"

[ satoru picks it up and gives a toothy smile to the screen. ]

"nah. she's all good. not even a scratch. ooh... suguru we look so hot. and look how hot y/n is... she's so scandalous — sittin' next to me on the train. this proximity's got me sweatin', baby... kidding kidding... don't gimme that look!"

[ suguru gives the middle finger to the camera and satoru's iconic laugh sounds beautiful even through the crap audio quality. ]

[ there's a 3 minute video that's half-corrupted of a party happening in your apartment... of just you, satoru, suguru and shoko. lykke li's "i follow rivers" is playing loudly, satoru is screaming the lyrics in broken english and suguru is recording you and him dancing like maniacs. shoko is offering her cigarette to the camera and blowing smoke into the lens. ]

[ there's a 25 second clip of satoru aggressively kissing you until you laugh. ]

[ there is a photo of satoru crouching to pet a cat. he's holding an umbrella. ]

[ there is corrupted footage of laughter and a flicker of the video shows a tiny pot on a stove with ramen cooking in it. ]

[ there's a photo of you, satoru, suguru and shoko. you and satoru are looking at each other like lovebirds. suguru is giving the finger to the camera. shoko is laughing with her eyes closed. ]

[ a long video of satoru waking up in a hotel bed. he looks like he just woke up. he blinks at the camera, bleary-eyed and cute with puffy lips and messy hair. ]

"goodmornin'."

[ his morning rasp is strong. ]

"i'm awake... but miss sleepy head and mister sleepy head are not, as you can see..."

[ he zooms in on your face. you're laid at his right, and suguru is laid at his left. ]

"here's the sleeping angel... and here's the sleeping dragon... anyways... WAKEY WAKEYYYYYYYYY!!! IT'S A BRIGHT NEW DAY!!!"

[ suguru's wakeful groan sounds groggy and disturbed by satoru's loud, piercing wake-up call. you scrunch your face as you wake up, seemingly out of a dream. ]

"satoru... what the hell is the matter with you..."

[ it's an ultra close-up shot of your nose as you mumble this. ]

"i was lonely being awake by myself, gosh. you're so mean!"

[ he experiences a voice crack. suguru gives a sleepy, murderous look at his best friend. ]

"satoru... i swear i'm gonna throw that camera into traffic one day."

[ suguru's mumbling into his pillow too softly to be taken seriously. ]

"wanna say that to the camera?"

[ suguru looks grouchy. ]

"i'll kill you."

"WOW... buddy, this is evidence if you ever do kill me... the police will find this footage... 'n put your FLAT ass in jail. aw... y/n fell back asleep look look... aw she's so fucking precious."

[ suguru and satoru admire you for a bit. there rest of the footage is corrupted. ]

[ footage of a breakfast in the same hotel. sunny side eggs are zoomed-in on. and there's only eggs. ]

"we're too broke to buy bacon, isn't that cool?"

[ satoru gets a nice view up his nose as he tilts the camera to himself. then he turns the camera to you, who's sleepily eating this miserable breakfast. ]

"... so we just have eggs to eat... heyyyy hot babe..."

[ satoru flirts with you and you roll your eyes in response, smiling and chewing on your egg, fork in one hand. ]

"wanna hear a joke?"

"mhm."

"if you ever broke up with me, what would you call me?"

"an idiot?"

"your eggs."

[ you groan and stop eating because his pun was so awful, but you've got a big smile on your face and satoru is laughing heartily. ]

[ the video ends with you and satoru leaning in for a big kiss and a sleepy suguru walking into the room, itching his tummy under his shirt. ]

[ there's a clip of you, satoru, suguru and shoko yelling happy new year and watching fireworks explode into blazing, brilliant colors. suguru winks at the camera as you hold it and you giggle flirtatiously back. there's clearly tension between you two that neither satoru nor shoko acknowledge in the moment, because the fireworks distract them. ]

[ there's footage of you, satoru and suguru kissing. it ends with satoru kissing the camera as a joke. ]

[ most of the footage is corrupted after this. in the next video, satoru seems a bit older. ]

[ there's footage of a solo satoru, who's been enlightened and and burdened with being the strongest. he's on a mission alone, keeping the camcorder on as he exorcises a curse. he trots over to the camera. he seems less enthusiastic compared to the other videos. ]

"aaand that's what the strongest looks like while he's at work."

[ satoru looks smug and goofy, but something is off. his features look worn and tired. ]

[ there is already that slightly disingenuous liveliness showing in his demeanor just in this small video; the version of satoru that his students would know as just normal gojo sensei. ]

[ his smile falters as he rambles about y/n and suguru. ]

"i'm gonna give y/n a big kiss when i get home. miss you, angel. haha... why am i talking to a camera all by myself... that's so sad. i'm gonna film myself gettin' that kiss at home, just to prove i'm not some lonely idiot. i have a hot fiancé..."

[ one of the last photos taken on this camera is dated; august 2009. it's of you and satoru sharing a big kiss... neither of you knew it at the time, but it was your last kiss. ]

[ the next piece of footage is from 2018. it's a 28 year old gojo, his features show his maturity and the weathering of all the years he's endured living without you and suguru.]

"i found this camera while cleaning up. if i look 'n sound funny it's 'cuz i've been crying haha......"

"...... i miss you two..... haha... i can't shove the camera in your faces like i used to, now can i?"

[ he awkwardly smiles at the camera but then his face trembles and contorts into an ugly-cry as if he just remembered every single memory of his youth. ]

[ the footage ends with a broken, barely audible "fuck..." falling from the teacher's lips as he starts to cry and drops the camera to the floor. the rest is corrupted footage... just heaving sobs of the man who has no more memories to record with suguru and y/n. ]

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[k4tsukiis]

NERD!EREN! BRAINROT!

nerd!eren who reaches out after 9 pm to ask about your day

nerd!eren who jerks off to you rambling about your day through the phone

“‘ren baby, you okay over there?”

“yeah-*gulp* yeah it’s just really hot in my room.”

nerd!eren who dresses nice for you to take you on a date. going home straight after work, changing from a blue button up and khakis to a black v neck sweater with a white collared dress shirt underneath and black dress pants. he even takes off his glasses bc he thinks it makes him look ‘sexier’

nerd!eren who picks you up straight at your door, holding an umbrella because he didn’t want you to get wet from the rain.

nerd!eren who geeks out and babbles about random things that interest him like batman

nerd!eren who thinks he doesn’t look good in glasses, but you disagree, demanding he puts them back on

nerd!eren who tries to take you on a date but the night ends up with him in between your legs

nerd!eren who looks up at you with foggy glasses while eating you out

nerd!eren who loves eating you out for his own pleasure

nerd!eren who cums in his pants just from eating you out

nerd!eren who secretly has a 8 inch dick (well it’s actually a little more than 7.5 but who’s counting)

nerd!eren who sends you videos of him stroking his dick throughout the day to lyk how much he misses you

nerd!eren who hasn’t lost his virginity yet bc he’s “too big”

nerd!eren who begs you to ride him after overstimulating him for hours

“f-fuck- ngh- please please please ride me princess.”

“you’re so beautiful baby.”

nerd!eren who lets out the loudest, gutteral moans with that deep voice

nerd!eren who goes to take his glasses off before fucking you

“glasses stay on.”

nerd!eren who slides his glasses back up with his three fingers

“yes, ma’am.”

nerd!eren who acts submissive but changes as soon as it’s his turn to fuck you

“spread your fucking legs before i do it for you.”

“god baby f-fuck you feel so good-“

nerd!eren who fucks into you with no remorse, head leaned back with his lips formed in an ‘o’

nerd!eren who ends up being the biggest slut yk.

may or may not be self-indulgent. may or not be a true story. may or may not be my guy best friend.

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[hanjisick]

— COOKIES

order #6 of the coffee shop series: a cookie

ingredients. y/n x barista!felix. he’s never had a gf before. hopeless pining on felix’s end. mostly fluff with some angst. also the boys keep trying to play shitty wingmen again.

allergies. making out and felix being awkward

size. 3.2k

special add ons. felix is a sociable, confident, kind barista at yellow wood café. but once you show up on one rainy day, you turn him into a mess.

you hadn’t prepared for the rain to come so quickly.

the forecast had said that it would only pick up in the afternoon, and you figured that you would be home by then. so of course, you had left your umbrella at home.

you decided to run into the nearest building, hoping to stay there until the rain had died down a little.

it was a coffee shop, one that you hadn’t been to before. you had no clue how you didn’t know the place existed. it seemed like just your type of hang-out spot.

the difference between the café and outside was stark. looking through the windows, it was gloomy and intense, while inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy. the smell of coffee brewing and people chatting filled your senses.

“can i help you?” you had been staring off for a minute now, your entire body drenched in rain.

“sorry,” you apologized, “i was just looking for somewhere to be until the rain stopped.”

“you’re alright! could i get anything for you while you wait?”

your eyes stared the barista up and down. he was around your age— and was the epitome of sunshine. his features were gentle and strikingly beautiful.

his name tag read “felix.”

then, you drifted towards the menu on the counter, written in chalk, slightly smudged.

“are the cookies any good?” you questioned, staring at the cute plastic containers full of baked goods, specifically the heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies.

“well, i baked them myself, so they better be good.” felix’s shy smile told you that he was proud of his baking.

“i’ll buy one and see for myself.”

usually, the freckled barista wasn’t nervous at comments like these, but your gentle eyes made his heart flip in ways that he didn’t quite understand. “will that be all?”

“for now.”

he rang you up, handing you the cookies straight out of the container.

without waiting to sit down, you bit into the cookie.

two of felix’s fingers met his neck, checking his pulse quickly— a nervous habit of his.

but his nerves turned into excitement as your eyes lit up.

“i’ll take two more cookies and a mocha, please!”

felix couldn’t help but smile widely, “our muffins are really good too. we have blueberry and chocolate chip right now, but i’m working on a recipe for a cappuccino muffin.”

you cut his ramble short, “i’ll try both. and a brownie.”

“got a sweet tooth?” he rolled up the sleeves of his baby blue cardigan to begin making your mocha, “i don’t want you to get any cavities.”

“i’ll have just one bite of each and bring it home with me,” you reasoned, taking a stool at the bar, “i have nothing better to do, anyway. the rain says it’ll last for another hour.”

“so you’re gonna spend that hour taste-testing the treats?”

“i’ve never been here before, i better start working on my regular order.”

“will you be a new regular?”

“if the mocha is good. otherwise i think i’ll just go back out into the rain, i’m already drenched anyway.”

there you go again. causing felix to worry about how good his barista skills were in a way that nobody does.

he couldn’t help but drizzle a chocolate heart on top before handing it to you.

immediately felix jumped back. “your hands are freezing!”

“that’s what happens when you’re in the rain.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at felix’s concern. it wasn’t bad at all.

“i think this goes against every rule we have here,” felix shrugged off his cardigan, throwing it across the counter.

immediately your quiet laugh died down, your stomach twisting with butterflies. mostly at how kind the freckled boy was, but you couldn’t ignore the way that the white shirt under it clung to him tighter.

“thank you.” you wrapped yourself in the cardigan, breathing in a faint scent of a fruity perfume, almost masked by the overwhelming smell of coffee.

“felix,” chan, his boss, nudged him with a grin, “did you just do what i think you did?”

if it were any other barista, they would’ve been scolded. but felix had taken up a large spot in chan’s heart, one that meant that he refused to rebuke the boy.

“she was cold! right, y/n?” he defended, “she just came in from the rain outside.”

“so you’re just gonna give every customer your clothes if they’re cold?”

you could see a faint red tint forming on felix’s ears, “well no! but she’s new, i wanted to give her a warm welcome.”

there was a familiar look in chan’s eyes, one that felix could spot from miles away. one of knowing.

“alright then. i’m glad you were able to earn us a new customer. even if it meant giving up your clothes.”

“do you have any paper?” you interrupted with a mouthful of muffin, “and maybe a pen too?”

felix was thankful that you saved him from chan. “yeah! i’ll get it for you. hold on.”

thirty minutes later, once a spot of sunlight through the clouds had appeared, you were gone.

felix glanced over at your spot, sadness pulling on his heart, full of what if’s.

what if you didn’t come back? what if that was the last time he would see you?

he noticed the piece of paper left behind.

the title read, “felix’s bakery ranking.”

first place was the cookies. second was the brownies. then the chocolate chip muffin, then the blueberry.

“she must love chocolate,” felix jumped at jeongin’s voice from behind him, “she also got a mocha, right?”

“how do you know? you weren’t even here.”

“chan was telling the group chat.”

“he was doing what?” felix reached for the phone in his back pocket to confirm his words.

“talking about how you were mesmerized by that girl.”

“was not!”

“you totally were,” chan patted his back, “i’ve never seen you smile that wide.”

“says a lot for how much he smiles.”

felix groaned as jeongin flipped over the scrap paper.

“see you at 3 tomorrow,” he read out, looking up at felix whose eyes widened, turning to chan.

“i don’t work tomorrow! can i work tomorrow?”

“so it isn’t just you being kind?”

“i need to get my cardigan back.”

“you’re a terrible liar. just admit that you want to see her again.”

“just schedule me to work tomorrow!”

the next day, felix was walking on clouds.

the boy normally walked with a pep in his step, serving customers with a comfortable kindness that nobody else could replicate, but today there was an extra hint of sweetness to everything that he did. even some of the most unobservant customers had pointed it out.

but each of the boys knew exactly why he was acting the way that he was, thanks to the messages that chan had sent.

as the vintage clock on the wall inched closer and closer to 3, felix became more dazed, clumsy even.

“are you sure that he should be working right now?” minho shot chan a questioning look.

“just let him get it out of his system.”

“but we’re cleaning up his spill messes all for a girl that he had one conversation with. he’s hopeless.”

“i don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend before.”

“really?” minho’s eyebrows raised, “with how all of the girls stick to him like glue?”

“i don’t think he knows how much of a heartthrob he is.”

chan glanced towards felix, who was busy chatting with two girls who had stopped by just a few minutes ago, “he’s clueless sometimes.”

the bell on the door rang as you stepped in, blue sweater in hand, eyes darting across the room to find the blonde boy who immediately abandoned his conversation.

“i came to return this,” you slid it across the counter, just as felix had done the previous day, “and get a cookie as well.”

“just the cookie?”

“and a mocha.”

“your total will be—“

“just give it to her for free,” chan whispered from behind, trying to help the frantic boy.

“it’ll be free today,” felix stumbled on his words, “and maybe i could heat the cookies for you too? they’re better warm.”

“that would be great,” you took a seat at the same spot as before, “your customer service is top tier. free service and a cardigan on a rainy day?”

“we try.” felix couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face, or take his eyes off of you.

even when you weren’t paying attention to him, typing on your laptop and munching on a cookie, he would stare at you, just barely hiding behind the espresso machine.

“why don’t you ask for her number?”

felix jumped as yet another barista appeared from behind him— something that had been happening too much recently. or perhaps he was just less focused on his surroundings.

“i can’t do that. what if she rejects me?”

“she would’ve let you down by now, do you know how obvious you’re making it?” hyunjin tried to reason with him.

“i guess that’s true, but i’m nervous. she’s really pretty.”

“so? you’re pretty too.”

felix gave the compliment a light laugh, “but she’s intimidatingly pretty.”

he kept an eye on the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, your finger tapping to the rhythm of the café’s record player on the table.

“you’re such a hopeless romantic. just get her number. she’s gonna leave again and you’re gonna be upset that you didn’t.”

“maybe.”

with those words in mind, felix shyly approached you, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

“hey,” he started, almost chickening out just from your eye contact.

his fingers went to his throat, checking his pulse, “do you think i could get your number?”

when you stared at him in silent shock for a moment, he continued, “not as, like, a weird thing! i just want to be your friend.”

he could see hyunjin out of the corner of his eye, ready to pull out his hair in frustration.

your smile faltered, but you still took the phone from his hand, saving your name as y/n.

“text me later.” there was a hint of sadness in your voice that felix didn’t fail to pick up on, but he didn’t dare to comment on it.

he ran off into the back room, ready to scream over the most embarrassing, disappointing moment in his entire life.

hyunjin followed close behind, “felix! what the hell?”

“i got nervous!”

“so you decided to friend-zone her?”

“she could’ve friend zoned me first!”

“she obviously wasn’t going to!”

“but if she did then i think i’d die!”

hyunjin was close to slamming his head against the nearest wall. “i’m gonna die right now if you don’t walk back out there and tell her that you’ve spent the whole day thinking about how pretty she is!”

“she’ll think i’m weird!”

“then i’ll do it!” felix tried to hold him back but failed as hyunjin opened the door, only to be met with an empty spot where you used to be.

felix let go, his shoulders dropping.

“where is she?”

“i guess she left,” hyunjin turned to see his devastated friend.

“did i fuck up that badly?”

hyunjin bit his lip, trying not to make it worse for him than it already was. but the truth was that, yeah, he did.

“maybe she’ll be back.”

felix texted you that night while he sat in bed, deciding on, “hi it’s felix! :)”

he kept his cardigan next to him.

perhaps it was a little creepy, but he decided to sniff it. it smelled different than usual. perhaps that’s what you smelled like.

perhaps he would never even get to know what you smelled like.

tears brimmed his eyes as he shut off his phone, staring up at the fan on his ceiling, letting the noise drown out the eerie silence.

felix wanted to slap himself for being such an idiot. he had no problem talking to people, he was the most extroverted extrovert that an extrovert could get. but he couldn’t help but question everything he did in front of you, even if he had just met you.

you didn’t respond.

when felix showed up to work the next day, it was like the sunshine was hidden behind a rainy cloud.

he knew that it shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did. he knew that checking to see if he got a text every minute wasn’t normal, or whip his head toward the door every time a customer came in.

so felix spent another night in his bed, phone in hand, staring at the text that he sent.

would it just be easier to forget about you? it’s not like he had anything going with you anyway.

it was only when he set it down for the night and closed his eyes that it began to ring, and he sprang right back up, eyes widening as he stared at the caller ID.

it was minho.

“hello?” felix answered, voice filled with sleep.

“you were upset at work today,” he stated, “is it because of that girl?”

“you could see it?”

“everyone could. like we always do.”

“i’m just gonna try to forget about it.”

“don’t.”

“what do you mean?”

“you have her number, right? come clean, text her that you were nervous. ask to meet up.”

“like a date?”

“exactly. ask her on a date.”

felix chewed on his lip, anxiety clouding his judgment once again. would he have the courage to even do that?

“chan said that you’re not allowed to work until you sort out your sadness. and nobody wants to cover your shifts, man.”

when minho hung up the phone, felix laid back against his pillows, letting out a breath of air that he didn’t know he was holding. then he checked his pulse.

opening your texts, he began typing. ‘i lied. it was something weird. you’re really pretty. you can block me if you want.’

he deleted the message.

‘actually,’

no.

‘i meant to ask for your number in a not-friend-way,’

no.

‘sorry for the other day. i was anxious and said the wrong thing, but i really wanted your number because i think you’re gorgeous. do you want to go out sometime?’

he sent the message and resisted the urge to chuck his phone across the room. instead, he threw it back down onto the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and squeezing it as hard as he could.

minutes later, felix heard his phone buzz. he scrambled to pick it up.

‘that’s ok. i was a little disappointed, you’re rly cute :)’

it buzzed again.

‘wanna come over tomorrow and watch a movie or something?’

his fingers shook, trying to type back, ‘sounds great! does 5 work?’

you reacted to his text with a thumbs up, and then he was back to squeezing the pillow.

felix didn’t work the next day. instead, he spent the day showering, squealing, spam-texting friends, and preparing for his first-ever date.

when you opened the doorbell, you were met with quite possibly the cutest sight in the entire world.

there felix was, holding a box of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies in his shaky hands. “i baked these for you, kind of as an apology, kind of because i wanted to impress you. and i know you like the cookies.”

you giggled at his honesty, letting him inside as you took the box, “thank you felix, you’re such a sweetheart.”

he checked his pulse.

“sorry for the mess. i tried to clean a little, but i don’t have people over often.”

“it’s okay,” he was quick to reassure you, “my house doesn’t look all that clean either. kind of comes with being a human.”

you laughed, taking a seat on the couch. he followed your actions.

“so, about the whole number thing,” he toyed with the rip on his black jeans.

“i thought you were really really beautiful.”

suddenly, he was way too aware of how close you were to him. but he wouldn’t let himself get nervous again.

“one of my coworkers was telling me to ask for your number and i was nervous and thought that you wouldn’t like me like that.”

felix sighed, “so i ended up saying the wrong thing and giving you the wrong idea.”

when he looked back up, you were smiling, holding in laughter. “that’s honestly adorable.”

“really?”

“i got sad, i thought you were just that kind to everyone and that i was developing some crazy ego thinking that a boy as attractive as you would like me.”

“you think i’m attractive?” his ears were on fire by now, completely stiff as you leaned in to look him in the eyes.

“i don’t understand how you don’t know how attractive you are.”

“what do you mean?”

“do i have to spell it out for you?”

“probably.”

“i think you’re gorgeous.”

“i also think the same about you. you looked so cute eating all happily, and when you smile, it makes me want to kiss you.” he chewed his lip, trying to not regret his bold words.

something tense was in the air, something that made felix’s heart pound a thousand times faster.

“then do it.”

felix froze. was he supposed to tell you that he had never kissed a girl before, much less sat this close to one?

“well, are you going to? or are you getting shy again?”

“i’ve never kissed anyone.” he let his heart thud out of his chest at the confession.

your eyes visibly widened, “you? you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“or held hands with a girl. and i’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“that’s impossible.”

“i don’t know how to prove it.”

“your awkwardness does the job.”

you decided to make a move, “but i can show you how if you’d like.”

felix’s mouth went dry, unsure of what to do or say.

“it’ll come naturally. just let it happen,” you smiled reassuringly as he nodded.

climbing onto his open lap, your hands carded through his blonde hair.

you leaned in to meet his lips briefly, his eyes burning into your own.

it was a soft and gentle kiss, just like him. but his eyes were full of desire for more.

“can i have another?” his hands met your back, pulling you into him.

this time, the kiss lasted longer, so much longer that he began craving more of you, so he did what he saw in all the movies.

he slipped his tongue into your mouth, grinning against your lips in pride at his actions.

felix’s hands traveled to your waist as took your word, letting go of his anxieties and doing what came naturally.

and without even realizing it, he began to take the lead.

all of the feelings were overwhelming. the way that you tugged on his hair, how close your bodies were, the way your tongue felt against his own.

he never wanted to stop.

until his phone began ringing.

you pulled away and he let out a shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes to stare at your features up close.

“felix, your phone,” you reminded him.

he jolted out of the daze, reaching for it.

chan.

he was about to just cancel the call when he saw the spam texts, asking where he was.

with a heavy sigh, he answered with you still on his lap.

“did you make up with y/n?”

“be quiet! i’m with her right now!”

you let out a laugh.

“oh! tell her hi!”

felix hung up on his friend with a groan, turning the ringer off.

“can we go back to kissing again?”

“after he’s done blowing you up,” you pointed at the buzzing phone.

[yabakuboi]

steddie request! pre steddie during a pool day eddie feels cute aggression and bites the back of steve's shoulder and surprises him

It should be ILLEGAL, Eddie thinks, for Steve Harrington to allowed out into polite company, much less in a community pool where innocent eyes could gaze upon him. Objectively, sure, Eddie knows that those little pink swim shorts aren't any more scandalous that what anyone else is wearing today. Ted Wheeler is knocked out on a lounge chair with only a speedo. But it's Steve. And Eddie's doing his best to rehab his image in Hawkins, so drooling after the local Harrington prince wasn't going to help.

Never mind that it was Steve who drug Eddie out into Satan's crack that is Indiana summer in August. He'd made a good case about it, too—something, something, being seen doing good in front of all the moms at the community pool, something, something, Holly's birthday party, yada yada. Honestly, Eddie didn't hear most of it, lost in Steve's stupid, beautiful brown eyes.

What was Eddie going to say? No?? Be for real.

That was how Eddie found himself sat on a deck chair (thankfully one with an umbrella), in his jeans next to a cooler, handing little girls juice boxes and snacks when demanded of him.

Holly Wheeler must befriends with the entire elementary school, Jesus Christ.

Steve himself, in his aforementioned pink swim trunks, was playing as pool jungle gym and had kids crawling all over him. It helped a lot to keep Eddie from drooling after him, but didn't do a lot for Eddie's heart.

Worse than Steve being hot, was Steve being cute. Eddie couldn't take it. He was going to die.

Steve had one of the smaller kids perched on his hip, held safely up out of the splash zone, while the rest of the hoard took turns climbing up onto his shoulders and using him like a diving board, his free hand guiding them safely into the water as they jumped. It looked like hell to Eddie, but Steve was grinning ear to ear, rating each jump with a booming cheer that had all the kids screaming around him with each splash.

"Um, excuse me," snaps a little girl in front of Eddie. He glances down and feels like he's looking at a mini Erica Sinclair, her hands on her hips and scowling. A chilling sight.

"Whatcha need, shrimp?" Eddie sighs, flipping the cooler lid up to take another order. "We're out of red barrels, and our stock of blue is going fast."

She eyes him skeptically for a moment before her little shoulders slump. "Fine, I guess I'll take the blue."

"Here you go," he says, pulling the foil off for her since little wrinkled baby fingers have yet to manage it all day. "Now be gone with ye."

Treating him with another incredibly bitchy look for a third grader, she bounds off just as a shadow appears over Eddie. A wet arm hooks over Eddie's shoulders, just as Steve crashes into the deck chair beside him, too small for two nearly full grown men, the plastic creaking ominously. Steve is practically in Eddie's lap.

"Harrington, what the fuck," Eddie squawks, cold pool water soaking into his clothes because Steve is dripping wet.

"What the language, Munson," Steve says, still grinning, looking at Eddie with those brown eyes. His face is round and a little pink, and he's so close that Eddie can see the faint trail of summer freckles across his nose. He's so beautiful, and he looks so happy and excited to have Eddie's attention. "There's little ears—OW WHAT THE FUCK!"

Eddie opens his jaw and yanks his head back, almost as shocked with himself as Steve. He can taste pool water in his mouth. There's a line of pink teeth-marks on Steve tanned shoulder.

"Uh," Eddie says.

"Did..." Steve starts. He leans back a little, still half in Eddie's lap, to gape down at him. "Did you just... bite me?"

"Y-Yeah," Eddie breathes. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" Steve repeats, brows high on his forehead. "Why the hell did you bite me?"

"You're very bitable." Eddie's going to drown himself in the pool at this rate. "You're too cute. I had to bite you."

He watches as Steve's eyes narrow, watches as Steve begins to suss him out. Eddie's still too shocked with himself to do anything, can't even panic, because he's that much of an idiot and his brain has gone completely offline. Because Eddie bit Steve Harrington and then called him cute, Jesus Humphrey Christ.

Then Steve leans down, slowly, until his face is right in Eddie's, and an insane thought goes through Eddie's brain. I bit Steve Harrington, told him he was cute, and now he's going to kiss me.

Except Steve bypasses Eddie's face and lands his lips against Eddie's neck, where he then tries to take his own pound of flesh.

Eddie screeches.

Distantly, he recognizes what a weird blessing it is that they're at the community pool, surrounded half the elementary school, all of them screeching and screaming and splashing. Everyone is completely oblivious to whatever homosexual nightmare is happening to Eddie right now.

"You're pretty cute yourself, Ed," Steve says into the small space next to his ear. And then he's up and standing between one breath and the next. "We really gotta teach you some manners though," he says, grinning, before he turns and dives into the pool.

"Y-Yeah," Eddie says weakly in his absence. He can feel Steve's spit on his neck, rapidly drying the summer heat, the bite mark aching with promise.

[miguelhugger2099]

God, I can imagine the situation with Punk! Miguel when he became a father. It’s just that he can literally get a drawing of his daughter on his body, and it will look like some kind of blot, but he will be literally proud of this tattoo, just like a tattoo that is a print his daughter's finger.

But here's the situation. Let’s imagine that some person looks at Miguel’s tattoo and says, “What kind of weakling can give you the number of the artist who will cover it up?” Miguel is literally torn to strike the person opposite but then says “This is my daughter’s drawing”

Punk Dad!Miguel with his family out on the beach.

Punk Dad!Miguel with his two favorite girls: his wife in a cute baby blue lacy bikini and his little girl in an adorable pink tankini with flowers.

Punk Dad!Miguel who looks out of place with his bright sunshine girls while he’s covered in tatts and piercings, tall and strong and very clearly watching out for the two most important people in his life.

Punk Dad!Miguel who keeps an eye on you two while you play with Gabriella in the water. His shades covering his sensitive eyes while he sips on a coca cola under the umbrella, legs spread apart comfortably.

Punk Dad!Miguel who groans internally when the father beside him tries to talk to him again. A family of four where his wife is also juggling with two toddlers. The husband? Sitting on his ass.

“Gotta say man, I wish I could do all that but my wife, y’know how it is.” He chuckles.

“No, I don’t.” Miguel says plainly. He loves his wife.

The man takes a closer look at Miguel arm and snorts. “What the hell is that?” He points to a small flower bouquet that wrapped around his bicep. The bouquet was terribly drawn, stems thick and uneven, petals that varied from round to sharp, colors blended in like it was done with crayon. It was a stark difference to the other well done pieces around his body.

“Now what asshole decided to screw you over that badly?” He cackles. “Oh, man you have got to get that shit covered up.”

Punk Dad!Miguel who chugs the last drop of his soda and smashes the can in his grip. His brows are hard and lips holding back a snarl. He turns to the man slowly.

“My daughter drew it.” He hisses, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose bridge to hide the rage burning in his eyes.

The man gulps. “Oh…I’m—I didn’t mean—“ He’s luckily saved by Miguel’s little girl calling out to him. “Papi! Papi!”

Gabriella struggles to march up the hill of sand, quickly hurrying in the shade to protect her feet from the scorching hot ground. She falls on the towel on her stomach and grin up at him, her hair more curled than usual and drenched from the sea water.

Punk Dad!Miguel who melts and instantly forgets about whatever he was angry at. “Hi Gabi.” He smiles.

Gabriella lifts herself on her knees. “Hi.” She giggles. “Mami said to call you because I wanted to go deeper in the water but Mami said that you know how to swim better.” She recounts her story to him and you slowly come up behind. You sit on the towel with a huff, your hair equally drenched from Gabriella’s play.

He knows you’re just tired and it’s time to switch shifts. He tosses the crushed can inside the cooler of the husband next to him and picks Gabriella up, placing her on his shoulders. “Okay, mija! Let’s go!” Gabriella squeals, lifting her arms high in the air.

[aurorawritestoescape]

FLASHER

Pairing: flasher!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you take an elevator with a stranger. He surprises you. Then you surprise him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, non-con due to exhibitionism but reader is into it, flashing, mutual masturbation, sweet Joel, it’s basically a meet cute😅, semi-public (no one sees them), pet names ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, swearing

Word count: 2k

A/n: I blame Pedro’s curls for this! And that coat😵‍💫

MASTERLIST

******

You’re rushing through the streets maneuvering around gray puddles. The rain is so heavy that your umbrella barely helps. You see your building and breathe out with relief. Soon you’ll be in the warmth of your home.

You close the dripping umbrella, unlock the entrance door and get inside from the wet street and into the darkness of the hall. You can’t wait to take your damp clothes off so you run up a short set of stairs and hurry to the elevator. With a bag in one hand and the umbrella in the other you push the button with your elbow and wait shifting on your feet with impatience. You look up at the display over the entrance - …6,5,4,3,2,1.

Finally you hear the cabin stop on the ground floor and the doors slide open. You’re about to get inside when you see him. A man is standing in the corner of the small dimly lit cabin facing you. He’s wearing a beige trench coat and wide dark blue pants. His hands stuffed into the coat pockets. But you notice all of that later. The first thing you see are his eyes, sad and beautiful. Dark and pleading. Then his hair. All curls and softness. Some locks are sticking to his forehead which must be wet because of the rain. You’ve never seen him in your building before, you’re sure of it. You’d remember someone that handsome.

“Hello,” you greet him quietly and wait for him to get out but when he doesn’t move for a few moments you quickly step inside. The elevator doors close behind you, you press the number of your floor and the cabin starts moving up.

The stranger is looking at you with his kicked puppy eyes and you give him a warm smile. He smiles back shyly and slowly opens his coat. You see a white shirt underneath, which looks too big on him. Your gaze slides down his body and you see his cock. The band of his pants is tucked under his balls and his whole dick is out. Your jaw drops and you blink quickly staring at his member. His cock twitches and it looks like the fat tip nods at you. It’s semi hard, quite big, and, you have to admit, very pretty.

You raise your eyes to the man’s face as your mouth opens and closes silently. You should be scared, should cry for help, shout at him at least but for some weird reason you don’t. You want to ask what’s wrong. Help him. Touch him.

“Do you need help?” you ask and he shakes his head with an apologetic smile and mumbles, “Just wanna show you my penis.”

Your heart flutters hearing his voice, deep, velvety and warm.

“Ok,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say or do. You’ve always been bad at small talk and especially now you feel lost for words with a cock of a stranger in front of you. The nature of the situation makes it all feel like a dream. But it’s far from a nightmare. You don’t feel scared, you feel…

Aroused? Attracted to this man?

He’s the one who started it so you do what comes to your mind first. Your hand darts to the elevator panel and you push the stop button. The cabin jerks and stops moving and the lighting inside gets even darker.

“Can I touch it?” the question flies out of your mouth unexpectedly and it seems to flabbergast you both. The man’s expression mimics yours just from a short time ago, mouth agape, eyes widened in surprise as they dart between you and the doors.

He mumbles, “‘msorry,” and closes his coat covering his crotch.

“No, no, you can leave it. I’m not scared,” you raise your hands still occupied with the bag and the umbrella.

He furrows his brows.

“Why?” He sounds almost offended.

“Because… ehm,” you try to give him an explanation, but fail. Why are you not scared?

“I don’t know,” you give him an honest answer and add, “are you dangerous?”

He blinks at you a few times. “No,” he replies quietly as his hands fall at his sides. His cock peeks out from behind the coat again and it looks less hard which makes you sad.

“Well.. Can I touch it?” you repeat the question and his brows shoot up.

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders and a corner of his mouth quirks up before he comments, “You’re weird.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who flashed me a minute ago so we’re both kinda out of the ordinary, right?” you quip and your answer seems to amuse him. His gaze trails down your body and then slides up pausing at your lips.

As soon as he says “yes” you place your bag and umbrella on the floor and step up to the man. The beauty of his features takes your breath away when you get closer and you bite your lip lost for a second in his doe-eyes. He opens his coat a little wider and you both look down at his cock. It stands at attention and you shift on your feet as your pussy starts aching with need.

After taking a deep breath you bring your hand to his crotch and take the shaft between your index finger and the thumb. The velvet softness of his skin almost makes you whimper. You check his reaction and see his lips parted and half lidded eyes glued to your hand on his cock.

Wanting more you carefully wrap your palm around it and hold it gently rubbing your thumb along his length.

It’s warm and heavy in your hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes out and his moan makes you gush.

“Can I stroke it?” you ask, batting your lashes at him though judging by his blown eyes you can easily predict his answer.

He nods and whispers, “yes.”

Your hand leaves his cock as you bring it to your lips. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit it into your palm. Then you take his hard cock in your hand again and start jerking it.

He’s watching your hand move easily against his length and a drop of precum beads at the red slit. He moans again and leans back against the wall closing his eyes shut,

“Yes, baby…like this.. Fuck…you’re amazing.”

You smile with satisfaction watching his handsome face contort in ecstasy.

Your core tightens just from looking at him, touching him and you press your thighs together searching for a crumb of pressure.

He opens his eyes as if sensing how desperate you’re getting and you hear through heavy breathing,

“May I touch you too?”

A blush peeks from behind his scruffy beard.

You’re blinking at him for some time while your hand is working his cock and then give him a short nod.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he takes your forearms in his hands and pulls you gently to the side, making you exchange places with him. Now your back is pressed to the wall and he’s caging you in with his size. You feel so much smaller against him now but a light pang of fear turns you on even more.

His gaze takes in your body, hunger swimming in his dark eyes. The man brings his hand to your crotch and takes the zipper pull between his thick fingers.

“You sure?”

You’re surprised that he needs so many conformations of your consent as if he didn’t flash you just a few minutes ago. You don’t say anything though, just nod.

He braces one hand on the wall near your head and with the other opens up your jeans. His breath on your cheek makes you shiver. You look up at his lips but stop yourself. Kissing feels too intimate right now. So you swallow your desire and drop your head.

The stranger flattens his hand, palm pressed to your lower stomach, mumbling “gonna put my hand into your panties now, ok?” When you reply with a breathy “yes” he slides his big hand into your soaked underwear and engulfs your whole pussy. You whimper at his touch and buck your hips into his palm. When two of his fingers push in between your folds you moan closing your eyes and barely breathing.

“Oh, baby,” he moans as his index and middle finger nudge at your slicked up entrance. He slides them up bringing the wetness to your hardening clit and starts rubbing it in tight circles. You feel you might melt under his caress and join the rain puddle from your umbrella on the floor.

You lick your palm to coat it in saliva and return it to his cock. You proceed by jerking his length, twisting your hand and sweeping your thumb over his bulbous head. His and your moans fill the small space of the elevator. You’re sure that someone might hear you from the hall but you don’t care.

His fingers find your hole again and he inserts them inside you slowly parting your walls and watching your reaction with blown eyes. He leans down, his forehead rests against yours and your noses brush as you grab the sleeve of his coat.

“It’s so warm and wet, baby…wish I could stick my cock inside you.” His words make you whine louder and you speed up your hand movements as he begins fucking you with his thick fingers. Your pussy aches pleasantly at the stretch. You both find your rhythm and give pleasure to each other with delirious generosity.

You feel a knot tightening in your core as the pads of his fingers massage your sweet spot. You squeeze your eyes shut feeling your climax approach fast. “Gonna come,” you whine and after a few moments you come undone, contracting around his thick fingers. Your legs tremble and you might fall but he wraps his arm around your waist and pins you to the wall not letting you collapse.

When your climax subsides you return your full attention to his cock and move your hand against him vigorously. The head brushes against your lower belly smearing precum over your skin.

With one arm still wrapped around you, he grabs a fist full of your hair with his free hand and gently pulls at it tilting your head back. Your neck is exposed to him and his lips latch onto your delicate skin, kissing, sucking and nipping at it.

He moans against the column of your neck and the next moment you feel warm spurts of cum landing on your belly. You jerk him off through his orgasm milking his cock until the last drop.

You both are panting heavily when his forehead finds yours again and you rest for a few moments, eyes closed trying to catch your breath.

When the aftershocks pass he straightens up and you smile at each other. He tucks his cock back and takes out a handkerchief out of his pocket. He gently cleans his spend off your belly and you watch him marveling at how gentle he is. When he’s done you zip up your pants and fix your clothes. He picks up your things off the floor and hands them to you before pressing the number of your floor again. The cabin starts moving and you look at each other as the pleasure is still coursing through your body.

When the doors slide open his expression changes - his sad eyes return and he’s shifting his jaw.

“Can we meet again?” he asks hurriedly, taking your wrist in his hand. You drop your head and smile shuffling your feet. Then you lock eyes again and you tell him the number of your apartment. His face brightens which warms your heart and ignites your core again. You step out of the elevator and turn back to say “bye”.

“See you, sweetheart,” he says as you give each other one more warm smile before he pushes the ground floor button and the doors close.

*****

Thank you for reading!💕

Comments and reblogs will make me very happy!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

[dabisbratz]

𝐼𝒩 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸 (𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝐹𝐿𝒪𝒲𝐸𝑅𝒮 𝐹𝒜𝒞𝐸 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒮𝒰𝒩)— leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.2k

warning: pwp ( porn with plot ), jealousy, exes-to-lovers, oral, phone sex ( ? ), softdomtop!leon, subbottom!reader, re2r leon, dirtytalk, praise/degradation, spanking, fingering, amab reader, light feminization, riding, blowjobs, creampie, leon’s big but doesn’t know it, finger-sucking, finger-hooking, set after re2r n before re4r, krauser mentions, mentions of alcohol, throatpie, d/s dynamic, unprotected sex ( wear condoms! ), aftercare ! ♡

sonny says..: the urge to add a daddy kink to this was so. so very!! strong . had to stay focused.. this is already.. sovery.. self indulgent..

Confronting him was the hard part. It’d been a while since you’d seen Leon, your ex-boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. It was him, you know now— you’ve always known — but you weren’t sure you had the heart to face him. It was you who ended it after all, you who’d sent him down a heartbreak and alcohol induced rabbit hole that could only be documented briefly through a few voicemails and delivered texts. Even after traveling all this way, burning your cash like it grew on trees, trudging through the rainy streets of this random city, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right decision.

You couldn’t take it. The voicemails, the messages, the audio messages full of incoherent sobs and pleads. Being away from him, the same man who’d left you jumping for joy. The same man who’d lit sparks in your chest and released butterflies in your stomach. The same man who’d smile at you in the dead of night, genuine and bright, as he told you he’d loved you a million times over. Leon, whose hands were soft and warm on your skin, so gentle and patient. Like no one you’ve ever met, your heart squeezes in your chest. Leon, Leon, Leon.

Was this out of line?

But it’s too late to turn back now, because your hand is curling into a tight fist as you knock on the fourth motel door all night. Once, twice, three times. You’re ready to back out, to run before whoever’s residing here can open the door and, most likely, slam the door in your face with a distasteful choice of words.

But the door opens.

“There’s an extra. . . Uh, umbrella by the mailbox. Looks like you could use it!” He starts, eyes sparkling despite the dim lighting and narrowed space they’re peeking from. It sounds almost rehearsed, like you’re not the first person to knock on his door tonight. And, for a reason you know all too well, the thought stings.

His eyelashes are just as long as you remember them, curled upward and batting against the thin layer of baby-fat adorning his cheeks in a way that looks dreamy and slow. Like he’s relaxed, or perhaps tired. Nonetheless, his pretty, round eyes are undeniably his and hard to miss, you find yourself at a loss for words. You’re lost in the deep pools of blue, bleeding indigo and inky black of his irises matching the recently done-over roadways in a way that feels just as fresh.

Leon looks reminiscent of a puppy, though he always has, with his thick brown eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic confusion. Or concentration, even. Almost as if it’s detrimental to him that you know there’s an umbrella there for you, for anyone, who needs it. That it’s important you know— with him around— you’ll be safe. He’s barely changed since you’d last seen him in person, the moles on his cheeks and throat unmoved, soft tufts of brown hair swept to the side as normal, and pink, plump lips that curl upward in a way that’s so comforting you could cry. Leon, your Leon, who smiles warmly, lips pulled into a sweet and inviting grin as the apples of his cheeks round out. Your eyes travel to the dimple dead center of his chin, prominent and defining. The perfect place to slot your thumb, really, to hold his chin and lose yourself in his azure eyes.

Even with the pitter patter of rain soaking into your already soaked clothes, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt in the last few months. His presence keeps you warm. Kept you warm.

“Leon.” It’s all you can say, breathless as the air is snatched from your lungs and excuses die on your tongue. What could you even say? Sure, you’d practiced it all in your head before arriving— I’m sorry, I miss you, what happened to us? It’s all easier to piece together in your head in contrast to actually saying it.

There’s a routinely lean against the doorframe as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and he’s truly looking at you now, opposed to the clear umbrella sat taut beneath his motel’s mailbox. With a flash of lightning he blinks, freckle and mole dusted cheeks set alight for just a mere second as his breath is caught in his closing throat.

“Oh. . . It’s you,” His sharp adam’s apple bobs with an even sharper swallow, and his pinched eyebrows go lax for a brief moment before tightening back up. “. . .Okay. Hi.”

“Hi, Lee.” You mimic, awkwardly shifting to the side. Still in his casual clothes, you presume, Leon looks comfortable as he sports baggy, blue jeans and a white tank top. Almost too comfortable, the fabric straining against his chest and only ever relaxing the closer it delves by his armpits, flowing despite being trapped beneath his wide ribcage and thick biceps. There’s a heavy vein cascading around it, disappearing under his skin only to reappear by his forearms and soft hands. With pink dusted fingertips, one hand is closed around the gold doorknob of his motel room.

You expect him to close it in your face. To slam the door after telling you to leave, with anger painting his soft, pretty features until they’ve hardened into cold stone. But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s opening it a bit wider, no longer leaning on the doorframe as he extends an arm to fully open the door. To fully see you, and you swear his posture is much more relaxed after his gaze has focused on your face.

“You look,” His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, and suddenly you’re failing to form vowels on your tongue. Either way you continue, “You look good,” stiffening as you gesture toward his general direction. “You always do. Anyway. . .”

“Thanks,” He’s much too sweet for your liking, smiling at you like you hadn’t broken his heart just a few months prior. His voice is breathy with upcoming laughter as he steps to the side and invites you in. “You too. Y’know, without the rain.”

You’re in over your head, shuffling inside the dimly lit room with heavy steps. The front door opens directly to the small living-room, a small carton of Chinese takeout resting beside a hearty sized weight on the coffee table. What now? You came into this hoping he’d yell at you— maybe give you a reason to turn around and never look back. But he’s not, he’s inviting you in like. . . Like an old friend. The door is shut and locked with a small click, Leon’s form moving from behind you with his large hand ghosting over your lower back.

A shockwave travels up your spine when his palm makes contact with your waist, only for a brief moment. You can’t think straight, watching the muscles in his back ripple and writhe through his shirt. Chocolate tufts of hair rest at the nape of his neck, short and soft. It’s like you were running your fingers through them just a week ago, blades of freshly trimmed hair tickling your fingertips. Right there, he’s so right there, but almost completely out of reach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say, over and over, until your nose begins to sting and your eyes grow glassy. Then it’s Leon’s turn to look apologetic, hair swaying as he fully turns to face you. Really, he has nothing to be sorry for. You’re so incredibly selfish.

“I can’t,” He pauses to take a breath, and you feel your heart splitting in two. But his tone is soft and warm, tilting with breathy and almost bitter laughter. “I can’t stay mad at you. And believe me, I tried.”

So he’s willing to talk about it. Your face visibly lights up before you can do anything to mask it, every word you’ve been trying to conjure up suddenly speeding past your tongue, “I want us to talk ab—”

“So,” Leon’s face contorts into something forlorn, like he’s weaving unsavory words together in his head. Words he’s never imagined himself saying. “Does he. . . Does he, uh, fuck you good?”

Huh.

“What?” The question falls flat and sour on your tongue, much more like a blank statement than a question. You’re not sure who ‘he’ is, let alone what led to the question in general, but you’re not exactly given much time to think about it either. The brunette steps forward, wide shoulders shifting with a heavy, clothed stride. His freshly bitten lips are released from his pearly teeth, plump and glossy. Closer now, Leon still smells reminiscent of woodsy lavender and minty mouthwash. Despite how faint it lingers in the air, it somehow manages to overwhelm your senses. He smells like home.

He doesn’t miss a beat this time, long eyelashes splayed out on his cheek as he stares down at your lips, eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he?” His head tilts to the side, questioning. You’d take it as an innocent question had it not been for his lips, pulled into a tight line that reeks of jealousy. His eyes have hardened, baby blue to gunmetal gray. His shoulders relax when you shake your head, hands suddenly restless by your side. “Use your words.”

It’s usually accompanied by a ‘please?’ or ‘for me?’

A whimper leaves your lips, soft and sweet and completely unwarranted. He softens.

“I know you can do it for me,” His eye contact is dangerous, relentless as he watches you stumble over your own whimpers and words. “Can’t you?”

“No,” You swallow hard, letting the brunette trap you in his heat. There is no ‘ he ’, no one taking Leon’s rightfully earned place by your side— whether it be in bed or not. That’s why you’ve come all this way, after all. But you play along anyway, desperate to be good. For Leon. “Not like you do, Lee.”

You’re whining now, tears bubbling in your eyes for so many reasons you can’t put together. Ultimately because you need him, because you feel bad for needing him— because maybe you don’t deserve the luxury of needing him. Apologies tumble into a tight ball of hiccups and sobs, and it’s only the thumbs rubbing away your tears that bring you back. Maybe you’re apologizing for fucking someone you haven’t, lost in the role he’s given you.

“I’m just glad to see you. Glad you’re here.” There’s so much he means to tell you, so much you haven’t heard. Raccoon city, the training program he’s been recruited into, why he’s even here in the first place. Sure, maybe he’s much too forgiving. But it’s you. And he’s not letting go again. But there’s more to it, there’s more you need. Venturing out here on your own, probably without letting anyone know, you’re reckless. Acting without thinking, and he can’t have that. He can’t turn you down, not when you’re so clearly in need of a gentle, guiding hand. Not when he misses you. Leon cuts off your apologies with a small kiss, gentle and sweet enough to have you chasing after his lips when he pulls away.

Your voice sounds needy and saccharine sweet as you lean forward, breathing in his airy scent with a wispy, “Leon. . .”

“What do you want, baby?” The nickname slips before he can catch it, but you don’t seem to mind. “What is it?”

“Want. . I want you.”

“But I’m right here? His laugh is genuine this time, lips splitting into a smile as his thumb rubs smooth circles across your cheekbone. “You have me.”

His hands are on you now, giving your body small squeezes of affirmation. Leon’s much bigger than he carries himself— big hands, wide shoulders, thick thighs, sturdy chest, heavy cock. Big all over, really, despite the way he’s able to run around and disappear like it’s nothing— despite how quickly he carries himself.

The thought as you reeling, choking on a sob that earns an immediate coo in response. There’s just so much, and it’s all piling up. But Leon’s here, he’s here like he always has been, he’s here to make it better. He’s always been so good at that. He takes you out of your head, turns it into mush while you float on a cloud and beg for more of. . . Well, you’re not too sure. But you know he can feel you throbbing against his thigh, hard and needy as he shakes his head with faux disapproval.

“That your phone in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” It’s a stupid joke you both know the answer to, so he doesn’t waste any time laughing over it. You’re nodding anyway, bobbing your head up and down with wet eyelashes— you already look so ruined.

You’re wearing too much clothes, soaked and dripping onto his floor in a way that has the man grimacing as he peels it from your body. You’re much colder than you thought, too, goosebumps trailing down your skin as his big hands rub warm, soothing shapes into your forearm. Lee’s always been like that, the type to offer up his jacket on a rainy day, the type to give you his coat on a snowy one. And you know, undoubtedly, you’d do the very same for him.

“He couldn’t reach those spots, could he?” The question is emphasized by a hearty squeeze to your behind, Leon’s hands dipping beneath your wet pants slipping under the band of your briefs to knead the plump mound of your ass. He’s grabbing handfuls, squishing the skin between fingers and spreading you apart. “Not like I can, huh? Not deep enough?”

With a soft moan you’re discarded of your pants, fists curled into the crisp white of Leon’s wifebeater. You’ll take anything he gives you and love it, but it’s you who should be apologizing. You who should feel the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. You want the head slipping and sliding down your throat, you want your face streaked in tears and snot by the time he’s done it’s you.

Oh, how you’ve missed this. Leon’s cock is thick and sticky, pre beading at the pretty, pink tip and dripping down it’s fat head. You watch it drip, slow and shiny as it trails down his pulsing shaft. Weeping, his cock twitches with each open breath you blow against it, jumping as his balls tighten. They’re pretty and round, symmetrical on both sides, but not nearly as pretty as his shaft. Thick and curving upwards past his belly button, Leon’s cock has a sensitive vein you want to run your tongue over, trailing up from his balls to the tip, collecting the sticky precum as it falls down into your mouth.

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You trail off, eyes focused solely on the pretty, shiny head of his dick.

“Don’t need to beg, I’ll give it to you. All you want,” You stick out your tongue, cute and pink as you’re ready to suckle along the head of his cock, but instead you’re met with the warmth of his big hand gripping your jaw. His thumb latches onto your bottom lip, rubbing the soft skin as he blinks down at you, his voice smooth and buttery as he commands, “Slow and steady.”

The tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail between them, as you finally take his cock into your mouth. He’s salty and somewhat bitter, spreading heavy along your tongue, and you can’t help but swallow around the head. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head.

“So. . . so wet,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way they’re clenched tight and his hand is morphing into a fist full of your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum. “Those. . noises. And you’re so.. cute.”

He offers a sharp thrust that has him disappearing down your tight throat, squeezing just right along his twitching shaft. Your jaw aches the further he’s pushed inside, until your nose is buried in his trimmed, gingerbread pubes. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, with the way he lets out a hushed apology for fucking your throat so deep, with the way he’s whining out a constant stream of “You’re such a good boy.”

Praise. He’s so good at it, it’s got you absentmindedly drooling and gagging on his dick. You’re eager to drag out more, running your tongue along his big, veiny cock until Leon’s throwing his head back— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock is filling your empty mouth, using you like some sort of pre-lubed fleshlight with his balls slapping against your chin in wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until it’s being rubbed along your cheeks.

“That’s it, good boy, just a little more. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Leon’s hand keeps you buried against his pubes until your throat is squeezing and contracting, milking his cock and wrapped plush around the thick head. You can feel it, each twitch and throb of his heavy cock, even when he’s cumming down your throat, sticky and thick ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You want to show him. You’re marked for good, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before pulling off.

“Oh, baby,” Leon’s voice is just as hoarse as your own, eyes following the display of cum resting hot and sticky on your tongue. “Think you can do something for me?”

He leads you up with a gentle hand, wrapped around your throat until you’re sat taut in his lap, thighs on each side of his waist. Leon’s hands are impeccably soft, even as he’s pushing them past your lips and spreading the saltiness of them along your tongue with a gentle, “suck.” You’re eager to please, taking the warm digits in your mouth and separating them with your tongue. The squelches in return are loud and wet, a mixture of cum and drool leaving between the gaps of his fingers and your lips. Your eyelids feel heavy, brain foggy as he pushes them deeper into your mouth, just enough to have you gagging softly.

Then they’re gone.

In his own mouth now, he’s tasting remnants of his cum and pulling off his fingertips with a wet ‘pop!’while his free hand digs for the vanilla lube hidden somewhere in the couch.

“You’re gonna bounce on my fingers like a good boy,” both hands are at your briefs, tugging them down until there’s a loud ripping sound. Your eyes jet between Leon’s wide eyes and your tattered underwear, surprised. You’re not sure if he meant to do that, but it doesn’t matter, because your cock springs to life and jumps against your tummy. “Then my good boy’s gonna take it in his pussy. Okay?”

The question is barely registered but you’re nodding anyway, melting in the brunette’s strong embrace. His hands spread you open, one playing with the squishy flesh of your bum while the other’s slick fingers circle around your puckered entrance. With a wet ‘squilck’ the first finger is in, impossibly deep and hot as your gooey hole sucks it in further. You just can’t get enough, rocking your hips down to the last knuckle and grinding your cock against his own. There’s a sharp smack to your ass, the skin rippling under Leon’s quick palm as he groans, “Hnnh, so noisy n’ I barely started.”

His fingers have always been able to reach deeper than your own, sweet and tantalizing along your prostate as he finds it like he knows it, pressing and pressing and pressing until you’re seeing stars. He adds another, two in total, that slip past your velvety opening with almost no resistance. Usually you’d have to take a third, maybe, but he wants you to really feel it.

“Shh, sh. You hear it?” There’s another swat, stinging and loud as it hits the same exact spot. Your back arches beautifully, his fingers jolting deeper. You're quick to shake your head. “The dirty noises your hole’s makin’ while it takes my fingers?”

You’ll never get used to Leon’s cute face sputtering out such filthy words, it’s like whiplash. And you’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, it’s hard to hear over the fog and sounds of your own babbling, but you can hear yourself answering anyway, “S’cause you fuck me so good.”

“Think it’ll be just as loud on my cock?”

“Even louder.” You whine, head falling forward into his thick shoulder as the head of his cock traces your slick, soft rim. There’s a cold trickle behind you, loud and squeaky— it’s more lube, enough to coat his cock, your ass, and then some. Enough to have the head of his cock catching on your entrance every time he slides it along your crack. There’s a soft kiss to your cheek, and a free hand creeps up your back to hold you there by the back of your head. You’re turning into a puddle, whining into the shell of Leon’s ear as his dick slides its first inch inside.

Your hole is so tiny. Even after being stretched full of his fingers, you’re gripping his cock like a vice. There’s a tiny, thin band where his head disappears into your warm hole, stretching and shining and sucking his dick further inside. You’re just so tight, sticky and inviting insides that feel like velvet around his thick, throbbing cock. Even as he tries to go slow, sucking in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, Leon can’t get enough. His cheeks are flushed, deepening and blooming down his neck as he grips the globes of your ass and spreads them apart wide. Cold air runs along your hole, chilly enough to have you whining.

“F-hu-uuck, so tight,” He gasps, blinking rapidly as he watches your face fall into something floaty and, if he’s honest, cockdrunk. Twitching around him so much, you’re milking his cock for all it's got despite him barely being buried completely inside. Part of him wants to keep you on his tip, slipping it in and out your cute entrance until he’s shooting between the spheres of your ass, getting you sticky and hot with his cum. Marking you. “God, hhm, your pussy’s quivering around me so good…”

“Lee. . Leon, I can’t, want it so bad but I can’t. . .” You definitely can— in fact, you have. But he’s just so big, splitting you in two and whiting your brain out.

“Too much? Oh—haah— poor baby. Want me to stop?” He stills his hips, a breathless smile forming on his face when you try to take the reins. You lace your fingers with his own, squeezing hard as you rock your hips back and forth. “No? Then take it for me.”

Take it you do. Your body jerks as he fucks up into you, balls slapping against your ass and cock sliding against your prostate as sloppy, shallow sounds of your poor, drenched hole fill the room. Leon’s hair sticks to his forehead, stringy and disheveled as he whispers into your skin, grabbing handful after handful of your backside.

Beside you, his phone rings.

Leon nearly jumps out of his own skin, patting around the sofa to find his cell— trapped beneath a cushion. You don’t have time to read the Caller ID, something that begins with a ‘K’, but it’s clear he’s going to decline it. With the way he doesn’t spare a glance at you until after he’s got it in hand, and—

“Leon Kennedy.” His grip on your hips is enough to bruise, rocking your body down against his own. You can’t help but gasp, your thoughts spinning like clockwork in your head until your brain has gone light and airy like sugary, sweet cotton candy. All you can do is tighten around his dick, show Leon how much better you are than whoever’s on the phone. You can be good, you’re a good boy.

And you must’ve said it out loud, because he’s decided to busy your mouth with thick, sticky fingers. Even then, your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelching and slapping of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, and if he looks close enough he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. You really are a good boy.

His fingers are hooked in your mouth, drawing pathetic sounds out of you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you can’t stop bouncing. Your thighs ache and burn but you want it so bad, your neglected cock stuttering along with your hips as he’s pushed deeper and deeper with every small ‘uh-huh!’ that leaves your lips.

“Yeah, that’s right,” He says into the phone, but it sounds more reserved for you. “Ah, yes sir. This job was. . . Christ, it was made for me!” He pulls the phone away for a brief moment. “This ass was made for me.”

His eyes are trained on you as he shoves his phone between his shoulder and ear, both hands on your hips to raise you on and off his cock. Your lip is bitten raw between your teeth, and you don’t realize he’s coaxing it free until he’s speaking, “Let ‘em hear who you belong to. Who’s that?”

“You! You, Leon. Leon.” Like a prayer, his name comes out slurred and crackly. An uninterrupted stream of titles and nicknames reserved just for him, your nails claw at his muscled back.

“That’s right, you’re mine,” There’s a hard, choppy thrust forward as he releases a hand to wrap it around your sensitive, weeping cock, “And this cock? This hole? Mine too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” Clamping down on his shaft, your hand finds the small gap where his cock reappears. Your fingertips trace it, completely soaked but enough to have his balls tightening. “And you’re mine.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” His phone falls to his side, hushed whines leaving the brunette’s strawberry lips. “All yours, whenever you want. Got that? My good boy gets to have his cock whenever he wants.”

His hand is fast and slick, his thumb running over your slit every so often just to watch the way your body convulses in response. But Leon’s sweet, he’s always been sweet to you, sweet enough to twist his fist the closer it gets to the tip. Sweet enough to tighten the grip he has around you when he gets to the base— when he can feel you’re about to cum.

“Oh, please!” With a dry sob you’re tugging at his wrist, wriggling your hips and falling back into his thick cock. “Wanna cum, Lee. Please let me cum, please.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t tap out now. You can cum for me when I say so, okay?” Your begging goes straight to his dick, pulsating and bullying the small bundle of nerves nestled in the heart shape of your ass. You can’t stop crying, handsome face covered in tears as you ride out the everlasting stretch of his cock forcing you open, just to leave you empty. Again, again, again.

You feel like molten lava, silky and warm as wet spurts of lube catch between the skin of your ass and his pelvis. He can’t take it, just as wrecked as you are when he feels his balls go rigid and impossibly full— he needs to claim you. Now.

His cum is warm— so thick and filling when he shoots right against your prostate. You’ve never felt more full in your life, your thighs lightly squeezing together in his lap as he releases your cock with one, two, three strokes. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, loud squeals and cries of ‘Leon!’ as your cock twitches and pulses— cum leaking down his fingers as it catches along his fist. And he could be cruel, continuing to pump your cock past its limits. But instead he gauges your reaction with a few slow, experimental tugs— pulling away when your thighs start to shake a little too much.

“One more request for you, sweetheart.” He raises his hand, a slow drip of your own cum landing on his tummy. His hand is brought to your mouth, and Leon watches with an adoring coo as you lick it clean. It’s obvious you’re trying to stay present, trying not to sink too far deep into that sweet, mellow headspace he’s put you in.

“Thank you.” He says, though you’re much too tired to figure out just what he’s thanking you for. Leon pulls you off his cock despite your absentminded protests, blowing air through protruding cheeks when your rim is reluctant to let go.

“Mhm.” Your tongue is thick like molasses, eyes slowly blinking as you’re moved to sit beside him.

“Can I see, please?” He’s already maneuvering you onto your back and spreading your legs wide by your thighs and ankles, yet his pretty eyes flicker up to meet your face, almost as if he’s actually asking. They drastically brighten when you offer a tiny, well-fucked nod. His hands spread you open, watching his cum dribble from your used hole in collective globs. Makes you feel small and properly kept, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your pretty hole clenches around air.

Leon closes his eyes like he’s trying not to cream his (metaphorical) pants all over again, his thumb rubbing a sizable glob into your skin. Your legs close around his hand, holding him still as you whine.

“I know, I know. I’ll be gentle.” There’s a sweet, simple kiss placed to the back of your thigh before Leon stands, disappearing into what your lidded eyes can’t quite make out. But you know you’re whining, something about a ‘sorry’ or an ‘I made a mistake’ before his big, warm hands are back to hold onto your own.

Something wet and dripping— a cloth, is rubbed into your skin, slow and tender and later replaced by sprinkled kisses.

“Can I. . . stay, Lee?” You want to wince at the sound of your own voice, but you don’t think you have the energy to do so yet. You’re being pulled into his arms, sturdy and comforting— even with the faint smell of sex and musk damp on his skin.

“You’d be crazy to think I’m letting you go again.”

[dreamgrlarchive]

A Prissy Girl’s Guide to Spring

since i won’t be active on tumblr when next spring comes around, and i’ve done 3/4 seasons, i felt it was appropriate to go ahead and finish the series! if you find yourself inspired by my aesthetic/looks, you can absolutely use this as a guide for the next primavera season! 🐇

what’s the look this spring?

my personal forecast for fashion spring ‘24 is “pink pilates bimbo” for sure. the renewal of spring is the time for a wellness reset. so i’ll be engaging in a physical activity but i’ll still be in barbie attire. pink athleisure pieces with super girly additions is my predicted aesthetic. 🎀

first and foremost…

let’s talk about what spring symbolizes: renewal, cleansing, and restarting. that makes itself apparent in the seasons colors; the darkness of winter transitions to the soft pastels of spring.

preparation

start spring cleaning and prepping for seasonal allergies. stock up on in season fruits to keep in the house. take up outside activities like biking, outdoor yoga, and jogging. buy new fragrances. prep your skin and hair for the overtime humidity.

essentials

pretty umbrella

allergy meds/quarterly check up

new water bottle/tumbler

fresh and clean candles + home fragrances

matcha and jade citrus tea

humidifier

neti pot

clothes and accessories

pink athleisure. the lululemon strawberry milkshake jacket is a must! (or a dupe if you’re on budget)

foldover yoga pants

bedazzled pieces

pastel colored pieces

cute mini bags

victoria’s secret totes

tennis skirts

sheer + lacey tops

florals for spring? groundbreaking.

glitter + sequins

satin dresses

lace up sandals

hunter boots

coach baguettes

victoria’s secret co-ords, leggings and sweaters

ballet flats

ugg slippers + fluff sandals

cute gym shoes with pink/sparkly details

lace up pieces

baby blue is a staple color for spring

ruffle trims

warm materials + revealing cuts

“pastry princess” looks inspired by sweets and dessertz

cropped baby tees

stripper heelz

diamond jewelry

body jewelry + belly chainz

sparkly hair clips and headbands

butterfly aesthetics

ribbons and bows

ostrich feathers

sparkly keychains and wristlets

bodysuits + heels combo

statement jewelry like hello kitty, fruit or desserts

beauty

pretty eye pigments (try mac, huda or iconic london)

vibrant pinks

warm bronzer

glitter gloss

translucent glosses in pink and orange

charlotte tilbury flawless filter

nars super orgasm blush

morphe 8r complexion palette

morphe nikita palette

natasha denona diamond & glow (favvv)

a bunch of clear glosses

fenty diamond bomb

fenty fussy gloss bomb

urban decay moondust shadows

cake beauty products

joseon spf 50

bright and/or floral fragrances (gucci flora gorgeous gardenia, jimmy choo illicit flower, carolina herrera good girl blush, juliette has a gun collection, yves saint laurent mon paris intensement, marc jacobs daisy fragrances)

victoria’s secret love spell + warm and cozy + la crème fragrances

sol de janeiro body mists

body shimmer (fenty beauty or bath and body works)

sweet body butters

sol de janeiro beija flor

exfoliating gloves

juicy sheet masks

cetaphil moisturizing cream

native candy shop collection

victoria’s secret tease + eau so sexy

5 blade razors and post shave oil

cute mirrors to keep in my purses

glitter nails

lavenders and pinks

protein treatments for moisture overload

[from-m-izzy]

diving in | tbz eric sohn

“you said you wanted to surf with me. Let me show you something while I’m at it.”

pairing » the boyz eric sohn x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship, non-idol au!

genre »​ smut 18+ (PLEASE MDNI!!) 🔞 (kinda) surfer eric, some fluff

word count; estimated reading time » 1970; ~8 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » dom!eric, sub!reader, public sex (on a surfboard in the ocean, quite far away from the rest of the crowd), praising (reader receiving), dirty talk (not explicit), begging (reader to eric), pet name (baby girl, pretty girl), nickname (buff puppy; reader to eric), fingering (reader receiving), marking and kisses on skin (reader receiving), reader has medium-long hair, reader wears a bikini, eric is shirtless, eric and reader are the same height, eric implied to have a bigger build, orgasm denial (once), cum tasting (eric to reader)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

happy birthday bubba @mosviqu 🥰 just a little something for you 🫂 thank you for proofreading and helping with warnings last minute @sanaxo-o 🥰

In between your chaotic university schedule and unhelpful teammates in your group work, came Eric's idea to take a day at the beach. You're more than enlightened at the idea, already sorting the day's wardrobe in your head.

Now, the toasted sand tickles between the crevices and around your bare feet, but you don't flinch, feeling your muscles relax instead. Your exposed stomach and back bask in the sun, delightful at the kiss from the sun. Eric walks beside you, his right hand protectively landing on your waist, pulling you closer to him; reminding the others around you to stop looking at your lower cheeks and upper chest which makes him scowl.

"You're looking hot but I hate how others can see you like this." Tucking his hand on the aide waistband on your bottoms and letting the material slap your skin.

You raise an eyebrow at him, your head dipping and rising at his exposed chest, "Speak for yourself, you buff puppy."

There and then comes Eric's light and golden smile that had you since day one, that only seemed all the more attractive with the limited skin contact that you share due to your light blue bikini and his pink swimmers. For Eric, it's the fact that the sight of you like this makes him want to take you right then and there, but he needed to stay civil in the public place.

You made your temporary post in the crowded space, spreading your beach towel and your belongings under the beach umbrella that you recently bought. Eric sticks his surfboard onto the sand next to where you would be sitting, creating more walls from the setting yet still scorching sun. You both settle in, popping off the cap of your sunscreen.

"Need help?" Knowing well enough that you will accept it.

A generous amount is applied to his palm and Eric guides you to sit between his spread legs as he begins applying the lotion starting from your shoulders and along your spine. You should've known that he was plotting something for even though you couldn't see the spreading grin on his face, his hands did all the talking. From the curve of your shoulder, coming to curve to your chest.

Slightly turning your head around, you shoot him a raised eyebrow but he feigns a straight face. His fingers go beneath the shoulder strap, following the line to your breasts. At least, you thought he would be groping you over the clothing but were proved wrong when your hardened buds were between his fingers that swiped and tugged making your back straighten.

"E-Eric---" Looking around at the oblivious children and parents. You couldn't help but squirm into him, the tip of his finger now circling your sensitive buds.

A hand flies to cover your mouth and Eric only shoots you a smile at the way your lips tremble in pleasure. "Good girl." Oh, he's crazy to call you that in public. "Looking all pretty for me."

"Oh..." His fingers tap teasingly towards your clothed mound, making your legs close instinctively. Eric clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disapproval, to which you shakily open your shaking legs once more to him. You know where this is going and you should probably keep some public dignity but how could you when the length of his fingers covers your slit, brushing you in an upwards motion, proud of the dampening fabric that he's created?

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, gasping for the air above. The whimpers that you let out are now clearer and closer to your boyfriend’s ears and once again, it takes Eric everything to not turn you around, tug both your underwear down and guide your surely pooling arousal around his hardening part.

But he’s got better ideas than what you both usually do behind closed doors. The fact that you’re gripping onto his forearm, gasping for air and his touch despite only having a minimal amount of coverage to the world around you makes the idea in his head all the more interesting to try. Without another word, Eric retracts his arm, scooting backwards before standing up.

Your furrowed eyebrows contrasted with the cute jut of your lower lip as your head turned, eyes following to see him retrieve his surfboard from the sand, tucking it below his arm. Eric winks at you and before you can protest your disappointment about the building orgasm, he crouches eye level with you, stealing a peck from your lips. 

“Come on,” he tilts his head towards the body of water, “you said you wanted to surf with me. Let me show you something while I’m at it.”

You couldn't see through that mischievous smirk and that annoyingly charming wink sent once again. Even though you rolled your eyes and heaved a heavy sigh, he knew that you would accept the hand that he has put out for you. Just like before, his fingers curve around the side of your waist, the surfboard from before under his arm as you both make your way to the crowded ocean.

At first, everything is civil. You both cupped your hands together to splash the salty liquid on each other’s faces, innocent and beaming in the summer. Eric would use the board as a barrier from your attacks and in turn, you would shout at how unfair he was being in the fight. The cooling water around you and the way the sand below you would most probably get between your feet when you walk back. The particles of sand would also be around your body, stuck between the gap between your bikini and your skin. But it’s fun and spending this time to just forget about your priorities is great, especially when you can do it with the love of your life. 

It’s true when people say time passes by fast when you have fun for with each passing splash to each other’s faces, the sun sets and the temperature drops even more, and Eric’s love and warmth for you becomes all the more evident. As you have fun together, you’ve reached a part of the area where it’s more secluded. The laughter of the families, squealing children and somewhat worried parents were quite a distance---it’s enough for you both to be moderately loud together; whatever those noises may be from. Eric pulls his body onto the floating board, legs straddling on each side, eyes forward towards the horizon and sunset. You gazed up at him with adoration, resting your arm onto the unoccupied part of the board as you gaze at the scene too. 

He admires the scenery in front of him, alternating between that and you next to him still in the water. You're left still in the water until he acknowledges you once more with a kiss, slotting his lips between yours. His thumb and index trap your chin, controlling the flow of the kiss. Eric smiles at the swipes of his tongue that would make your eyes slightly roll back. Your hands grip his thigh, slightly pushing him down in an attempt to dive into the kiss further. To the shaky movement, Eric tightens his hold on your chin, separating your wet lips with an innocent shake of his head.

“Don’t make me fall, baby girl,” He warns you softly. “Come here.” He pats on the board in front of him, instructing you to get on the board with minimal movement. 

Because of your lack of experience with the surfboard and everything about surfing, it was a little bit of a struggle to get on the rocky surface. The natural waves didn’t help you either. But Eric’s skilful balancing skills, tilting his upper body to the opposite side of the board of where you are to maintain his drying hair eventually made you both succeed in sitting together to watch the sunset in his arms. With his hands on your waist, he pulls you and himself closer, loving the feeling of your exposed back on his defined chest.

You exhale at the feeling, leaning and putting your weight onto him. To be honest, you could fall asleep to the sound of the waves, Eric’s humming and the way his thumb caress your skin. But Eric did not want you to fall asleep---he wanted the opposite of your snores and relaxed brain. His hands start to trail down, following the downward curve of your thigh, again towards your core that you couldn’t tell if it was your arousal or the sea. You gasp at how he didn’t bother to tease you from above your underwear, tugging cloth to one side, inserting one finger straight into your pooling hole.

“You can be louder,” he encourages the whiny moans that you started to voice, “They’re all away from us.” Referring to earlier when you were in a ‘more’ crowded place. 

Eric made use of his mouth, opened lips landing on the area between your neck and your shoulder. He makes his mark along the slide, sucking open-mouthed kisses while his fingers start to increase the pace, driving you to your wave. Your thighs start shaking, just like your ragged breaths and the slight thrashing of your head resting laid on his shoulder. Just like he wants, your voice becomes louder, not only because you’re right next to him but because you’re starting to not care about the setting you’re in.

“Keep still,” he reminds you of the uneven surface, “if you keep moving so harshly, you won’t be able to cum.” With this, his hand that has tugged your underwear away lets go and the elastic slaps to his retracting hand increase its pace and stretch your hole as he inserts another finger.

Your hands grip his wrists, hazy eyes gazing down to see the trembling of your thighs that have started to grip the blue board as you feel the increase of your release building up. Eric syncs your moans to the plunging of his fingers inside you. The tip of his fingers reaches your sweet spot, hitting that spot each time to leave you all the more breathless. Another finger is inserted and you can’t help but lean almost all your weight onto Eric now, losing your mind at how Eric constantly hits the spot that he knows all too well.

“Faster,” you beg to compensate for the orgasm he took away from you earlier. “Please don’t stop.” 

Eric complied with your request, turning his head towards the crook of your neck and littering soft small kisses to the back of your ear. Each time he pulls away from another peck comes another encouraging praise from all the “You’re taking me so well” to the “My pretty girl” to the dirtier words that encourage to finally coat his fingers with a layer of you. He didn’t stop at your orgasm, letting the surge of relief travel all over your body, only beginning to slow down when your breathing normalises. 

Eric’s gaze on your side profile is adoring, his hand coming back to cover your spent core. His face comes up to nudge and trace along your jawline and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You alright?”

You chuckle back, turning your head to nudge your nose against his, “Yeah. You?” He nods and kisses you still with a wide smile. “Amazing balance you have here, Mr Sohn.”

“I know,” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, “I am amazing.”

You couldn’t argue with that statement. Eric Sohn is the love of your life after all.

“You know what else is amazing?” You raise an eyebrow at the question. Eric gives that mischievous smirk again, lifting the three fingers that made you gasp for air a few minutes ago, “Open up.” 

Diving in once more.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[riaki]

winner | satoru gojo x reader

"i hate you."

three words that destroyed the very world satoru had spent building with you for the past nine months. his footing gives way beneath his feet and he can feel himself slipping, scrambling for purchase on an icy slope while your cold words bite at him like an icy, bitter wind.

his world is collapsing. it hurts to think, and it hurts to look at you, and the way you're looking at him hurts. like he's chewed gum on the bottom of your shoe, mangled and ugly.

you've always been easy on his eyes. god, it normally never hurts to look at you. the burden of his cursed gaze feels a little lighter when the world around him is brighter and sweeter and softer because of your pretty smile. suguru eats sweets to wash away the taste of cursed spirits, and you're the eye candy that relieves the migraines behind satoru's six eyes.

at least, you were.

the hot summer sun beats down against the cement of the sidewalk; the streets blur and waver with shimmers of heat and the mirages of puddles on the road. the two of you stand to the side, shirt pinched between your fingers as you fan yourself to try to alleviate the heat on your skin, wondering why you decided to go out today.

tokyo is hot during the summer. the value of yen is lower than normal, so tourist season swings about like a tsunami, flooding the streets with families and travelers who explore on the trail of their wanderlust. shibuya is crowded and there are foreign footprints all over akihabara. the cute shop awning you're standing under reminds you of a beach umbrella, but the image of hot white sand and pristine crystal waters only makes you feel dizzier with the heat.

satoru is used to the summer heat, and the complaining that comes with it. it doesn't help that lately, it's all that suguru ever talks about. he's starting to think he should've bought a popsicle for his best friend, too.

but then you speak again, and he's immediately snapped back into reality like a slap to the face; your voice drips with venom, normally so sweet but there's poison in your veins, polluting your heart.

"i can't believe you won. of all people." you complained.

satoru gets under your skin like no other.

satoru looks down at his popsicle; a baby blue, soda-flavored. everything seems to come with a soda flavor. icy sweetness melts away, dripping down the wooden stick and sliding over his fingers, blue against his skin like veins of sugar. he rubs his forehead, scowling and squinting. the heat is giving him a headache; the popsicle helped, but your angry glares make him want to hide in the freezer box you both picked your lucky desserts from.

his popsticle stick has one word etched into it; when he looks over at yours, it's just smooth, tanned wood. no marks.

'winner'. that's what it says on satoru's popsicle stick. suddenly, the syrup feels as sweet as strawberry jam in his mouth and the sour look on your face makes it all the better. an unabashed, unbridled grin spreads across his lips stained blue, shit-eating and awful and it only makes you despise your boyfriend more.

so that’s what you’re so pissed at him for. he looks like the cheshire cat with white fur and shades. suddenly, his world is right as rain again and everything is brighter when you look at him like you want to rip his guts out and cook them on the burning hot sidewalk. ah, true love.

he opens his mouth to speak, swiping his soda-stained tongue over his lips, reveling in the way your jaw clenches in irritation as your ice pop melts in your hands under the searing summer heat.

“well, guess we know who’s side the gods are on today—”

“shut up.”

satoru just grins, leaning in and pushing the hair away from your face to press a quick, syrup-flavored smooch to your forehead. the heat clings to your skin, but the little imprint of his lips on your skin leave a cool, tingling feeling that has you smiling, even though you hate that he won and you didn’t.

satoru gets under your skin like no other, and finds his way to your heart.

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and / or plagiarize !

[thef1diary]

Dancing In The Rain | C. Leclerc

Summary: You enjoy standing outside whenever it rains, and that is how your boyfriend finds you when he comes home.

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta fluff and cliché moments

word count: 900+

pairing: charles x fem!reader

You were a sucker for rain, so when today's forecast included quite a bit of rain, you were happily waiting for it. For many, the rainy, gloomy day would bring down their mood but it was the opposite for you. Since you moved to Monaco with your boyfriend, there weren't too many rainy days but just enough.

The lovely cocktail-blue hue of the sky was starting to turn gravel-grey in colour. Large cloud pillows were beginning to develop, covering up the sun's old-gold brightness. You watched from the large window of your home, hearing a tapping on the window which became a pitter-patter. There weren't too many people outside but those that were ran for cover and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The smile on your face grew wider as the rainfall became heavier, and you quickly placed your now empty mug of coffee in the kitchen sink before going outside.

As the rain continued on, you started dancing to imaginary music. Your home was in a slightly secluded area so you knew that there wouldn't be too many onlookers, and even if someone was watching, you didn't really care.

You were in your little bubble of enjoying the rain until the headlight of a car disrupted your peace. The lights belonged to Charles' Ferrari, the monégasque parking halfway across the driveway, the space you weren't occupying and jogging towards you. "ma chéri, what are you doing?"

He wasn't in a great mood today, as he had to cancel plans with you this morning since he was called in to attend to some media duties, of some sponsors. You were upset but it wasn't his fault, so you didn't let the disappointment show on your face as he was leaving. Though, when he left, you changed into one of his shirts which smelt like his cologne, and climbed back into bed on his side. When Charles was on his way back home, it started raining and it upset him even further, not because he didn't like the rain, but it made him miss you even more. He didn't particularly like the rain as much as you did, but sometimes he would watch you stand outside, and as much as he warned you that you would get sick, you didn't listen to him.

He wondered if you would be standing outside today when he pulled into the driveway, and saw you dancing, in your own world. He smiled slightly, putting his dimples on display, then got out of the car without even parking it properly.

You walked closer to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was also completely soaked under the rain, but didn't complain as he saw your eyes gleaming. "Bonjour, mon amour" in the past few years you've been dating Charles, you were improving your French as you considered it a romantic language. Needless to say, you were quite good but obviously not at Charles' level yet.

"tu vas être malade" [you’re going to be sick] Charles muttered, and you rolled your eyes in a playful manner, obviously expecting those words. Charles sighed since he wasn't receiving a proper response from you. "Baby-" Charles started but you put your finger on his lips. "Charles, I will be fine. Come on let's dance"

"Right now?" His eyes widened, he looked up for a moment, the rain splattering on his face harder. "Of course" you chuckled at his reaction, moving his arms lower to rest on your hips and putting a respectable dancing distance between you. Charles didn't have the same thought as he pulled you right against his body. You looked up at him to see the man smirking. The two of you swayed together and you rested your head in the crook of his neck. After a few moments, you felt vibrations coming from his body and you realized he was humming.

You made direct eye contact with your lover and you felt heat rising up your cheeks with the way he was looking at you. "What's that look for?" You questioned.

Charles didn't reply, instead he dipped his head down to your neck and placed a light kiss under your ear, a sweet spot he knew very well. His head still rested against your shoulder and you brought your hand up to play with his wet hair.

He brought his head up to face you, cradling your cheek between his palms. "Je t'aime"

"I love you more" was always your response to his verbal expression of love.

You two still swayed in each other's arms, until you thought of something you've been wanting to do. "Kiss me" you stated.

He smiled before leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your lips. He always pecked your lips first before going in for a second lustful kiss.

"You've always wanted to kiss in the rain, right?" Charles assumed from your reaction. You simply nodded, not being able to form words which wasn't too surprising as any touch from Charles left you speechless.

You went in for another kiss, spending a few more moments in the rain until it stopped.

As you two were making your way into your home, you sneezed once, and twice. You looked at him and realized he was already looking at you with a 'I told you so' expression. Nonetheless, you shared a laugh with him. He was worried about you even if it was just a normal cold, but he didn't regret those moments you shared in the rain. In fact he was looking forward to the next time it rains so he could play some actual music and you two would properly dance.