#it's already over twice the length i intended

[highvern]

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?” 

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk. 

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response. 

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job. 

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting. 

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips. 

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas. 

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces. 

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth. 

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him. 

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.” 

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore. 

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later. 

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back. 

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum. 

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward. 

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago. 

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range. 

“Tell me and you can have it,”  Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage. 

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play. 

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit. 

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off. 

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve. 

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily. 

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head. 

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock. 

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point. 

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden. 

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.” 

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely. 

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his. 

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad. 

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.” 

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria. 

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give. 

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

 “Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth. 

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt. 

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat. 

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh. 

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen. 

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood. 

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.” 

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed? 

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force. 

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!” 

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep. 

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re  already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake. 

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch. 

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward. 

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more. 

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! 

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins. 

It takes all the strength you possess  to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him. 

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes. 

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.  

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin. 

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash. 

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal. 

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. 

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water. 

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join. 

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?” 

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…” 

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.” 

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo. 

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.” 

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder. 

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time. 

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room. 

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out. 

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their ���conversation”. 

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping.  He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless. 

Worth it, he thinks 

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[beneathstarryskies]

Word Count: 1,285 Warnings: fem!reader, pentration (p+v), oral (f recieving), fluffy Summary: You reunite with Halsin after the events in Baldur's Gate. A/N: This is just a little thing I had some inspo for

The moon shines over the water, bright and silver as the pieces in your pack. It’s been a long journey, one most ardently taken so you could be reunited with Halsin at last. He’s still awake when you cross the bridge to Last Light Inn. He peers out the window to see you, and a small smile tugs on his lips. 

You hardly recognize the lands that used to be shadow-cursed. Lush greenery grows along the side of Last Light, covering it in vines and flowers. Moss and grass have begun growing between the stonework at your feet. It used to be trodden down by the activity of the Harpers but has since slowed down since the area is in relative peace. 

Halsin comes out the door at the same time you’re approaching it. Without hesitation, he wraps you up in a warm bear hug. You giggle as your feet lift from the ground, and he spins you around. 

“My heart, I’ve watched the horizon for you,” he declares as he carefully sets you down on your feet again. He cups your cheeks gently and smiles down at you with such warmth. 

“I came as soon as I could,” you say before leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. “I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“It’s no matter, my heart. I only thank the Oakfather that you’re here with me now.” 

He reaches down to take your hand in his, and he leads you inside. You’re surprised he’s taken up residence in the inn, but he explains that the Tiefling children had already come to see this place as home so he decided to take up residence here as well while they worked on building their little homestead. 

“There’s a place for you, of course,” he says as he leads you upstairs to his room. “That is if you intend on staying.” 

That is something you’ve thought about at length. Whether you would choose to stay or continue your adventures. However, the decision was made the moment Halsin took you into his arms again. You were home. 

“I would love to stay, and embark on a new adventure at your side,” you say gently. 

“I would like that too,” he confirms before ushering you inside his room. He guides you to sit on the bed, and before you have time to ask he’s kneeling before you. His deft fingers begin undoing the laces of your well-worn boots. He slips them off carefully and sets them aside. Then his warm hands are rubbing your legs through your pants. He can hardly wait to get his hands on you after so long apart, but he knows you’ve been traveling for a while. He wants to assure you’re comfortable before even considering making a proper move on you. “Do you need anything, my heart? A bath? A meal?” 

“A bath would be lovely,” you let out a blissful sigh. “I must smell horrible.” 

He chuckles softly, “If it was day we’d bathe in the lake, but I suppose you’d like me to fill the tub instead for the night?” 

You nod eagerly. As he goes to fill the tub, you stand from the bed to begin to take off your clothes. It feels so good to free yourself from the weight of your armor, and finally stand bare. Halsin uses magic to heat your bathwater, then turns to you. His eyes widen as he sees your body bared to him. He comes closer to you, and his breath is shaky as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Oh, how have I forgotten how beautiful you are? Could it be my memory is not as strong as the vision before me?” he whispers. 

You lean in to kiss him passionately, raising once more onto your tiptoes. You tug at his clothes. 

“Join me in the bath,” you say with the slightest plea in your voice. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” 

You help him out of his clothes, then you allow him into the bath first so you can settle yourself between his legs with your back to his chest. His hands are on your body under the guise of washing you, but the soap in his hands is merely a flimsy excuse to feel you up to his heart’s content. 

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear. 

“I missed you too,” you smile softly before laying your head back against his shoulder so you can see his face. His eyes are fixed on you with unbridled adoration. 

He presses soft kisses on your cheek and along your jawline. His hands are gentle, but reverential, on your skin. He kneads and caresses with care, but he is holding back. You can tell by the way his breath feels slightly heavier and he keeps adjusting his position slyly hoping you won’t feel how hard he is just from washing you. 

Finally, you can’t help yourself anymore. You turn around in the bath and move to straddle his lap. His eyes light up with excitement as you lean in to kiss him deeply. Your tongues rub together in a sensual dance of longing. He caresses your sides gently, and guides you to grind against him. His cock throbs against your core. 

“Should we get out?” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away from the kiss. 

“Oh, yes. I think we should.” 

He helps you out of the bath and leads you to the bed. He’s kissing you deeply as he lays you down, and hovers over your form. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. He awaits your eager consent before continuing. 

His lips travel the curves and dips of your body like a leaf sailing across the river. He moans just from feeling your body again. His heart races in his chest with pure excitement. Finally, after what seems to be a hundred kisses, he spreads your thighs. He lays between them, and you hear a low growl escape his throat as he smells the musk of your arousal. He leans in to drag his tongue along your slit before suckling on your folds. 

“Mm, delicious,” he grunts before returning to his task with increased fervor. You throw your head back against the pillows as he flicks his tongue against your clit. You roll your eyes back with pleasure, and resist the urge to grind against his face. 

The dim candlelight falls over the room, casting intimate shadows on the wall. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are lit up in shades of gold. You caress his cheeks. 

“I need you,” you whine. 

“Then you’ll have me.” 

He sits up on his knees, and gives his cock a few gentle strokes before guiding himself to your entrance. You watch his face contort with pleasure as he slides into you. After so long apart, your walls stretch around his girth as though it’s the first time you’ve taken it. When he bottoms out, you let out a gentle whine. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ready to pull out if the answer is yes. He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you shake your head. 

“No, it’s just been so long.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he lowers his body against yours. He kisses you soothingly as he starts moving slowly, his hips rocking in a gentle rhythm. 

“H-halsin,” you moan.

“Mm, yes?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“It feels so good.” 

“I know, my heart,” he whispers. “I’m already having to hold back.” 

“Don’t worry about holding back,” you giggle before kissing him again. “We have plenty of time now.”

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about old man Price trying lingerie for the first time 18+

Pairing: John Price x Top Male reader

Content tags: mirror sex, humping, toxic masculinity

Series/ One Shot: Old man Price trying…for the first time i,ii

Throughout the course of his life Price has been called various things. Some of them were intended as compliments while others were meant as insults.

However never once in his life has he been called pretty, that was until he met you and it seemed that was the only word you were willing to use for him.

Men weren’t pretty but to you Price was pretty even though he was twice as old as the men you usually dated, with crow feet around his eyes and smile lines that appeared on his face every time he laughed or smiled.

Men couldn’t be pretty but to you Price was pretty even with his lack of experience, tears spilling down his cheeks and drool dripping down his chin as he did his best to take your cock down his throat.

Men were only ever handsome and strong but to you Price was pretty, beautiful even when stark naked and splayed out on your bed, baring his body and heart to you.

So with that in mind he thought you’d find him pretty like this: dressed in a lingerie that appears as red as his face, with a plunging neckline that highlights his pecs, material so sheer it shows his perky nipples and so thin his chest hair pokes through it.

As his gaze trails lower down his body he sees the way his cock leaves a remarkable imprint on the lingerie, frail fabric prickling at his sack and sitting tight around his length.

For a second he wonders if he should turn around, put his clothes back on, and forget that this ever happened.

But he’s already gone through the humiliation of getting the underwear, had even looked the cashier straight in the eyes and lied when he had said the piece was a gift for his girlfriend. It would be a waste not to go through with the plan.

However what he hadn’t expected was for you to walk in so soon, unaware he was standing in the room, and only dressed in skimpy underwear.

“John have you seen my-“ you don’t even finish your sentence, completely freezing in place and mouth falling agape as you take in the sight of the older man.

“Jesus Christ “ you say, sounding like the breath has been punched out of your lungs, not anything like you’re wondering why a man would ever wear something like that and everything like why a man like him hasn’t worn something like this before.

“When -when did you get this ?” You croak out, while carefully approaching the older man.

“I got it the other day, what do you think?”for a second he feels fear creeping up his neck, bile rising up in his throat as his legs ready themselves to run away in shame but then you say the one word you always seem to use for him and relief floods his body.

“Pretty”

“Yeah?” Is all he says, feeling butterflies swarm his stomach as his cock twitches in excitement.

You only hum in response as you hook a shaky finger around one of the shoulder straps, as if to take a better look at the piece before you harshly tug at it, and crash your lips together.

A surprised gasp escapes his lips, body momentarily tensing before he relaxes and returns the kiss.

One of your hands buries itself in his locks while the other hand slides lower down his body to cup his cheek, squeezing the tense muscles there.

“Please please “ he mumbles against your lips, not even knowing what he’s asking for as he tries to pull you impossibly closer to him.

“Oh fuck, look at yourself,” he hears you grunt out, before you swiftly turn him around, pressing your palm down on his lower back and forcing him to bend over and look himself right in the mirror.

When he sees his own reflection in the mirror , he almost doesn’t recognize himself. His hair is mussed, face flushed and mouth agape. For a second he dares think he looks-

“So so so pretty” he hears you say, sounding absolutely entranced as you grind your cock up against the cleft of his ass, pushing the coarse fabric further up the sensitive flesh and creating a delightful friction between his legs.

“Don’t- don’t tease please” he whines out as he arches up, ass pressing harsher down onto your clothed cock.

There’s a ripping sound being heard throughout the room, a brief stinging feeling grazing his skin before the lingerie’s being thrown carelessly onto the carpeted floor.

“ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll buy ah I’ll buy you more- so many more just- ah- just need you right now” you say through labored breaths while sloppily grinding up against his ass.

And as he sees your shaky hands unbuckling your belt through the reflection of the mirror, and hears the curses escaping you lips when you can’t get your jeans off fast enough and feels your hard cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass, he feels pretty, so pretty.

[reorientation]

i might suck off a straight boy from my class for zyns (nicotine pouches lol). i can't buy them yet but he can (i just turned 19 and hes 23). when i hit him up to buy off him, he sells for double the retail value, and triple for anything higher than 10mg. i asked if i get a classmate discount, or if i can buy one at a time. and he said no :(. i ""jokingly"" said id blow him for some, and he said the only people he'd accept that offer from are girls.

so, like a good crackwhore, I told him im actually ftm and it wouldn't be really gay. he didn't believe me until I showed him my pussy on a video call. he said he'd consider it, and responded like an hour later. lmao. he said it sounds kind of gay but if i came to his apartment looking pretty, and wearing something feminine he'd see if he felt gay about it. he went on to say he just thought i was gay since im too feminine to be a guy, but being trans makes more sense. he also asked why i transitioned when id make a really cute girl. im swooning.

the joke is that i can afford to buy the zyns at the price he listed. its inconvenient and annoying but doable. i could also keep trying my luck at local convenience stores and eventually be able to find something, probably. im not even trying to quit that hard. but likeee. not going to lie, he's hot and i was slightly horny already when i hit him up. id suck his dick for free tbh. its embarrassing that im willing to let him use my mouth for fucking nicotine pouches, and because im a perv who likes being misgendered. but ive already came twice, and post nut clarity is not kicking in, so its probably a good idea. will keep you posted.

God, this is fucking funny. You went to such lengths to sell your virginity to a straight man - and you didn't even save any money off of it! Plan B is like 50 bucks!

Let's see, the series of events here is:

Offered to suck a straight guy off for convenience-store drugs

Had to show him your cunt just to get him to consider it

Went over "looking pretty" like a good call-girl

Intended to just blow him and instead wound up getting fucked for the first time and creampied without protection

Went home with a few nicotine pouches, a pussy full of cum, and negative net savings

A savvy consumer you are not! God, FtM girls will take any excuse to slut themselves out.

but ive already came twice, and post nut clarity is not kicking in, so its probably a good idea.

That's the thing: actual men have refractory periods. You can only make sperm so fast, and there's not much biological point in putting another load in a girl when there's a few hundred million fresh sperm already on target. Girls who've pumped themselves full of testosterone don't get that! You can just keep rubbing yourself dumb, convincing yourself that being a stupid whore is a brilliant idea. Just another one of the dangers of trying on hormones that you weren't built for.

Still, this was very funny. Hope you enjoyed the walk of shame home from your extremely-lame-drug dealer's place, and congratulations on the start of a long career of taking cum.

[yuri-is-online]

Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke)

A/N- I am so sorry this is my first post I swear I have real writing ON GOD- EDIT- Made a part 2 with the other guys (x)

Various x Reader

"Human courtship rituals are truly as bizarre as they are fascinating."  Tsunotarou muses as you fight with your sleep deprived brain to remember how you even got on to this topic.  Today hadn't been a good day, Grim had been in a bad mood, Trein had popped a quiz on you, and Deuce had somehow managed to land you both in detention because he screwed up a potion.  By the time you managed to drag yourself back to Ramshackle, you were so tired you were practically falling over, only to find Tsunotarou pouting outside your gate.  You didn’t really have it in you to tell him no, so you’d stumbled around the woods outside your dorm for a few moments talking about… courtship?  Apparently?  You could have sworn you were just talking about some anime Idia suggested you watch.  “I never would have expected watching fish to be such a fundamental step in one’s relationship."

“Yeah there’s a thing in my world about it too.”  you say thinking about a visual novel you’d played once (or was it thirty?) times.  “Some sort of bit about a date where you go to an aquarium and when your person points out fishes they like you jump into the tank to fight them for their affection.” You blink and Tsunotarou suddenly fills your vision, staring intensely into your eyes.”

“Child of man, are you serious about this?”  he asks, and you just blink in response.  You’re pretty sure you are missing something here.

“Uh, yeah?  It was pretty funny I guess.”  you say, extremely confused.  Tsunotarou simply nods with a look of utmost seriousness on his face.

“I see, how very interesting you are child of man.  Fear not, I will make sure you receive the courtship you deserve.”  The only response you can think to give is a blank stare, but Tsunotarou is already gone and apparently on a mission.

“Fully intends to do combat for your hand but gets too distracted”- Malleus

He really wants to do this the right way, if fighting the fish in the aquarium tank will show the extent of his devotion then beloved, you need only point at the offending article and it will be turned to cosmic dust.  But you’re just too ethereal in the aquarium lighting and he ends up completely forgetting his objective in coming here and follows you around like a love struck puppy the entire time.  Whoops, objective failed successfully.

"Claims to know it's a joke, fights anyway"-Jade, Leona

Look, he knows there's no way what Malleus is claiming is even remotely true.  Your world might not have any magic, but it sounds pretty “normal” by human standards.  Fighting fish for someone’s affection?  Un-fucking-likely.  Jade enjoys being a mild inconvenience to everyone around him and Malleus really has just given him the best excuse to be an absolute menace.  He’s responding to everyone’s complaints with a put upon sigh, lamenting what drastic lengths he has to go to for your affection.  Leona’s more the type to directly tease you about it; he shredded Azul’s contracts and left him a crying mess, that’s got to count as beating up a fish right?  He’s just waiting on your response, herbivore.  

“Shrimp heaven really is now!”- FLOYD        

Doesn’t even think twice about it.  He’s already obsessed with picking fights with strong people anyway, now you’re telling him he gets to beat people up and win shrimpy’s affection at the same time?  Floyd’s kicking up his feet and giggling a little too much for anyone’s comfort, almost like he’s misinterpreted fish to mean friends.  Please prefect, Ace is begging you, just give your eel some kisses so he knows you're already his or direct him towards some actual fish before they are fuCkING UNDER ATTACK-

“Claims to know it’s a joke, overthinks anyway”- Jack, Azul, Riddle    

Ok ok look, just hear him out on this one.  Some cultures do place a significance on ritual combat to win a prospective partner’s affection.  Sure he doesn’t THINK you come from a culture like that, but maybe you do and just haven’t mentioned it this whole time and that’s why his obvious not so obvious attempts at flirtation have gone over your head.  Because he wasn’t offering to fight fish for you.  No now that he tries to say that out loud it sounds even more ridiculous BUT WHAT IF- repeat ad nauseum until he timidly (Jack, Riddle), slyly (Azul) just asks you about it and can’t decide who he’s more embarrassed for: Malleus or himself.

“Brings you actual fish”- Trey, Rook, Ruggie      

He has enough of a head on his shoulders to realize Malleus is probably misinterpreting something that was meant to be funny, but hey, it’s given him an idea.  For Rook, the idea of hunting wild game to provide you with nourishment is an idea he’s toyed with more than once.  If Roi du Dragon deems him worthy of advice, the least he can do as an appreciator of beauty is take it.  Trey’s already a fan of puns and dad jokes, and he knows A LOT of ones about fish.  Probably invites you over to help him bake it with the excuse of prepping for an unbirthday party and shamelessly teases you the whole time.  Ruggie’s the only normal man here I’m sorry to say, he just gets the idea to take you fishing as a date.  He gets to spend time with you AND supplement his diet, it’s a win-win situation.

“COMPLETELY ignores the fish thing and rags on your sleep schedule”- Vil

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed spudling.  Really you need to be taking better care of yourself, how else are you supposed to blossom into the beautiful flower he knows you are if you aren’t getting those full 8 hours honey?  Tells you to be thankful he isn’t being unreasonable while he’s waltzing through your dorm cursing every energy drink he can get his hands on.  He will brute force your circadian rhythm back into shape so help him GOD.

[pparadiselost]

give and take.

michael kaiser x fem reader kaiser wants to fuck you in his robes. warning(s): nsfw, mention of sexual transaction, light degradation, orgasm denial minors do not interact.

michael kaiser is a man of luxury. you sometimes think that the life of a pro soccer player isn’t that far off from the lives of the reality tv royalty on your screen, seeing how kaiser practically has everything served hand and foot to him whenever he isn’t on the field playing. you know he works hard to have what he does, but it’s hard to not think that he isn’t that far off from a spoiled child sometimes. 

“stupid girl.” he leers down at you, sizing you up with that horrible appetite of his. your stomach twists with both fear and anticipation when his lips break out into that sadistic smirk of his. “what makes you think you can go around touching my things?”

his soft robes flutter out underneath you like wrapping paper undone, leaving your naked body exposed to his greedy eyes. you can’t meet his gaze, your back pressing into the bed as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“first you can’t keep your hands off of me.” he nips at your neck with his teeth, and he makes sure it hurts you a little. “and now you’re walking around the house wearing my bathrobe like it’s yours.”

“it looked comfortable,” you protest. you pout at him, and the bed dips as he slots himself in between your bare thighs. you can feel the ripple of his strong legs as he hums under his breath. his hands hold onto your hips, caressing the curve of your body as he admires your exposed form. even though he’s going through the trouble of pretending to scold you, he enjoys this back-and-forth.

he wanted to fuck you the moment you waltzed out of the bedroom with nothing but his robes on you, the low neckline exposing the swell of your breasts to him and your bare legs making his dick grow hard just at the thought of feeling you up. you were wearing it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like the luxury he brought home was simply something that was meant for you.

you’re cheeky. even if you don’t intend it fully, he likes that about you.

“mmm. i wonder if you’ll say the same once i’m done fucking you in it.” his cock rubs against the inside of your legs, and a low whimper rises from your chest. “bet you’d look cute. my stupid, stupid darling, all fucked out on my cock, begging for my forgiveness on top of my robe… that would make you think twice about taking my things.”

you shudder when his dick slides right up your slit, his tip catching against your swollen clit. kaiser knows exactly what he’s doing to you. he knows that slutty cunt of yours is probably drooling over the thought of taking his thick cock, your insatiable hole only ever happy when you’re stretched out and overstimulated on his dick. 

he can’t blame you. kaiser’s not that different from you in that he likes you best when you’re sweet and obedient to him, pussy overrun with his cum and mind overrun with love for him. 

you hiss when you feel him line himself up, his cockhead pushing through the resistance to enter you. he takes his sweet time, thoroughly savoring the feeling of your cunt latching itself onto his length. you stretch out so nicely around him, walls squeezing and rubbing up against his sensitive organ like you were made to take his cock. kaiser adores spoiling you with that disgustingly big paycheck of his, but there’s nothing he loves more than spoiling your pussy with his cock.

he groans, still grinning down at you. “fuuuuuuuuck, darling- you’re squeezing me like a fucking virgin-”

it burns so good. it hurts, his cock always just a bit too big for you to take comfortably, but when his thighs meet your ass, you can’t help but moan. he hasn’t even started thrusting, yet you feel so full. you swear you can feel him in your stomach, your pussy already pushed to its limits only from him putting it in. your fingers curl into the rich material of his robes, and kaiser can’t stop staring down at you with that idiotically possessive smile of his.

you look perfect. your eyes are blown open wide, mouth curling into a round ‘oh,’ your thighs perched around his hips, your slutty tits just within reach. but the cherry on top is the sight of your pussy taking him in, his cock splitting you in two. 

he bucks his hips into you, and you jerk back into the bed with a harsh cry. “w-wait, not so fast…! ‘t hurts- you’re too big…!”

“take it,” the blond orders. a hand flies at your neck, gripping your throat and pressing down. you sputter and choke as your airflow is cut off, leaving you squirming and at the boy’s mercy as he starts to set up a pace that’s too rough, too much for your unprepared cunt. “you should have thought twice about wearing my things if you weren’t prepared to take this much at the very least.”

he watches you to struggle, your senses fighting for air while your lower half sucks him, your hole unintentionally clenching up around him and fucking his cock deeper into you while you struggle for your next breath. he waits with calculated precision, waiting for the moment your eyes glaze over and your body starts to go limp before he loosens his grip on your throat, granting you his generous mercy to suck in another shaky inhale.

he knows you love being manhandled like this. your pussy’s long been broken in by his cock, having grown too used to his size and his roughness, only being able to cum from being used by him. your cunt refuses to let his dick go, making lewd wet noises ring throughout the room while your slick lubricates him. you make it too easy for him to have fun fucking you. no matter how much you whine and try to fight against him, your cunt’s all too ready to do however he feels like fucking you. 

and you take it like how he says you’re supposed to. he revels in the way your pussy won’t stop fluttering around him. it only takes a few more rounds of him choking you and leaving you scrambling underneath to know that the arousal mounting deep in your gut can only take so much more. he can feel the way your cunt gushes around him, and despite all the fun kaiser’s having in watching you struggle to breathe, he knows better than anybody else how good you’re actually feeling.

your moans melt into slurred words and then feeble noises. 

“that’s my darling,” he mocks. “this is how you should always be. this is all you’re good for. if you want me to buy you all these expensive things and keep you by my side, you have to pull your weight too. there’s nothing like a cock hungry bitch to keep me motivated, you feel? someone has to make all that hard work worth it for me.”

you clench up around him. he chokes back a bitter laugh, feeling your rapid pulse underneath his hand. your orgasm is approaching dangerously and quickly, the asphyxiation and the inhuman pleasure overriding every other thought in your cloudy mind. you can barely bring yourself to think about anything other than kaiser’s thick fingers wrapped around your throat and his cock ramming into your horribly aroused pussy.

he knows that too. he hasn’t let a single detail escape him. the way your mouth twitches, the hot tears that threaten to spill over your dainty lashes, the terribly alluring way that your body seems to dance for him on top of his dark robes. part of him wonders if you’re heaven-sent, a soulmate crafted just for him, but on the off chance that you aren’t, he marvels at how satan himself has worked overtime in creating someone so deafeningly alluring.

you drive him insane. he throbs inside of you, and if it weren’t for his own stubbornness, kaiser swears he would have cum right there and then. 

you need more. not much—just a tiny bit more. you want him to choke you a little harder, fuck into you a bit rougher, a bit deeper. your body shakes and quivers violently, and an animalistic moan threatens to rip from your mouth. there’s something about kaiser that makes you act like this, some kind of mindless sex doll that doesn’t care for anything other than having your cunt ruined to hell and back by his cock.

he lets his fingers loosen up again, and when sweet, sweet oxygen floods your windpipe, you cry out to him. “‘m so close- michael, please- wanna cum, let me cum, please…! need it, need it so bad-”

“hmmm?” he quips coyly. “is my baby close? do you want to cum?”

you nod as fast as you can. “yes! yes, yes, please let me cum! wanna cum on your cock, wanna feel good on your cock!”

kaiser thinks about indulging you momentarily. you’re so cute, that prideful facade of yours completely broken and worn down into nothing, your chest heaving as you try to beg for him in between shaky breaths. even as his thrusts shallow slightly, you cunt won’t stop milking him voraciously, determined to feel every inch of him buried inside of you. you’ve always been so good for him, always letting him do as he pleases, always being the good girlfriend cheering him on, always ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice if he so much asked for it…

but that would be too easy.

he pats your ass twice, and he laughs loudly. you blink up at him curiously before he yanks himself out of you fully. he lets go of you too, practically pulling himself off of you. your body responds to it as if ice water had been splashed on you, your body suddenly feeling deprived and empty without kaiser’s dick stuffing your cunt. shock settles onto your body before you can respond, and your eyes widen up at him in disbelief.

“wh-,” your voice sounds so broken and lost. “kaiser, wait…! no, no, i was so close! why’d you do that-? what the fuck??”

your pussy throbs, frustration clawing at your chest as your foggy mind tries to piece through the pounding in your gut. it hurts, you want to cum so bad, and him leaving you unfinished makes you want to melt onto his clothes and cry. your hand instinctively snakes down in between your thighs to rub at your clit. you know you can’t get off as well without his cock, but you’re desperate enough to feel anything. 

he grabs your wrist, letting out a quiet “tsk, tsk” at you. “poor thing… did you really think i’d let you get anything that easily?”

you squirm weakly underneath him, not even having the proper energy to fight him off. your pussy flutters and shakes, wanting to be stuffed with something again in order to get rid of the heat swirling incessantly in your core. you’re near tears, overwhelmed with the carnal need to cum, and all kaiser’s doing is ruining your orgasm while laughing down at your pathetic form. 

“do you want it that badly? enough to be acting like this?” kaiser licks at your eyelids, feeling the salty taste of your tears bloom on the tip of his tongue. “i knew you were a cockslut, but i didn’t think you’d be that desperate for my cock… does it really feel that good?”

you throw your head back, crying exasperatedly as his lips keep pressing at your skin. all over your now tear-drenched face, your neck, eventually claiming your mouth in open kisses. he pins your hands down to the cool silken material of his robes, clambering on top of you as he drinks up the sight of you all broken down.

“if you want it so bad, then show it to me.” his blue eyes twinkle like the devil’s. “nothing comes for free in life, darling.”

[spnandtvdudeservedbetter]

Klaus Mikaelson NSFW

klaus mikaelson x reader smut in  imagines/headcanon format

Reblog please!!

 minors dni, it is your knowledgeable decision to read content made for adult audiences; you’ve been warned.

FERAL. ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL. 

mans is growling when he enters you, the reverberations from his throat ricocheting through you. 

he’s a bit rough for sure, probably goes as far as slapping you when he’s mad. 

Oh how he adores every inch of your body, he’ll lick, kiss, and suck at it just to hear the sounds you make. 

Mans loves your thighs he’ll beg to be between them whenever he can. 

And the way this man uses his tongue (GOD DAMN) it’s obscenely devilish the way he gently swipes and flicks his tongue over your folds. 

He’ll fuck you in the art studio, door open; skin  very audibly slapping against skin, his hand wrapped around your throat as he thrusts into you hard enough that the table almost snaps as you both climax. 

this man loves to watch your face as you come, he’ll ensure he sees your eyes as he brings you over the edge. 

He bought a mirror to put at the end of your bed so he could watch you come undone with just his fingers. “You like that sweetheart, you like my fingers?” You’d whimper wanting to lay your head against his shoulder but he’d use his free hand to force your head up placing his hand on your throat as he’d pick up his pace inside of you with his other hand. 

“Is my pretty whore gonna come? Is she gonna come on my fingers hmm?” He’d say expectantly as you’d cry out helpless as the pleasure overrides all of your senses. He’ll playfully slap your face; your body pushing you forward “what? Can’t talk? Are my fingers too much for you? Do you wanna come pretty one, hmm?” 

At this point he’s using his vamp speed fingering you, “Nik please.” you cry.

“What sweetheart ? What do you want?” He says tilting your chin so you and him can have eye contact in the mirror. He gives you fake pity eyes. 

“Make me come please, I need you.” You whine

“I know lovely,”  he’d smirk before pulling his hand out of you, forcing his hand in your mouth before bending you at the waist, undressing himself and thrusting inside your dripping cunt. 

Klaus mikaelson has a breeding kink. You cannot tell me otherwise. There is no way he doesn’t get off on the idea of filling you up with his cum like all day. 

“Nik. Please.” You moaned as he slammed into you. 

“Shh, love; let me breed you like the good little slut you are.” He huffed, his hand wrapped around your throat as picked up his already bruising pace. 

“Nik, please; deeper I need-“ he took your breath away in one motion of his body, lifting your leg onto his shoulder, he began thrusting deeper and deeper t his length hitting your sweet spot over and over.  Your walls clenching; intending to milk him dry. 

“Oh sweetheart, your body just craves my hybrid cock doesn’t it? So perfect. So fucking precious.” 

“Nik, please cum inside me. I want to feel you, all of you.” You moaned as you came. 

“Oh sweet love.” Klaus growled. 

- Klaus especially, whenever you badmouthed him or put yourself in a compromised position. He’ll make sure to either fuck you until your a crying weeping mess or mouthfuck you all he pleases. 

AND IF HE CHOOSES TO MOUTHFUCK YOU (LAWDD) 

Baby you won’t be speaking for days. 

he’ll pin you by your throat against a wall, door he doesn’t care. Tell you to take your clothes off and when you do it too slowly, he’ll rip them off for you, slapping you twice for “wasting my time sweetheart.”

“Get on your knees.” He growls, hybrid eyes shining. 

You obey gulping as you undo his belt and pants, raising your eyebrows in shock at how big he is. 

He’ll hum waiting for you to lick his shaft, stroking whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth before sucking him and taking him further. 

that’s when he’ll take control. He’ll grab the back of your head forcing you to become nose to pubic bone. 

“You’ve.  been.  a.  very.  naughty.  girl.”  He’ll say pulling your head back and forth on his cock  with each word. 

“ If you need a break or can’t breathe, tap my leg three times, understand lovely?”

A muffled “yes.” Is all he needs before he thrusts into your mouth making sure every inch of himself is down your throat.

[jeannineee]

Would you write something nsfw, sneaking off with Cassian at Starfall because you can’t wait till you get home and he’s trying to keep you quiet with his hand over your mouth so the others don’t hear?😅

Sneaky

Cassian x Reader

a/n: going to be making another bingo, once I get through my requests!! Stay tuned!!

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Cassian said as he eyed your figure again, taking his time to admire your dress, and the way it hugged you in all the right places.

“Don’t be dramatic, General,” you teased, linking your arm with his as the two of you made your way to the balcony, where your family and friends were celebrating Starfall.

Cassian swallowed thickly. “Don’t call me that.”

You grinned, turning to face him as people danced and conversed around the two of you. “Why? Can’t handle it, General?”

Cassian’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. “Keep testing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You mock-pouted. “Sorry, General.”

Before you could blink, Cassian grabbed your arm, practically dragging you away from the balcony, and into the townhouse. You’d barely made it around the corner, and into the empty hallway before Cassian backed you into the wall, his body flush against your own.

Cassian pressed his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily. His large hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips, kneading your ass. His hardened length strained underneath his pants, pressing against your stomach as his tongue dominated your mouth.

“Brace your hands on the wall,” Cassian ordered suddenly, turning you around roughly. You did as he said breath hitching as you heard him working the zipper of his pants.

“Cass, we can’t—what if someone hears us?”

You could practically feel the shit-eating grin on his face as he said, “You’ll just have to keep quiet.”

Whatever protest you had on your tongue disappeared as he began lifting your dress, hands trailing up the back of your thighs. He squeezed your ass, murmuring to himself about how nice it looked. He lifted your dress over your hips, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he teased his cock through your folds.

“Well get on with it,” you muttered, half-desperate, half afraid of someone walking in.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, sweetheart,” Cassian replied cockily, before sheathing himself inside you in one thrust.

You bit back a moan, whimpering as he set a brutal pace. Cassian’s grip on your waist was bruising, and he nipped at your shoulder to stifle his groaning.

“Wanted to fuck you like this all night,” he hissed into your ear, angling his hips to hit that spot that made you see stars. “Wanted to feel you wrapped around me.”

You moaned louder than intended, to which Cassian brought a hand over your mouth. “Be quiet,” Cassian warned, his tone of voice causing your walls to flutter around him.

The sound of the back door opening snapped you out of the moment, but Cassian didn’t relent.

“Keep quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured breathlessly, hand still clamped over your mouth. “Wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show.”

You were already close to your release, whimpering helplessly against his hand. Cassian knew it too; the way your legs were shaking, your cunt tightening around him.

“Think you can come before whoever is out there sees us?” Cassian taunts, his breathing ragged as his own peak draws nearer. “Or maybe you want them to see, hm? Want them to see how well you take my cock. How pretty you look when you come for me.”

His words were your undoing. Your cries of pleasure were muffled against his hand, the only thing keeping you from sliding to the floor being his grip on your waist.

“That’s it. Fuck, so good for me.” Cassian cursed as your cunt milked him, hips jerking as he spilled into you.

After the two of your caught your breaths, Cassian gently eased out of you, pulling your dress back down before tucking himself away. You turned to face him, holding his shoulders for stability. You weren’t sure if whoever came inside saw the two of you, but you also weren’t sure that you cared.

“You alright?” Cassian asked gently, smoothing your tousled hair.

As soon as you nodded, the two of you linked arms once again, heading back out to the celebration. The first few faces to greet you were Mor, Rhysand and Feyre.

“You seem a bit wobbly, y/n,” Mor said, feigning innocence.

“I—I pulled a muscle, training this morning,” you sputtered, cheeks flushing.

“You know we can smell you, yes?” Rhys asked teasingly, arching a brow. Feyre smacked his shoulder, and your blush deepened as you turned to glare at Cassian.

Cassian grinned shamelessly.

[mrcowboytoyou]

Star Trek: The Fotonovel

So TOS fotonovels are a thing that exists. If you've never heard of them- they're comics composed of stills of the show episodes. A couple of the first six movies were also made into fotonovels BUT they're both a little different than the ones based on TOS episodes and I will get to them in due time.

Right off the bat there are a couple of things that need to be said. For one, why do these exist? Well I imagine they made for a good way to consume your fave episode without having to wait for it to come on TV again. With that in mind, these fotonovels work perfectly. They're very true to the episodes with some exceptions. These differences come from the fact that these aren't comics drawn based on an episode, they just take stills directly from the show and the show was not intended to be read/viewed in this way.

Some things cannot avoid being abridged or compressed in favor of this new format but for the most part this is never really distracting and nor does it take away from the reading experience. After all, it's supposed to be a very detailed reminder of the episode you already know, so you can just relive it with the pictures.

Additionally, sometimes the fotonovels have extra lines and these are mostly found in the way of thought bubbles the characters have. Overall they're very charming but don't have a lot of utility now a days. I own some because I have problems.... They make up almost a fourth of my ST TOS book collection.

If you are interested in them my general thoughts are that the ones made from the episodes are really well done for what they are. They're also basically just some of the most popular episodes from the show using only episodes from the first two seasons. They're delivered in their own order adhering to neither the release of the show nor its intended release.

TITLES (ones i own)

The City on the Edge of Forever

Where No Man Has Gone Before

The Trouble With Tribbles

A Taste of Armageddon

Metamorphosis

All Our Yesterdays

The Galileo Seven

A piece of the Action

The Devil in the Dark

Day of the Dove

The Deadly Years

Amok Time

Star Trek: The Motion Picture Photostory

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan Photostory

Now, you'll notice I said that the ones made for the episodes are good, and so far I have been sure to separate the ones done for the movies. This is because there's a bit of a quality drop.

For starters, they kept them the same length as the fotonovels of the episodes. Right away that presents a pretty big quandary because the movies are over twice as long. So if you're looking for something that adds to the experience of seeing the movies, these last two fotonovels will not do that- rather they will take away. A lot of scenes just don't make it into them and neither of them are adding from the novelizations either.

And then we have their page quality. All but one of these have shiny, coloured pages. Wrath of Khan is unfortunately in black and white and not even composed like a comic but is rather movie stills with accompanying dialogue. That's sort of like a massive let down given how big of a deal that movie is.

I intend to really get into the nitty gritty with each of these- especially the movie adaptions.

And, if you're worried about the loss of homoerotic subtext- you're all good... plus its just a tad funnier this way.

[highvern]

Secret Games

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x f!reader

Genre: angst, smut, 18+

Warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, penetrative sex, toxic relationship

Length: 1.7k

Note: i cried writing this. the most toxic piece ive ever written but sometimes fic is the best place to work out issues lmao. originally inspired by girlfriend - avril lavigne but i took it and made it a lot worse. thank you @gyuswhore for being the best beta in the world

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Vernon is convinced the entire universe is playing a practical joke on him. It has to be. Vernon would never cheat on his girlfriend, wouldn’t even entertain the idea, and if someone told him a month ago he’d be where he is now, he’d take them to the hospital for a CT scan. 

But a month ago he hadn’t met you, and now Vernon feels like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth.

He loves Olivia. She’s his soulmate, his favorite person, the girl he told his mom was the one since they started dating when he was a junior in college. Four years together and never once did he question if she was the person he wanted to be with.

Until you.

The only person to blame was himself. Getting caught up in the attention of the newest addition to the friend group, failing to ignore longing looks or sideways glances, reacting to your not so subtle touches. It didn’t matter if his girlfriend was sitting in his lap or she was nowhere to be seen, you seemed to zero in on him the moment you entered the room.

From the first night in the smoky club, you had him in the palm of your hand. Dancing on another man while your eyes never left his. Watching him over the mystery man's shoulder, while Olivia pressed her front to his. Pretended the body under his palms belonged to you, the lips pressed to his neck were yours. 

Something passed between you two that night and since then every waking moment of Vernon’s existence revolved around how shitty of a boyfriend he became when put to the test.

But he’d been better lately. Avoiding nights out where you might be lurking, urging his girlfriend to have as many girls’ nights as she wants, hoping she might be slipping the same way he was. But Olivia didn’t look at anyone the way she looked at him. She’d never betray him, never think twice about another man even when they flirt with her out in the open like her boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to her. 

That knowledge only makes the truth harder to swallow. 

The beginning of the end starts in a small hall closet at Soonyoung’s apartment. Everyone came over to celebrate his recent promotion. Several rounds of drinks later, the subject of celebration insisted in a game of hide and seek. There weren't many options to hide almost twenty bodies but alcohol has a way of soothing practical concerns.

Mingyu’s voice boomed through the apartment, jumping into action immediately and sending bodies scurrying for cover. 

Vernon pulled the closet door tight, praying Jun’s attempt to hide behind a lamp and Jeonghan half sticking out from under the couch would buy him enough time to avoid capture.

He could still hear the older man counting when the door opened. A sliver of light cuts across his eyes, casting the body pressing into the space in shadow. For a split second he thinks its his girlfriend, already laughing with childish glee at being so close.

But then Vernon realizes the person pushing in is you.

“Ready or not!”

Vernon tries to move back as far as he can into the wall but the bite of the shelves into his spine prevent more than a few inches of space between you. The door barely manages to click shut in time for footsteps to trample by, Mingyu’s laughter bleeding through the wood. 

In the darkness, Vernon finds a sudden awareness of your body. The roar of blood in his ears does little to drown out the sound of your breathing. Painfully measured breaths that stop every time someone shuffles by on the other side of the door. The heat radiating off your back across the inch of space between your bodies, a ghost of the real thing.

A loud bang makes you both jump, and with the limited space you end up in flat against Vernon’s chest, his arms around your waist to steady you. He knows you can feel his heart pounding. Not from being caught in such a silly game but from the proximity of your ass to his crotch; bodies firmly suctioned against one another. 

He tries not to react when you wiggle against him in an attempt to create more space. Vernon is desperate for you to ignore the hard curve of his pants, rising with each movement, each inhale of your perfume. 

“Vernon?” you call. “I said you're stepping on my foot.”

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Wait, let me just,” you whisper back.

At that moment, all of his defenses crumble. Chest to chest, your breath brushing against his ear, Vernon knows it’s futile to fight what he’s feeling. Your hands skating down his chest confirm it, rocketing his heart into a tailspin. 

He wants you.

And the way you look up at him, with lazy blinks and a drunk smile, tells Vernon you want him too.

A flush makes its way up his neck and he’s thankful for the darkness you're both absorbed in. The thought of all the others beyond the space you two occupy isn’t a blip in his mind. Vernon doesn’t want you to see what an obvious effect you have on him; even if the evidence is digging into the softness of your stomach.

A pass of your lips against his jaw scorches the flesh. Barely a second of contact; simple, chaste. But the imprint will stain his consciousness forever. Each lave of your tongue against the column of his throat forces him deeper into the pits of hell.

The sting of our teeth precedes an airy whine, “Vernon.”

His head drops back at the sound of his name on your tongue again. He wants to taste, to suck the words out of your mouth while his hands force it from your lips over and over again. 

Just as he’s about to, the door knob jiggles.

“Y/N, Vernon! We know you’re in there! We caught everyone else.”

Splitting apart, the warm light from the hall floods the tight space. Stumbling out, Vernon shoulders past you, past his friends, to where Olivia is waiting with a knowing gaze. He can’t look at her. Can’t look at his friends all laughing drunkenly, declaring you the winner 

Despite the look of absolute disappointment Olivia appraises him with, she doesn’t object when his hand circles her wrist and Vernon tugs her through the front door.

—

Vernon tries to bury what he felt in that closet in his girlfriend’s body. Tries to remember how much he loves her, wants to be with her.

Neither of them seem to be fully present. He can feel it in her body, the way she stiffens under his hands like they freeze her muscles solid. The rasps of Olivia’s half hearted moans churn his stomach, tying knots over and over again until he thinks he might be sick. 

They’ve been knocked off their axis by something, someone. The practiced ease of their bodies is nowhere to be found. She’s a step ahead and he’s a step behind but rather than stop and talk about it like they usually do, they both press forward as if it’s normal.

Who they’re pretending for, Vernon has no idea. Each other? Themselves? All the people who’ve watched their relationship bloom over the years? It doesn’t matter. He can feel years of love turning to dust and he can’t bare to watch.

Thoughts of you break the dam in his mind. How you felt under his hands, your lips against his skin, how you’d taste on his tongue. What sounds you’d make if no one interrupted what was just over the edge in the closet. 

The mirage of you, head thrown back in bliss as you take his cock rockets him to the end. Eyes cinched shut, imagination running rampant. It’s you underneath him, skin sticking to his, nails raking down his spine. It’s the smell of your shampoo still lingering in his nose as he buries his face in Olivia’s neck and loses himself in the motions. 

Vernon doesn’t realize he cums with your name on his lips until Olivia’s sobs reach his ears.

–

You shudder against the freezing wind, puffs of smoke washing away as soon as they exit your nostrils. A bile of shame and regret burns the back of your throat; something not even the sting of liquor is able to drive away. But that won’t stop you from drinking straight from the bottle you nabbed from Mingyu’s hand before running outside.

Maybe it's the weed or the booze but you’ve never felt so empty. A bitter hollowness, rotting you to the core. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, prickling in the frigid winter air. The cacophony of street noise falls on deaf ears as you replay the events filling you with misery.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Flirting with Vernon had been Olivia’s idea. A friend helping a friend. She wanted to test his loyalty. Begged you to help her assuage her doubts about their relationship. Vernon’s lack of reassurance, her belief that he’d leave her for someone else. All you were supposed to do was smile and make bedroom eyes and see if he’d cave. When that didn’t work, she told you to step it up; looks turned into touches, and flirty comments turned into late night texts where she told you exactly what to say to have him wrapped around his finger. 

And when that didn’t work, she shoved you into the closet with her boyfriend to see what’d take place in the dark, away from prying eyes.

Olivia got what she thought she wanted in the end. A nod from you was all the confirmation she needed as her boyfriend whisked her out the door. 

No one else seemed to pick up the tension trickling out of the closet. They were all so eager to believe that Vernon and Olivia were in love; the type of couple who you aspire to be like, so wrapped up in one another that the thought of them separated made no logical sense. Why would Vernon even consider someone else? The thought he’d do anything to jeopardize such a clandestine pairing wasn’t even a thought in the horizon.

The buzz of your phone knocks you from your stupor. A humorless huff of air sighs through your nose as you silence the fourth call in the last ten minutes. Barely a second for the same name to pop up again.

Incoming call… Vernon Chwe

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @ourdawnishotterthanourday

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[marmorafarms]

Us Forever

Well, looks like the results said that I should write a Part 2 to My King! So here you all go!

MINORS DNI

Rating: Explicit

Paring: Labru

Word count: 2259

A/N: Kabru is trans in this fic!

You can find it on ao3 or read down below!

Ever since their kiss, things had been different between the king and his adviser. Laios was constantly consumed in thoughts about it, thinking about the way Kabru had tasted on his lips. Everything about it had been wonderful, and he kept wondering when the next kiss would be. But annoyingly enough, Kabru didn’t seem to be on the same wave length as he was.

Laios wasn’t sure if he was just bad at flirting, or if Kabru was intentionally brushing him off, but he intended to find out. Somehow he would get a second round in, even though Kabru was practically running away from him every time they met up. The next time he’d be alone with Kabru would be after their meeting with Yaad. Laios groaned internally. It would be another meeting about marriage, he was sure of it. What would he even say? That he didn’t want to get married because he wouldn’t be able to kiss Kabru again if he did?

That was his new reasoning anyway. Kabru had been so passionate, so wonderful. But if Laios got married, they wouldn’t be able to do that again. He would never do that to his wife, and Kabru would most certainly not approve of such a thing. So marriage was off the table.

Unless…

Could he marry Kabru?

That was certainly a thought. But would Yaad approve? Yaad had wanted someone who could bear him heirs. Would Kabru want do that? Laios knew a thing or two about Kabru’s personal life, but he had never asked if bearing a child was something that his dearest friend would actually be comfortable doing. And he would never force him into doing something he didn’t want.

Laios was lost in thought as he walked into the meeting room, sitting down at the head of the table. He barely even registered when Yaad, Marcille, and Kabru walked in. Marcille had to say his name twice before he looked up.

“Oh, hey there,” Laios said, and Marcille sighed.

“You should really pay more attention to your surroundings. What’s got you so deep in thought?” she asked.

“Oh uh, nothing,” Laios said. But even as he said this, his eyes betrayed him and flickered over to Kabru over on the other side of the room, chatting merrily with Yaad.

“Well ‘nothing’ is a little too busy talking to see you staring, but I’d suggest you’d pop your eyes back in. Yaad’s going to talk to you about a Queen again,” Marcille said.

“I know…” Laios grumbled.

Kabru walked over, sending a smile Laios’ way. His stomach fluttered, feeling warm inside at the pleasant look on the other man’s face. Yaad settled down in a chair as well, and Laios shifted uncomfortably. Now that Yaad was sitting down, he knew that he was about to get lectured.

“Laios, we all here to tell you that the time has come for you to find a bride,” Yaad said. “I know you have expressed that you don’t want to marry, but this time I must put my foot down. I have gathered the names of several eligible women from across the continents for you to choose from.”

“Wait hold on!” Laios said, looking horrified. “You’re going to make me marry someone I don’t know? Someone who doesn’t know me? I can’t do that!”

“That’s how it was done in my time,” Yaad said. “Arranged marriages aren’t inherently bad.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want that!” Laios said, frustrated. “I already had one of those once, I don’t want that again!”

“Laios. We need to get this moving, you can’t stay single forever. The kingdom cannot handle this.”

“But…!”

“But nothing,” Yaad said, pulling out some papers. “I have here several pictures of the women along with a few paragraphs about each one. We’ll whittle it down from here to the best one.”

Laios could feel panic rising in his chest. Yaad was so prepared, and Laios was so…not! What could he do? What should he say?

“I already know who I want to marry!” Laios burst out. The whole room went silent, all eyes on him.

“And who is that?” Yaad asked, looking thrown. “I didn’t know there was anyone you were interested in. Laios, you should’ve told me so we could begin the courting process!”

“It’s because…I want to…” Laios looked over at Kabru, who looked calm and relaxed. He wished he could feel that calm and relaxed.

“Yes?” Yaad encouraged.

“I want to marry Kabru!”

Marcille slapped a hand to her forehead, and Kabru tilted his head up towards the ceiling, eyes closed. Yaad simply looked confused.

“Are you joking?” Yaad asked. “You need a Queen. You need to bear children.”

“Yeah but--”

“It’s nice that you are so close with your friend, but you need someone who can give you an heir,” Yaad said, “And he cannot.”

“Says you,” Kabru said, and Laios’ looked over at him, shocked. Marcille even looked a bit surprised.

“Excuse me?” Yaad asked Kabru.

“I can bear children,” Kabru said. “I have the anatomy for it.”

Yaad looked even more confused than before, but Marcille looked thoughtful. Laios looked over at Kabru, and was saddened to see that his friend was not looking at him at all.

“Well then,” Marcille said thoughtfully, “I think that could work, as long as Kabru agrees.”

“I think the King and I will need to have discussion about this before we decide,” Kabru said, giving her a tight lipped smile. She nodded, as did Yaad who still looked lost. “For now, I think the meeting should be concluded. You both will be informed with the results of our discussion. Laios, follow me.”

Laios got up, feeling nervous. Kabru didn’t seem happy or excited. If anything, he seemed annoyed. They made their way to Kabru’s study, and Kabru ushered him in. Laios gulped, feeling like he’d just been called into the principal’s office to get his knuckles whacked with a ruler. When the door closed, Kabru whipped around, fire in his eyes.

“Why did you say that?” Kabru hissed, and Laios gulped.

“Say what?” he asked innocently.

“You said that you wanted to marry me! Why would you say that? You never consulted me on the matter!”

“You haven’t really been alone with me much,” Laios pointed out. “So I haven’t been able to consult you about anything at all.”

Kabru looked guilty at these words, and Laios pressed on.

“I only really had the idea to marry you today. I think it’s a good one! I like you a lot Kabru.”

Kabru looked away, a slight flush to his cheeks. “I like you a lot too,” he said carefully. “But I am your adviser. I have a role in this kingdom that is very important.”

“Can’t you be both?” Laios asked. “I don’t see why not. You can be adviser and my…uh…other king?”

“Kings consort,” Kabru corrected. “I just don’t know Laios…”

Laios walked over to Kabru and put his large hands on the other man’s waist. “Well I guess I’ll have to convince you.”

“Laios…” Kabru groaned, “You’re really going to try and use sex as your tool?”

Laios paused. “I mean I was just gonna kiss you a bunch,” he said, “But I mean if that’s where your mind went I don’t see why not.”

“Oh shut up,” Kabru said, and let out a small whine as Laios bent down and kissed right under Kabru’s ear.

“You like that?” Laios asked, and began peppering the side of Kabru’s neck with kisses. Kabru let out little moans and whines, spurring Laios on. Soon their lips met, and it was like a spark hitting a match, the fire within them bursting forth. Their kisses didn’t start off soft and gentle, no. It was instant passion, Laios working Kabru’s mouth open with his own. Laios let out a load groan as their tongues touched, and Kabru suddenly pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” Laios asked.

“Not in the study,” Kabru panted. “No lock.”

Laios nodded, and the two of them practically raced each other to Laios’ bedroom. When the door locked shut behind them, Laios scooped Kabru up bridal style, getting a squeak as a response.

“You’re…really strong,” Kabru said, and Laios looked at him.

“Well yeah,” he said. “Are you really surprised I can pick you up? You’re like a feather. Even Marcille could hold you.”

“No she couldn’t!” Kabru protested as Laios carried him to the bed. “I’m not that li--”

Kabru’s sentence was cut of by a shout of surprise as Laios tossed him onto the mattress. He looked in wonder as Laios crawled on top of him, lower lip caught between his teeth. Laios gulped. He really had no idea what he was doing, and knew he would need to ask at some point.

“So are we…are we gonna…? Or just kiss?” Laios asked. Kabru let out a tinkling laugh and smiled up at him.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. Laios nodded, cheeks turning pink. He wished he wasn’t nervous, he wished he could just do this without over thinking the whole thing.

“A little bit,” Laios said.

“I’ll lead you through it,” Kabru said softly. “It’s okay. You might cum fast, though, but don’t worry. When you have a dick, that can happen your first time. I’m not going to judge you.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and gently kissed Kabru again. Slowly they began removing each other’s clothes, and Laios was particularly curious about Kabru’s chest.

“What are these tattoos?” He asked. There were what looked like magical sigils underneath Kabru’s pecs.

“Oh, these got rid of my breasts,” Kabru said, looking down at them.

“Do you have tattoos down there too?” Laios asked curiously. Kabru shook his head.

“No, I prefer temporary magic down there. Stuff that can be reversed if I feel like it.”

Laios nodded, and took his own shirt off.

“Wow,” Kabru said, running his hands over Laios’ chest.

“Like what you see?” Laios teased, and Kabru nodded.

“Love it,” he said in awe. “Love how big and strong you are.”

Their lips met again, and pants were quickly pulled off and tossed to the side as they kissed and rolled their hips against each other. Laois could feel the blood rushing to his cock, desire filling him as he pressed against Kabru’s clothed heat.

Kabru took his underwear off and gently guided Laios hand down, showing him where to touch. Laios got the picture pretty quickly, alternating between rubbing circles against Kabru’s clit and fucking his fingers in and out of him, preparing him for what was coming next. It wasn’t long before Kabru was clenching the sheets, barely able to form coherent sentences. Laios went to reposition himself, and was in awe at the state he had left Kabru in. The man beneath him was a sweaty, panting mess, eyes slightly glazed over.

When Laios decided to remove his fingers to get into a better position, he realized he needed to clean his hand. But instead of just wiping it off on the bedsheets, Laios’ first instinct was to suck his fingers clean.

“Holy shit Laios…” Kabru breathed. “That was hot.”

“You taste nice,” Laios said, and Kabru gave him a sultry look.

“Want to taste more?” he asked, spreading his legs open. Laios blinked, and got in between Kabru’s legs. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do, but Kabru had said to taste…Laios began to lap at him, dipping his tongue inside Kabru, and returning to Kabru’s most sensitive spot, licking and sucking at it with passion. Soon Kabru’s back was arched as he cried out in pure pleasure, thighs squeezing Laios’ head.

“Was that good?” Laios asked, wiping his face. Kabru stared at the ceiling, nodding slowly.

“Yeah,” he said with a dopey grin. “Fuck yeah.”

“So um. Now what? Do I just…stick it in?”

“Basically,” Kabru said. “Come here.”

After a bit of shifting around, Laios was once more over Kabru, their fingers tangled together as Laios gently eased himself inside. Laios couldn’t help it, he moaned loudly and tried his best not to just slam in as hard as he could. It felt so good and he wanted more. He needed more, he felt this new desire with his entire being. It didn’t take long before he was fully seated, and then began to move.

“Oh god, Kabru you feel amazing!” Laios praised, thrusting hard and deep, Kabru making soft sounds beneath him. Kabru had been right though, Laios was fast. His eyes rolled back and he cried out Kabru’s name, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids.

“That’s right baby, you did so good,” Kabru praised as Laios thrust a few more times. “So good.”

Laios pulled out and rolled over onto his back. “Wow,” he said, and turned his head to look at Kabru. “That was…damn.”

“Who knows, you might have made yourself an heir,” Kabru said with a smirk. “You didn’t pull out after all.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Laios said, “I wasn’t even thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Kabru said. He snuggled closer to Laios, and they cuddled close. They would need to get cleaned up later, but for now, resting was the right choice.

“My answer is yes,” Kabru finally said. “Even though you didn’t ask.”

“Ask what?” Laios asked, confused.

“To marry you,” Kabru said. “You never actually asked. But yes. I’ll marry you.”

“Really?” Laios said excitedly.

“Yeah,” Kabru said, and gave Laios a small kiss. “It’ll be us forever.”

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

[persianflaw]

❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ (beejhawk)

OKAY SO THIS TURNED OUT CONSIDERABLY LESS PORNOGRAPHIC THAN I'D INTENDED, I HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT

cut is primarily for length but it gets ~suggestive~ so be careful if you're opening this on a subway or something

-

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

BJ looked down, still slipping his legs into his pants. He was wearing the same olive drab cotton he wore every single day. “How should I know?”

Hawkeye pointed an accusatory finger. “When you stretched, I saw a hole in the left armpit. That’s my hole. I’ve been meaning to sew that up for a few weeks.”

“So I’ll put it with your laundry at the end of the day. Here, take one of mine if it matters that much to you.” BJ grabbed a semi-folded shirt out of his trunk and tossed it at Hawkeye, who caught it deftly in one hand.

“No, no, no,” said Hawkeye, tossing it back. “You’re not getting out of this. I want my shirt back.”

BJ’s expression was incredulous. “You can’t seriously be arguing with me about an identical shirt. Not just that, a worse identical shirt!”

Hawkeye laughed triumphantly. “So you admit it! You admit it’s not identical!”

“Hawkeye, why on Earth should I care whose shirt this is? We all dress the same anyway, I’m sure our laundry gets mixed up all the time, how can this possibly matter to you?!”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Hawkeye exclaimed, not quite at a shouting level but nearly.

“And what principle would that be, exactly?” 

“It’s mine and I want it back.”

“You’re absurd,” said BJ, sitting on the end of his cot as he put on his socks. “I’m not arguing about this anymore.” He knew it would be substantially easier to just give Hawkeye the damn shirt back, especially when he was clearly in one of his strange moods. But he was already wearing it, and he was practically done getting dressed, and anyway Hawkeye needed to learn that he couldn’t always get his way.

If he hadn’t expected a hand fisting in the back of his shirt, tugging him backwards onto his cot, well, more fool him. 

He tried to sit up, only for Hawkeye to flop on top of him, trapping him in place as he straddled his hips. Of course BJ could have pushed him off, but being taken by surprise meant he just laid there instead, too shell-shocked to do anything as Hawkeye yanked at the fabric of the shirt, gleefully shouting, “Gimme gimme gimme!” like an overgrown child. Even after he got his senses back and started trying to squirm away, protesting fruitlessly, he was unsuccessful; Hawkeye had him too thoroughly pinned.

And, well, it had been a while, obviously, with Peg being thousands of miles away, and his dreams last night had been on the stimulating side, so he had already been feeling his oats a little that morning, so to speak. And he was a red-blooded adult man, so it was perfectly natural that he might start to stir a little, what with the squirming and the warm, solid weight across his hips and the groping at his chest. (Hawkeye still isn’t wearing a shirt, piped up a small part of his brain that was immediately, ruthlessly silenced by the rest of it.) BJ tried to speak up, to warn Hawkeye, to tell him to get off, but all that came out was a strangled little noise.

Hawkeye stopped dead, his eyes wide as saucers. Too late, BJ realized that the noise he had just made was in the same vein as the noises he made at night, the ones he tried to only make when he thought Hawkeye and Charles were asleep, but which he knew that they had surely heard once or twice and simply not mentioned anything, as roommates did. Which was fine; BJ himself had politely pretended to sleep through a lot of rustling and little noises (or not-so-little noises, as was frequently the case with Hawkeye). But it was a piece of information he really wished Hawkeye didn’t have at that moment.

“I, uh,” Hawkeye said, stumbling over his words, “I’ll just, uh. Get up.” He lifted up off of BJ’s hips and swung a leg over, which served the dual purposes of getting him off – oh God, that phrasing wasn’t helping anything – and inadvertently bringing his leg into contact with, well. BJ made another noise that made him wish he could reach out and grab the individual soundwaves out of the air before anyone else could hear them. Hawkeye scrambled the rest of the way off of his lap, almost falling to the floor in his haste.

BJ sat up slowly, cautiously. He knew he should finish getting dressed and head over to the mess tent before his shift in post-op, but all he wanted to do was crawl under his blankets and hide for at least a week, if not the rest of the war. Getting worked up over a little roughhousing – not even really roughhousing, just being sat on and pawed at for a minute! – was a new low. He needed to take a cold shower. Or, he thought as he didn’t watch the muscles in Hawkeye’s back play under his skin as he pulled on a shirt, maybe a very long, hot one.

Hawkeye had turned his back to BJ, facing the doorway, but he turned his head to the side to address him. “You can, uh. You can keep the shirt. Fits you better anyway.”

[sailorshadzter]

some modern jonsa that i was inspired to write after seeing a word prompt list ive since lost since i didnt reblog it lol

tw: domestic violence mention

tbh i had every intention of writing more for this but realized ive written this same plot line too many times & it turned me off from finishing it any further lol

ANYWAYS

His phone rings, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. 

At once he knows, somehow, within the depths of his mind just who would be on the other end of that call. He reaches, thumb clicking the green button, putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He says, but the only response is a small, yet sharp intake of air, then the blare of the dial tone. His hand falls back to his side, phone gripped tightly in his palm- he thinks for a moment he might move on, a wrong number perhaps, but his heart twists and he knows. 

So he pulls it back upwards, clicking the number and listening as the ringing begins once more.

She gasps, the phone she holds lighting up, the number she’d only just dialed a few moments ago flashing on the screen, calling her back. Her heart skips a beat, a tremor of fear rushing the length of her spine, but she steels her heart against it and answers the call. “Jon…?” 

Jon… 

The voice is familiar, despite the time that’s passed since he last heard it. “Sansa…” he greets softly, gray eyes closing for a long, silent moment. “It’s been a long time,” he continues, perhaps with a sharper tone than he intends, opening his eyes so he might stare at the single photo he keeps on the table beside his couch- it’s from five summers back, when Robb had been alive and his time was so often spent with the Stark family that he was usually mistaken for just another of their many children. 

She knew this was a mistake. 

It’s been nearly three years since she last saw Jon, since she even spoke to him, let alone saw him, so why would he want to talk to her now? Besides… It wasn’t like he’d tried to call, either, at least not recently. “I know,” she says, holding onto whatever bravery is left in her heart. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice breaks over the syllables of apology and something tells Jon that this nine o’clock call on a Tuesday night isn’t just to catch up. “Sansa… What is it?” He softens now, empty hand tightening into a fist at his side, his mind whirring with every possibility. 

On the other end, Sansa steps into the bathroom, flipping on the light so she can stare into the mirror. The face that stares back at her is one she almost doesn’t recognize, not with the bruises and the tears, the eyes haunted by what’s been done. She shudders, closing her eyes for another moment more, wishing she could find the words to say to him. “I… I need help.” She finally says, softly, brokenly, a fresh tear falling down her face. 

The silence that falls lasts all of twenty seconds before he speaks. 

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” 

[ x x x ]

When his truck pulls into the driveway, she’s already at the door.

She slips out the front door so she can stand there on the front steps, watching as he climbs from his truck and makes his way up the drive, looking quite like a man that’s drove all night long to get to her side. Her heart skips a beat as he climbs up the two steps to stand on the porch, his familiar gray eyes sweeping her up and down. “Sansa…” He says her name in such a way that her knees buckle and he’s reaching for her then, embracing her as he’s only done once or twice before. He’s warm and smells like shitty gas station coffee and cigarettes- he still stress smokes, it would seem. 

“Come in…” Is all she says, drawing away and returning inside, holding the door open for him to come in after her. 

They stand there in the foyer for a long moment, he merely staring at her, words unable to form on his lips. He swallows, hesitantly reaching a hand out, fingertips trailing along her swollen lower lip, across the ugly bruise that stains her ivory skin black and blue. “When?” He asks, tight lipped and somber, a look in his eyes that she’s never seen before. 

“Yesterday…” She admits softly. “Right before I called you.”

Jon nods, taking in the information; he was who she called in her most desperate time of need. “Is it the first time?” He asks next and when she hesitates to answer, he knows it isn’t. “Where is he now?” His next question comes, palm cradling her cheek, his heart thumping so loudly he imagines she must be able to hear it plain as day. 

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Maybe his parents house, maybe his flat,” she hasn’t seen nor heard from Joffrey since he stormed out of her place the day before. But, she knows it won’t last- he’ll return home eventually, perhaps with a huge bouquet of flowers, or perhaps a diamond tennis bracelet. Anything he can buy to get her to accept his apology, his tears and promises always enough to convince her that it would never happen again. “He has a place over by the University.” She pulls away, but Jon reaches for her hand, keeping her there. “Jon…” She begins, but sighs, shaking her head. “Thank you for coming.” 

 “I’m glad you called me…” Jon tilts his head and chuckles softly, drawing her back in for a tight embrace.

She will be safe from now on. 

[starzec]

2023 in a few words; we renovated and then moved to our new home, I finished writing my PhD thesis and passed the doctoral exams (defense / viva to follow in a second), I received a scholarship from the President of Wrocław to continue working on Anew in the coming year, we were in Berlin, Katowice and by the Liwiec River (twice), I taught over 400 hours of classes with students, recorded two EPs, on the penultimate day of the year we built a new post-Mazut music studio, I stopped training for half a year and started training after half a year, I continued to take at least one photo a day and my friends still seem to tolerate me despite it, I wrote an afterword to a book and a few other little things, I cooked a lot and baked the first successful cake in my life (since it turned out well, I repeated this success several times afterwards) and we organised Christmas Eve at home without stress, with our families and with a dog who stole half a tray of a cheesecake, the best concerts were Starzy Singers in Remont and Daniel Szwed in Młodsza Siostra (I'm waiting for this album), I have no idea what came out musically because I mainly listened to ambient jungle playlists, which are outside the yearly constraints because all the new stuff sounds like the old stuff, I still smoke (I'll quit after my viva), I still have ADHD, definitely too many wisdom teeth and I still can’t sleep at night, and I think I'll manage to go gray before I go bald. Meanwhile, next year promises at least four big, cool things, some of which I have already announced here, and some of them will be a surprise – some even for me. I posted, apart from photos from December, some also year-round b-sides, overlooked things and medium formats. to the next! 

by the way, it's the tenth anniversary of this blog, it's made quite an archive, the diary project is 200 percent of the intended length and I don't want to stop doing it; thanks to those who still want to visit here. I hug you tightly.

[adelaidedrubman]

John gets his first fishing lesson. read here on ao3.

notes: here we go folks, chapter 2 is here! this originally was going to be a longer chapter, but i decided to leave off at a different scene than originally intended for the sake of getting a faster update with a more reasonable wordcount (y’all know me). chapter wordcount: 4.9k warnings: it wouldn’t be hl&s without ample sexual banter and fishing puns. animal death (perhaps cruel in motivation but not in execution, all fish killed humanely). somewhat graphic description of a fish being gutted. ft. palpable sexual tension. john typical emotional volatility and outbursts. some emotional manipulation, bullying, and general toxicity (jestiny is arguably never not negging him). minimal proofing.

By 8:38 AM John was beginning to doubt she was going to show up at all. 

Perhaps, he was beginning to think, after thirty-eight minutes of waiting (fifty-three if he counted the fifteen minutes he arrived early), coming to the Marina had been a mistake. 

He exhaled as he glanced at his watch, promising himself — just as he had twice before — that at the next quarter past he would leave if she still wasn’t there. 

It would make sense that the mysterious redheaded stranger from the bar wouldn’t show up as promised. 

She’d hardly struck him as reliable , or trustworthy. 

Perhaps it had been foolish of him to ever think she would follow through. 

She had probably realized in the cold, sober light of day just how ridiculous the idea had been, and resolved to bail on him and put the entire embarrassing affair behind her. 

And he should have done the same. 

Yes, he had been stupid for showing up at all. 

And he would correct that, and leave. 

In just another three minutes. 

He tapped his watch, stomach dropping as the second dial began to near another full rotation around its face. 

“If you’ve been just waiting around here for the past hour because you’re trying to work up the courage to ask me to join you, you can go on ahead and stop worryin’ your pretty little head.” 

John rounded his current lap of pacing up and down the length of the dock to find the owner of the Marina perched on the side of his boat, legs crossed and coral painted lips curved into a smile. 

“If you’re willing to wait the teensy-weensiest bit longer, I can be in a bikini, lathered up in tanning oil, and ready to hop aboard by around 9:30 — that’s the time Xander usually rolls outta bed, and I need to leave the shop in something at least resembling capable hands before I can set sail.” 

John cleared his throat. “Mrs. Drubman,” he greeted, matching her smile as he sauntered to her side. “As flattered as I am by the offer, I’m afraid the position of first mate is already taken, for today. I have a date. I’m just waiting for her to arrive.” 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaimed, hopping down from atop the boat to study him closer. “You got a girlfriend coming over?” she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “Who is it?” she questioned, pouting her bottom lip. “C’mon, at least give your ol’ girl Addie a name.” 

Ah, well. 

He wished that he could, but that had been another oversight of the prior evening. He’d failed to even ask the redhead’s name before agreeing to her plan. 

Which under normal circumstances wouldn’t have been much of an issue, but the quick turnaround from last night to their early morning (or at least it was supposed to be early morning) date left him with little time to pry around about her. 

“Oh, come now, Addie.” He gave a charming laugh as he tilted his head to look up at her with soft, friendly eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Don’t worry,” she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can be very discreet.” 

Perhaps if he believed that, he would have abandoned any hopes of his co-conspirator showing and taken the blonde up on her offer. 

Still, it occurred to him she could be of use to him in another way.  

“My lips are sealed,” he teased, bringing an index to rest against them in a ‘shh’ gesture. “But…” He curled the index downward to pinch against his thumb. “I suppose a tiny hint wouldn’t hurt,” he hummed. “It’s someone I believe you’re quite familiar with.” 

She should be, shouldn’t she? After all, beyond the fact the woman from last night had suggested meeting here in the first place, the one thing he knew about her was that she liked fishing. Surely she and the Marina owner were well acquainted. 

“Honey, I’m familiar with a lot of folks, if you catch my drift,” she replied with a wink. “Gimme another hint.” 

“Perhaps more than just familiar,” he offered. If he could just get a name. “Someone who is also a very loyal customer.”

“Again, honey.” She smacked her lips, unimpressed. “I do very good business.”

He made a mental note of Greed, competing valiantly with Lust. 

But for the present moment he merely gasped, bringing a hand to his chest as if wounded. “I’ve showed you two of mine now,” he whined playfully. “Can’t I get just one guess of yours?”

“Hmmmm,” she tapped a finger just beneath her bottom lip. “If you’re meeting her here and not during Sunday Service, I’m guessing that means she isn’t a member of your little…” She flourished her hand, flicking her wrist forward to trail fingers down the V of his shirt. “‘Alternative religious movement,’ is what Xander says I should call it…”

“I do fear for her soul. But I’m certain that can be rectified.” He was not so certain. He found it very likely that the stubborn, wrathful little redhead would burn with the rest of the sinful world. But if she could help him convert a pair of far more worthy souls, she will have at least served some purpose before dying a slow, painful death in the Collapse. 

“I’ll ask more about your rectals later,” she said with a wriggle of her brows. “For now, another hint?” 

How long could he keep this up? 

“About yea high,” he said simply, bringing straightened fingers to rest just beneath the bridge of his nose. “ With her —” hideous, bulky, tacky, “— favorite combat boots on.” 

Adelaide rolled her shoulders back, pushing out her chest and towering over him by the several inches she had been graciously evening them out by bending down as they spoke. “So, short?” 

John hummed, straightening his spine and raising his chin. “I’d say average.” 

“You’d say,” she mused. “What’s she do for work?” 

Fuck if he knew. “Nothing she finds as meaningful a calling as she does fishing.” 

“Age?” 

Older than she acts, he would assume. “I would never reveal that information about a lady.” 

“Bra size?” 

Something in the range of substantial, but not massive. More perky. Something like a 36C — No, closer to a 34D. “Questions befitting a gentleman, please.”

“Alright, how ’bout —”

“And I believe we’re on your guess, at the moment.”

“Fine, fine.” She held her chin in her hand, studying him. “Is it that blonde spitfire that works the deli at Lorna’s?” she asked, leaning forward with hands on hips. “The chatty one who always wears the low-cut tops? Cute little thing. Reminds me of a younger me, with a less impressive caboose.”

“You think I’ve been picking up women at truck stops?” he teased. “No, not her. And not a blonde, as lovely as I may find them.”

“Brunette?” she pressed. “Lighter or darker than what you’re rocking?”

He shook his head with a coy smile that concealed the worry fluttering in his chest. Was he really going to be cornered into playing the one card he really had? 

“You’ve worn me down,” he sighed. Really, it was a shame she wasn’t a believer. She had gifts to contribute. “She has the most gorgeous, breathtaking, luscious —”

“Jessie?”

Jessie? Could that be it?

But when he flicked his gaze up to gauge the blonde’s reaction he saw she looked past him, rather than at him. 

He swung his head around to see the woman from the night before leisurely strolling down the docks with on hand in the pocket of her cutoff denim shorts, the other carrying a tacklebox and a set of fishing poles. 

She paused as she reached his slip, stopping in her tracks and looking over her shoulder in a way that suggested she might be considering turning back. 

No such luck, Jessie. A deal is a deal. 

“Jessie!” John called in greeting, jogging down the length of the dock towards her. “My, is it a delight to see you.”

He brought his hands to either side of her face in hopes of covering the look she gave him as if she had no clue what he was on about, pushing her back to dip her into a reunion kiss. 

“The fuck you think you’re —” She dropped the fishing poles and tacklebox to grip the crook of his elbows to shove him back, giving him a brief look of incredulity before seeming to reorient herself and lean into the embrace to dip him back instead, deepening the kiss as she did. 

Such a difficult one, Jessie was. 

Still, it apparently sold well enough — the moment he was let up for air he was greeted by a curious, flushed leer from the Drubman woman. 

“Well, batter and deep-fry my tits and sell ’em at the testy festy, this is your mystery gal?”

“Not such a mystery to you, is she?” John laughed as he laced his fingers in Jessie’s and brought her knuckles to his mouth to kiss, banking on the instant recognition meaning he’d been correct about their familiarity. “Jessie dear mentioned you were close.”

“As two pimples on my ex-husband’s ass cheek,” Adelaide agreed, hooking arms beneath Jessie’s to bring her in for a hug, John’s intertwined hand awkwardly tugged along for the ride as the blonde pulled her further. 

“Speaking of exes, I’m glad to see you moving on so quick,” Adelaide whispered in Jessie’s ear, just barely audible to John. “Was wondering ’bout you, after I heard about the girl band breaking up.”

“You fuckin’ heard about that already?” Jessie hissed in reply, patting the hand not holding John’s against Adelaide’s back and turning so that she was angled away from him. “How?”

“Well, the classic breakup hack job you came in here rocking told me from about a mile away.” John felt a perverse since of satisfaction at seeing an embarrassed pink flush across the redhead’s cheeks at the jab — perhaps she did have some sense of shame, deep down. “But, I’d also heard it before I laid eyes on the tragedy. Skylar and Sherri mentioned it this morning,” Adelaide murmured, pulling John’s arm along for another rotation of the strange waltz he was trapped in. “When they stopped by to enter their names in the Annual Fishing Derby.” 

John thought Jessie might actually crush the bones in his hand, for as tightly as she clenched it. 

He saw something dangerous flare in those big doe eyes of hers, any friendliness in their brown warmth vaporized in the angry inferno smoldering to life in them now.

“They. Did. What?”

John tried, unsuccessfully, to extricate his hand from her grip. 

“Oh, don’t be mad at them for blabbing, sugar,” Adelaide shushed, stroking a hand along the back of Jessie’s head. “They weren’t being catty, they just mentioned they were worried about how ya were taking —”

“They entered the Fishing Derby?” she ground out, pain splintering through John’s hand. “Together? Today? They couldn’t even wait a —”

“Lotta folks have, first day we’ve been live!” Adelaide exclaimed, finally pulling back from their hug to make the announcement to John too. “They’ve been lining up all morning. Everyone goes crazy for The Admiral, and the cash prize is up this year.”

“The Admiral?” John repeated with a curious smile. “Might I ask who that is?” 

Jessie’s eyes grew more dangerously alight yet. “You’re so funny, John!” She forced out laughter, eyes bulging wider than he thought possible with each sharp bark. “See how he managed to charm me so quick? He’s so fuckin’ funny.” She gave him a look that bore no hint of amusement. “Of course he fuckin’ knows who The Admiral is.”

“Of course.” Was he really catching flack from the woman who didn’t even know who the Ryes were — seemingly didn’t even know who his own family was, for that matter — for not being familiar with someone in the County? 

What the hell kind of person could that level of recluse even get offended at him for not —

Oh. 

Of course.

He did know. 

“The Admiral is a fish,” he said, trying not to sound exasperated by the revelation. 

“A fish,” Jessie scoffed, slapping him on the back a little too hard. “I told you, he’s funny.”

“Well, not like anyone’s actually gonna catch him, anyways,” Adelaide sighed with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They never do. But everyone who pays the entry fee gets admission to the big ol’ Fish Fry we do after to cook up whatever they did manage to catch and get blackout drunk on party liquor.”

“I can do that at home without an entry fee,” Jessie scoffed. 

“And this year, we’re co-hosting! Cook out’s gonna be over at the Ryes’ place, since they got everything set up nice from all the barbecues they hold anyways —”

“How much is the entry fee?” John asked. 

Adelaide tilted her head to the side, pausing before she answered. She raked her eyes over him from head to toe and back up again, then allowed them to drift over his shoulder towards the boat parked in the slip behind him. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, raising her chin before rattling off with ease, “Ninety bucks a person, one seventy-five for couples, three-fifty for a group of four.”

Oh, good. He was worried she would attempt to charge him something unreasonable. 

He flashed her a smile, reached into his back pocket to slide two hundred dollar bills out pressed between his fingers. “Keep the change,” he hummed, holding the bills out in offering. “But do enter us as a couple.”

Jessie briefly eyed the exchange of cash, shrugging towards Adelaide with the slightest hint of a smile. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Drubman.” He pressed his right arm flat against his abdomen and bent at the waist in a half-bow that put his head near even with Adelaide’s cleavage, bringing his left hand to rest against the small of Jessie’s back. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’m afraid I won’t have any chance of charming my date myself if I’m competing with you.” 

He pressed his hand against Jessie’s back to guide her the remaining distance towards the boat — only to have the hand elbowed away, as if she’d once again forgotten they were supposed to be acting like a happy couple. 

But before he could shoot her a proper glare in reminder she wrapped her arm around his to tug him along instead, nearly causing him to stumble off the dock from her clumsily effort to cover her slip up. 

“I’ll leave you crazy kids to it, then,” Adelaide chimed with a parting wave. “Happy catchin’!” 

As John climbed into the boat he caught in his periphery a manicured hand reaching out to grab to the grubby, calloused one dropping a tackle box and set of fishing poles over the side. 

“And sugar,” he heard Adelaide whisper to the redhead she held back. “You gotta let me know if it winds up he puts out, alright?” 

He could see Jessie’s look of earnest confusion reflected in the windshield. 

“Uh, I guess,” she rasped in reply, even more conspicuous yet. “I mean, why wouldn’t he?” 

“My dear,” John turned to cut in before the pair could whisper more gossip, holding out the palm of his hand in offering to receive Jessie’s and assist her in climbing into the boat. 

She recoiled, looking at the hand as if it might as well have held a dead rat as she stepped to the side of it and hopped onto the boat. 

Yes, this was certainly a mistake. 

He laughed and threw an arm around her, pulling her to his side. “We’re supposed to be acting like we’re together,” he hissed through teeth exposed in a stiff smile as he waved goodbye to the blonde skipping back towards the shop. “So what was that, exactly?” 

“Was gonna ask you the same fuckin’ thing,” she ground out in reply. “Why the fuck were you pulling all that weird shit?” 

“The physical affection?” he questioned. “Couples tend to do that,” he said, smile souring with sarcasm. “And what took you so long?” he demanded. “I was beginning to think —” 

That she wouldn’t show up. But he was struck anew with how foolish it had been to really expect her to, so he neglected to finish the thought.  

“You were almost an hour late to the time you set,” he complained instead. 

She rolled her eyes, as if he were being unreasonable. “I was pickin’ out my outfit!” she defended, holding her arms out and doing a half-twirl to show off the cut-off overalls with single suspender unbuttoned to reveal sleeveless t-shirt bearing an image of a suggestively placed set of twin boat engines with the phrase ‘I <3 Motor Boating’ plastered across the chest. “You coulda spent a little more fuckin’ time trying to pick out something nice for yourself.” 

He looked down at the freshly ironed salmon shorts cuffed to mid-thigh paired with crisp white V-neck she cast her disdainful look towards. 

“What could possibly be objectionable about my outfit?”

“Nothing, so long as you’re wearing it as like…” she waved a hand in the air in quick, choppy circles as she paused to search for words, dropping down to her knees to throw open the lid of her tackle box in the same swift motion. “A funny joke or something.” She grinned up at him. “Y’know. Irony.”

“The only irony I’m finding is in you insulting someone’s outfit while wearing that.”

“This is what people wear to go fishing,” she said, pulling at the suspenders of her overalls. 

“This isn’t?”

“Wrong kinda salmon, John,” she said with a point towards his shorts, sitting back to begin threading a line through a hook. “But it’s fine, we can sell it like you are funny,” she sighed, breaking off the line between her teeth. “And at least your legs look nice in shown off in ’em,” she tacked on, glancing back at him. “You actually have really nice thighs. Go fucking figure.”

He felt a strange heat crawl up the back of his neck, bloom across his chest. 

He thought it was the first nice thing she’d said about him. 

Something about receiving a compliment from someone so very unpleasant was, well… 

“Shame about the stern, though,” she said with a click of her tongue against her teeth, glancing behind him. 

Never mind. 

“I’ll spare you the view,” he replied, stepping over the woman to seat himself at the helm. He tugged the legs of the shorts up slightly as he sat. 

“Can’t do anything about what god gave you, but we can work on getting you to pass as a real angler, even with the shorts.” She came up behind him to pat his shoulder as he cranked the motor to life. “Head out West, ’bout midway to the little fucking islet out there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“And don’t even worry about the learning curve — ’cause with me teaching you, you’ll be fishing like a pro before sunset.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, this is pathetic!” The overbearing heat of the sun seemed to beat down on John a degree hotter for every damnable word Jessie spoke to him. “Your fucking bobber is practically twenty-thousand leagues under at this point! That means start reeling that shit in!” 

“Well, it’s difficult to focus when my fishing partner is screaming at me!” he snapped back, doing his best to crank the handle of the reel, only for it to jam. 

“Other way!” she ordered. “And lean back! Keep the end of your rod up! You’re supposed to fight the fish while you reel!” 

“Then perhaps you should worry about fighting your own catch, instead of me!” he huffed, tensing his arms and jerking the rod back. 

“I got the expert form to multitask,” she said smugly, doing a swift turn of her reel as the fish on the end of her line leapt through the air. “You haven’t caught anything all day.” 

“Brag while you can,” he scoffed, giving another harsh tug to his rod — the line pulled taut, refusing to budge no matter how much of his strength he exerted, muscles of his arms aching in complaint from the effort. This was it. Finally. “It feels like I’ve got a big one on the line.” 

“You haven’t had shit on the line for a good fuckin’ minute, John,” she said flatly. “You fucking snagged the bottom,” she explained with an irritated grunt. She held her rod propped against her thigh with one hand, while the other reached into her back pocket to pull out a skinny, curved knife. “Cut the line and try again.” 

His nostril flared with the sharp, heavy exhale he pushed out as he snatched the knife from her, sliding its plastic safety sheath off and tossing it aside to press the blade to the fishing line. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ fish me outta hook and home at this fucking rate,” she grumbled, quickly undercut by a laugh as she lifted her own line out of the water with ease to hoist a speckled and pink-lined fish well over a foot long over the side of his boat, propping it to rest wriggling atop the gunwale. 

John grimaced at the mess of slime and lake water it smeared there, dribbling down to leak between the cracks of his natural teak flooring. His scowl deepened as the fish’s tail flailed upward to sling filthy water onto the clean white fabric of his shirt. 

“Hm, I think that puts me at about nine full-sized catches now to your whopping zero,” she bragged in teasing sing-song with a sharp golden flash of sunset warm eyes. “I reckon some of us are just better with our rod than others, huh?”

Whatever fishing line thin thread of patience he had left finally snapped. 

His grip was white knuckle tight around the handle of the knife as he suddenly swung it through the air to impale through the brain of the accursed creature, impact of the blade stabbing straight through and into the hard plastic shell of the gunwale ratcheting itself up the length of his arm. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, contained rage swiftly bubbling up to rush through the length of his arm and settle for good in that tight clenched fist, driving it to twist the knife and send it tearing down the length of the fish’s belly with a squelch of innards spilling. 

He gasped out, looking around with wide, searching eyes, suddenly as furiously hungry for air as if he’d been held underwater. 

“Huh,” Jessie barked out, high but gruff. “Well.” He couldn’t quite say if it was with relief or irritation he noted that the press of her palm against the fish’s back fin hadn’t moved an inch — she hadn’t so much as flinched as he swung the knife. “Guess you know how to gut ’em, at least,” she shrugged. His chest continued to heave as he tried to even his breaths, regain some composure. “Maybe you are good for something.” 

John let out a long exhale, wiping the sweat from his brow and willing himself to keep his current level of calm, trying as it was. 

And oh, it was trying.

Because Jessie wasn’t wrong. 

They had been at this for hours, his cheeks pinkened from the long stretch of baking beneath the sun. And the only thing he’d caught was criticism from the woman who was supposed to be teaching him. 

“You know what,” she hummed, pointing towards the fish guts dribbling down into the water. “That could work, actually. You can finish the job here? You can gut the fucker?” 

He pinched his brow, looking down at the fish. 

“I imagine,” he answered, using the handle of the knife jammed inside the fish to turn it, study the long incision running along its underside. 

He slid his index and middle along the length of the incision, pausing at the fins just beneath the head and using the fingers to pry open the flaps of its sides and study the mess of organs. 

“It doesn’t seem so difficult.” He held his fingers in place as he brought a thumb to rest at the root of the bright red cord running down the length of the fish’s insides. He flexed his knuckles to firmly wedge the knife beneath it, pushing the blade up towards his thumb and pressing down tight until the mess of gristle severed with a short, wet snap. 

He heard a sharp hitch in Jessie’s breath in matching staccato, realizing as he pulled the mess of innards tied up neatly by the red ribbon he gripped that she’d been watching intently, her gaze as pervasive and oppressive as a heavy amber tinted smog settling over his world as he slung the entrails into the river with a sigh and a meaty plop that announced their landing. 

Jessie inhaled slowly this time as she stepped towards him, looking him up and down. 

“That’ll do, John.” She reached fingertips towards his middle, trailing them along the splatter of blood and pink flecks of tissue he hadn’t noticing slinging across the bright white of his shirt, and the ghosting sensation sent zaps of quick firing nerves through him as effectively as if someone pressed a blade against his spinal cord. “That’ll do.” 

She smiled down at the stain, before wiping her hand along his chest to further dirty the shirt with slime and stray scales. “You at least look a little bit more like a real fisherman now.”

“I apologize for not having the foresight to show up pre-covered in viscera.”

“No use crying over unspilled blood now.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Or uncaught fish. Because I got a plan I think is gonna work.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the sun. “It’s gonna have to. We’ve run outta time.” 

“A plan to do what, exactly? And what makes it so time sensitive as to require immediate execution?” 

“We’re going to see Sherri and Skylar,” she answered, plopping herself down into the driver’s seat. “They always fish over across from Can of Worms ’round this time. And we’re gonna zip up there join them.”

John raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not gonna actually gonna be fishing, obviously.” She waved a hand, propping an arm on the side of the boat as she turned towards him. “We’re gonna pretend we caught all them fuckers in the cooler together. Lucky for you, I can reel in enough for the both of us. And I’ll keep catching, while you’re busy gutting them.” Her knuckles grew stark white as she gripped the steering wheel. “I was always fuckin’ nice and gutted those bitches’ fish for them.” Her nostrils flared as she let out a sharp exhale — then her scowl abruptly broke into a grin. “But now I have someone to gut ’em for me.” 

“I’m sure in your world, that’s a very important victory. But couldn’t we take a bit more time to practice? Why must the victory march take place today?” 

“Because they had to fuckin’ rush to sign up for the Fishing Derby today!” she screech, her cheeks growing bright red yet again. “They couldn’t wait one goddamn day! So time to show them I can move on just as fucking fast!” Her shoulders tensed, rising and falling as she flexed her wrists to turn her clenched fists around the steering wheel. “We’re going to Can of Worms!” 

He gave an exasperated sigh. Really, some people were so sensitive and dramatic about a little break up. 

But best not to harp too much on just how childish her antics were, while he still needed her for his own designs. 

So, he gave her an appeasing smile. “Very well.” He lifted the key to the boat from its place around his neck, quickly jerking it out of the redhead’s reach as she tried to grab for it. “You’re not driving my boat, though. I drive.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” 

She made no effort to rise from his seat, instead leaning back and patting her thighs. “Hop on, then.” 

“You want me to drive the boat sitting in your lap?”

“You’re the one who said we needed to be more touchy-feely and shit to look like a couple,” she barked, pointing a finger at him. “And c’mon, don’t forget this is a quid pro fuckin’ quo arrangement. You help me keep up appearances by riding up drivin’ —” 

“You’re not driving —” 

“— lookin’ like I’m driving a fancy boat with my new pretty young thing in my lap, more likely I am to do whatever dumb bullshit it is you end up wanting me to do to impress your exes.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, considering. 

“Pretty young thing,” he scoffed, lowering himself to take a seat in her lap. “You think I’ll fall so easily for insincere flattery from a woman who’s been relentlessly insulting me all morning?”

“Forgot we fuckin’ prized honesty in this fake relationship,” she snorted. “Pretty quickly-creeping-towards-middle-age thing, then.” 

She still said pretty, he resisted pettily pointing out. “You’re a charmer.” 

“Charm the scales off a fish,” she replied with a click of her tongue against teeth. “But enough talk,” she said gruffly, guiding his hand to shove the key into the ignition with no amount of gentleness. “Take us to Can of Worms!” 

She squeezed his bare thigh in punctuation of the order. He cleared his throat and gave her an expectant look in reply, a quickly cooling breeze sweeping over him to cause skin to prickle along the leg her hand rested atop as he raised his brows to signal he was waiting. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you don’t even know where —” she groaned, removing her hand to point a finger over the windshield. “Head southwest!” 

He turned the key and turned the wheel in obedience of the order as she rested her chin atop his shoulder to look over it. 

She was much better at physical affection when she was taunting him, it seemed. 

He cranked the gas. 

Quid pro fuckin’ quo, he reminded himself.