#but this other person is probing around and inside you and its intimate

[moss-and-marimos]

you could literally start talking abt the grossest shit in my tags and I'd start clapping honestly pls do ramble

people who dont want to see talk of the intimacy and eroticism of horror and gore dont click read more vbjdhfdfvj

ougugghghhghghg goes wild its the intimacy and inherent eroticism of gore, sorry if this is a bit incoherent im tired but maybe I will dump more in your ask box another time bvjhdfd, for me its a sort of like fucked up thing between trusting the person to put you back together afterwards and wanting to be understood in a way nobody can without literally taking you apart, I guess kinda similar in a way to like wanting people to know about your trauma in a self destructive way, thats what a lot of it is to me that makes it interesting is the art of self destructive clearly unhealthy codependency dynamic between consumer and consumee, test subject and scientist, im not gonna put my own year old poem here bc it needs some revisions vbjdfd but to summarize it talks about being loved through the restraints binding you, and being seen as what you truly are, some mass of meat, and them taking you apart and loving you anyway. they will see you laid bare, more vulnerable than you have ever been, and they will make the choice that you deserve to stay, or in the case of cannibalism that they want you to be their nourishment. That in trusting you to take them apart, you are trusting them to sustain you. its really fucked and interesting to me. The idea that consumption or vivisection or similar are some warped sort of love, the same sort of way that people will abuse others and say theyre doing it because they love you, is very interesting to me. obviously its bad but its the only comparison I can draw here and its an interesting thing to explore in fiction. its a type of love that is obsessive and destructive and painful and violent and thats why its so interesting. And again referring to that poem I wrote last year "and you wish you could be a better test subject. and with the blood on their hands and a smile on your face you thank them. after all your life is in their hands." and "theyve been inside you more times than you can count, and something about that is so appealing. to be taken apart. to be examined. to be understood. oh how invasive. you long for it" and the fucked up eroticism of instead of having like idk bite marks or hickeys or whatever shit on you you're covered in scars from their invasiveness and tests, showing just how much you belong to them and just how well they know to put you back together. After cutting away everything vulnerable, after getting to just the bones (and maybe even cutting away those too), after seeing the abomination you are, they put you back together anyway, again and again. In both a metaphorical sense of like exploring trauma and trusting the other person with that and in a fictional but more literal sense, it is quite literally exploring the other person, and its incredibly intimate, and requires so so much trust.

[notnctu]

POV | PART TWO

━ ❝ i’d love to see me from your point of view.❞

❀ lee donghyuck x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, fluff! angst, (optional smut is marked with ****) ❀ details - best friends to lovers!au, college!au, ft. best friend mark, slice of life?, inspo by pov by ariana grande ❀ word count - 6.1k ❀ warnings - swearing, dangerous reckless behavior, fingering, penetration, public?sex?, unprotected, slight dirty talk ❀ synopsis - Donghyuck gradually falls in love with you, his best friend, through unprecedented intimate moments that reveal more than what meets the eye and a drunken shared kiss on your birthday makes him realize how hard he’s fallen for you. You’re oblivious to it all, trying to indulge and seek a one true love through bad tinder hookups or men you meet at the club, all to only end in self doubt that Donghyuck has to reconcile. And he always tells you what you need to hear, while also leaving out the part where he so badly wishes you can love yourself the way he loves you.

❀ a/n - make sure you read the first part as it’s a continuation! please please leave me feedback, i would really appreciate it :) this is going to be my last long fic for the time being! thanks for dealing with my spam for the past few weeks after months no of writings <3

READ PART ONE

Donghyuck thought about that kiss every night since it happened, yet knowing you didn’t do the same. How unfortunate it was, when he panicked waking next to you in the morning and wondering if you were to confront him about it. However, there was nothing, no follow up. You didn’t remember it and he couldn’t tell if the sigh that left his mouth that morning was out of relief or despair. 

Regardless, that became his epiphany and the more his love for you grew, the more he wished to be around you for all his days. Donghyuck jumped at every text message, picking up the phone to see if it was you and noting the disappointment in his heart whenever it wasn’t. He found himself smiling whenever your name was brought up, fondly thinking of how you make his heart race. 

The moments that you were together, he swears on every universe that he’s the happiest he’s ever been. There’s something about you that makes him want to believe in love, and it’s not because of your unrealistic desires to find one. As selfish as he came to be, he wanted you all to himself and to be the sole reason behind your smiles.

“No Mark?” Asking as you hop into Donghyuck’s car, the clock on his dash reading the red digital numbers 2:12 A.M. 

“Why can’t we just hang out for once?” He whines, but hopes that it’s playful enough to where you can’t tell that he’s actually serious. Donghyuck hears your melodic chuckle and everything inside him rumbles with glee and satisfaction. 

He steals quick peeks over at you in the passenger seat, greedily taking in your appearance. “That’s not exactly how a throuple works, but I’ll let it pass. Mark never has time for us anyways.” 

There is something so intimate about the late nights; the outside world is dead in its sleep and vulnerable to chaos. The streets are completely empty and it truly feels as if it’s you two against the city. It brings no regulations, easy escapes, staying up all night to feel something the day can’t give you. 

You are the perfect person to spend them with. You’re the very definition of a good feeling, where he’s forgetting all his bad days and soaring through the heavens. The most accurate human form of excitement, the adrenaline and sweetest thrills that run throughout his body. 

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…” As Donghyuck pulls into a gas station parking lot, the small convenient store is brightly lit with a blinding white sign that reads a popular chain establishment. 

Hyuck blinks at you curiously, head tilt and waiting for you to finish your sentence. Getting out of the car, you stand on your toes and rest your chin on the roof of his car to speak directly to him, “you know that big intersection over on 34th Boulevard?” He catches the mischievous twinkle that shines in your eyes and a grin so fearless fits your face perfectly.

He nods, spinning his car keys on his finger and walking up to the store. But he’s looking back at you with eyes that ask for you to proceed with him, and you’re running towards him with a sudden youthful energy and a jump in your step. 

Your hand latches onto his arm and his gaze drops momentarily to follow it, “I’ve always wanted to just run down the middle of it. To run down a busy traffic area when it’s empty, knowing that this would be the only opportunity to do it without getting run over.” 

“Is that what you’re suggesting we should do next?” Hyuck opens the fridge and grabs his favorite prepackaged ice cream cone. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, your dazzling eyes never leaving his.

He hands you a random popsicle and you take it mindlessly, your train of thought still trying to convince Hyuck to embark on achieving this new thrill of yours. “If you didn’t have anything else planned…”

“Am I some Fairy Godmother? Granting your wishes to come true?” Using sarcasm to hide his undying desire to scream yes! may be the best thing he’s learned to utilize. However, you don’t need to beg any more when a small smile curves at his lips. He’s more than convinced.

“Ah, a happy couple. You two look great together.” The rather talkative cashier compliments while he rings up the icey treats. 

Just before Hyuck can clarify, you’re pulling him closer by the arm and using your fake saccharine smile. “The best boyfriend ever!” His throat freezes, but he’s following your lead closely. Confusion wandering his thoughts, but heart swelling at your usage of the word boyfriend to reference him. 

The friendly stranger laughs wholeheartedly at your giddy act, completely falling for your overplayed nature of a lovey dovey girlfriend. “He always buys me what I want, like this ice cream. He knows it’s my favorite.” You blink innocently up at him, but he finally understands your malicious motive.

Shooting a glare at you, he complies silently and pulls out his card to pay for both of your treats. “Right. Anything my baby wants.” He says the pet name so easily that it shocks him a bit. 

“Hey, you’re a good man.” The clueless cashier smiles even wider and prints the receipt. With a simple gratitude, you both exit the store and you’re laughing the loudest form of mockery.

Jumping into the car, Hyuck is quick to roll his eyes. “He always buys me what I want.” He imitates your previous statement with a silly voice. “I can’t believe you robbed me.” 

The ridiculous scheme actually managed to work, leaving your stomach to hurt from the intense fit of giggles. “My baby? Where did you learn that?” You say between your spurts of laughter.

Heat rises up his neck, slightly embarrassed. “So what? Nicknames are cute.” He admits bashfully, while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

Your chuckles die down and you’re leaning over the middle console to get a closer look of his expression. “Really? Didn’t think you were the type. You never used them with your exes.” 

“Around you.” A cringe runs down your spine when you witness Hyuck bite his ice cream, settling back in your seat with a grumble.

“Pet names in private.” Now, his palms grow a bit slick with perspiration. “That’s endearing.” Unwrapping your melting popsicle, you don’t probe him more about the subject. Instead, Hyuck turns up the stereo to drown out any more talk about romantic gestures.

After several rounds of finding street parking, Hyuck finally swerves into a spot situated just before the large six-way intersection. The traffic lights blink in view at the end of the street and in the darkness, there are no cars around. An unfamiliar scene, this place is nothing but a wide open road with five lanes that meet in the middle and lead to six different directions. The white painted lines that divide up the road are as chaotic as it looks during the day filled with traffic.

Nonetheless, you are right. There is no other chance to see it so dead, so empty, so free. 

And you’re already hopping out of the car that Hyuck breaks his daydream and hurries after you. Standing the middle of the road is a dangerous scheme, yet these are the thrill seeking moments that you crave too well. 

Extending your arm out and your palm facing the night sky, you grin enticingly at Hyuck to join you in the middle of the chaotic lines and the adrenaline picks up within him. He, too, matches your smile and lets every form of enthusiasm fuel him. 

“Race you to the end.” Hyuck begins bolting down the long runway, causing you to scoff in disbelief at his sudden challenge. 

The wind that takes flight against his body is crisp on his skin and driving his strands into a wild mess. Turning around, he sees that you’re quick on his tail. However, the one thing that catches his eye… the one thing that makes this moment another one of your most beautiful ones is the utter bliss and peace in your facial expression. 

Eyes are closed and arms are spread out as if you’re letting the wind carry you away. The air slips between the spaces of your fingers and the night is filled with nothing, but your gentle out of breath giggles. 

Donghyuck stops in his tracks right under the colorful traffic lights at your astonishing image. And if you are to open your eyes, you’ll see the marvelous image of your sun waiting for you in the middle of the largest intersection of the city with his mouth slightly agape and marked under a trance.

An exasperated sigh escapes as a puff of smoke and his heart works extra hard to pump oxygen in his veins. In his perspective, the excellent city skyline at the horizon remains your background and you’re running toward him with a breathless joy. Another splitting breathtaking image that will live in his mind for as long as he knows you.

So he throws caution to the wind and though it feels too good to be true, he loves his best friend more than anyone he’s ever come across.

By the end of your rendezvous, you two find a secret rooftop to fully enjoy your silent city. Standing side by side, you both lean with your elbows on the ledge. 

There is something so unspoken and intimate about this very moment, where existing in each other’s presences becomes wholly more comfortable than anything in the world. And this safety allows for vulnerable secrets to spill, for questions that your heart has always been afraid to ask to fall from your lips. 

But you’re not here with just anybody. Donghyuck probably knew what was already on your mind, he just needed you to speak them into existence.

“Hyuck, do you think I’m unlovable?” 

Perhaps, it’s the intimacy that allows for him to talk more confidently about how he views you. Heart over mind, he scoffs in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’re the most lovable person I know! From your happy giggles to your overall easy going aura. We’re not perfect people, but you’re worth every glance and every praise. I wanted to be with you the very moment you made me laugh.” 

Donghyuck passionately rambles on about your attributes and everything you’ve allowed him to experience over the years of your friendship. While he’s always been there for you, you’re always by his side and making sure he’s living a memorable life. He thanks all his sweetest memories to you, that you are the most impactful person of his entire college experience.

“I came to college thinking I’d have my nose in textbooks all day long, but you fell into my life like an opportunity to escape. I love my nights trying to crush Mark on the leaderboards, but I’d give that up any day to run down a major intersection in the middle of the city with you.” 

With a playful soft chuckle, you say something that practically makes his heart stop and regret oversharing. “You know, from how you describe me… it almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure what suddenly overcame him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he’s anticipating your response, trying every way to decipher the quizzical look on your face. Nevertheless, your hesitation causes him to panic and he intercepts before you can respond. “I meant that as your friend.” 

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, gaze averting away from you. Lies. Lies. More fucking lies. He should’ve waited to see what you would’ve said. 

Nodding knowingly, you lightly place your hand over his. The warmth of your touch soothes his aching and disappointment. Why is he hurting from a simple look? “I know.” He can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that you truly believe he only loves you as a friend or that you saw right through him and are trying to let him save face. 

“Something happened the night of your birthday that I think I should tell you.” Hyuck sighs out all his frustrations. 

He pulls his hand from underneath yours, “you asked me to kiss you as a birthday favor.” There is no confidence to watch your reaction, his eyes remain focused on the dark city. 

Instead of a painstaking rejection, you laugh wholeheartedly and somehow, he feels much lighter. “And did you?”

“How could I say no to you on your birthday?” Peering over, your fingers softly graze your lips and a wandering look is present in your dazed stare.

“It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, Hyuck.” Smiling at him, Hyuck looks cluelessly at you and doesn’t recall another time. He would’ve remembered. 

“Guess who I stole that same request from?” Your eye lashes bat firmly at him and he gulps at your implied question. There was no way.

“Me? When?” This all causes him to rack his brain of lost files, something he must’ve missed.

Sighing, you bid him a kind smile. “Your birthday party a few months ago. Drunk out of your living mind, you pulled me privately into the kitchen and asked if I could kiss you as a birthday gift.” 

Fuck, no wonder why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a single thing from that night. “It was right after my break up.” 

Nodding, you affirm his realization. “You told me that you felt so lonely, and somehow…. someway… I’ve always made you feel seen. Perhaps, you do the same for me and my drunk ass was bold enough to ask for a similar request.” 

But did you kiss him as if you loved him? With the same amount of love that he did the night of your birthday? 

Nonetheless, you shrug off the topic and move on from it all. “We should go, the sun comes up in a few.” 

Hyuck notes this odd detail. You’re not one to end the nights so abruptly, so it almost seemed as if you didn’t want to speak more about it. 

Perhaps, you did kiss him like you meant it but every fear in your body about loving your best friend stops you from admitting it all. 

Because you shouldn’t love your best friend, but something deep down has always wanted to.

How ridiculous he was to believe that you could ever possibly share the same feelings as him. How foolish he felt the moment you burst into his apartment announcing how you’ve finally found the one after another random Tinder date. 

It’s as the night on the rooftop a week ago didn’t even exist or mean anything to you. But that night ate him up alive, to the point where he sought out love counseling from Mark.

“Oh dude, this is serious.” Mark watches Hyuck pace the room, double around the floorplan with his head in his hands with utter frustration and confusion. You’re the only thing that’s been running through his mind the last few days. 

He grunts and rolls his eyes at how Mark’s face had fallen sullen. “I practically confessed everything I loved about her. It’s pretty serious.”

Mark stands and stops Hyuck by the shoulders, looking dead into his eyes. “I’ve liked her before too and would have done some dumb act to get her to like me back. I get it, Hyuck. So, what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck initially scoffs and tears away from his best friend’s intense stare, “of course you liked her too.” His voice fades out at the end of his sentence. “Mark, I like her so much it’s hard to look at anyone else. She’s…”

“Mesmerizing?” Mark finishes his sentence with a small proud grin on his lips. 

Hyuck couldn’t hold the ridiculous laugh that escapes at how smug Mark looks, but then a silence falls over him. He realizes how perfect that word is to describe you. You are every dazzling trance he’d fawn under. 

“It’s wrong, Mark. She’s our best friend, I can’t ruin us.” Hyuck slumps his shoulders forward and a pout extends. His eyes are wandering the ugly carpet but he’s thinking about every moment you’ve smiled. 

“How did this happen in the first place? I thought you never would’ve liked her…” Mark’s question has Hyuck raking his brain to find his epiphany. “It’s not about your ex, is it? y/n is way too good to be a rebound.” 

“No. This has nothing to do with my old relationships, I genuinely like her… so much.” Hyuck understands the implications in Mark’s sudden abrasive questions. Even it’s difficult for himself to say how it all started and so this has Donghyuck reflecting back on his entire friendship with you.

If only he had noticed your lively smiles sooner, a little earlier, it would have saved him all this time searching for someone who would last. You’ve lasted through every college relationship he’s had and that speaks louder than any confession. 

“I never liked her because I never thought I had a chance. Have you seen her? Our best friend who has 400 matches on Tinder.” Though he blames himself for realizing a little late that he loved you, it was always hard to compete with everyone else. 

“So, what changed then?” 

Hyuck leans against the door to Mark’s room and crosses his arms to contemplate. “Not that I have a chance now, but I can’t hold these feelings back anymore. I want to kiss her until we’re out of breath, to love without any conditions, to be the reason behind her every beautiful moment.” 

Mark raises a confused eyebrow, “but you are.”

“The only reason.” Hyuck speaks his truest desires and Mark coughs aggressively before composing himself. Right, he didn’t stutter one bit. 

So, Hyuck had planned to confess, all until you gave him the very reason he couldn’t. When you showed up unannounced with one of those wide grins that has your eyes shimmering with hope, he just knew something was wrong. All his love and future aspirations were replaced with sheer disappointment and envy.

“I’m falling hard for him.” You begin and your hands are clasped together so innocently. “He brought me to this overlook on a cliff and we just talked for ages. It felt so right and then, he asked to see me again!” Your eyes are completely wondrous and distracted, like the one thought in your mind blocked out everything else. Jumping happily, you’re squealing with excitement thinking about this new person in your life and there is no consideration of Hyuck’s silence.

“That’s… great.” He barely stutters to fill the air and to replace the sound of his heart breaking. He lost you before even getting the chance to even have you. 

“I know right!” You yell joyfully and though your smile is the biggest it's ever been, Hyuck refuses to see this moment as beautiful. He’s no longer looking at you objectively, his bias tainting it all and he sees it in an ugly light. As your best friend, he should be happy for you and rooting for you. He’s known more than anyone else that you have been waiting for someone like this your whole college experience.

However, he can’t feel a single good emotion as you ramble on about your alleged one true love.

“Did you need something?” He cuts you off, growing a bit irritated by your endless praise about a man who never wishes to meet.

Clearing your throat, you take Hyuck’s hand in both of your palms. With begging eyes, you say, “my sister is getting married this weekend and they invited you. 

His hold escapes yours as he walks toward his bedroom, “shouldn’t you invite your new man to your family events now.” It’s difficult for him to hide the bitterness in his voice, but you run up to him and grip his arm. 

“But they think I’m dating you, remember? Plus, my mom referred to you by name. She really likes you.” You snicker, clearly not understanding why Donghyuck seems to be rather distant at the moment.

His ears perk up at the compliment and though it’s a selfish thought, he feels content knowing that he was able to win over your family. So, his heart burns at how your hand slowly travels down to intertwine with his own and how your chin rests on his shoulder lightly. His head turns and he is met a few inches away from your tender lips. For a brief moment, he’s staring at them longer than he should. 

“Come on, Hyuck. Be mine for one more time.” Your whisper is gentle and soft, your breath tickling against his cheek. Despite everything, he loves how you make him feel. It’s always a mixture of happiness and safety. There are no fears with you because you’re absolutely fearless. He can’t imagine how he would’ve opened up without you around, that he puts every form of trust into you. 

So, every little thing that you do. every single passing look. every touch and every spoken word. He falls harder for you every time you simply see him, every time you bat your eyelashes at him. And this love that festers inside of him feels easy and genuine. Perhaps, you’ve been his one true love all along. He’s never felt remarkably seen, where every part is exposed and right at your fingertips. 

And you… have been so patiently waiting for just anyone to steal your heart. How can he let just anyone love you? 

“I’m yours for however long you want me to be.” He lightly ruffles the top of your hair before slightly shrugging you off, afraid that your hold will eventually have him saying other sweet implications. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” He smirks at your small chuckle, the roll in your eyes.

“At least pretend.” But he really doesn’t have to. He enjoys every moment being yours. 

When the day finally arrived, the grand wedding may have been another day that Hyuck will never forget how beautiful you looked. Prancing out in your bridesmaid dress, you run towards him through the large field of fake grass. He catches you when you jump into his arms, practically failing all over and tripping over the ends of your chiffon dress. He hits the ground, cushioning your fall. 

“Hey..” you grin down at him breathless, hand resting perfectly on his chest as it was the night of your 21st again.

Hyuck gulps and sends you a glare, “I should have dropped you.” 

“That would have been very chivalrous of you.” Sarcasm bites back at him as you push up and off of him. He’s quick on his feet and brushing off any dust from the bottom of your expensive dress, avoiding the long open slit that runs down to expose one leg.

“Donghyuck, you’re looking ravishing.” Your mother steps out, tall and prideful, but with the most delightful expression as she opens her arms to invite him into a hug. 

He leans into it, while cautiously making suspicious eye contact with you. You shrug back, also confused at why your mother has a sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been so long since the holidays.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bids your mother a respectful smile when she pulls away, to which she absolutely fawns at and you’re tugging at his sleeve to drag him away.

“The pleasure is all mine. You make y/n a better person.” And there is no context that Hyuck understands this single phrase before he’s walking away from your force. Your mother waves a small sweet goodbye as she watches you two leave behind a cobblestone wall behind the large reception building.

It’s covered in long vines that grow up the old stones, a beautiful background for an outdoor wedding. “Rude.” He whispers when you finally stop pulling him away.

“She was starting to say odd things.” You laugh, quite nervously actually. Nonetheless, you shake out of your nerves and a beaming expression replaces your troubles. “So, guess what? I’m meeting my man afterwards.” Yet again, the curve of your lips at the thought of another rumbles his own yearning heart.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looks down while kicking at the loose pebbles on the ground. “Good for you.” grumbles Donghyuck mindlessly.

You don’t notice his low spirits again, you’re talking away about this man as if he’s all you’re consumed with nowadays. On and on, the same speech about how you’re practically ready to give it your all and how he fits someone unimaginable. Eventually, Donghyuck becomes fed up by how your eyes blink up to the sun with another reflection in them. “It’s like you forget who you are when you’re with someone new.” 

And you’re in mid-ramble when you hear his harsh comment that picks aggressively at your skin. It stings, “what?” You cross your arms defensively and raise an eyebrow at him. The tone in your voice is jarringly upset and he opened a can of worms that he isn’t ready for.

Donghyuck swears underneath his breath, looking away at the tall trees behind the small parking lot. “Forget it.” He mumbles, rather frustrated at himself for ticking you off.

“What are you implying?” 

“There is someone that actually makes you a better person rather than someone completely different.” He scoffs, his emotions fueling the worst of him. The words flow from his mouth full of anger and spitefulness. 

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms defensively. “Like you can give me the love you think I deserve? This whole fake boyfriend gimmick has gone too much to your head.”

And his heart is bursting at the seams and all he can see is your angry expression, so he says something he never hopes to regret. Every impulse beats his rationality and in the heat of the moment, Donghyuck confesses, “if only you can see yourself from my point of view and all the emotions I feel when I look at you.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re slightly shocked at his bold statement. You blink cluelessly at him, speechless and deciphering how to respond. The anger fades from the both of you, knowing that the connection you two possess is mutual. Somewhere deep down within you, a light switches on and you’re basking in your sun’s radiance in this moment. 

“Tell me about it.” Your curiosity brings much confusion, but he doesn’t wait a second of hesitation. 

“Happiness, you light up my nights in dark cars with your smile. Trust, there is no one else I’d run down a dangerous intersection with. Courage, being bold enough to dance in a crowded room like no one was watching. Love, when kissing you felt incomparable to anything else in the world. Vulnerability, looking at you and knowing everything about you.” 

Donghyuck takes a cautious step forward toward you. A whirl of thoughts and emotions overwhelmingly flood your heavy mind, but fear no longer holds you back from the one person you’ve always wished to love, harder than any person you’ve ever encountered. “Donghyuck.” 

He freezes at the call of his name, waiting patiently for your next words. “I want to love me the way that you love me... because nobody loves me like you do… even myself. So, I’d love to see me from your point of view.” 

Donghyuck releases the sigh that suffocates him and every firework lights up in his chest. His eyes wander across your canvas and absorb everything wondrous about your features. Even though you’re not entirely smiling, you’re puckering your lips cutely out of embarrassment. And he reassesses how pretty you simply look in your expensive formal chiffon dress and the bold color on your lips that has made you feel good before. 

He thinks aloud, the words leaving his mouth before they can be stopped. “This is your most beautiful moment.” 

When you’re looking up at him to meet his dreamy gaze, a new enthusiasm washes over your entire body. Looking rather inexplicably attractive in his suit, Hyuck stares at you as if you’re all he can see. So, you pull him into the only source of gratitude you can give. A kiss that gives every emotion back to him, one that resembles closely to the one he gave you on your birthday and the one you gave him for his. 

An emotional kiss that tells him more than he can see. He feels it on the tip of your tongue and every ounce of love that rushes over the both of you.

***********

Donghyuck’s wandering hands travel down your waist, over your hips, all until it reaches in between the slit of your dress. His hand instinctively grips at your naked thigh, the feeling of your raw skin driving him wild with impure thoughts. Your hands are quick on his tie, loosening it from around his collar and unbuttoning the first few as you’ve done once before.

“Can,-- Is it okay if--?” Hungry eyes search his face for confirmation, but you’re so lust driven that you’re a stuttering mess. “Do you want this?” 

“Yes.” Says Hyuck without any hesitation. Taking his hand, you’re quick to lead him inside to a more secluded part of the venue. The lavish private bathrooms are brightly lit and he lifts you on top of the marble counters.

“The reception starts in 20 minutes.” You moan as Hyuck kisses down your neck hastily, a hand up the slit of your dress to push your panties aside.

“We’ll make it quick then. I’ll show you love another day.” His knuckle lightly grazes against your erect clit and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Whimpers fall from your lips as your hips mindlessly grind into his hand. “Never took you the type to be so loud.” Hyuck raises an eyebrow and tilts his head mockingly at you.

“This isn’t even close to how loud I can get.” Your statement causes him to swallow hard. Being your best friend, he has kept a rather clear mind from any sexual attraction toward you. He had to know he loved you in order to even see you in that way. 

Gathering your slick, he rubs your clit with two fingers before dipping them into your hole. You lean back into the mirror and prop your feet on the counter to spread open for Hyuck to see. “You let all these idiots fuck your pretty pussy? They don’t deserve you, as a person or a potential partner.” He fingers you deeper and with flicking motions, he hits your sweet spot and causes you to jolt.

“Please, just fuck me. I’ve always wondered how good you’d feel.” His eyes twinkle at your bashful confession, but understands your lustful desires even for your own best friend.

“You think about fucking me?” He asks abruptly, taking his fingers out to suck your juices clean from them. A coined flattered smirk appears on his lips as he unbuckles his belt.

You’re averting eye contact, “well no, maybe just once. I get horny when I’m drunk sometimes.” You admit and he’s rushing to take himself out of his restrictive dress pants. His dick hits the air and he adjusts closer to your dripping core.

And he enters, slowly and slowly inching in so you can adhere to his size. You bite back every yell of pleasure and grip the ends of his dress shirt. Hyuck fills you up deliciously, and you two are connected through bodies beyond any way before. He leans in to give you a sloppy, yet passionate kiss before dragging out his hips and pushing them back in.

There is no guilt, no pain, no sorrows. Knowing Hyuck, he fucks you in the same way he wishes to love you. His hips drive into you passionately and quickly. The time crunch being something that causes him great distraction, but his heart is swelling simply feeling your warmth wrap around him so well.

“My baby is so tight.” Pet names in private. A small grin appears on your face at the sound of the sweet nickname and you pull him closer by tugging his shirt.

“Harder, Hyuck. Don’t hold back anymore.” Moan after moan, Hyuck relentlessly drills into you. His arm is hooked underneath your left thigh to keep it up, and your head keeps banging against the mirror.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs circles on your aching clit. The mixture of both pleasures stimulate you until the build up tension in your stomach begins to reach its peak.

“Cum, I know you fucking want to.” He grunts, keeping the same rhythm that pushes you over your edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as your legs shake sporadically from your release. You’re smart to cover your mouth, knowing that the bathroom will only echo your erotic sounds. Your chest rises and falls from the momentum and adrenaline that Hyuck helped you reach, breathlessly trying to calm your heart rate down.

After a few more harsh bumps, he pulls out and motions you forward. Jumping off of the counter, you kneel on the ground and suck his tip lightly. Your swirls are enough for him to empty into your mouth, his hot streams of salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He looks down at you and your wide eyed expression with his cock in your mouth drives him overboard. 

And you swallow, getting up to lightly plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. A lip stain being worn proudly for just a moment. 

“You amaze me.” Hyuck whispers, holding you against his flushed body and fast paced heart beat. 

“Hurry out you two!” A voice startles the both of you with a knock on the door and you two are quick to readjust yourselves. He hopes to love you a little longer next time, without any interruptions.

***********

After the glorious and excruciating long wedding, you’re walking Hyuck to his car in the small parking lot. During the rest of the night, he held your hand the whole way through and the love that he looked at you with was more than real. 

He talked with your distant relatives as if he’s always known them. Hyuck conducted the dinner table, always knowing what to say. There was no doubt in your head that seeing Donghyuck in the aftermath, he was always going to be someone who was going to make things better. 

The love you long searched for, the love that you had been too afraid to touch, intertwined itself so lovingly underneath the white table cloth. Donghyuck is the one and it took needing to see him a bit more to realize. A little more acceptance from the both of you had to be the final straw.

Donghyuck sheepishly scratches the back of his neck when you reach his car, unsure where the path of your friendship will diverge to next. “Have fun on your date then…” His voice trails off, kicking the rocks at his feet again.

There goes your melodic laughter that soothe his aching heart and the familiar gentle grip on his fingertips. You lift his chin up, the both of you seeing each other clearly now.

From his perspective, you’re absolutely dazzling in the low light and butterflies swirl in the pit of his stomach. He can look at you forever, until months turn into years. He can love you until you two grow old. You’re his fearless, beautiful, inexplicably marvelous best friend. And he patiently waits for the day you’ll let him finally be yours.

From your perspective, Donghyuck shines even when the night overtakes the sky and possibly, the warmth in your heart bubbles across your chest. You can stay with him forever, until months turn into years. You can trust him like it’s you two against the world. He is your silly, charming, timidly benevolent best friend. And you’re slowly falling and hoping for the day you get to be his. 

“I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s not the one.” Hyuck blinks at you, full of confusion and shock.

“But you sounded so happy.” His voice gets lost in the stillness of the intimate atmosphere. 

“No, Hyuck. You make me happy and I’ll say it again for you to hear me. Nobody loves me like you do.” Reaching up, your hand caresses his cheek and he falls into your palm lovingly. His heart runs a mile, reaching the greatest high he’s ever going to feel. He hopes his eyes don’t deceive him, but the utter perfection on your face makes him feel whole.

You wish that Hyuck can teach you to love yourself the way that he loves you. 

“Take me home?” 

“How could I ever say no?”

thank you for being patient with me! its finally done and i will be going on a writing hiatus for a bit. housemating and ridin club will come out sometime soon, but i really need to step away from writing for a bit. please understand, thank you for reading :) 

[libermachinae]

In Touch

Day 5 - Constructicons / ruthless

The place they went next was not far from where Prowl had started his morning. Another of the Prime’s ideas: rather than divide neighborhoods by previous faction to identify tension points, as Prowl would have, Optimus insisted sworn enemies should be made to share residential blocks. This put Wheeljack two doors down from Bombshell, and Soundwave and Rodimus literally side by side; Prowl had given up tracking all the potential security breaches after he started getting constant headaches.

Optimus also refused to restrict how bots could personalize the homes they were allocated, which was incidentally how this one so often managed to stay off the radar. Everyone expected its occupants to splash the walls and windows with purple badges, but aside from the scaffolding for its never ending remodeling, the building was unadorned, leaving many to assume it belonged to neutrals. The reality was much more complicated, and unfortunately, Prowl understood it intimately.

This time, he did not have time to knock or call out. The door flung open while he and Chromedome were still steps away, and Prowl would have been knocked over by the first frame that charged out had he not also been grabbed and held up by the next.

“Guys, it’s Prowl! Prowl’s back!”

“We know, dumbaft.”

There were clangs and pings as two of the Constructicons scuffled, Prowl making himself small to minimize the risk of being pulled in. The one holding him—Hook—took this as permission to begin exploring his frame with indelicate probing.

“Your finish looks awful. Repaint?” he asked.

“Want me to do something with this one?”

Prowl’s gaze snapped over to Scavenger, who had grabbed both of Chromedome’s wrists before he could get away and was hoisting him up. Chromedome was struggling valiantly and uselessly.

“No. Put him down,” Prowl said, breaking free of Hook with much less effort. Scavenger dropped Chromedome, who wasn’t expecting it and fell straight to his knees, his civilian armor suddenly making him look very even smaller amid the Constructicons. They and Prowl watched him scramble back to standing and come to Prowl’s side. His engine had reignited in the scuffle and was rumbling at a low pitch, and he looked like he might transform and race away at any moment. Prowl considered backing out now, but decided it would be more humiliating than bearing whatever welcome the Constructicons had in store for him.

Trying to maintain whatever (illusion of) control he could, Prowl let himself in while the Constructicons stepped out of his way to let him. The house, like all the others around it, had been designed for a maximum of three occupants, and just in terms of stuff it was clear that this one was being stretched past its limits. The meeting table had been converted into a lab bench, the space underneath taken up by demolition equipment. The floors and most of the chairs were covered in piles of Scavenger’s ‘treasures,’ adding to the home’s signature smell and reminding Prowl he would need to make this the sanitation inspector’s first stop, once they had found someone to fill the role. Even Hook’s filing cabinets made the room feel more cluttered. Prowl took the back of one chair and leaned against it while he watched the Constructicons file in, Chromedome standing just behind his right shoulder.

“Where were you two nights ago?” Prowl asked.

“Dunno, working?” Hook said. He’d been the last back inside, but he made up for it by striding straight to Prowl and making a grab for his arm, which Prowl narrowly avoided. “Come on, Prowl, don’t exercise your cog enough, gotta make sure it’s still working.”

“Exercise your—”

“Details,” Prowl said, cutting off Chromedome’s question. “I need to know exactly where you all were and what you were doing.” He swatted at Hook’s hand when it moved in again.

“Long Haul, Scavenger, and I were all out in the wastes, picking for materials,” Mixmaster offered. Emboldened by Hook’s advances, he was coming up on Prowl’s other side, where Chromedome was standing. The latter ducked close enough Prowl could feel the tingle of an electric field against his doorwing.

“Long Haul, is that true?” he asked, doing an excellent job keeping his voice even.

“No,” Long Haul said, loftily.

Prowl felt a burst of wind against his cheek, like the bristles of the gentlest cleaning brush, as Hook swung around and clanged his fist against the side of Long Haul’s head.

“You’re not doing anyone any favors trying to cover your dignity,” Hook said, “especially yourself. Now tell Prowl the truth or you’ll have to start making stories for every dent I’m about to put in you.”

Long Haul’s engined snarled, and then the two were on each other. No parchment-thin civilian plating on them: they were all thick plating and heavy machinery, and as they rolled and threw each other across the floor, the entire house shook with them. The scattered junk was tossed into even greater disarray, or else crushed underneath them. Prowl stepped back to avoid the spray as one of Mixmaster’s beakers popped when Long Haul landed on it. Chromedome was no longer immediately behind him, and instead had backed himself entirely into the nearest corner. Not an entirely ineffective strategy: with three Constructicons still standing between them and violence, it was probably one of the safer places in the room to watch from. Prowl, though, stayed close and maneuvered himself so he was directly behind Bonecrusher, close enough to be heard over the din of the constant blows.

“And what about you, Bonecrusher?” he asked. “Two night ago. Think carefully.”

“Workin’,” Bonecrusher said.

“Where?”

“You know where we work.” Bonecrusher half turned, breaking Prowl’s perfect cover. On the other side of the room, Long Haul went down hard. Pieces of surveying equipment and the floor underneath them were crushed into a crater.

“Shut that Primus-stained mouth—”

Long Haul flipped them with another smash, and the colors of Hook’s cursing took on vibrant hues.

“I need it on the record,” Prowl said, ducking from flying shards of Hook’s shattered windshield.

“Hrmph,” Bonecrusher said, no longer looking away from the fight.

“The Vermillion Diamond,” Scavenger said, inserting himself between Prowl and Chromedome with all the grace Primus could have bestowed on an excavator. “Mixmaster got fired for trespassing in the refinery, but the rest of us rotate guard shifts.”

“So two nights ago, Bonecrusher, you were working at the Vermillion,” Prowl said. “I need you to think about that night. Did you see anything unusual during your shift? Anything at all?”

“No.”

“Anything.”

Hook landed on the ground in front of them. He fought to sit up, a terrible grinding noise coming from his left leg.

“You could get straight at BC’s memory yourself, you know,” he said as he rose to his knees. Long Haul loomed on the other side of the room, hunched in readiness. “Just give the word, boss.”

Prowl scoffed. That was a conversation they had already held many times, to the point the Constructicons could repeat back to him the reasons combining was off the table word for word.

One: combining was illegal. Cybertron could not afford the inevitable reconstruction costs, both in terms of labor and resources. A single combiner event could add years to their current plans, which were already riddled with delays and shortages. This law had been almost entirely Prowl’s work.

Two: the Constructicons would gain access to the classified meetings and reports Prowl needed to do his job correctly. He had information on the current state of Cybertron that no civilian had reason or right to know, and he had no reason to trust that the Constructicons would keep safe any secrets they pulled out of him.

Three: even if he did, he would be forced to raise their security clearance. The paperwork involved…

Four: once they had the clearance, they would be all but required to take part in policy making. Resources were so scarce that whenever they became available they had to be put to work almost immediately, and that included personnel. Optimus would probably gladly invite them, always looking to involve Decepticons in the most exploitable positions in their government. They could have the most violent batch of Decepticons ever constructed making decisions that shaped Cybertron for years to come.

Five: the Constructicons didn’t like making decisions. With the exception of Hook, they liked to have plans made on their behalf, fashioning themselves into the tools that would allow others’ visions to come to fruition. Prowl would have to start thinking on their behalf (again) which would add to his near-insurmountable pile of work. He might have to stop recharging altogether and just live on nucleon until his t-cog gave out.

Six: all decisions from then on out would be heavily weighted in Prowl’s favor. Maybe they wouldn’t have the same level of influence as the councilors, but that many voices could push the enforcer center through to a vote, lobby for more funding in the next budgeting round, add firepower to the leverage he was trying to build against certain loud voices…

Prowl shook his head, realizing his thoughts had gotten off track and he could no longer remember the question he’d been asked. The room waited in tense silence; even Long Haul watched stock still. Prowl felt a tickle under his nasal strut and brushed it away before he answered.

“I—”

“Can’t.” Chromedome interjected by stepping physically in front of Prowl. The Constructicons all tensed, and Prowl did, too, uncertain how they were going to react. “Absolutely cannot. That’s—you’re suggesting combining, right?—that’s illegal. Right Prowl?”

Prowl startled and blinked, freeing his mind from the sudden fog that had encased it.

“Yes—right. No.”

“But—”

“Long Haul, finish what you started,” Prowl snapped. He didn’t know which one he’d cut off. “Bonecrusher, this is the last time I’m asking: did you see anything?”

Long Haul yanked Hook back into the brawl before Prowl had finished speaking. Without moving to better cover, Bonecrusher let his optics dim as he accessed his memory banks.

“The Combaticons showed up,” he said.

“Yes?” Prowl pushed. “What was noteworthy about that?”

“Swindle’s blacklisted them after the time Onslaught showed up to drag him away on a mission,” Bonecrusher said, optics coming back online just in time to sidestep Long Haul stumbling back. “Got word from one of the higher higher ups to let them in that night, though.”

“And what did they do once they were all in the building?” Prowl asked. Chromedome was listening closely now, even leaning in slightly, and Prowl felt a thrill to have something to show for this miserable venture.

“Wasn’t all of them, just Onslaught and Vortex,” Bonecrusher said. “I let them in, gave Vortex a couple warnings when he tried to act smart. They took the elevator straight up to Swindle’s penthouse. They weren’t up there long; came back down dragging Swindle along. He was saying something about debts? I think?”

“Swindle’s always on about debt,” Mixmaster said.

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher said. “So, I don’t know exactly, but if I had to guess, it was something like that.”

“Did you, at any point, see Onslaught or Vortex interact with Ratbat?” Prowl asked.

“Uh, no?” Bonecrusher said. “They went straight to the elevator, like I said.”

“Is it possible the elevator could have made a stop on its way to the penthouse?” Prowl pressed.

“No.”

Prowl could feel Chromedome staring at him, waiting for a moment of brilliance. No, probably waiting for him to fail completely. Briefly, he regretted bringing Chromedome with him, before remembering that Chromedome was, in fact, absolutely essential for this investigation to see an end.

“Okay,” he said as he turned away from Bonecrusher. “So, it’s unlikely that either Onslaught or Vortex could have been in direct contact with Ratbat, but not impossible; despite what he says, they went through a period of time without surveillance, and we need to look at any possible opportunity. Furthermore, there are still two Combaticons left unaccounted for. It could be that Vortex’s taunting was a distraction meant to allow Brawl or Blast Off to sneak into the building.”

“But that’s assuming the Combaticons could outsmart a single Constructicon,” Hook said from where he was picking himself up off the floor. Long Haul stood above him, nonplussed by his victory. “Which they couldn’t.”

“89% probability they could, even without Swindle,” Prowl said, not sparing them a glance. “Consider this from a motive standpoint: why would the Combaticons want to rob Ratbat?”

The room rattled with the Constructicons’ laughter. Prowl tried not to startle, but he saw Chromedome twitch.

“Now that is a great question, Prowl,” Mixmaster said as they came down. “Why would anyone bother trying to rob Ratbat?”

Prowl’s gaze snapped around.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, advancing quickly on the towering warrior.

“Everybody knows he’s nothing but a load of talk,” Long Haul said, forcing him to turn again. “He’s always asking for bots to lend him shanix for cards or trying to rope little guys into his easy money schemes.”

“His new scheme has been telling the higher ups the credit dispensers are broken, then pushing them until they load whatever he wants into his wallet.”

“He was accusing them of stealing from him last time I was there,” Scavenger added.

Prowl took a long look at each of the Constructicons, who straightened whenever his optics landed on one of them. They weren’t good at lying. Not to him.

He pretended not to notice Chromedome watching him.

“That concludes this part of my investigation,” Prowl said, flicking his doorwings with a note of finality. “You are now free to continue on about your day. You know how to contact me if you think of anything else that might be relevant.” He took on a thoughtful expression, ignoring their confused, upset clamor. “Mixmaster, let me know when you would like to return to work. I know of an opening.”

He left immediately, pushing through the Constructicons with the strength of his glare and just a few harsh words. Chromedome, lacking such options, faired worse, and had to rush to catch up once he finally stumbled free of the house.

“So, what, it was that easy?” he asked as he caught up. “Case closed?”

Prowl measured his tone very carefully as he answered.

“No,” he said. “Not yet. There is one more step we need to pursue.”

[bonegender]

Nighthawks

This is for the @countdowntotwinpeaks WONDERFULXSTRANGE Secret Exchange! This fic specifically was made for @cerealninjakat who asked for Dale Cooper and Laura Palmer having coffee together. They have a feeling they met before, or maybe they haven't. If you would like to see the original fic in its original color block formatting, there is a link to the doc HERE

CONTENT WARNINGS: CSA mention, Underage Sex mention, Main Character Death Implied, Timeline Divergence, Body Horror, Psychological Horror

The smell of coffee was pungent, and stinging. That acidic aroma which rose from an industrial maker practically took over the entire diner. As he stood in the breezeway, Cooper relished in the scent so familiar,  so calming and inviting. He allowed himself to get lost in the way it mingled with the undercurrent of a greasy spoon breakfast. The rich, sharp scent of roasted beans mellowed out with the introduction of butter, eggs, toast and bacon. Beyond that was the wispy trails of cigarettes gone by that clung to the nostrils. It was utterly invigorating. This was the thing he looked forward to the most when waking up; a nice hot meal and hopefully, a good cup of coffee.

Dale Cooper returned to himself after his momentary journey on the Smell Express, and realized that he had been standing in the entrance of the diner for a little bit longer than he anticipated. He excused himself, pressing further on into the establishment, eager to find a seat. His stomach whined, just as eager to be filled with the sensory journey he had gotten lost in just moments ago. He knew how good it would feel to have a stomach full of America’s Finest, especially after a long night of work. He deserved it, he told himself. All he had to do was just find himself a seat.

Judging by the morning rush, that was a job easier said than done. All of the booths had been taken up, understandably, by families and couples.  There were a few like himself that simply wanted some time alone; to distance themselves from the rest of the patrons. There were times, however, that he couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking a whole booth as a single occupant, but Cooper always had an excuse at the ready. No one could say he wasn’t waiting for someone. No one could say whether or not  that someone never arrived, and therefore left him to enjoy his meal all alone. Regardless, there would be no reason for such excuses that morning, it seemed. He would just have to see if there was a seat at the bar.

Miraculously, there was. Sitting all by her lonesome was a girl - no, a young woman - of at most eight-teen years of age. She sat, cross-legged, painted nails tapping the surface of the diner bar-top as she mulled over the colorful menu full of delicious pictures of food. Her golden blonde hair curled around her face and shoulders, almost creating a makeshift halo around her head. Lost in her thoughts, she twirled her index finger in her locks only to tuck some of her strands of hair behind her right ear. She knew she wanted a cup of coffee since it was in the morning just before school, but she was having a hard time deciding what, and if, she actually wanted something to eat. The buzz from last night still clung to her insides, and the burn in her nose could be felt all the way to the back of her throat. 

It was then that she noticed someone approaching her. Laura turned her head, bringing her torso with it as she looked at the oncoming presence. The motion caused her hair to sway, knocking it loose from the ear she had just pinned it back with. Her blue eyes locked onto the man and in an instant what hackles she was about to raise softened. This man wasn’t too bad to look at, and his smile could beat the sun out in a competition for the brightest thing that morning. She adjusted her posture, leaning back a little and offering her own smile in return.

“Good morning.” She said, voice slightly raspy from just having woken up not too long ago.

“Good morning to you, miss.” He said in return, voice smooth and dark like a hot cup of coffee.

“Laura.” She insisted, tucking her hair back behind her ear from where it had fallen out, “My name is Laura.”

“Dale Cooper.” He said, placing his hand on the empty bar stool beside her, “Laura, is it alright if I sit next to you?” 

“Sure thing Mr. Cooper.” And with that, Dale Cooper sat next to Laura Palmer at the diner bar. Something about it felt strange, yet familiar. It was almost dreamlike the way their exchange had went. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but there was something disquieting about their meeting. Perhaps it was the shift in her body language, or the way she fidgeted with the hemline of her tweed skirt. 

“It’s Agent Cooper, actually.” He spoke up, pulling his eyes away from her kneecaps. He reached inside of his comically large trenchcoat to pull out his official badge, “Special Agent Dale Cooper, at your service.” 

It took everything in Laura’s body to keep her from letting out a laugh. Special Agent? Was this guy really part of the FBI? A very real look of ‘oh shit’ graced her eyebrows as he actually produced a badge and identification. He offered it to her, and as she took it in her hands to feel it over and look at the picture, Dale took the opportunity to sit down and make himself comfortable. Laura studied the photo and sure enough the overgrown boy scout was set right there next to her. Despite her best efforts, she did let out something of a breath of laughter as she handed back his badge.

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Special Agent.” Cooper laughed. What a nice laugh it was, thought Laura. A laugh that made you want to put your walls down. A laugh that felt like a childhood friend.

The two patrons settled in together at the diner bartop. Cooper took off his oversized overcoat and folded it gently so he could tuck it onto his lap for safe keeping. He looked far more professional with that silly thing off, Laura mused to herself. The way his suit was tailored perfectly to his shape almost made him look like a cartoon depiction of an FBI agent. A true Man In Black, with slicked back hair and serious brows. Well, mostly serious. Agent Cooper’s brow was a bit furrowed as he stared at the menu, but otherwise this man didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

That, or a very vulnerable teenage girl. 

“What makes you so special, Special Agent?” Laura probed, placing her manicured hands flat on her menu. 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Laura.” Cooper said rather matter-of-factly. He then flagged down a member of the waitstaff, ordering a coffee to buy himself more time with the menu, “But what I can tell you is that it’s very special.” A mischievous grin smoothed along his lips, and that alone was good enough for Laura. At least for now. 

Beyond his smile however, the special agent felt that persistent air of uncertainty. Did he know her from somewhere? Was she a missing persons case? He tried to get a better look at her without pointedly staring, but that was a rather difficult feat when you were mere inches from another person. His dark brown eyes watched as Laura brought her gentle, delicate, and soft hands around the slightly yellowed ceramic coffee mug. He followed the movement from the bartop, watching almost in slow motion as the white touched the healthy pink of her lips, which was topped with a thin veneer of lip gloss.

The air is heavy with the must of ancient, blood-red curtains. It almost suffocates. Were it not for the grand expanse of zig-zag, black and white flooring, the room would for sure be practically inhabitable. He swallows. He grips the arms of a black velvet arm chair. He squints from the harsh, unyielding light that surrounds him. There is music in the air. A saxophone breaks out against the stifling aura in an attempt to rouse him. Where is he?

A woman sits across from him. Blonde. Beautiful. Bewildering. He knows her. She knows him. Like a ghost, she crosses the floor to embrace him. Her lips: red. Her touch: gentle and familiar. An old friend. She smells of a perfume older than her. He closes his eyes as their lips meet.

The two of them stared at each other, confused. Something had just happened that they had no control over. What was that just now? They asked each other the question with only their eyes. Was it real? 

Whatever it was, Laura kind of liked it. Maybe they were just thinking the same thing? Maybe he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Her cheeks flushed with color as she remembered the touch from just moments ago. This wouldn’t be the first time she had made a bad decision with an older man, and at least this one seemed much nicer than the others.

Cooper on the other hand turned away. He closed his eyes as he focused on the smell of coffee and the din of restaurant chatter. He gripped the fabric of his trousers, trying to remember the heavy air from that place so strange. Was it a vision? Why had Laura been there? What made them act that way? At this point he knew she was much too young for him to be sharing such intimate touches with her. He knew that she was thinking about this all in an inappropriate light. He had been there, in her shoes, when he was younger. Hot, young, eager to make stupid decisions just to feel something. Eager to mess with others' lives to take back some sense of control.

They were never really in control, were they?

“Hey, it’s okay.” Laura spoke, thus breaking the tension between them ever so slightly. Her smile took the spot of the brightest thing in the room, her eyes soft and understanding, “I get stared at by tons of guys. I’m kind of used to it by now.” It was true. Laura knew she was beautiful. She got compliments all the time on her looks, her hair, her smile. It was not a wonder how she became prom queen. Everyone in the town seemed to love her, or at the very least envy her. She wasn’t quite sure why anyone would envy her, but then again no one really knew who she was. No one in the town, save for those she dealt with, really knew what kind of girl she was. 

Please, she thought, please like me. You’re one of the few people I want to like me.

Cooper dared to look at her once again, the shame of images from moments past still lingering on his mind and on his lips. His dark brows furrowed, mouth drawing to a stern line as he gingerly shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” He started, looking her square in the eye. “I don’t know what came over me. My behavior was inappropriate for someone your age, and someone my age should know better.”  The agent looked around the diner, hoping that maybe there was another place he could move to. He knew what just happened between them was a faux pas, and perhaps the only way to make up for that was to put some distance between them. It wasn’t her fault, none of this was, but there was something awfully wrong about this whole interaction. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of the lingering premonition. Was it a premonition? 

Laura’s stomach practically lurched. Had she done something wrong? There was no shame in looking at someone beautiful, right? Whatever happened moments ago was okay so long as she liked it, right? So long as she actually wanted it? As Cooper looked away, she bit her bottom lip with anxiety. He was going to leave her. She desperately wanted him to stay. For whatever reason, her heart ached at the very thought of having to sit by herself again. Fueled by the sinking feeling of rejection, the young woman reached out to the Special Agent. Her slender hand wrapped neatly around the wrist of his left hand and in an instant the diner disappeared.

The roles are reversed. His hand is around her wrist. Beneath her fingernail lies an important clue. She’s lying down on a table, naked and cold. The light above them flickers and Sheriff Harry Truman sits to her right. Where was she? Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she breathe? She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Suddenly, it’s very dark. She’s walking through the woods by herself, late at night. She’s crying, and alone. Was she crying from her vision before? Or was it something yet to come? All she knows is that she wants to go home. She wants to be in her bed, safe from the situation she found herself in. How was she supposed to know where anything was, let alone her home?

“We’re going home.” He says, his face full of determination. She doesn’t understand, but he must know. Cooper’s hand is outstretched, begging for her to take it. The tips of his fingers touch the inside of her palm.

Just as she is about to give up, she sees him. Special Agent Dale Cooper. What was he doing here? Why did he look so old? Why did she trust him?

She screams.

It took a few seconds for them to realize that they were both standing.  Tears were streaming down Laura’s face as she finally came to her senses. Her hands instinctively flexed, curling and unfurling before taking her palms to wipe away the remaining tears from her cheeks. Her cheeks were now flushed with embarrassment as she knew they were making complete fools of themselves in front of so many people. What had gotten into her? Why was she acting like this? What were those visions? Tentatively, Laura dared to look around at the other people that shared the restaurant with them.

No one seemed to notice. Not a single other patron stopped to look, make a snide comment or step in to intervene. These people were a soulless audience, looking everywhere but at them. For a moment, she was awestruck. Surely they had heard her scream. Surely they were concerned for a pretty girl crying. Surely…

It was then that Laura began to understand.

Cooper had a sneaking suspicion that something was awry, but this for sure solidified it. He tried to remember some of the things Gordon and Jefferies had told him about situations like this. Shared visions weren’t unheard of, and perhaps that was what he had felt from her. Maybe she was a special case like he was? Did she dream like he did? The diner around him became nothing more than a backdrop as all of his attention shifted to making sure Laura stayed grounded.

“It’s okay Laura.” He spoke with certainty, “You’re not there anymore. You’re here, in this diner with me.” Cooper offered a reaffirming smile, but he was met with a look of soft incredulity. There were more tears budding in the corners of her uncertain blue eyes, and her brows furrowed in a way he couldn’t quite discern. He reached out for her, hoping to give her something solid to hold onto. Just as his hands made contact, a look of realization and acceptance flashed on Laura’s young face.

Once again they are in that room with the red curtains. Laura Palmer sits in the black velvet chair with Dale Cooper at her side. She understands. Everything has become illuminated as they stare into each other's eyes. Above them is an angel, dressed in white. Her face is serene. 

Laughter fills the room. Tears fall onto a black dress.

“I have to go now.”

The words hit Dale like a bullet to the gut. He felt sadness, guilt, uncertainty, but most of all he felt panic. Something was ending. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was a bitter end to something far beyond just their brief meeting here. He tried to say something, anything, but before any of the words could come out he felt the warm caress of her arms around him. Laura tucked her head against his shoulder, squeezing him with love and fear. He could feel her arms shaking, trying to hold on to him. He folded, blanketing her in the smell of aftershave and dry cleaning.  

They wept.

“Please,” Cooper begged, his voice fragile and afraid, “Please, don’t go.” He tried to hold on to her but despite his best effort she slipped from his grasp. Laura, once such a young looking girl pretending to be grown, was now someone with knowledge beyond her years, beyond comprehension. Once again, she smiled at Cooper and he could feel his heart shatter like a mug against the floor.

“I’m going to be late.” She told him.

The sounds of the diner started to fade away. The clinking of plates, subtle conversations and echoing songs from the jukebox became nothing more than faint memories as Dale could do nothing but watch her go. Her golden blonde hair flowed behind her almost as if she were floating instead of walking. It was as if raindrops were falling onto sidewalk chalk, washing away the bright colors and erasing what they had created. Dale realized far too late that he was at the end of a dream. What questions he had now were given answers. A dream. The faceless patrons of the diner smiled at him as they continued to melt into his subconscious.  

Dale took a final look back at where he and Laura had been seated. As expected, he saw both of their mugs sitting abandoned. Just as Cooper felt himself slip completely from the dream, a featureless waitress set down a plate of food he never ordered. Viscous, yellow, pallid and abhorrent, the image mocked him as he fell from the scene.

Special Agent Dale Cooper woke, staring at his dark ceiling. He stayed that way for several minutes, holding onto the slurry of emotions stirring in his gut. Laura. He repeated her name in his mind, eager not to forget it. She had to be important. 

Instinctively, he reached over to his bedside table, fishing around for something he knew was there. The plastic felt comfortable in his hand.  With a heavy sigh, he brought the tape recorder close to his face so that he could drearily recall his journey through the realm of sleep. With a simple click of a button, the mechanical whir of the tape touched his ears in the early morning silence. 

“Diane," He croaked, voice peeling open the door to his tired mind, "It's early in the morning, February the 24th. I just had the strangest dream.”

[lightsinthedistancee]

Violation: Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Summary: “He was drowning and flailing in the whirlpool of his memories. Barely staying above and being forced to surrender to something that he had once controlled.”

Reader comforts Poe through trauma developed during his time within the First Order.

Warnings: mentions of torture

A/N: Hey guys! I know this is super similar to the works I’ve been posting lately (ptsd/trauma and stuff) but I actually wrote this a while ago and have been trying to stop being a lazy bum and finally get all my stuff transferred over from AO3 (which I told myself I’d do a month ago and still haven’t oops).

It was cold. Too cold. Air was drafting in through the open window, running across her skin, caressing her arms in a chill that she yearned to shake. She reached for Poe on the other side of the bed, only finding empty, cold sheets.

“Poe?” she murmured groggily, opening her eyes. He was nowhere to be found, the door ajar, suggesting that he’d left.

She frowned, for she knew he only got up in the middle of the night when he was distracted, and that distractedness was generally the result of a devastating, all-encompassing emotion that he was experiencing.

She had theories of what it was about…well, only one.

Kylo Ren.

She knew that the First Order Commander had done something to Poe, something terrible, something that broke something in him. She’d spent countless nights up, pleading with Poe, begging him to trust her, to confide in her with his pain. Each time had ended in failure, leaving her only with a self-loathing for not being someone that he could trust.

She rolled out of bed, goosebumps dotting her arms as she wrapped a fleece blanket around her shoulders. The apartment was dead silent as she paced down the stairs, the only exception being the sound of the perpetual Coruscanti traffic filtering through the walls. City lights harshly illuminated the rooms, giving them a painfully bright shine. His presence was found in neither the kitchen or the living area, but she spotted him on the balcony, his form a black silhouette against the lights.

He clutched a warm mug of tea between his hands, and the moment she stepped out, she shivered at the breeze. “Poe?” she said quietly. He looked up at her, his eyes sad and empty, seeming to travel for miles into his skull.

She sat beside him, wrapping her blanket around his shoulders too. One of her hands found its way into his curls, running her fingers through them comfortingly.

“Why’re you up?”

“Had a dream,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“About?”

“You know,” he simply answered. And she did. It was always the same thing nearly every time.

He felt her presence radiating from her center, washing over him, wrapping him in warmth and familiarity.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she questioned tentatively, bracing herself for rejection like all the other times.

He wanted to tell her…he’d never wanted to tell anyone anything more than he wanted to tell her what had happened. But his pride and shame blocked him. It hadn’t been excruciating pain or torture that had broken him. It’d been something else, something seemingly far less sinister.

His thoughts were taunting him, telling him that he was supposed to be stronger than this. That what had happened should have barely fazed him. All of it made him feel overwhelmingly weak, like he was drowning and flailing in the whirlpool of his memories. Barely staying above and being forced to surrender to something that he had once controlled.

And for a reason he didn’t know, he didn’t want her seeing him like this.

“Please….” She was practically begging him, changing positions to sit on her knees, looking at him with acute worry, one stronger than he’d ever seen before. She was scared for him, about to burst into tears.

And that look broke something else inside him. He hated seeing her scared or in pain. It’d always made something in him contort in discomfort, in fear, in uncertainty, for she was the strongest person he knew. And he especially hated it when he knew that he was the very cause of it.

He wanted to embrace her, hug her and love her till her features melted into one of comfort. He wanted to murmur to her that she shouldn’t be worried about him because he wasn’t worth it. But with her sad eyes reflecting the city lights, he had only one option.

“He used a mind probe,” he simply said, taking a deep breath, averting his gaze once more. “He saw everything, Lexi. Every memory I’ve ever had, every experience, every emotion.”

Poe began to shake, his hands trembling to the point that she took the cup of tea away from him.

“He saw every private, intimate, secret thought I’ve had in my life. Every thought I’ve had regarding my mother, my father, my friends, myself, you…”

His eyelids fluttered in quick succession, holding back tears, desperately trying to keep his voice from cracking. She felt her fingers interlace with his, holding him steady in his moment of vulnerability.

“Every aspiration I’ve ever had, every desire, every regret. It was like he reached into my head without permission, and took everything out, examined it, scrutinized it, before shoving it all back in.

“And…and I don’t even know why it bothers me. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be this weak.” His voice grew in urgency. His pent-up emotions spiraled out. “I mean…how many others has he done this to? I doubt he even remembers any of the stuff he saw, so…so why does it makes me feel so…violated?”

Poe often imagined people’s minds as walls filled with hundreds, thousands, millions of memories. It felt as if Ren had barged into his and then examined and ripped the memories off one at a time, throwing them to the ground like filth. 

The pilot stared at the ground, his breath coming quicker as he forced it to slow. Before he knew it, she was wrapping her arms around him, cradling his neck beneath her chin. And then he was sobbing, his whole body trembling.

She held him tighter as he shook, painful noises escaping his throat, murmuring things to him. He was physically releasing every anxiety and fear he’d had since his time on the Finalizer.

“You’re okay, baby,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

He clung to her, breathing her in, feeling her. In his vulnerable state of mind, an overwhelming sense of gratefulness found him.

There were things that were always going to be eternal. War, violence, pain. Patience, honor, and affection. Space. Life. The stars.

And her love. She’d always been there; she always was. And he relished the thought that she would be far into the future. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

...::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

If you wish to be tagged on future works, just leave a reply/comment or do the form on my Masterlist for specific preferences.

Taglist: @synical-paradox​ @dark-academics-and-florals​ @paper-n-ashes​

“Violation” originally posted on AO3 on 11/23/20.

[r3almellow]

Gavin and Victor Getting Head From Their S/o For The First Time

Thanks for the request!! Since your favs are Gavin and Victor I figured I’d take the time to focus on them! But if you guys want the others or a specific person let me know!  

This is my second time writing about this, but my first time kinda going in depth about it. So I’m sorry if its not too detailed.

This somehow turned into a mini fics and not reactions. OOPS! I’m not sorry. 

Also not sorry about the title. I have no filter so this shouldn’t be surprising. 

Warnings: Oral Sex

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Gavin

You’ve toyed with the idea of giving him a blowjob for a while. Its something you’ve never done before and you were more than nervous to try it out on him. You consulted your more experienced friends on the matter and walked away with way more information than you bargained for. What did hollowing your cheeks mean?!

You knew if you brought it to his attention, he’ll tell you not to worry about it because Gavin would rather pamper you. 

He prefers to make you feel special in every way possible. Giving you the pleasure you desire is all he wants to do. And boooy does he love to give. The way his tongue swiveled and darted in and out of your pussy or the way he teased your clit with a flick of his tongue turned you into a complete mess. Where he learned to eat a woman out like that you had no idea. 

You understood his need to please you, but you wanted to make your man feel good too! You can’t be the only one on the receiving end of such a euphoric experience. 

So, what do you do? Catch him off guard!

You got your chance when you suggested that the two of you shower together before he left on a week long mission. This wasn’t an unusual request since you’ve showered together countless times with only a handful of those times leading to sex. 

Gavin was halfway through washing your hair when you leaned back against his chest, sighing softly. 

“Kind of hard to finish up with you like this.” You only hummed as a response as his fingers expertly massaged your scalp almost putting you in a dreamlike trance. ALMOST. Don’t forget why you’re here!

You purposely pressed your lower half against him, feeling his semi-hard erection against your bare ass.

“Babe...” He warned, taking a small step back to create some distance in the already small space. 

You turned slightly to give him an impish grin then reached behind you, grasping Gavin’s now hardened length, giving it a few light strokes. You heard his breath hitch.

“Something wrong, Gav?”

You asked a question you didn’t wait for a response for. You turned to face Gavin fully and quickly knelt in front of him, your hand still firmly wrapped around him. You ignored the warm water pelting against the back of your head as you continued to stroke him.

You weren’t sure if it was the steam from the shower or lust clouding your head, but the way Gavin looked down at you with red dusted cheeks and slightly parted lips had you feeling dizzy. 

“I’ve never done this before.” You admitted shyly focusing your attention to what was in your hand. Gavin was above average in terms of length and girth and you loved how well he fit inside you, but your mouth was another story. Could it even fit?!

“You don’t have to...hgn...” Before he could finish his sentence you teasingly licked the head of his cock causing it to twitch in response. You watched in wonder as pre-cum oozed from the tip. He was always sensitive to your touch...

His Reaction

There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about what it would feel like having your mouth wrapped around him. He pushed such fantasies out of his mind so he could focus on you. He was content with just making you happy, but now...

Feeling your tongue dance along his shaft had his knees weak! It took everything he had not to collapse in front of you. And when you slowly slid him into your mouth, your teeth grazing his thick member he was almost done for.

Gavin could tell you were testing the waters using agonizingly slow movements only going halfway, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish to see you take all of him in his mouth.

Nothing beats having his cock buried deep inside you, but your mouth is definitely a close second for him. 

Gavin isn’t the most vocal during sex, but expect heavy pants and low groans from your man.

Out of habit Gavin won’t verbally tell you what he doesn’t like so you have to rely on his body language. 

You’re able to learn a lot about Gavin from this. Like whenever your teeth graze a certain spot along his shaft his lips quiver and how there’s a twinkle in his eyes when you pull away and he sees a trail of your saliva that connects you to him.

When he cums, he’ll try to pull away not wanting to get you messy. Sir I got your dick in my mouth, I think we’re way passed being clean.  Don’t let him get away!

You’re caught off guard and gag a little at the sudden intrusion and unsuspecting taste. 

He’ll be so apologetic and it takes you like a minute or two to convince him that you’re fine. 

Want to get him going again? Take some of his cum dribbling from your chin and bring it between your legs. 

GAVIN.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING.

P.S. Do this again on a softer surface! Hard surfaces create sore knees!

Victor

You’ve been dating Victor for almost three months and you’ve been intimate with him for two of those months. 

Sex with Victor has been all about him getting to know your body. If there was something you didn’t like he wanted you to tell him so he could fix it.

He wanted all intimate experiences with him to be all that you wanted and more. 

You loved how well he paid attention to your body, but sex was a two way street. The way he went the extra mile to ensure that you felt cherished, you wanted to do the same for him. 

The idea of oral sex came to you when you were out drinking with your friends and of course they probed you about your sex life. They offered their advice on what you could do to spice things up and blowjobs just happened to be the lesser of all the crazy things they came up with.

Its safe to say, you were nervous about even attempting such a thing. Mainly because Victor was such a perfectionist!

Victor was good at finding faults in the things people did and while he has softened his critiques when it came to you, you didn’t want to risk it. 

It would be so embarrassing to have him belittle you over something like this. You can already here the sharp and forthright tone in his voice. 

“Your stroke motions are off. Its up/down not down/up.” 

 Okay...he wasn’t that bad, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

You honestly weren’t going to say anything and figure it out on your own, but the one thing you learned through your time with Victor was that communication was key. 

Victor is all for teaching you such an intimate art and while he won’t say it out loud, he’s touched that you’re willing to do something like this for him.

The practice run ends up happening while you were both in a heated make out session while in his couch. 

When you decided to kneel before him and pulled down the zipper of his slacks you knew there was no going back.

Victor made sure to let you know doing this wasn’t necessary as way to give you an out, but you were determined.

Sure, you were afraid of not being able to satisfy your boyfriend, but that wasn’t going to stop you! 

You fished around his boxer-briefs pulling out his fully erected shaft. You blushed slightly as it throbbed in your hand and gave him a few gentle pumps. 

Victor had never seen you look so determined before. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or turned on. 

You leaned in giving his cock a small kiss and looked up at him.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

His Reaction

Victor always knew you were a fast learner and eager to do things right, but you definitely exceeded his expectations. 

What exactly did he expect? For this to be an okay experience because this was your first time in a position like this. There was always room for growth whenever you started something new, but this...you were something dangerous.

He barely has to say anything and you were doing your own thing. Tongue swiveling around him and head bobbing up and down without any signs of slowing down. 

He loves the light humming sounds you make whenever he reaches out to brush strands of your hair out of you face.

Expect so much praise! It takes a lot for the CEO of LFG to give ANYONE praise, but your boyfriend will be throwing compliments at you left and right. 

Aside from praising you, Victor isn’t very vocal during sex, but the sound of his heavy erratic breathing is music to your ears.  

If you massage his balls that man is a goner! Triple points if you take one of them into your mouth and massage it with your tongue. Where did you learn to do that?! Google does wonders. 

He’ll let you know when he’s about to cum so you’re prepared. Pull away with your mouth open, tongue out and the speed of your strokes quickening. The sight of you looking so desperate to taste him will send him over the edge!

You’ll let him cum all over your face and neck, catching some of it in your mouth. 

Smear his cum on your chest and Victor will feel a sense of pride. He’ll compare it to a significant other wearing something of their lover’s. And in a weird way it makes sense.

He’ll also feel his dick grow hard all over again, so get ready for a round two! 

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Done!!

Victor was a little tricky because I had so many ideas as to where this would take place. In a Mercedes, Souvenir after hours, ect. The possibilities were endless. 

Like what you read? Be sure to check out more of my stuff here! Send me requests if you have any! 

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 11) | The Boyz Imagine

EP 11: in which Kevin and Mae go on a first date and Juyeon’s girlfriend has bad news. 

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main Characters: Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz.

Genre: fluff, slice of life, comedy, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

-----

“You’ll be fine,” Hyunjae’s voice is a soothing lullaby to the ongoing tumulant war roaring through Kevin's head as he quickly buttons up his charcoal jeans and glances over at himself in the mirror. 

As per Hyunjae's recommendations, Kevin now eyes his jean jacket hiding a white t-shirt underneath, said jeans and matching converse and tries to imagine what Mae might think of him. 

"Are you sure?" Kevin repeats.

"Kevin, it's a date. Not a goddamn wedding," Hyunjae's voice resonates through the phone with clear exasperation, "she's not going to judge you for it." 

"Okay okay," Kevin takes a deep breath, "you're right. It's just a date." 

"Yeah, a date. With Mae. You'll be fine. Just think of it as just the two of you hanging out as you always do."

"Oh my god what if I make a fool of myself? Or worse, what if I spill something on her? Or me? Or what if--"

"Kevin," Hyunjae cuts him off, "breathe, my man."

Kevin does as he's told, inhaling shakily and exhaling through his mouth, "sorry," he mumbles, "I just--I don't want to mess this up."

"And you won't. Do you know how much she likes you?"

Kevin blinks at his reflection, "What?"

Hearing Hyunjae sigh at the other end of the line, his heart suddenly speeds up at the slightest possibility that this love is not one-sided. 

"Okay, this didn't come from me," Hyunjqe starts, "but--well, the reason why I was so keen foe you two to, you know, get together, is because I knew that she--that she liked you back."

"You knew? And you kept this from me?!" 

"Hey, it wasn't my secret to tell okay!" 

"HYUNJAE WHAT THE FUCK."

"I'M SORRY SHE SAID SHE'D CIRCUMCISE ME IF I TOLD ANYONE."

Kevin's fingers reach up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "what about Juyeon? Does he know?" 

Silence.

"HYUNJAE."

"Yes yes, alright! He knows too! But I couldn't possibly keep the secret for myself! It was too good to tell!"

"So all this time you both knew?!"

"We couldn't just betray Mae's feelings just like we didn't betray yours," his friend is quick to point out.

"Fine, fine. You're right," Kevin pauses, "but still--"

"Let's not continue this or you might be late for your date."

Kevin's eyes impulsively flit over to the clock on his nightstand, before letting out a reluctant groan of agreement, "fine. But I have questions when I return."

"Aye sir." 

Kevin had planned out the day with precise timing and to the finest detail. They were to have lunch at a coffee shop overlooking the Han River, a location chosen both because of the beautiful view it gave and for its location, since it was close to the arcade he'd carefully picked out just a few days prior. After that, they'd head over to the arcade for an afternoon of fun and games, and later on they could walk along the Han River, hand in hand, while watching the sunset coating the entire city in warm shades of gold. 

But of course, he should've known that everything would just go wrong from the moment he set his mind to make this day as perfect as possible. 

For starters, they met up at the coffee shop entrance only to realize that it's closed for renovation. As a result, they had no choice but to find a nearby fast food joint, settling on greasy burgers and too-salty fries to match and although Mae assures him that she is perfectly fine with that choice, it definitely does not hit the sweet romantic spot that Kevin has been aiming for. 

“Honestly, this suits more my style anyway,” Mae says as she bites a big mouthful of beef and bacon burger. 

“Sure,” is what he mumbles, though his mind is clearly trying to piece up together a better action plan for the rest of the day to come. 

It’s fine, he tells himself internally, it will definitely get better from there. Right? Right? 

It doesn’t. 

The moment they head to the arcade, they are bombarded with a group of ten-year old children running around and screaming at the top of their lungs, clambering up on makeshift motorbikes and squealing at the top of their lungs as they attempt to shoot down zombies through a two-dimensional screen. 

It’s practically impossible to hear what Mae is saying, yet have a romantic date together.

“Kevin,” Mae shouts over the cacophony of piercing screams echoing throughout the neon-coloured room. She tugs down onto his arm so that her lips reach his ear, “we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, it’s fine!” 

“But that was what I had planned--”

“It’s okay, we’ll figure something out!” 

He tries not to show his displeasure, but the scowl breaks through his forced nonchalance. Mae, having spotted his change in expression, tugs more insistently onto his arm, “it’s okay Kev. Come on.” 

It’s only until they stumble out of the arcade -- Kevin sporting a sour expression -- that Mae bursts into a soft chuckle at the said man’s face. 

She nudges him lightly on the shoulder, “come on, Kev. It’s not that bad. We’ll find something else to do.” 

“But I know you’ve always wanted to go on a date in an arcade,” he mumbles out, words sounding a little whinier than he’s intended. Mae can’t help but laugh at how cute he sounds and looks at this very moment, like a child in need of a lollipop to feel better and as if on its own accord, her hand reaches out to pat his head.

Kevin blinks down at her in surprise, at the lingering smile faltering at the corner of her lips upon realizing how close they are at this very moment. Clearing her throat and quickly turning away so as to avoid direct confrontation of this awkward atmosphere, Mae gestures towards the Han River without meeting his eyes. 

“How about we go for a walk?” she asks. “Okay,” he mumbles, still slightly put out that all that planning has resulted in absolutely nothing. What if Mae thinks he actually doesn’t really care about first impressions? Or what if she’s someone who actually loves big romantic gestures and had been expecting so much from him, only to be disappointed by his lack of effort? These sort of questions keep on daunting the back of Kevin’s mind as the pair make their way to the riverside. The sun is shining in the distance, though grey clouds linger underneath like a barrier that already hints there will be no sunset today, which only makes Kevin want to stomp his foot in protest. It’s not fair! Chants his inner subconscious as Mae’s voice chimes through the air: 

“So this is definitely not the kind of date that I had been expecting.” 

“Thanks Mae,” he mutters, “that’s exactly what I want to hear right now.” 

She can’t help but burst out laughing at his face transformed into a pout, eyebrows drawn together and lips turned down, clearly upset by it all, “and here I thought you were one with the big romantic gestures.” 

“Look, I had the date all planned out to the finest detail,” Kevin protests as they reach the riverbank, “it was perfect in my head. And then all this shit happened.” 

“You tried,” she grins, “I appreciate that.” 

“And yet, you’re still laughing.” 

“It’s funny! You should see yourself! I’ve never seen you pouting that much in my entire life.” 

“Because I wanted today to be special,” he all but grumbles, scowling at how funny she finds it when he’s put so much effort. And for what? Absolutely nothing! “I didn’t want it to be just any date.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s just a date.” 

“It’s not--” his eyes catch her own, blazing with emotion, “--just a date. It was officially our first. I just wanted it to be special, you know?” 

There’s a slight pause as the girl takes in his words, a half-smile still dancing at the corners of her lips as she tries to find any kind of fault to the young man who thinks he has screwed everything up. In truth, she couldn’t have asked for anything better, and the fact that Kevin’s plans -- despite his amazing preparation -- have failed just makes it all the more special, and will definitely be something she’ll cherish forever. 

But she knows, no matter how much she talks, Kevin will definitely keep beating himself up about it because that is just the kind of person he is, the kind of person that expects so much from themselves, only to loathe themselves for it for reasons that shouldn’t exist in the first place. 

So she does the only thing that she thinks will boost his morale. She closes the gap between their bodies in one fluid movement before stretching up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Kevin’s eyes are as round as saucers when she pulls back, jaw falling slack at her more than intimate action. He can’t recall the last time they’ve been this close, and it had definitely not been on romantic terms. 

This, this feels different. It is different. His hand tingles with the desire to touch his cheek, just to feel the residual warmth followed by her soft imprint.

“Thank you,” Mae murmurs as Kevin probes at her face in an attempt to find out what is going on inside that head of hers. From the soft peony colour dusting her cheeks, he’d have to think that she is definitely smitten. She continues in that shy, soft voice that is a complete contrast to her usual strong tone, “what you intended was meaningful enough.” 

His lips twitch, threatening to break into a shit-eating grin as he replies, "no problem," in what he hopes is a nonchalant, blazéed manner.

They continue striding down the pathway and it is then that Kevin finds the courage to brush the back of his knuckles against hers. And when her eyes flutter to his with curiosity, he forces his courage forward, wraps his fingers around her own before squeezing softly. 

He refuses to meet her questioning gaze, instead focusing on the sight ahead. The sun is melting into the Han river's surface, covered up by clouds so that only strands of pale light slither through. It is definitely not the most romantic mood he'd wished for, definitely not the perfect date he'd carved out in his head. 

But it'll do for now. He is content enough, because Mae is at his side, because his heart is now full with butterflies as he thinks of more exciting days to come. 

Later, the pair find themselves at a late night convenience store to buy cold canned coffee drinks and a bowl of ramen to share. Setting down at one of the outside tables and huddling together to escape the bite of the cold, Mae allows herself to get a whiff of Kevin's cologne, a scent that she grew up knowing and yet, right now this scent means so much more. 

"Now this, this is the best date I've ever had," she exclaims, slurping up the ramen and allowing the salty taste of soy sauce and Korean chilli fill her tongue, "how you gonna beat this, Kev?"

"If this was what you call the beat date, then you haven't seen anything honey." 

"Oh, overconfident now are we?" She says, a little more comfortable with being playful. 

Kevin rolls his eyes, chewing on his mouthful of noodles before passing the bowl over to her once more, "You're the one who apparently has low standards. But that's okay, It can only get better from there." 

"See, that's not something you should say to your date." 

"Why not?" 

"That's something you'd say to like, I don't know, your best friend." 

"Aren't you? My best friend?" 

Mae's halfway through gulping some of her coffee when her mind registers his words, and boy is she glad that she manages not to choke, "uh--I mean, wait--I don't understand." 

"If you're wondering whether you're my date or my best friend, don't worry," Kevin smirks, "you're both." 

"And how does that work?" 

"It doesn't. You're my best friend, and I love you--"

As soon as the words fall from his lips, the said man's ears redden as realization hits him like a truck. 

"What--" Mae breathes, "what did you just say?" 

"Nothing."

"Say it. I heard it, but I want you to say it."

"I--I--" his eyes darted back and forth with growing panic. What the fuck Kevin? He wants to slap himself across the back of his head. This is your first date! How the fuck did you ruin it so fast?

"Kevin," her tone was serious. 

"I said that I--" he takes a shaky breath, exhales slowly and tries not to throw up from embarrassment, "that I  love you."

The hitch in the back of her throat does not go unnoticed by him however, which makes the situation just marginally better.

"Look, forget I said anything. It's really not--"

"I won't forget it."

"Oh come on Mae, you can't use that for blackmail

--"

"I won't forget it because I know that this thing between us," she motions between the two of them, "is something special. And I don't want to risk anything by saying it now." 

The way Kevin's heart soars through his chest like a hummingbird about to beat out of its cage causes his mouth to stretch into a shit-eating grin, one that he can't hide no matter how much he tries, and one that keeps on glowing brighter when he notices the blush coating Mae's cheeks. 

"I--I know I feel something," Mae continues, trying not to stutter underneath the intense stare he's pinn3d her down with. Suddenly, she is all too aware of the lack of distance between their bodies, the warmth radiating from his chest, "but I don't want to say anything, not when I'm not ready yet."

Kevin nods, his smile turning gentle, "I get it, Mae."

His hand reaches out gently, smoothing over her cheek to curl a strand of hair behind her ear. He doesn't need any verbal confirmation of her part yet. It's good enough that she feels something special for him  something that can turn into so much more. For him right now, that's good enough. 

"Juyeon? I need to talk to you."

The alarming tone in Yunji's voice causes Juyeon's mind to come to attention. He straightens up from his seat before asking, "what's wrong? What is it?" 

"I--" there's a short pause as she takes in a brrath at the other end of thr line, "Please just come." 

"Where are you?" He is already standing from his seat as he talks, moving towards the corridor while dodging a few nurses scurrying by, "I'm coming."

A few minutes later, he hesiatates slightly upon arriving at Yunji's office door. She had clearly stated that they should avoid visiting esch other during office hours to avoid being the talk of town, but the seriousness in her tone cannot be ignored, no matter how suspicious it may seem. 

He knocks on the door, before he hears a soft "come in."  

Yunji, sitting at her desk with a stack of medical documents before her, jumps slightly when their eyes meet. Motioning for him to close the door, Juyeon does as he's told before taking a seat right opposite her. 

"Yunji," he starts softly, not failing to notice how hard she's trying to avoid his eyes at all costs. His heart clenches with apprehension, "what is it?"

He watches Yunji's bottom lip tremble, notices the soft glistening in her eyes, and instantly his mind swerves into panic mode: does she have an incurable disease? Or maybe her family? What about if someone had died? 

And then, the words hit him like a truck. 

"Juyeon, I'm pregnant." 

-----

Tagging @juyeonzz​ @thesingingfae1905​ @gratefulmaria​

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! :) 

[obsessedwithbbandsuju]

Next Time

*Smut Prompt #13 for @2ya2yao​‘s Super Junior Prompt Fic Challenge

You came expecting just a normal dinner outing with the group you’d worked with since the beginning of your career. What you weren’t aware of was that Heechul had other ideas.

Pairing: Kim Heechul/Reader

You nudged Heechul’s hand away under the table with your thigh, smiling pleasantly all the while as you pretended to listen to the account Siwon was telling. Glancing around discreetly to make sure no one would notice, you sent a sharp glare in Heechul’s direction. His only response was eyes flicking toward you for a brief second before he looked away innocently. Mentally reminding yourself to pay him back later, you pressed your legs together, ignoring the urge to grimace at the wetness between them, courtesy of Heechul’s sneaky hands. You’d known him for long enough to not be too shocked when he started touching you under the table – cliché as that was – but part of your brain still couldn’t believe anyone would dare. But then again, it was Kim Heechul.

You were one of Super Junior’s stylists and had been with them since their debut – which was impressive, considering that young back then, the same age as Leeteuk and Heechul (a few months back, that was). Still, Lee Sooman had trusted that you’d be able to deal with the thirteen men. You were very close with all of them, but Heechul… he was a little special to you.

Because, the thing was, you were a bit famous around SM for being able to control the self-proclaimed Universe Superstar. The other stylists, even Super Junior and other artists, looked at you with wonder in their eyes when you put your leash, figuratively speaking, around Heechul’s neck. You knew just how to get him to listen, and had saved other employees from many a headache because of it.

Maybe that was why you often found yourself looking after Heechul, a little bit more than you looked after the other members. You could handle his cheeky, sometimes boisterous personality. You weren’t sensitive and you were just as quick to fire back sarcastic comments as Heechul was, so it was never guaranteed who’d suffer a verbal K.O. during your bantering – you or Heechul.

You’d never considered Super Junior’s second oldest member as anything more than a close friend, though. He wasn’t your type; too loud and too prone to goofing around. That didn’t mean you didn’t love him – you just didn’t think of him that way. You were sure of it, too; the idea of you having feelings for Heechul, in fact, wasn’t even a thought that ever crossed your mind, because you were too confident that that would never be the case.

But apparently, one kiss was all it took for your mind to change. It hadn’t even taken until after the kiss, considering the fact that when Heechul, three months ago, had wrapped one hand around the nape of your neck and pressed his lips to yours, you’d kissed back. Eagerly.

Since that day, well… you weren’t quite sure what Heechul was to you anymore. You did have feelings for him, but if you were willing to pursue a relationship – that was another matter entirely. You firmly believed that dating in the workplace could only lead to trouble; part of the reason why all your previous partners had absolutely no relation to your career. Dating Heechul would completely ruin that.

It didn’t help that Heechul straight-up admitted that he had feelings for you. You were probably the first person who hadn’t accepted his confession right away, if the look of “I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-supposed-to-do-with-this-situation” on his face when you turned him down was anything to go by.

You still couldn’t accept a full relationship with the Universe Superstar, but friends with benefits… that was another matter. Part of you still knew it was wrong and could still complicate things, but selfishly, you threw those cautions to the wind because deep inside you, you wanted to be with Heechul. You still weren’t confident on his romantic prowess, since you could confirm that his longest relationship had lasted about six months, but you were definitely, from firsthand experience, confident in his prowess in other areas.

Back to the present, you could feel Heechul’s thin fingers dancing along your jeans again. Reaching down under the table and pinching his hand, watching with satisfaction as he winced, you stood up in your seat. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced. You could feel Heechul’s eyes on you the entire way.

Once you reached the empty bathroom, you locked yourself in a stall and leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Thanks to Heechul, the area between your legs was slick and throbbing mercilessly, and worse was the fact that you could hardly even be mad at him when you enjoyed his intimate touches. Your skin was flushed, your chest was heaving, and your thoughts had become very inappropriate for an occasion like this.

When you were confident that the lust rushing through your veins had abated a little, you unlocked the stall door and stepped outside, heading for the sink to wash your hands before you went back to the table. You were just trying them and throwing the paper towel in the trash when the bathroom door opened and Heechul came in.

“What the hell?” you hissed. “This is the women’s bathroom, Heechul!”

He shrugged, closing the bathroom door behind him and locking it. Your eyes narrowed, but you could tell that the heady rush that made your head spin wasn’t because you didn’t want him to be here. “I’ve been mistaken for a woman plenty of times.”

There was a look in his eyes that you understood all too well – and really, it wasn’t like you were unwilling either. You didn’t resist as Heechul backed you against the wall, closing the gap between the two of you, and pressed his forehead to yours. You could feel the warm puffs of air of his breath against your face.

He kissed you. No sign, no warning – he just pressed his lips fiercely to yours, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. It would have been sweet, if not for his other hand going much lower to cup your ass and squeeze lightly. As he did, he broke from you and groaned. It was quiet, but, to your surprise, you could tell he was desperate. His hardness poked against your thigh through the layers of clothes, and you shook your head.

“We’re in public, you know,” you whispered.

“I know.” There was a devious glint in his eye. Seeing it, your competitive nature flared and you gripped the material of his shirt, flipping the two of you so he was the one pressed against the wall.

“You have no decency, you know that?” you asked hotly, fisting your hands in the fabric you were holding. You didn’t give a chance to respond before you yanked him toward you and kissed him, hard enough to bruise. Heechul moaned shamelessly, giving way to you as you plundered his mouth, exploring every inch of its searing dampness. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy letting you take the lead – body relaxed under your hands, malleable and obedient.

“Neither do you,” he breathed as you pulled away. His lips looked swollen.

“Shut up,” you hissed, even though there was no real force behind it. Unconsciously, you found yourself grinding your hips against him, searching for friction to relieve the persistent ache at your core.

Heechul flashed you an impish grin, placing his hands on your hips and kneeling at your feet before guiding you around so your back was pressed against the wall again. Your eyes widened as he settled between your still-clothed legs, looking up at you. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“May I?” he asked softly, wrapping his fingers around the waistband of your jeans. You could hardly believe you were willing to do this in a public bathroom, but you were certain that you’d go crazy before the dinner was over if you didn’t say yes. You nodded, unable to suppress an impatient moan.

Heechul usually had a thing for teasing, but he seemed just as rushed as you today – probably the fact that the two of you were in public contributed to that. Without hesitating, he yanked your jeans and underwear down, his large brown eyes fixed blatantly on the wetness between your legs. You flushed.

“Don’t just stare,” you demanded, and Heechul complied eagerly to your order. Peeling your jeans and underwear off completely before flinging them onto the ground next to him, he leaned in, his head dipping in between your lower limbs. Your body jerked as his lips came in contact with your core, tongue delving between your folds and lapping at your clit without preamble. You moaned, high pitched and desperate, and it seemed to spur him on. That tongue of his was dexterous – circling around your core, teasing it with darting flicks, flattening against it from time to time.

Caught up in sensation, your head thrown back against the wall, you were taken by surprise when Heechul pulled away, licking his lips. Opening your eyes, you let out a strangled gasp as you took in the sight of him kneeling at your feet, his mouth glistening with your wetness.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice strained with unintentional frustration. God, you didn’t want him to stop. You needed him to keep going.

Heechul didn’t reply – not with words, at least. Instead, he placed a hand behind your left knee and hooked your leg over his shoulder. Without explaining himself, he dove back in, and you shrieked softly. The new angle provided him absolute access to probe his mouth against your core as he pushed his tongue into you. Your eyes closed as your hands flew down to tangle in his hair, yanking hard against his scalp, but he hardly seemed to take notice.

Heechul was totally relentless after that, never stopping or even slowing down his assault on your core and rapidly-stiffening nub. He worshipped you with single-minded attentiveness, until you couldn’t take it anymore and your entire body tensed for the oncoming orgasm. From then it was just a well-placed flick of his tongue against the length of your clit that sent you spiraling over the edge, clamping a hand over your own mouth to stifle your desperate moans.

As you came down from your high, panting, Heechul nuzzled your waist affectionately. He carefully removed your leg from his shoulder so you could stand on your own two feet again and picked up your jeans and underwear before standing and holding them out to you. Breathless, you took them from his hands.

“Better?” he asked teasingly. Too blissed out from the orgasm to give a snappy response, you nodded. With a soft smile, he kissed the side of your head, fingers brushing against your cheek.

“What about you?” you asked him hoarsely, glancing down at the bulge in his pants.

Heechul shook his head. “You’re tired,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be fine. Besides, this leaves me more anticipation for next time.”

[himbowelsh]

Can we get the valentines A-Z for Chuck Grant? Thank you✨

anonymous asked:   Chuck grant for the affection asks? Love my man :’)

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Hidden smiles, glancing touches, spending a lot of time with someone...  Chuck’s affection is very understated, but always palpable. He’s not flashy about it, but when he cares for someone, it’s impossible for them not to know. And if they know, that’s what matters, right? 

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

Oh god, no, he’s hopeless with flowers. If he’s looking for a bouquet, he’ll either appeal to the florist for help, or send one of his more knowledgeable friends to pick one up and pass it off as his own.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Dark chocolate with almonds. That’s his thing. Throw him off the train now, before he infects the rest of us.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Give him...  something cozy and intimate. Maybe go antiquing together, and spend the whole time exploring fascinating old artifacts, pieces of the past; maybe go to a winery and wander around amidst the rows of bottles; maybe just lie in a field, listening to the birdsong and soaking in the sun. For Chuck, it doesn’t matter so much where, as long as he’s with someone he can enjoy it with.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Not a big hugger. If he hugs, it’s probably a special occasion, and stands out all the more for it. His hugs are protective; even if he’s the smaller half of the embrace, he’s very firm, and leaves them feeling grounded.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Ohhhh boy. You don’t know. You’re not ready. Anyone who hasn’t seen him in action could probably never believe it, because Chuck seems quite reserved at times, but he has a way with women. He develops a reputation as a bit of a Casanova while in England. It’s the eyes, really, and the voice like velvet, and the lingering touches on the right side of suggestive...  Chuck doesn’t have to do much at all.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s observant, so gift-giving isn’t the massive challenge for him that it would be to others. He just doesn’t give out a lot of gifts, is the thing. Chuck’s the sort of person who gives gift cards for birthdays, because the person can surely buy something they’ll like better than he ever could...  unless he knows for a fact what they want, in which case he’ll rock up with that exact thing on the day of. If he sees someone needs something, he’ll get it. On rare occasions, he’ll spot something that reminds him of someone, and casually give it to them without making a big deal out of it, just in case they don’t like it. (He can’t bear the thought of getting someone something and them having to fake happiness  ---  he’d literally rather show up to the party emptyhanded.)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

Very slow. He’s careful, and likes to be certain of each step as he takes it...  but some things in life just can’t be planned out.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

I don’t want to say he’s shy about it, but...  Chuck’s a naturally cautious guy, so he’s not about to blurt it out. Love sneaks up on him. One moment, he’s sure he knows where he stands in a casual relationship; the next, it dawns on him that he’s in a lot deeper than he realized. He’ll think it a thousand times before he knows how to say it... but his lingering glances and tender touches speak for themselves.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He doesn’t like to admit it, but...  yeah, a little bit. A lot, actually. Chuck’s got a passionate jealous streak. He’s not about to go stalking his partner at midnight, but he doesn’t like seeing other people flirt with them, and to imagine them in a charged situation without him gets his usually mellow blood boiling. He tends to take this out on his partner  ---  deep kisses, hands roaming all over their body, demanding the affection he suddenly needs. Jealousy gets Chuck in the mood. No, he’s not about to explain it, but no way would his partner ever complain.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Chuck is very, very talented with his tongue, and knows many ways to use it. He likes to explore, okay? Kissing isn’t just a mouth to mouth thing. His mouth will go anywhere it’s allowed to, sucking the salt from his partner’s skin and leaving dark marks in his wake. His hands follow suit; if he’s allowed to explore, to touch and tease, he will. With Chuck, a kiss is never innocent, and it’s rarely just a kiss.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He loves his friends more than anything; he loves his pets; he loves memories of people who are no longer with him. The circle around Chuck’s heart of small but very tight, and he loves anyone who makes it inside deeply.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He would absolutely be a morning person, if only he could manage to wake up whenever he set an alarm clock. Unfortunately...  sleep is a beautiful, beautiful thing, and his body demands it.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Again  ---  his tongue! It’s a magical thing! Chuck is a very physical lover, and has a fascination with sensations  ---  how senses come in to play in sex, how they can be manipulated, be deprived, things like that. He’s willing to get experimental with candle wax, ice cubes, blindfolds...  it all gives him a certain thrill. More than anything, he want to be able to touch his partner, to match their rhythm with his own; he loves the sound of their breathing, growing more and more ragged as he drives them towards the edge...  only to pull back at the last moment, leaving them desperate for more. Oh yes, he’s a tease. Chuck prefers to stretch it out, never one for a quickie. He explores his partner’s body, experimentally probing what gets the best reactions out of them, and manipulating that. He craves that reaction, all the gasps and whimpers he can draw out of a partner. That, more than anything else, drives him to his own edge.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Chuck’s not the most verbose guy. He says a lot more with his face, with his actions, than he does with words...  but when he’s in the proper mood, he can get a group of friends laughing without any problems.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

At this point, Chuck has accepted that he has a type, and that type is “impulsive idiots”...   but he’d like someone who’s at least smart about it. Someone he can trust not to burn the apartment down while he’s out  ---  someone he can depend on overall, who he knows will always have his back. The ability to cook is a huge bonus; he’d like someone thoughtful, who can engage in intellectual conversation without crossing that thin line to arguing  (or devolving into full Webster-esque pretentiousness). Physically, he falls in love with lips first. Expressive lips, plump lips, ones that purse and shine and seem to demand to be kissed...  yes, please.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Hmm...  refer to the ‘WEDDING’ question below for this one. Chuck would really want to discuss it first; for him, a proposal would be a conversation, not a do-or-die moment. His partner would probably have to bring it up.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s...  probably more on the cynical side? Which isn’t to say he can’t be romantic when he applies himself, but...  he approaches relationships practically, isn’t one for grand gestures, and is baffled by the whole “rose petals and candlelit dinners” approach to love. If romantic moments happen naturally, Chuck absolutely relishes them, because that’s the purest part about being in love, but he won’t go out of his way to create them.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had a sheepdog. He loved his sheepdog. Her name was Molly and she was the love of his life.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Distinctly not. Love is love, and it’s always a risk. Nothing about it is preordained, and it’s not guaranteed to have a happy ending.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Nah. He’s too careful for that. Chuck hasn’t gotten invested in many committed romantic relationships, so the opportunity’s never been there.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He’s not against it, but here’s his thing:  what’s the point of Valentine’s Day? If he can’t make his partner feel special the rest of the year round, he’s clearly doing something wrong.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

He’s... ambivalent towards it, frankly. Not that he’s opposed to the idea, but he’s just seen a lot of marriages end badly, he knows how it goes, and has no interest of going through the same ordeal himself. If Chuck is going to get married, he’ll have to be in a very long-term, committed relationship, and the idea will have to be discussed extensively in advance. If he doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting into, he’s not on board.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Not a big pet-name guy  (his aunts used to have so many for him when he was little, he vowed never to nickname anyone else)  but a well-timed “darling” for a lover can work wonders.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

He has a very strong protective streak, which doesn’t rear its head often...   but when Chuck cares for someone, he’ll go to bat whenever necessary. He’s responsible about it, of course; he won’t pick a fight, simply send whoever’s making his loved one uncomfortable the patented Chuck Grant Deathglare, and make his presence quietly known until they take the hint.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME !!!!! ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF MY FIRST FANFIC - A CALL FROM THE MAYOR

Hello All, One year ago I posted my first fanfic, A Call From the Mayor. I was so terrified when I clicked on the post button. I thought for sure it would be a fiasco, no one would read it or like it. But you all were so kind and encouraging that I will never forget it. 

This evolved into Edinburgh to Boston. Yes, I know, I am halfway through writing Chapter 17. But, back to Mayor, I love this fanfic. Maybe because it was my firstborn and I became hooked on writing because of it.

Therefore, I am posting it again. It’s NSFW. A bit fun, kind of cute, and it’s sexy.

The inspiration behind this story is one-year ago NY was supposed to have a large snowstorm. Our Mayor does record a message that is sent to all the homes in my city. And I wondered what if Claire got the same message.

If you have read it thank you for reading. If you haven’t maybe give it a try. 

So I give to you A Call From The Mayor.

Please enjoy. I hope you like it as much as I do.

My phone rang disturbing the peace and quiet of the morning. Without a thought as to who would be calling, I unlocked the phone and mumbled a soft "Hullo?"

A smile broke out on my lips. "Why, yes. Of course, you are most certainly right. I will take every precaution. Thank you for calling." I ended the call and replaced my phone on the bedside table wanting nothing more than to snuggle down into my cozy bed and return to the land of Morpheus.

A large warm arm reached out and pulled me closer to an equally warm chest.

"Who was that, Sassenach?"

I turned to face the large Scot lying in bed with me, "Oh, just the Mayor of the city is all."

"And, what did his Honor want at this hour?" Jamie said in a low husky voice which I attributed to his just awakening. He began nuzzling and nipping at the delicate skin of my neck. His hand moved from around my waist upwards over my ribs stopping to cup my breast, gently circling around my nipple causing it to raise, harden, and pebble beneath his expert touch.

"Ah,...well... mmmm." I was becoming distracted by his ministrations.

"Sassenach, ye were saying, hmmmm?" Jamie ran his tongue over a tender spot on my neck that he had bit then began to blow on the area to cool the sting of the bite. He pinched my nipple hard between his thumb and index finger causing me to squeak.

I shifted myself around so as to face him. His eyes, normally a beautiful clear deep blue much like the ocean, had become tempestuous, dark, and churning like waves in a hurricane. I could see the want in his eyes. The want for me.

Jamie's calloused hand slid down over the planes of my body in a quest to reach my arse. Upon arriving at the objet d'amour, he began to fondle, squeeze, and knead it almost to the point of pain. Slowly his hands rose over my back, almost reverentially, pulling me closer to him so as to meld our bodies together.

No beginning, no end.

His scent assailed me. Sleeping male, musk, and something uniquely just Jamie.

His breathing was slow, heavy, warm on my skin causing my breath to hitch.

He smiled at me wickedly. He was a predator and I his prey.

I felt the need for him building deep in my belly, an aching, wanting need. There was a growing wetness, slickness between my thighs. I knew I was lost.

He brought his lips to mine in a kiss that was ever so tender perhaps even best described as chaste which I found to be incongruous with his look and behavior.

"Mo ghraid, ye still havna told me what the Mayor wanted." Jamie's hand slipped between my legs, feeling the warmth and wetness of me. My legs parted giving him the room he needed for access to the most intimate part of my body. His thumb had found my core. He stroked it lightly at first in a circular motion then began applying increasing pressure. One finger slowly stroked along my entrance, finally entering me. It was soon followed by another.

"He, ah, he, ah. Well, that is to say. Mmmmm. YES, just there. Oh god! Jamie don't stop."

"Give me yer mouth Sassenach" he growled.

And I did. He kissed me hard, hard enough to bruise. His tongue caressed my lips seeking entry. My lips opened to him; his tongue began the journey to seek out its quarry. His tongue began it duel with mine, thrust, and parry, swirling, probing, tasting. We broke apart only for the need for air.

I felt his warm mouth take my nipple one then the other and sucked it hard increasing the sensations coursing through my body. I could feel myself reaching my peak, coming closer, ever closer to the precipice. Trembling, I was trembling, writhing in ecstasy, grasping the linen of the bed. Breath uneven, mewling sounds, profanity graced my lips.

"Oh god, oh god! Jamie, I need ...I, I,... ahhhh."

"What do ye need lass, tell me, tell me what ye want. I want ye to feel good," he whispered as his teeth raked over the shell of my ear.

His kisses blazed a trail across my body; his eyes never leaving mine.

"I..I..you, I want you, now inside me. Jamie, please."

"Do ye now?" somewhere in the fog of my mind, I thought I heard him chuckle sounding rather pleased with himself.

He rose over me kneeing my legs further apart and in one swift movement entered me sheathing himself to the hilt. A sword and its scabbard. We were one and riding the waves of our pleasure together surging forward coming to an inexorable completion.

We lay sated and happy wrapped in each other's arms, limbs twined together. The glow of love around us. My head rested on his chest, moist from his exertions listening to his heartbeat, for me. I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes planning to return to sleep.

"Claire."

"Hmmm?" I purred contentedly.

"What did the Mayor want?"

"Oh! He placed a public service call, telling the citizenry of the impending snowstorm and what precautions they should take in case of things like power outages and downed trees. He also urged everyone who is not needed to stay home because of the ice that will accompany the snow. Roadways are expected to be treacherous. You know things like that."

"And ye thanked the recording for calling?" Jamie quirked a ruddy eyebrow and looked questioningly at me as if I had taken leave of all my senses.

"Well, yes, I mean if the Mayor took the time to make the recording, I thought I should at least thank him for it. You know be polite. Don't you think?"

"Lass, ye ken he that he canna hear ye. He will never ken that ye thanked him, don't ye? It was just a wee recording." His eyes were alight with love as he gazed at me. He smiled that half-smile that curled up his lip that I so loved.

"Jamie", I sighed with exasperation, "I am well aware that it was only a recording and not a real person. I know that his Honor will never know that I thanked him." I looked at him as if he were the one who was daft for thinking I couldn't tell the difference.

"What I really was doing was thinking out loud. I was just stating the fact that no one had to worry about the Frasers as they would be spending the weekend safely tucked in bed doing what we just did." I turned my head looking at him over my shoulder and gave him my most sultry and seductive smile. Or at least I had hoped so.

He looked at me for a long moment taking me in and then roared out a laugh that shook the bed. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, gasping for breath, and turned the most lovely shade of rose from laughing so hard.

Jamie slowed his breathing allowing it to come back to him while rubbing at his eyes wiping away the tears.

"Oh Christ, lass, loving ye will be the death of me. Come here my wee vixen and let me love ye again."

[alitheamateur]

Back-Seat Bliss

Warnings: SMUT. Language. 18+

Summary: Newly married, but still sitting on the secret, Chris warns you he’s going to slip the announcement into an interview on the carpet. You're of course, eager to shout to the world you’ve been crowned his wife, but you know the night will turn to an even bigger circus. Chris, the dutiful, dedicated man he is, takes it upon himself to settle your nerves...

These carpet premiere primps never got any less chaotic, and over-the-top. You’d walked the orange, the purple, the gold, the black, most often the red carpet, and yet the pit in your stomach was still wound like a sailors knot. There had been accidentally sheer skirts, overly teased up-dos, the occasional horrendous streak of botched spray tan, but one accessory remained the same. The classic, timeless, rustically tailored and put together man to your left. His ‘good side’, he’d say.

For the last 3 years, you had trailed yourself in front of the paparazzi at premieres, awards ceremonies, charity events all of such, dangling securely on the arm of Chris, your deemed A-list boyfriend who still burped at the kitchen table, and drank beer like a frat boy. You had learned all the poses, the half-smiles, the gazing into each other’s eyes to display the intimate look of a couple in love like the pair of you. Through the years, you’d become quite the regular on the carpets thanks to Chris and his continual rise up the latter of success. But, tonight, there’d be one difference. Your hair color the same, his driver the same. The chilling champagne in the sterling silver ice pale by the front door where you would toast before he helped you settle in the back of the stealthy, blacked out SUV, the same. Your last name?

Different.

The subtly of your intricate, delicate, thin wedding band had aided in disguising the whim decision the pair of you had concluded last weekend when you hired a minister to marry you on the balcony of your rented villa in Costa Rica. Your gorgeous engagment stone was no longer breaking news, and the public eye had, in its own little way, left you alone as of late.

But tonight, Chris had warned you he was planning to “let it slip” during an interview “whenever he felt like it.”

You were a touch fearful of the announcement breaking the surface, knowing the tailspin it would unleash for the rest of the evening. Every news outlet would beg and fawn for a photo, every journalist and TV personality requesting every detail of the nuptials. Maybe you’d sneak two glasses of that golden bubbly before the tornado set in.

“Fuck. You’d think I’d be used to you by now. But, damn it, Y/N.”

Chris was tying his shoe at the foot of the stairs, eyes to the floor on the black laces when the clack of your stiletto captured him. Your dress was a custom silk number that crawled to rest perfectly in every crevice of your warm skin. It’s girlish shade of rosy blush cut high up the line of your thigh, then gathered with intricate beads around your round, “child-bearing hips”, as Chris called them. Your bosom was accentuated by the lifting seams of the bodice, and you held no shame in making the request to the designer with your lovers’ lust-blown pupils in mind.

He pulled you in by the hand not securing your clutch, throwing it over his neck right where he wanted it, and palmed the luscious cheek of your silken covered bum. The pucker of his plush lips barely pecked the line of your jaw, mindful not to smear anything on your glorious face. Your tropical island induced tan was fresh on your skin, the bronze glittering with coconut scented body butter. Chris sniffed and inhaled into your hair as he tongue-kissed your exposed shoulder. His presence instantaneously soothed over your chattering reserve, but there was no doubt your observant husband would scope out the slight trembling.

“Hey, gorgeous. Talk to me, hm?” He searched your face, fiddling a moment with your earring.

“This is going to be a big night, Chris. You know I don’t necessarily like the unforgiving spotlight.”

He gathered your hand, palm down, in his, and kissed your knuckles. As he was about to dissipate your qualms with one of his very “Captain” like pep-talks, his assistant barreled in from the front steps.

“We need to be getting you guys on the road if that’s alright.” She meekly instructed.

You swigged a hearty gulp of the lavish liquor before you took your man’s arm to tiptoe down the cobblestone steps. His warm hand, so brazen yet unbelievably tender and considerate resting where the skin of your back blended into the cheeks of your bum was a cocktail of all things contented and zen, but your worried mind held on, ready to put up a fight.

Once you buckled yourself in with Chris’ assistance so you wouldn’t cause any creases in the expensive fabric, he leaned over the console to whisper something to the driver that you couldn’t make out over the thrums of the radio. When he settled back, silently a black partition slid up, separating the two of you from distraction.

“Where’s that gorgeous smile, baby? You shouldn’t be so tense about all this. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion, you know.”

He began peculiarly fretting with the clasp of your simple, strappy shoes, finally loosening their fasten and pulling your freed toes toward him. He rubbed over your already extremely sore ankle and heels, drawing little hearts and smiley-faces on the most ticklish bend of your arch.

“I know, I know. And I am happy. I’m thrilled to finally get to shout from the rooftops that I snagged such a catch as yourself. You just know how I get, Chris.”

He had somewhere between your words, slid off his jacket and hug it just-so over the headrest, and was know working his massaging fingers into the trim, but filled out flesh of your thigh.

“I do know how you get, angel. And I also know exactly how to make everything all better, as well, don’t I?”

He hummed as you spread the span of your thighs and bit, shifting a smidge to face him, and your belly began to heat with a white-hot simmer. With so much as a look, Chris could absolutely shatter your world with the most pleasurable, tantric high unlike any substance known to the world around you.

“I don’t think we have the space to exactly attempt that now, do we, Mr. Evans?” The zipper of your dress began to click and widen with the stress of your heavy breast heaving with short, reckless pants.

“I think I can definitely make do, Mrs. Evans. You know there isn’t a thing that can stop me when I get the urge to taste you.”

He was a man crazed when it came to you. His favorite flavor, he’d say. More times that you can count, you’ve had to nearly choke and stifle the life out of him by shoving his loud mouth between your globed chest because he insisted on taking you in the corner at a party, or in the restroom at a fitting, but couldn’t keep his howls under control. You’d nearly lost all your nerve for the taste of exhibitionism when his mother nearly stumbled in on the two of you in her kitchen last Christmas. You heard sweet Lisa telling everyone in the next room that she could almost swear she heard something like a bear growling in the back yard.

“Be a doll and hike this fantastic dress up those sweet fuckin’ thighs, will you?”

Oh, but he wasn’t asking. The shift in his voice now laced with a delicious heat, and the glorious bulge that you inadvertently gawked at making your belly growl with hunger, told you so.

Fiending for the calmness you knew would follow his gifted release, you raised just enough to settle the dress out from under you, revealing with pleasure the evidence of your bare core.

“Uh-oh! Seems I may have left something at home…” Your mock gasp, and squeaky dash of faux innocence make him smile. That satisfied, lustful sneer that made you want to punch him in the face, then sit in the same spot thereafter. It was vile, and cocky, and so incredibly your favorite smile in the entire world.

“Trust me, sweetheart. I knew there couldn’t possibly be a shred of anything under that dress the way it’s glued to this perfect ass.” You could already feel the half-mooned marks of his claws bruising into you as he used said ass to yank you into him.

The slick you had already worked up caught the waft of his hot breath as he nuzzled his face into you, and your legs shuddered. His defined nose, his pert lips, and his bristly chin daubed into the oversensitive slit. You knew all evening he’d have the tiniest remnants of your scent stained around his face as he greeted friends, and smiled for the photos, and it made you nearly come.

“Chris.” It was all you could conclude, and the only word that mattered in the English language to you in the very moment.

He pulled your blooming bulb in to his mouth by the teeth, then soothed the tiny sting with a flat swipe of his relaxed tongue. Thankfully, the tussled waves of ‘sex-hair’ was the ‘in’ look when it came to the latest beauty trends because the way you burrowed and rucked around trying to catch a view of him staring and sucking in the entrance of your cunt was definitely electrifying the static of your auburn curls. You loved the sensation of his wet licks, but watching him did so many throbbing things to your insides. His airy lashes would flutter forth & back between your face, and the bloom of your clit, and for added measure he would pull his own lip between his teeth.

“So fucking sweet, as always. I wish I could bottle you up, sweetheart. Have a little taste of you wherever I go.” You hissed and nearly took a bite out of your own tongue at his dirty words.

Amongst the nibbles and peppering of kisses to your clenching sex, he maneuvered a long finger inside to probe your leaking walls. His come-hither motions pulling and kneading at your deepest cavity had your legs twitching like something inside you was short circuiting, and crashing into his dutiful hands. Another finger. Then another…

You were stretched and prepped for the most satisfying and sensual fill that no one had ever given you the way your insatiable husband did. He was blessed, and quite equipped for all the perfect trappings to please the female race, and luckily, you just so happened to pin him down as your own.

“Give me one, love. Like this, please. Fill my mouth. Then, we’ll get to the good stuff, okay?”

“I’m so close, Chris. I can feel it so, so close.”

He interpreted your information as a challenge, and began working swift clicks with his mouth. He slurped and ravished like no sustenance on the planet could fulfil his cravings like your juices, rolling along the circle of your puckering peak. And before too long, he elicited the inevitable and blurred your vision with the fruits of his labor.    

Thankful for smudge-proof lip stain, you stifled your own monstrous moans with the hot cover of your palm, coming down from orgasmic Mars as Chris popped the button of his pants.

“I’m not sure how we’re gonna swing this one, babe. There’s not exactly a lot of wiggle room with this dress.” You managed, voice barely the trace of a whisper.

“Don’t you worry, baby. Just sit back, and let your man do the rest. Got it?”

Giddy, you smiled and had to pull back the dopey drool of your mouth.

Chris let the waist of his pants fall slack, barely revealing the thickness of his standing shaft. His choice of attire for the evening was of course, in the family of classic black, and you couldn’t imagine him escaping this exchange without some lasting traces somewhere on his suit.

He situated a white-knuckle grab around the door handle just to the right of your head, and let the other fist wrap around your leg just above the knee. He was buckling in for what would be a predicted wild ride.

Just as you felt the seeping tip of his head toy with you, he dove in without reservation. This wouldn’t be the time, or place for a slow burn, and Chris knew just how much you could appreciate a ruthless, dirty quickie. You felt the car come to a halt slowly, and peered with side eyes just out the window to see a stoplight turned red. There was traffic as far as the eye could see, and in fact, a similar model vehicle right beside you in the next lane. You knew the shade of tint on your window was specifically designed for desertion, but still the titillating thrill egged you on.

Thrusting with his rhythm, matching every move, Chris began to undo between your legs. A sheen of dolloping sweat was now rolling between the crease of his brows, and a loose tassel of his perfectly combed hair had flattened to his forehead. From the waist up, he was poised with his perfectly knotted tie, and crisply steamed white oxford. Gentlemanly, posh for the cameras. But, below the tail of his shirt, he was rucking and pounding inside of you like an ill-mannered fiend.

“My pretty girl. You seem awfully relaxed now, hm?”

“More. I need more, baby. Let me feel you lose yourself inside me.”

When his blue-flamed eyes screwed closed, you knew his own ending was in sight. You yanked him in by the tie, longing to work his mouth with yours. Then suddenly, a stop. You heard voices chattering, a random erupt or claps here and there, and you gathered the two of you had arrived.

You imagined the frame of the car had to be rocking a bit when it parked near the rear curb of the entrance, but it wouldn’t stop Chris from finishing what he started, and ensuring his girl was free of worries for the evening.

With his tongue rolling with yours, mouths roaming each other, Chris jolted once more, and his cock twitched inside you. There’d be nothing to catch his seed from surfacing to trail down your legs once you stepped into the sea of cameras, but it gave you salacious pleasure regardless.

As if Tucker, his longtime driver and bodyguard, had known exactly what was unfolding in the back seat, he stood post just outside your rear door, assuring no one opened it and caught a glimpse of an R-rated body part. Using the compact inside your clutch, you reapplied a layer of gloss, and Chris dabbed away the simple beads of perspiration on the tip of your nose after securing his pants. Giving each other a cautious, engaged once over for smears, or wrinkles and stains, you clasped his cheek before letting him open the door to the world.

“I feel much, much better. Thank you, handsome.”

His head leaned into your tender touch, nuzzling. “No need for thanks, angel. Now, can I please get out of this fucking car and tell someone besides my Ma that this amazing, flawless, astounding human is my wife?!”

  TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[maruzzewrites]

4 For illuso 👀

4. “You think that I’m watching you? Don’tflatter yourself…” 

Content warnings: yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking, mention of drugs, Illuso is a warning, idk you punch him but I don’t think that requires a warning.

You were a new addiction. Not to his own team,entering the hitman group of Passione was a feat, and not suited to someone assoft and delicate as you. Usually, they didn’t even consider someone part ofthe team until they completed their first mission, the probabilities of dyingway too high to call someone a comrade without proofs of their valor as anassassin. No, you weren’t built to be a hitman, you joined on of the group thatwould handle the drugs, that would sell it to innocent teens or ruined adults;in a way, Illuso could consider you way more cruel than his group, with the wayyou would let people sell away their life while looking them in the eyes.

That’s what he thought, at first. He knew yourname, your address, your job, but he missed everything that would really piercetogether the puzzle, reveal you to him with disarming vulnerability. That waswhy he would sneak around the mirrors around you, as he did for all the newmembers of Passione, collecting information on you as he was a researcher busywith a new, unknown species. There was nothing more to it, you were simplyanother little piece of paper on the pile he kept in his room, ever careful toknow everything about anyone who could cross him.

That was how he saw it, a little glimpse in yourintimate, inner life. When you were stationed in some dark alley, waiting for aclient, when you slipped something in their pocket alongside with the drugs.They looked confused at your words, and he tried to lean in as much as possibleto catch what you were saying. He could hear properly, but he could understandthe gist of it, the meaning behind your worried words as you almost begged theperson in front of you to rethink their choices, to seek help. Illuso couldonly stare with astonished eyes, and note down this little quirk of yours on anotebook that he would keep on him.

And you did the same thing, time and time again,with any client coming near you. Your silent rebellion to the action ofPassione, against its business, intrigued him just like a pathetic soap operawould; fruitless, dull, yet he could keep his attention away from the new, softrecruit trying to save the day, save the outcasts. As if you didn’t see them asscum and rejects who deserved to be used and abused, it didn’t matter how manytimes they got violent at your attempts to help them, no matter how many timesyou were punched, slapped or pushed to the ground. He would always find you inthe same spot, standing up with a somber face, but a will of steel.

Illuso didn’t even notice when the pages of hisnotebook were about to finish, filled to the brim with data on you. Yourfamily, your friend, your likes and your dislikes; he didn’t need any of that,he never got anything about someone that wasn’t strictly tied to theeventuality of a mission against them. He committed to memory how you talked,how you moved, as he was hoarding every memory he could. And you didn’t evenknow his name, you didn’t even know of his very existence, yet he wasn’t toobothered by the thought. Almost like there was no reason for him to fear, as ifhe couldn’t lose you in any way when you were so focused on your plan to ruinPassione from the inside.

His actual worry came the moment he truly riskedhis life during a mission; death looked him in the eyes, but didn’t manage todrag him wherever he deserved to be, yet he was left shaking in the wake of hisalmost lost life. Then, his mind wandered to you, to the notion that youwouldn’t mourn him for the simple reason you didn’t know him. He was plagued byyour presence, by the idea of you, yet you got to live your peaceful routinewhile he was stuck with your image burned into his mind. The mere idea ofsomeone having that kind of power over him, of not being in control of his ownworld, he couldn’t bear it.

And that was the reason he approached you, oneday, at your usual spot. Looking at it from the other side of the mirror wastruly a weird occurrence, but the sight of you seemed to bring a smug grin onhis face. You, on the other hand, looked quite confused, and looked around,behind him, everywhere, to catch glimpse of your usual client who called youthere. Illuso simply stopped right in front of you, waiting for you to speakfirst.

“Can I help you?” Your tone wasn’t harsh, itwasn’t cold or dismissive, merely baffled when someone you didn’t know gotclose enough to your isolated location. His smirk only widened when he was youpurse your lips, to the side, almost too adorable to belong to a dealer,despite your inner good intents or deeds. He argued with himself if he wouldbend his knees, just to piss you off and have you at eye level, while thesilence stretched and deepened the wary look on your face. Finally, he spoke,“You could.”

After you raised an eyebrow to his ominousanswer, he added your name to the statement, making your eyes color withapprehension. You looked around once again, but this time it was to scan thearea to find any type of help or escape route. When your gaze rested once againon his face, you questioned his knowledge of your name, and his grin transformedinto a toothy threat at your obvious fear. Just as he was about to give you theanswer you were seeking, anger flashed in your eyes at the sight of hisarrogance and you accused him, of spying on you and of being a creep. That,gave him pause.

“You think that I’m watching you?” He probed, hiswords simply met with indignant silence. He chuckled at first, his head thrownback until he just let out a bark of laughter, as you glared at him with flamesalive in your gaze. He was aware that he was just doing that, watching you; hewas aware his pretend self-satisfaction at making you rethink your ideas wassimply a ploy to delude himself into having some sort of high ground. And withthat awareness, he simply sneered at you with all the venom and hubris he couldmanage, “Don’t flatter yourself…”

Before he could get even more complacent,bragging and rubbing in your face his advantage, his role in the ranks ofPassione, he found himself yelping in surprise with the sudden contact of hischin with your fist. He was a big enough man that he could survive a singlepunch, but the sheer surprise of the act made him recoil and growl at you,before you turned from him and run away. He watched your back, your figuredisappearing with the narrow streets of Naples, and he entered the mirror worldwith swift, hurried dash.

The walk towards your house, towards his personalaccess to the place you deemed the most secure, was long, slow, yet he wasalmost sprinting to reach it. You didn’t know about him, and this provedfruitful for this instance, as you closed the front door with innocent obliviousness.Illuso, his jaw still aching slightly, grinned at the thought. It would beeasy, and you will never really get rid of him; after all, he couldn’t get ridof your either.  

[honeylikewords]

How does out Agent Jack Daniels break out of his nerves and asks his lady love on a date? Or does the natural rhythm of their relationship lead up to it? Xxx thank you :)

Aw, this is so sweet! I’m so excited to be able to answer! 

I originally wrote this as a couple of headcanons that followed a general narrative arc that could encapsulate the events leading up to and evolving into his asking her out, but it ended up becoming, well, a 6+k fic-a-rooney. I hope that’s okay!

Without further ado, here we go!

I like to think that Jack’s relationship with his beloved has a long, slow-burning evolution, one that needs to unfold itself naturally and grow stronger over the course of time: as they spend time together and bond over the events that transpire around them, their relationship naturally becomes more intimate and personal. A sort of friends-to-lovers situation, but with a good, hefty dose of mutual (and oblivious) pining.

For as confident a character as he can present himself as being for his job, Jack struggles with a certain grievous anxiety around the mere idea of putting his feelings out there for her to see: what if she rejects him, and he forever mars their relationship? Or, worse yet, what if his confession makes her feel uncomfortable, as if he’s just another man making unsolicited advances on a woman who does not return his interest? 

Thankfully, as time goes on and their relationship becomes built on a sturdy foundation of mutual respect and friendship, knowing more about each other, Jack begins to come out of his shell a little, finding himself more relaxed and less afraid of showing affection for her, knowing that she feels safe with him and that his friendliness won’t make her feel off-put.

One way they bond is at the many office-wide mandated functions; “synergy” events are common at the New York Statesman offices, meaning that Jack and his sweetheart end up stuck at some silly corporate event meant to create “office bonding” and “coworker camaraderie”. Neither particularly enjoy the schmaltzy, forced experiences, but they band together to form a team of two and enjoy beating other teams at the teambuilding exercises (Jack and his beloved are absolutely fantastic at charades and Pictionary) and just adore laughing together over some of the more ridiculous activities. 

 In fact, they owe much of their relationship’s development to these silly corporate interventions; their relationship came to full bloom thanks to one such event.

Corporate decided to send a few of the higher-ups from the Statesman distillation company and their immediate subordinates and coworkers to a ranch out in Arizona for a week-and-a-half retreat meant to “inspire teamwork” and “unification” among the workforce. Jack had absolutely no interest in “bonding” with his coworkers; he became inordinately excited, instead, by the idea of having a pseudo-vacation wherein he could show a more relaxed side of himself to the apple of his eye. He grinned as he read the email announcing the trip and saw her name CC’ed to it: she’d be going along, and he was thrilled to be by her side through the whole thing.

Jack even went out of his way to coyly probe the person coordinating the event into giving the two of them seats next to each other on the plane to Arizona (he chanted “3A and 3C, 3A and 3C” as a mantra to himself giddily over the next few days), and made a point to pack some of his finer clothes in his best luggage to show her that he was a well-dressed and sophisticated man even outside the confines of the office. He had no plans to get involved in any “teamwork”: in fact, he largely planned on slipping away from the conference itself and off into the city with his sweetheart, if he could convince her to go with him. The mere idea thrilled him beyond words: he was going to be able to spend time with her in this unbuttoned, casual setting, and, hopefully, inspire her into wanting to spend even more time with him outside the office. 

When the day for the flight out to Arizona finally came, Jack was up long before he realistically needed to be; the flight was chartered explicitly for the company, so the plane wouldn’t take off until everyone had arrived, anyway, so it wasn’t like he was going to miss takeoff. But he simply couldn’t wait: he wanted to be by her side as soon as he could be. 

Jack waited in the terminal for nearly two hours on his own, restlessly checking his phone to watch the minutes tick by. Other Statesman corporate workers filed in over time and waved to him, trying to initiate mindless conversation, but Jack largely looked past them and nodded along as they chatted in his general direction, his only contribution being politely humming during lulls in the banter to seem engaged as he watched the crowds milling behind them. He was waiting for her, growing antsier by the second.

After what felt like eons to Jack, she finally arrived, and he’d never felt more floored by something so simple. She entered the waiting area with her rolling suitcase, poring over her ticket intently, barely noticing where she was walking, but Jack couldn’t look away from her, even as she seemed unaware of his gaze. 

He had seen her walk into rooms countless times, and while it always made his chest clench, something about the new environs, about seeing her in the real world, away from the office and out here in a space where they weren’t coworkers, just two people, free to be themselves, made the pounding in his heart even more dizzying this time around. Add to that the way she looked and he was doomed.

Jack had become accustomed to seeing her in her office attire, formal and tightly wound, the tones of her clothes muted and respectable, the cuts crisp and inorganic, and while she was beautiful in that fashion, he somehow found her even more breathtaking in her casual wear.

Her hair wasn’t in its usual taut, professional style, but in a loose gathering, a few flyaways and locks slipping down to frame her face organically. She modeled a pair of worn-in jeans and a fairly oversized sweater, the sleeves of which appeared to be too long for her and were thus rolled up to her elbows. He could spy the brown circlet of a hair tie around the graceful bend of her wrist, and found himself, for the first time in his life, envious of a ponytail holder. 

Gazing up and down her form, Jack noticed a pop of red and white low to the ground; she was wearing red sneakers. He’d never seen her in sneakers before, and though they were far from traditionally elegant, he felt utterly endeared by the sight of them. 

Without his focus keeping it penned in, his imagination slipped free and wrapped itself around him, conjuring for him a fantasy of her wearing such an outfit, carrying brown cardboard moving boxes into his house, her things tucked inside. He imagined her rolling up those sweater sleeves to help him paint their bedroom a new shade, one of her choosing. He saw her sitting between his knees on the couch, eating Chinese food out of the takeout box, her shoes kicked off somewhere, forgotten. 

And then she looked up from her ticket and saw him, a smile spreading over her features, and everything melted inside of Jack. She raised her hand, ticket nested between her fingers, and waved at him, swiftly dragging her suitcase and suddenly standing before him, bright-eyed.

“Hey, you,” she smiled.

She was shorter without her heels on. 

It filled Jack with complete adoration.

Jack beamed back, half-caught between an urgent, painful longing to hold her cheeks and kiss her as sweetly as the sun kisses her wayward hairs, and between his better senses, the ones rooting him firmly to the floor. He gave her, instead of a kiss, a polite nod of the head, paired with his gentlest gaze.

“Hello to yourself, little lady,” he replied, voice soft. “You look...”

He searched internally for the most flattering yet least objectionable or objectifying adjective he could.

“...Comfortable today.”

Immediately, some part of him balked-- he worried he’d delivered some kind of backhanded compliment, though his intentions had been entirely sincere and adoring-- but she nodded, still smiling, and kicked at the toe of her tennis shoes with demure humor.

“I am,” she said. “You know,multi-hour flight and all; I didn’t especially feel like putting on heels for TSA, either.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack felt annoyed that she’d had to go through TSA at all; the Statesmen agents all had permission to go through without being screened, and it bothered him to imagine her being patted down by some rough-handed agent. Apparently, his displeasure manifested itself on his face, and she gave him an apologetic, sympathetic look.

“You tired?,” she asked gently, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. He pretended it didn’t send his pulse skyrocketing to feel her hand on him, even though the layer of his button-up and suitcoat. “I know, it’s rough getting up so early--”

“‘M not tired,” he quickly interjected, straightening his posture. “Not at all, darlin’.”

The word slipped off his tongue before he had a mind to catch it, but if she noticed it, she said nothing.

“Well, I am,” she said as she stretched her back, her hand leaving Jack’s arm to support her spine. Jack missed its warmth immediately. “I was up all last night, all... um... thinking about the trip.”

Her voice faded as she chewed her lip, returning to typical posture with her eyes averted; Jack knew she was withholding, dancing around something. He was getting ready to push back and ask her if there was something on her mind when she quickly turned her eyes back to him and switched her expression into a casual smile. He reeled at the hasty shift.

“Anyway,” she clipped, ready to steer the conversation elsewhere, “Where are you sitting? I’m 3A, I think.”

She held up her ticket for him to inspect, finger pointing at her seat number, and Jack couldn’t quite restrain his smile of excitement. From his pocket, he produced his own ticket, finger similarly pointing to his seat number. His beloved peered at the piece of paper held in his tanned hand for a moment, then gave him a bright smile.

“Oh, that’s so great! We’ll be in the same row!” 

The moment she spoke that, though, her face fell in apparent disappointment, a little divot of frustration manifesting between her brows.

“But we’ll have someone in between us, won’t we? Someone in 3B...”

He felt his smile spread despite himself; there was something so innocent about her disappointment, something so warming to know she’d have been upset to be separated from him. Shaking his head, he held his ticket out and tapped the seat number twice.

“No, no, hon, seats at the front are in sets of two,” Jack spoke, his voice a low, comforting purr. “A and C are right next to each other. They’re just called that because they’re double-wide and reach as far as an ABC row.”

“Oh! Oh, I had no idea! I’ve, uh, never sat in the front before,” she mused, turning to look out of the vast windows of the airport at the plane they were preparing to board. “The few times I’ve flown, it’s always been, you know, in the tight seats in the back.”

“Well... you’re first-class, today, little lady,” he smiled. “Like you deserve.”

He watched her turn her gaze back to him with bated breath; had he gone a little too far? He scanned her face, but registered no malice, no discomfort: she actually looked sweetly sheepish, a flighty smile making her turn her eyes down towards the carpet. The shyness of it all made Jack ache to take her face in his hands and kiss her, kiss her until she was dizzy. But he abstained, merely squeezing the handle of his luggage a little tighter in absentia of her touch.

“This will...,” she began, trailing off with a distant look, her attention once more turned window-ward. “You’ve flown a lot, right, Jack?”

“Mhm, I have,” he replied. “Why?”

“It’s... it’s always gone fine, right?”

When she turned her eyes back towards him, Jack caught a glimpse of concern within them, a flash of fear. 

Something was weighing on her, and Jack was beginning to get worried himself.

Before he could open his mouth and continue, the boarding call sounded. The first-class passengers were invited to board, and Jack and his dearest exchanged quick, conspiratory looks. She gave him a brief smile accompanied by a slight shrug, walking towards the forming line slowly, their prior conversation now dust in the wind. Jack found himself painfully tempted to slip a hand around hers as they walked towards the boarding gate, called to comfort her. He, tragically, did not take her hand.

As they lined up and boarded, Jack allowed her to step in front of him; it was only gentlemanly, after all, to let the lady go first. She acknowledged his gesture by reaching out and touching his wrist appreciatively, her fingertips alighting on bare skin in a way that made Jack’s stomach twist longingly. They were scanned in and boarded the plane, Jack following her along the hallway and up into the plane, his eyes fixed on the bob and sway of her hair, the shift of her gait now that she wasn’t walking in her office heels. He wondered what she was thinking about.

When she crossed the threshold into the plane, she turned to glance over her shoulder, meeting eyes with Jack. His stomach churned as he fretted, wondering if she knew he had been staring. If she had, nothing was made of it; instead, she attempted to hike her suitcase up into the plane, but began struggling with its unwieldy shape and weight, tumbling back slightly. Jack quickly rushed forward to take the handle from her, balancing her with one hand behind her back, clutching his own suitcase, and the other wrapped around her hand on her suitcase’s handle. 

Their hands brushed and parted as Jack lifted the suitcase with a strong arm, and he felt a swell of confidence as he carried both his luggage and hers on his own into the plane, even as she quietly tried to give polite protest.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she murmured, following behind him as he stepped forward to push their bags into the overhead compartment. “I-I could have managed.”

“Aw, but it wouldn’t be very polite to let a little lady have to do that,” he replied, making sure to keep his focus on situating the bags in the overhead instead of allowing himself to look at her. “I’d have felt guilty.”

“Well, thank you, Jack.”

His name never sounded so perfect as when she uttered it, and a small tremor surged down his back as he closed the now-full compartment with a satisfying click. 

When he lowered his arms and allowed his gaze to return to her, he saw her still standing there. Jack smiled; ever the polite lady, she didn’t want to sit while he was trying to help her. To signify his resolve, he put a hand out and gestured to her seat, silently inviting her to step into the window seat before he took his own next to her. 

She nodded and gave him a grateful smile, slipping into the wide first-class seat with a sigh of amazement. She shifted in the seat to admire its spaciousness and amenities, stretching her legs out to their full length and still not touching the seat in front of her. Jack sat down next to her and watched her marvel at the luxury of first-class with a smile; he’d flown first-class many times before and had grown rather accustomed to it, but, through her eyes, was now being exposed to the excitement of it once again.

The footrest of her seat extended out and she made a thrilled giggle, patting Jack’s thigh ecstatically.

“Look!”

“I am looking!,” he chuckled back, putting his elbow on the armrest between their chairs and cupping his chin in his palm, watching her. “You look cozy. Fit right in here, don’tcha?”

“I mean, hardly,” she replied, looking at the panel of buttons on her armrest. She fiddled with a few. “But it’s nice to be able to check this off the ol’ bucket list. Sit in first-class at least once!”

Jack internally logged to himself that if he were ever lucky enough to be able to take her on vacations, he’d make sure to always take her first-class. His imagination, rebellious, summoned a word to the front of his mind; honeymoon. At the thought, his golden cheeks warmed and he turned his eyes away, shifting to sit back in his seat as the last few stragglers headed down the aisle towards their seats, and the flight attendants began their practiced performances.

After a few moments of standard safety announcements and a brief introduction from the captain, the plane began to taxi on the runway, its engines spurring to life with an Olympian rumble. Jack hardly paid it any mind-- he was intimately familiar with the sound of jets, having flown more than a few himself-- but instead looked at his seat partner, who was beginning to curl into her chair, her body bunching up. 

He squinted his dark eyes beneath furrowed brows, watching her with growing concern; as the plane began to move faster and rumble louder, her shoulders clenched in on themselves, one hand gripping the armrest nearest him with vicelike strength, the other clutching panickedly at her own chest. 

Jack immediately recognized the situation at hand and leaned over to her, his urge to protect far overwhelming any anxiety he harbored about expressing his care for her too intimately. It made him sick to his stomach to see her joy fade so abruptly, and worse yet to see her in such a fearful state; his heart felt bruised, pressed under the weight of her pain, and sinched by his own stupidity. How could he not have pieced it together before?

Without regard for anything but her immediate comfort and safety, Jack placed his larger hand atop hers on the armrest and squeezed softly, murmuring in her ear in his most relaxing, gentle voice.

“You okay there, sweetness?”

“Mm!,” she squeaked unconvincingly.

“...You don’t like flying, right? ‘S okay, dove. ‘S alright, you can tell me.”

She, for a moment, tried to put on a happy, brave face, flashing him an unconvincing smile as she stared fretfully all around the cabin, hearing the plastic casings around the luggage compartments shake against themselves. When a particularly strong burst of jet engine rumblings shook the walls of the cabin, her smile dropped and she let out a meager yelp, turning her anxious eyes back to Jack’s unfaltering gaze.

“I... I really don’t,” she said thinly, her voice wavering as the plane began to rattle as it built up speed for the ascent. Her eyes flickered between his face and the window, spinning wildly as she tried to assess her surroundings. “I hate the noise and I don’t like the shaking and I’m scared of heights and I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing--”

“It’s alright, honey, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here.”

Jack laced his fingers with her, allowing himself to admire the softness of her palm, the warmth of the back of her hand; he did not, however, let his desire stop him from staying in the moment, present-minded and intent on comforting her. He rubbed a large thumb in tender strokes across the hills of her tense knuckles, shushing her gingerly.

“What would help you right now, little lady?,” he whispered, lips close to her ear to keep their conversation confidential. “What can I do for you?”

Before she could answer, the plane began to rush forward, the speed pushing back against Jack’s chest. This plane was notably faster than most standard commercial jets, and he could feel an immediate difference; Jack knew that if it was a surprising sensation for him, it must have been terrifying for her. As the pressure built in the cabin, she let out a nervous gasp, and Jack leaned in closer across the armrest, pressing his forehead to hers. Pride be damned, he thought: she needed someone to be her side. He looked into her eyes, calm and steadfast, as she drew shallow, anxious breaths.

“It’s alright,” he cooed, pulsing her hand. “I’m right here, and nothing bad is going to happen to you so long as I am.”

“You’re here,” she repeated softly. “You promise everything will be okay?”

“I promise you,” he said once more. “If anything happens, I’ll be here to help you. But nothing will happen; I’ve flown thousands of times, and flights like these are so safe. You’ll be alright, sweet thing.”

The plane trembled as it tucked its wheels up and began its ascent, shivering through the air to try and attain altitude. Beside Jack, his beloved transferred her grip from her chest to his forearm, digging her nails into his suit as she squeezed him tighter and tighter. He felt no pain as she sank her nails in-- he’d endured far worse-- and merely brought his other hand up to stroke at her clenching fingers affectionately, whispering little susurruses of care. She pressed her forehead flush against his as the plane quivered, a thunderous roar issuing from the engines, and Jack whispered to her as best he could over the tumult.

“I’m here,” he chanted, “I’m here, it’s all okay.” 

He kneaded her hand in his grasp, massaging the straining muscles and tendons within, his eyes focused on hers; they were screwed shut, tension contorting her features. Jack’s heart grew heavy at the sight, but that selfsame weight only served to strengthen his resolve to help her. He had to get over himself if he wanted to ever be able to do anything for her, he realized.

“You know what?,” he said softly, a playful, comforting smile on his lips. She opened her eyes to look at him and he nudged her forehead with his, toying and friendly. “How about I tell you what we’ll do when we touch down? Will that take your mind off it, sunshine?”

She searched his face, then nodded softly, giving a nervous jolt as the plane tilted back harshly to properly ascend. Jack reached one hand out and rubbed at the gap between her shoulders, pressing against a knot of aching muscle in her back with a loving hand.

“Well, when we get there,” he began, “I’ll get you right out of that airport. We’ll go rent a car, drive off. No more planes. It’ll be morning there, and we’ll go to some little diner and get pancakes. Just how you like them.”

He used the arm around her back to squeeze her tightly, a half-hug as she leaned closer to him, body slanted across the armrest that divided their seats. Her breaths were coming a little more deeply, and the sight of her muscles unclenching comforted him. Taking these signs as an indication to carry on, Jack continued, still rubbing at the line of her spine along her back as he murmured to her.

“And we’ll just drive, take a look at the town. I bet the mountains will be beautiful, all full of snow; we’ll go anywhere you want, anywhere you’re curious about. And we can just stay out, all day, if you like. We’ll get dinner somewhere fancy.”

“Dressed like this?,” she breathed, half-playful and half-anxious, distracting herself with an airy chuckle. “I don’t think they’d let me in anywhere. You? You look perfect, but me? Not a chance.”

“You look beautiful.” 

Jack’s words passed his lips before he could consider anything about them, and he pressed on, ignoring his urge to second-guess himself and overthink. He had to get over himself if he wanted to ever be able to do anything for her, he repeated internally.

“And if they won’t let you in, I’ll... I’ll make ‘em,” he grumbled. “I’ll make ‘em let us in. Or I’ll buy you the prettiest new things in all of Arizona, and they’ll have to let us in.”

She giggled plaintively against his cheek, eyes closed, and shook her head minutely, squeezing his palm.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I will,” he rebutted, indignant at the imaginary slight of the hypothetical waitstaff at this dreamed-up restaurant. “And they’ll have to shut their mouths then, won’t they, darlin’?”

“Hush,” she mumbled. “It’s no big deal. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy.”

The plane’s pressure began to level out, but Jack did not let up. He felt so comfortable, so whole, so right, holding her there; he knew this gesture was not just for her consolement. It was for his own, as well: a comfort to the ache of her absence, a salve to the wound of his failed courage. 

A silence grew between them as Jack entangled himself in his thoughts; he mired himself in thinking about all the lost chances, all the times he’d deferred to non-action out of embarrassment and shyness and shame, and how he still labored under the conviction that there was no way for her to feel for him the way he felt for her. 

Surely, he thought, this was what hell was like: being close enough to hold her, touch her, feel her warmth, yet held apart by the inability to tell her the nature of his heart, separated by the barrier of an unintimate relationship. 

And, more literally, by the barrier of the armrest.

“Jack?”

Her voice broke his trance and he blinked, refocusing his eyes on her face. She had opened her own eyes and was gazing back at him, tentative but intent.

“Jack... when we get there... let’s do all that,” she spoke. “But, at the end, how about we just do dinner and a movie?”

His stomach leapt, heart racquetballing around his chest wildly. Before he could even begin to process this new development, she carried on, raising one hand to brush lightly at the shoulder of his suitcoat, her eyes fixed on her hand to avoid the intensity of his face. Jack felt pained; how could she touch him like this, as if she didn’t know what it did to his poor heart?

“It doesn’t have to be anywhere ritzy,” she murmured, picking at a little wayward lint particle on his suit. “I just... would like to, um, be with you. On our own. I think it’d be nice, you know, to have some time to... calm down, right? And be with someone I like?”

Her voice took on an edge of anxious over-explanation as she fiddled with the seam along the edge of his shoulder, and Jack’s hand rose to capture hers, stilling the motion. Both scarcely breathed, barely moved, as he brought her hand back down and held it between them, his thumb following the lines of her fingers delicately.

“I-It doesn’t have to be a date,” she said distantly. “If you don’t want it to be.”

“And if I do?”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Jack barely registered the voice speaking as his own. Whose courage had manifested that? Surely not his own?

But she shuffled closer, somehow, inching her nose against his cheek nervously, and put their held hands together against her chest, where he could feel the softness of her sweater, her breaths rising and falling against his knuckles.

“Then... it can be a date.” 

“Well, then.” 

Jack leaned back, sitting up straight. She seemed confused, her brow twisting to express her uncertainty. Why was he pulling away? Jack soothed her with a quick flash of a smile, and knew how odd he must have seemed to her, his demeanor so abruptly recalibrated.

But something inside him had changed at those words-- “it can be a date” rang in his head like tinnitus, shaking him down to his very core, trembling every tendon and vibrating every vertebra-- and brought out the best in him; the confident, comfortable Jack surfaced from beneath his sea of fear with a gasp, a breath, a grin. 

He took his hand back from her momentarily, straightened his tie, and smiled at her, his face practically glowing golden with all the joy and excitement and disbelief bubbling out of him. 

How could this be?, he wondered to himself. How could everything feel so different, and yet, be no different at all? How could he feel so at home, so equanimous and yet so exhilarated? Jack inhaled a steadying breath, calming his thoughts, then carried on. 

He slipped his large hand around one of hers, lifting it to his lips and kissing her knuckles-- an indulgence he’d never allowed himself before, but savored, relished, adored-- before humming gently, and holding her hand in the air between them, like a gentleman asking a lady for a dance at the cotillion.

“I’d be ever so honored,” he murmured, rubbing the little hillock of her wrist affectionately, “If you would accompany this poor ol’ loverboy to dinner tonight.”

Unwilling to deny himself even one more moment of tenderness, lest his opportunity be fleeting and quickly vanish, Jack again kissed her hand; he wondered if she could feel the depth of his devotion through that kiss, the unspoken promise that this was no minor tryst to him, no passing rendezvous, but the beginning of something much more, something he intended to make last, forever and always, if he were so permitted. 

“Oh, and a movie,” he added, remembering himself. “Dinner and a movie for my girl.”

My girl. The title floated in the air between them, hesitant, but when she smiled at the sound of it, nodding enthusiastically and squeezing his hands with her own, giddy and giggling and beaming so brightly that Jack thought he’d go blind, he felt, at last, relieved. For the first time in what felt like years, Jack breathed a breath of complete and utter relief; she wanted him. The millstone of anxiety had lifted from around his neck: she wanted to be with him.

“Yes, Jack,” she replied, “I’d be very honored, myself, to accompany you.”

Jack found himself utterly speechless; he managed only a disbelieving, thrilled gasp of a sigh, shaking his head as if he thought that the fog would lift and this dream would fade, since it surely could not have been real... and yet, it was. She did not fade.

The two settled into a blissful quiet, watching each other with intoxicated, lovesick, finally-validated expressions; a silent gratitude filled the space around them, shimmering with loving incandescence, and a promise that soon, when finally alone and in the privacy necessary for it, they’d confess how long they’d each been mutually mooning over the other. 

Suddenly, the plane bucked, hitting a patch of turbulence, and Jack tensed: was she going to panic? Was she alright? He reached out, hoping to take hold of her and keep her grounded and comforted, but instead of whimpering, instead of clutching, instead of shrinking, his beloved did something entirely unexpected; the woman at his side laughed briefly, high and clear as the single knell of a bell: the kind of laugh one lets out after bumping into someone, almost self-deprecating and relieved. She held his hand and squeezed tight, as she laughed, then met his eyes as she settled, smiling apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” she explained sheepishly. “I just... with everything, um, between us--” --she gestured a finger back and forth between their chests, giggling slightly-- “--I’d actually completely forgotten we were on a plane.”

Jack couldn’t help himself; he, too, laughed that same self-deprecating, relieved laugh, sighing contentedly.

“Then I guess I did my job, didn’t I, sugar?,” he chuckled, taking her chin in his hand.

He hesitated for a moment, hovering a few inches away from her face as he carefully chose his next words. He made direct, sustained eye contact with her asked his question in a low, soft, serious tone.

“Is it alright if I kiss your cheek?”

After a heartbeat, her expression broke into a wide beam, her eyes lighting with warmth.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Thank you for asking.”

Jack returned her smile, the two of them glowing with an almost phosphorescent affection, and leaned in to gingerly press his lips against the yielding warmth of her cheek. He allowed himself to pause, to drift against her skin for just a breath longer than might have been traditional for a first gesture of intimacy, to luxuriate in the bliss of kissing her, however chastely.

As he pulled back, his hand remained against her chin, keeping her gaze focused on his own, and he could see, clear as day, how flustered and giddy she was at the touch of his lips. Between them, the invisible flower of a promise bloomed: there’d be more kisses to come. That much was certain.

Jack opened his mouth, but a voice from behind overtook him.

“Sir?”

A flight attendant wheeling a large metal cart lined with cups and coffee canteens and cola cans smiled down at the spellbound couple politely, and Jack felt his ears and cheeks flush with red-hot embarrassment. He’d entirely forgotten he was in a somewhat public space; the kiss had wiped his head of any thoughts other than, well, of her.

“Can I get you and your wife anything?,” the attendant asked, tone chipper and genial. She seemed to have no idea what she’d done.

Poor Jack’s heart raced with thrill and fantasy and desire and adoration, a giant smile bursting across his face. Your wife, his mind cheered. Your wife! He refused, entirely, to correct the attendant, and instead looked over at his beloved, beaming like a puppy. 

“Can I get you anything, lovebug?,” he asked, lilting and loving and lyrical. 

He appreciated the way his darling’s cheeks rose in her own coy smile, but appreciated more that she, also, did not correct the attendant. As she silently shook her head to indicate that she needed nothing, his chest swelled with pride and pleasure; no correction came at all. He turned back to the attendant and cordially shook his own head, still grinning from ear to ear.

“I’ll come get you if the missus or I need anything.” He sat up a little straighter at the use of the word ‘missus’. “Thank you.”

As the attendant rolled on, the lovers looked back at each other, but said nothing of what had transpired. Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a contented giggle of a sigh, easing into him.

“We still have--” --she reached over and, playfully, tugged down the sleeve of Jack’s shirt and suit coat, revealing his watch-- “--about four hours of flight left, you know.” 

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement. “And what would you wanna do to fill those four hours, little missus?”

She glanced up at him as he toyed the nickname, smiling with abject affection. Patting his wrist before gently rubbing her fingers up and down the inner, sensitive skin, she chewed her lip in contemplation. Jack watched her, envious that it was not his teeth plumbing the fullness of her lips, tugging so deliciously.

“I think we should get comfy,” she spoke after a moment, “Snuggle up and watch something.”

One of her graceful hands moved forward to tap at the interactive screens built in front of their seats, pulling up a selection of films and television for their perusal. She flicked through the collections page by page, then gestured widely at the screen.

“You pick, Mister!,” she offered, squeezing his wrist. “I wanna see what kind of movies you like.”

Jack smiled down at her as she nudged into his shoulder, cheek squished against his jacket; she looked just as he’d dreamed she would, there, at his side. He leaned a little forward to squint at the screen and flip through the available films, largely disinterested in many of the new releases.

He scrolled until he found a selection of older films, then tapped.

“Sabrina?,” she mused. “I never expected you to be the Hepburn type!”

“Oh, well,” Jack stumbled, a little shy, “If you don’t like it--”

“No, honey, I do!” 

Honey.

His knees felt like the word, gooey and molten and warmed. A saccharine grin lingered on his features as the film began, the two of them settling into their seats and into each other, making micro-adjustments to be as near one another as could be.

As the black and white Paramount logo was overtaken by the names of Bogart and Hepburn and Holden, Jack looked down at the woman on his arm, lost, for a moment, in the depth of his admiration for her. His heart felt as if it had entirely left his body, as if his spirit were high above even the cruising altitude of the plane, and yet he was aware of every tiny physical sensation, every brush of her fingers, every whisper of her breath.

He knew, then and there, early as it was, that he was entirely, achingly, irremediably in love with her.

He’d known for a long time, somewhere in the back of his mind, but had never allowed himself to name it, give it credence, give it power through internal confession. He’d imagined it would have to wither and die inside himself, unspoken and unrequited. But now, with her against him, he could allow himself to know it: he loved her. He would continue to love her.

She blinked and looked up at him inquisitively, having noticed he wasn’t watching the film. She caught his eye, breaking his stare, and smiled, eyes crinkling with mirth.

He nearly burst with love.

And now, many days and weeks and months and kisses and dinners and evenings together and external confessions of love and milestones and anniversaries and moving in together and a ring later, he considers that very morning, on that very plane, leaned against each other across the armrests of their seats and watching their movie on that very small screen, their very first date.

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Summary:  Loki and Evelyn go on a date. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapters: 11/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags:  @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:

I’ve neglected to post 11-12 on tumblr...so since I’ve recently updated, i’ll post everything in one go. so expect two more chapters.

____________

There was a moment where Evelyn thought she would get used to her professor's stunning appearance...but it was on this day that she was proven wrong.

When she exited her apartment, she could see that Loki was waiting for her just below the steps, leaning leisurely against his car.

And lord help her - If she loved how the man looked in suits, his current attire sent her into a tizzy. Forsaking the usual suit jacket, Loki donned a simple black dress shirt that sat snug against his form, with sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His dark slacks fit quite nicely as well, and Evelyn struggled to keep her eyes well above his chest.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one who perused without shame. As Evelyn made her way towards him, she could feel his eyes scanning every inch of her body - and she grew increasingly self-conscious as he continued his silent appraisal.

“You are...the definition of stunning,” he said after a while, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead, “And you smell delightful as well.”

Unsurprisingly, Evelyn felt a heated blush rushing to her face, and she stumbled to reply, “You - you look really good too…” If she was getting this nervous already, Evelyn feared how the rest of the night would fare.

Once they were inside the vehicle, Evelyn started to probe - as subtly as she could, about their destination, but all she received were vague answers.

At first, she expected him to take her out to a fancy restaurant because he seemed to be a ‘posh’ kind of person, but since they were dressed quite casually, maybe that wasn’t the case? She would feel out of her element anyway if he took her somewhere expensive, so she hoped it was at least a comfortable, easygoing place with good food.

And easygoing it was. After driving through the busy streets of Manhattan, Evelyn was pleasantly stunned to see that it wasn’t a fancy restaurant - but a taco bar. Before they even stepped inside, her stomach growled loudly with approval.

Loki laughed at the strange sound, and Evelyn berated her stomach silently, “It seems I’ve made the correct choice, yes? While it isn’t taco Tuesday, I figured you’d still have a craving for it.”

She laughed, surprised he even remembered what she said from that long ago. “I guess that was a dead giveaway that tacos were my favorite…” He smiled, ushering her into the bar with a hand on her lower back, “Indeed it was.”

Once they were inside, it took no time before they were seated and ready to order. Loki reassured her that she could have anything she wanted and not to worry about the expense, so Evelyn happily indulged - though she was still mindful not to choose the most expensive thing on the menu.

While Evelyn thoroughly enjoyed the fanciest looking taco she’d ever eaten, they gradually fell into comfortable conversation. It was almost reminiscent of the times they talked together in his office while he helped her study, before their desires came to light. Now though...the air between the pair was much more intimate.

Loki asked her questions about her life and family, whilst she did the same. He was rather tight-lipped about his own family situation, but relented that he was the youngest of three, with an older sister and brother. Evelyn tried to probe further, but he had managed to divert the conversation her way once more.

“....and I only wanted to shape up my eyebrows, but I ended up shaving off the entire thing! I remember putting on like, six pairs of pants because I just knew my mom would whoop me to the moon and back,”

Loki quirked a brow in query, “Were you attempting to soften the blow?”

“Yup,” Evelyn grinned proudly, “Though I gotta give credit to Candice for that one. I honestly think she loved getting in trouble with how wild she was...”

Evelyn paused momentarily, putting an abrupt end to her monologue. She debated with herself on whether or not to ask a question that had been bothering her for a while, before deciding to just get it out there.

“Can...I ask you something? Just out of curiosity...”

She could tell that Loki was intrigued by the sudden switch in subjects, because he seemed to be watching her facial expressions more carefully than before. He could easily see when she was flustered, and no doubt it must have shown on her face.

Evelyn shimmied slightly in her seat under his gaze, attempting to ignore the butterflies that fluttered within her stomach, “Well...uhm, why do you like me? Like, the actual reason?”

“...I beg your pardon?”

She panicked slightly at his confused expression, rephrasing her question in response, “Oh, well, what I mean is...I know you find me physically attractive...but is there something in particular that drew you to me…? Like, when exactly did you know that you saw me as more than a student?”

Loki seemed to pause entirely. Even after a minute or two, he said nothing - he merely looked at her with a distant expression, as if debating whether or not to tell her what he was actually thinking.

Evelyn frowned slightly at his reaction. ….Was that really that hard of a question?

Before she began to grow antsy, he finally decided to speak, “I...would prefer to answer that question in a more private setting. Perhaps later?”

Evelyn could only nod, her heart in the pit of her stomach. What was so wrong with his answer that he had to say it in private?

She tried not to let it bother her as they finished up dinner and headed towards his car, distracting herself with the sights outside the window as they once again took off into the bustling city.

After driving for around 30 minutes, she noticed that they had left the city, and into a more suburban area. Each house they passed by looked progressively fancier than the next, and she also noticed that his neighbors were few and far in-between each other.

For whatever reason, that observation made her nervous, and she began to wipe the sweat that formed on her hands onto her dress.

“Is everything alright, love?” Evelyn whipped her head to look at him suddenly, slightly startled, “You’re quiet,”

Evelyn reassured him immediately, “Oh, yeah! I’m just a bit drowsy, I almost nodded off a couple times...”

Loki chuckled at that, “We did eat quite a bit, so I wouldn’t be surprised. We’re almost there though, so hold on just a bit longer.”

And, he was right. After making a right turn, Evelyn’s eyes widened at the house that lay in the distance.

They went around a small roundabout that had an immaculately decorated water fountain at its center, before coming to a stop directly outside the house. Tall glass windows on the exterior hinted at the luxury that lay within, with the glittering chandeliers illuminating the marble flooring at the entrance.

“Uh...are you a drug dealer or something?” She asked in awe as he helped her out of the car, her eyes fixated on the impressive building. While it wasn’t a huge mansion by any means, it was still too large for one person to live by themselves. How he could afford such a nice house on a professor’s salary was beyond her comprehension.

Loki turned to look her in the eyes, his face cold and expressionless, "And what if I am?"

He couldn't resist the laughter that bubbled in his chest at her hilarious expression of horror.

Loki flicked her forehead playfully, and she yelped in pain at the sudden attack, "You ask the strangest things, silly girl."

She rubbed her forehead with a pout, remaining silent as he led her into the house by the hand.

If she thought outside was grand, then inside was another story.

It was exquisitely furnished and decorated, with marble floors so clear it felt as though she was walking on glass.

The interior decor was modern with a classical touch, and she couldn't imagine another style that would fit him perfectly.

Loki observed as she took in her surroundings with glowing curiosity whilst guiding her towards the stairs, "When you visit once more, perhaps then I'll give you a small tour. For now though, I thought you'd appreciate seeing the collection right away."

Once more? That was the only thing that stuck out in that sentence to Evelyn, since he said that in a way that left no room for doubt. So he wouldn't mind me coming over again…?

Evelyn mentally slapped herself, trying to get her mind out the gutter. She was really getting ahead of herself.

There isn't a guarantee that anything will happen tonight, so I shouldn't get my hopes up.

…….Wait, I had my hopes up? Oh boy…

From that train of thought, Evelyn knew she was in trouble.

After going up a flight of stairs, Loki made a left into a lengthy, spacious hallway that held only one large door at the end.

Due to a singular light source on the ceiling, the sight itself was slightly ominous, but she tried not to let that bother her.

Well, she tried, but Evelyn couldn't resist clutching his arm.

Loki looked down at her with a smile, freeing his arm to loop it around her waist, " Once we get inside, the lighting will be much better. See,"

When they finally reached the door and he began to open it, Evelyn had to do a double-take.

"When you said you had a collection...I thought you meant like, you know, a small room with a couple of paintings...but sir,"

In her excitement and awe, she stepped further into the wide, spacious room, marveling at the sight before her, "You have a whole museum in your house!!"

The room resembled a large gallery, with white walls and sheen, wooden flooring. There were glass cases that held valuable items of interest, with a considerable amount of paintings that neatly lined all four walls of the room.

Loki laughed, finding her excitement very endearing, "That's a bit of an exaggeration, my dear."

"But...but look!" Evelyn took him around the room eagerly, pointing at paintings of prominent artists she recognized, " You actually have a Bob Ross painting, with his happy little trees! You really weren't lying…"

Loki lifted a brow at that, " You thought I was?"

"...Eh," she brushed that off rather quickly, moving on to the next painting, " Holy nuggets, I love this one!"

He came beside her to look at the piece in question, as she began leaning against the wall to look at the painting at an angle.

"Thomas Cole was my inspo for so long! Especially this painting… just look at those brushstrokes, so precise and confident..."

She was silent for a bit, turning to look at her professor with questioning eyes, "Say...why did you collect art? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were an art history teacher or something."

"I had a lot of time on my hands when I was younger. I did a fair amount of painting back then as a hobby, and developed a small obsession with the arts. Hence, this collection."

He gestured at the space with a careless wave of a hand, " I've long lost interest, though. I barely even remembered I had this room."

Evelyn only nodded, slightly sad at his response, "Oh…”

"Despite that, I've been thinking about adding one more painting to the collection."

She looked at him, intrigued, " Oh? Whose?"

Loki stared into her eyes, his smile widening, "None other than yours."

Evelyn was utterly confused, " Wait, what? What do you mean..?"

He went closer to her, taking her small hand into his own, “It would be an understatement to say that I was captured by your paintings when I visited your workspace. I would be honored to own a finished piece by you - of course, I’d gladly pay any price.”

“Huh!? But- I’m not really a professional, I'm far from good...besides, the walls are all filled up,”

He looked at the painting she was admiring moments before, “You said this painting inspired you greatly, correct?”

Evelyn looked at the painting, then back at Loki, “Yeah..but-”

“Then, I’ll exchange this painting for one of your own.”

At his proclamation, she immediately felt overwhelmed with emotion, “That- what? But that’s worth so much, that wouldn’t be fair at all. There’s no reason to be this nice to me…”

Evelyn couldn’t tell what this man was thinking, was he crazy? He wanted to exchange a master’s work worth thousands for hers, which was still mediocre at best. He was being way too generous…

“You’re thinking too much of it. I simply value your pieces much more,” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them once again, a primitive hunger lurked within the depths of his icy blue irises, “I admire everything about you, and your art is no exception.”

Her heart started to thrum wildly as he came closer, trapping her against the wall. Loki towered over her small form, and she looked up at him with an open mouth, speechless.

“Earlier, you asked why I liked you, and when my attraction began.” He traced a finger down her neck, ghosting towards her cleavage, “Would you like to know now?”

Evelyn gulped, only managing a nod as she stared up at him helplessly.

“It was around a year ago, and you came to me for help for the first time during my office hours. You struggled so much in my class, at the beginning. A shy little thing,”

His voice was growing darker and darker by the second, and the air around them rapidly twisted with his desire, “You were a sputtering mess, apologizing for every little mistake. But when you finally did something right, I praised you. You would smile so brightly when I did, so eager to please me so I’d praise you once more. Such a good girl,”

Loki leaned towards her further, his breath fanning against her cheek, “Tell me, my sweet little pet...do you want me to take care of you?”

It was like he was an entirely different person. This wasn’t the generous, warm man from before. Evelyn should’ve felt concerned at his words, his tone, the situation - but it was like she was in a trance, his words caressing a dark depth within her heart.

Good girl. She didn’t know why, but when he said those two simple words to her, in that deep, velvety voice of his...she couldn’t help but rub her thighs together.

Whatever this was, this feeling right now, she wanted more of it. She wanted him to praise her, to call her his good girl again.

She didn’t know what prompted her to say what she did in the next moment, but the words left her mouth so softly and suddenly before she could process it, “Please... take care of me,”

Loki's lips were on hers before she could even blink. Evelyn released a muffled moan as his tongue plundered inside her mouth, pressing her body against the wall in such a manner that there was no space between them. He ravaged her tongue like a starving beast, and she reciprocated with the same ferocity.

Loki moved a hand towards her lower back, gripping her ass roughly. He gave it a quick squeeze, before lifting a leg in order to bury himself further between them. That action on his part allowed Evelyn to feel his distinct hardness against her sex, and the sensation caused her to whimper quietly in pleasure.

Things were going fast, way faster than Evelyn expected. If they continued along this route, she'd most likely lose her virginity right now, against the wall. While the thought appealed to her in the past while she fantasized about this moment with him, she wanted her first time to be...different. A little less rushed.

"Wait...wait a sec - mmh..!" She attempted to get him to slow down a bit, but his fervent attention to her neck and the slow grind of his hips were getting a bit too distracting.

Perhaps because of how breathless and quiet her words were, he failed to hear her, lost in his own world of pleasure. Finding no other way to garner his attention, she went to tug at his hair, burying her hand in his long, raven locks. She must have pulled harder than intended however, because the man actually growled when she did so, his eyes flying to meet hers.

"Um...can we - can we move somewhere else? Right here's a bit..."

She could see that it took a moment for him to process her words. But when he did, Loki smiled apologetically," You're right, I got carried away," and with elegant swiftness, he lifted her into his arms to carry her out of the room, startling the wits out of the young woman.

"Thankfully, my bedroom isn't far."

____________________

This is happening. It’s really happening…!

She was about to fuck her professor, and there was no going back.

To say Evelyn was nervous would be an understatement. But regardless of her nerves, she had no intention of backing out of this arrangement. She trusted him with her first time and was frankly more excited than anything to see how it would feel.

When they finally reached his room, Evelyn barely had time to inspect the impressive decor before she was promptly deposited on the bed.

Loki was on top of her immediately, occupying her tongue with his own as he palmed her breast, "We are wearing entirely too much clothing, pet," he said once his tongue left her mouth, his eyes even with hers, "Let’s fix that, shall we?"

Wordlessly, he leaned off of her to remove his shirt with expert quickness, leaving Evelyn to gawk at his muscles.

I didn’t know abs could be this lickable…

Evelyn realized she must have been staring too long when she heard a chuckle above her, “Keep staring, and I just might blush,”

His fingers moved to tease the strap of her dress, “ While this dress is beautiful, I would much prefer what’s underneath.”

Before she could even protest, he pulled it down in one swift motion. Evelyn opted to go without a bra since the dress had built-in cups, so her brown, perky nipples immediately met the hungry eyes of her professor.

Out of reflex, her hands immediately went to cover them, her body growing impossibly hot, “ Wait - you could’ve warned me at least-“

Loki dragged her hands away from her breasts roughly, pinning them to the sides of her head, “Don’t you dare hide from me. Not now,” he growled, licking his lips as he locked eyes with her breasts once more, “Fuck...you’re perfect,” he panted heavily, before dipping his head to suckle a nipple into his mouth.

Evelyn didn’t expect that, and she jerked upwards due to the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut. Loki sucked and nipped at the tender bud, all while Evelyn whimpered and squirmed. Her breasts were especially sensitive, and he picked up on this fact rather quickly. Loki proceeded to exploit it, letting go of her wrist to tease the neglected breast with his fingers. He pinched her nipple, causing a shocked gasp to leave the girl's lips.

Loki released her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop eventually, smiling a bit evilly. “My my, so responsive,”

He pulled her dress down fully, leaving Evelyn in just her underwear. She merely laid there, her mind hazy as her breasts ached from residual pleasure.

Loki couldn’t resist fondling them a bit more, “ You have no idea...how much I’ve wanted to touch you like this, with no barriers,” Loki leaned down between the crevices of her breasts, trailing reverent kisses down to her belly button, “My sweet, perfect girl...”

Evelyn’s breathing picked up in anticipation once he reached the hem of her underwear.

She was so unbelievably wet from just his tongue on her breasts, that there was a string of her arousal once he began to remove it.

“Spread your legs for me,” he demanded huskily. Evelyn’s eyes remained closed until she felt a strong grip on her jaw, forcing her eyes to open, “ Eyes on me, pet. And once again, spread your legs for me.”

She gulped at the authority in his voice, his aura exuding severe dominance. Evelyn promptly obeyed, locking her eyes with his own as she hesitantly opened her legs.

“Good girl,” He purred, rubbing the top of her knees affectionately. Evelyn could feel another flood of arousal rushing forth because of those two words once again.

Holy shit, what is this man doing to me?!

Loki bent down, and she watched through lidded eyes as he began to kiss and nip at her inner thighs, inching closer and closer towards her sex. Her breathing turned ragged with excitement, but the devil between her legs decided to take his merry time, never once touching where she needed him the most.

She tried to hold out as long as possible against his incessant teasing, but she began to beg after just ten minutes of his licking and sucking, “Please...please just - ah!” She jolted against his face once she felt his warm tongue lick right up her slit, her fingers twisting against the sheets.

Smiling, he gave her pussy a chaste kiss, “ Your pretty little cunt is so sensitive,” He moved his thumb up and down along her slit, dipping it inside her entrance lightly “ and you get so fucking wet,”

She knew he could curse a lot because of their previous encounters, but man can he talk dirty. Her eloquent, well-mannered professor was a sordid menace in bed, and the thought that she brought out this side of him aroused her greatly.

He removed his thumb from her slit, replacing them with two fingers instead. She was so wet, that they slipped right in with no issue. Evelyn clenched her walls tightly as he curled his fingers, thrusting them in an upwards motion as he sucked at her swollen clit.

“Holy fuh…!” Her words died down as her hand flew to his head, her back lifting off the bed at the sensory overload. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue at a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but writhe, feeling a pressure slowly building in her abdomen.

Loki could tell she was close by her frantic breathing and clenching, so he removed his tongue from her clit to apply pressure to it with his thumb, “You’re doing so good, Evelyn. My good girl,”

“Please...please…” she wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for - but whatever he was doing with his fingers made her feel so good, she wasn’t sure she could take any more of it.

“You’re so close, pet. Let go, cum for me.” And she did. She came on his hands with another curl of his fingers inside her, causing an unexpected scream to rip from her throat.

White appeared behind her eyelids as her eyes twitched shut from her orgasm, her skin twitching and rippling at the sheer amount of pleasure.

Evelyn laid limp, breathless and sweaty against the bed. She felt as though she was floating, not grounded into reality. Opening her eyes slowly, she mindlessly watched as he unbuckled his belt, throwing it aside to rid himself of his pants.

Unexpectedly, he wasn’t wearing any briefs, so his leaking, engorged cock bobbed proudly as soon as he released himself. And goodness did it really hit her. That huge thing was going to go inside of her.

Evelyn let out a small whimper as she stared at his dick, feeling slightly apprehensive.

Loki noticed her nervousness, reassuring her gently, “Shh...relax, it will hurt if you tense,” he paused then as if remembering something. He reached across from her to open his drawer that was beside the bed, pulling out a condom, “While I’d love to fuck you raw, we wouldn’t want a happy little accident, now would we?”

Evelyn would’ve laughed at the subtle Bob Ross reference if she wasn’t so focused on what was to come.

He brought a hand to her leg, resting it on her knees as he took his cock in the other, rubbing it against her entrance, “ Remember, relax.”

And then, he began to push in.

Thankfully, he made sure she was adequately wet enough since it would be her first time, or else it would’ve hurt like hell.

Evelyn moaned mildly in pain, the shock of the intrusion causing her to tense immensely. He paused, massaging her stomach while kissing the tears away from her cheek, “Just a little more, love. You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, the feel of her tight, fluttering walls maddening.

She slowly started to relax under his soothing ministrations, giving him the go-ahead to continue pushing in. And with one more steady push, he was fully nestled inside.

“Fuck…” he moaned almost breathlessly, his eyes fluttering shut at the enveloping warmth around his cock, “You feel like absolute heaven.”

Evelyn was biting her lips hard enough that they could draw blood, so he began to kiss her in a languid manner. She slowly brought her hands around his neck, burying her hand into his silky tresses as she lost herself against his lips, forgetting the momentary pain.

Loki began moving in slow pumps, holding her body against his so that her breasts flattened against his chest. The pain was ebbing away, and pleasure began to spread as he started hitting a particular spot, “You - mmh! You… you can go a bit faster…now...”

Since he received the go-ahead, he picked up the pace, delivering several shallow thrusts at a steady rhythm. The sounds of their skin slapping together filled the room, and Loki could hear she was slowly growing wetter with each thrust, “You had nothing to worry about, little one. See? You fit my cock perfectly, just like a glove.”

It wasn’t long until he started going faster, the pace growing more relentless as time went on. Evelyn started screaming his name repeatedly, her voice growing progressively hoarser, “Loki, Loki! P...please, wait just, - too much, too much! -“

She wasn’t sure she could handle the brutal thrusts of his cock much longer. He refused to slow down, holding her hands above her head as he continued to fuck her into the bed, his eyes glazed with animalistic pleasure.

Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head, and her professor’s sinful voice filtered into her ears, “If you ask nicely like the good girl you are, perhaps then I’ll show you some mercy, hmm?”

“Please...please…”

“Please what, girl. Use your words,”

“Please...sir, please make me come...!”

With that, he released her wrists to thumb at her clit - and Evelyn swore that she saw stars in that very moment, her brain going blank completely. Loki almost cursed once more as she clenched tightly around his cock, the sensation finally bringing him to completion. He groaned loudly as he came, her name falling from his lips as he pulled out, slumping forward.

It took a while for Loki to compose himself before he began to shift his weight, so that she wasn’t crushed beneath his body.

As for Evelyn, the poor thing was worked to exhaustion, and passed out shortly after her final orgasm.

---------------------------

A/N: 

Hope ya'll enjoyed that hefty dose of smut. I know I certainly did. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Please let me know what you think, since I'm still insecure about writing smut scenes. What in particular did you enjoy, or dislike? Again, thanks for reading!