#only drunk silver would say shit like this

[twildflower]

[pandoraslxna]

Cocky!Aonung talking shit about splitting Human!Reader in two and pounding her small demon pussy, but all his control thrown out the window when he bottoms out due to how tight she is. Like it’s driving him fucking crazy and he’s holding back so much. AND READER KNOWS.

She pulls his hand off her hip and glides it over the bulge he’s making in her stomach🥴 she turns her head to look back at him “Your so big stretching me out so good.” She’s just teasing the fuck out of him (Size kink go brrr)

Sincerely,😩

Ruin me

adult Ao‘nung x female human reader

Words: 5k

Summary: Ao‘nung thinks he’s no match to any human males and could easily ruin you for all of your kind. Oh, was he wrong about that.

Warnings: explicit smut, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, Ao‘nung is drunk, dirty talk, slight degradation, cowgirl position, oral, switch!Ao‘nung

adult Ao‘nung art was made by the amazing @Cinetrix 🩵

Translations:

tawtute = human, sky person

paskalin = honey

naer = alcoholic drink

Music, the flickering light of the big fire, the stink of naer [alcoholic drink], some metkayina dancing around the fire place while others told stories that emitted great laughed from all around them. Not exactly something you wouldn’t find enjoyable. Normally. The music was okay, but maybe if the booze wasn’t as disgusting you could find it in yourself to get up and dance with Kiri, but sadly eywa hadn’t granted you this luxury. So you just had to suffer through it, sober and bored, while everyone else seemed to have the time of their lives.

Being the only human in the village sucks. It makes you miss home more than anything, and you can’t help but drift off into happier memories. The omatikaya knew how to celebrate. They also knew how to make you feel welcome. Here, you didn’t even dare raise to your feet and join the cheerful dancing. Not sober, though. Afraid of weird looks from the metkayina that had never before seen a demon this close and still hadn’t grown very fond of you, you decided to stay put for the night.

After a while, Lo‘ak nudges your side and shoves a drink under your nose, but you decline with a put-on smile. Then he shrugs and chucks the liquor by himself. His careless way of drinking the entirely too strong metkayina booze earns him a frown and playful claps to the back of his head by his older brother, and it’s the only thing emitting a slight giggle from you in hours.

So here you were. Stuck between your drunk childhood friends and their new friends, watching people drink and grind (they could call it dancing as much as they wanted, it was obscene grinding and nothing would persuade you of anything different).

The olo’eyktans eldest, Ao‘nung or whatever the brats name was, was standing in front of the group, giving a speech about whatever. You can barely hear the words droning from his mouth, too apathetic to translate them in your head. You lost interest in whatever he had to say a long time ago, not that it was ever there to begin with.

Oh, you could definitely do without Ao’nung. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but certainly not a friend. Not to you, not after everything he did. Ao’nung was the type of person whose name was known in the village. You realized that on the very first day here. The type of person who everyone loves, mostly because they’re intimated of him. The type of person that could snap his fingers and woman would fall to their knees to please him.

Technically, he had never been rude to you. But that didn’t matter. He was a horrible person by pure association.

Ao’nung carried himself like he owned the island. Well, perhaps he would, someday. But leading and owning are two entirely different things. Something it seems he hasn’t realized just yet. So yes, he’s an asshole. A cocky asshole that has no idea what it’s like to be thankful. What it’s like to be appreciative. He gets everything handed to him on a silver platter and is constantly showered with admiration and attention. And the worst thing of all is, that he believes he could own you, too.

"Oh I could", Ao’nung chuckles, and it’s the first thing he said that you actually registered. You catch the way Neteyam rolls his eyes shortly after giving you the look, and it’s just now that you snap out of your thoughts and realize what was being said must’ve been about you.

"What?" You frown.

"Ruin her", Ao’nung says completely over your head. He’s grinning, talking about you as if you weren’t even here with them and it’s only making things worse. "I could ruin her for all of her kind with ease. Just look at her, she’s so tiny. She probably can’t even take all of it."

"Bro", Lo’ak makes a face of disgust before breaking out in laughter, "don’t be fucking weird."

You sigh, heavily, and then roll your eyes so hard it stings a tiny bit. Not this again, you think.

"What? You don’t think I can, little demon?"

It’s not the first time this topic was bought up by the metkayina man and you know for a fact that it won’t be the last. And what only makes this worse is, you can’t even blame his words on the alcohol flowing through his system. Yes, he’s clearly a bit tipsy, but it seems this has been a topic he frequently occupied himself with. Like a challenge. And maybe that’s what it was for him. Truthfully, you were something new to him. Something exciting. Certainly a new way to proof himself to be the best, a challenge to see if he could actually ruin you. To have the foreign little demon submit to him.

"Fuck off", you tell him with a smile, the english rolling off your tongue so smoothly it makes Lo’ak and Neteyam stifle a laugh to not give away what you just said.

Ao’nung, completely oblivious to your words, grins even wider. His tail wags behind his back and his ears perk up and god, he looks so much like a stupid little puppy waiting for a treat. And as much as watching Ao’nung embarrass himself further because he once again tried and failed to sweet talk his way into your pants, it was late and you only had so much patience left in you today.

So you got up, excused yourself, turned around and walked away, back in the direction of the little camp that was set up for you on your stay with the metkayina.

Except you were stopped just a moment later, by a hand around your wrist, spinning you around and nearly making your mask go flying.

"Whoah, whoah, where do you think you’re going?" Ao’nung laughed, just a bit too loud in his drunkenness. "Party isn’t over yet, paskalin."

"Let me go", you sighed, trying to wriggle yourself free, but his grip was like iron.

"Oh c’mon, loosen up a little. It’s like you don’t know how to have fun! Do I really have to teach you?” Ao’nung shook his head, making soft yet still very audible tsk-tsk sounds. He then lifted the cup in his hand and held it in your face. "Drink."

“No thanks", you politely pushed his hand away. "I prefer the omatikayas naer. It’s sweeter."

This made him laugh again, as if you had just made the best joke he’d heard in ages. “Oh, pretty, you don’t drink for the taste!” He emphasised the word taste, making it sound as if he was trying to explain something to a six-year old. The way your rolled your eyes at him made his face break into a sharp grin, and at this point you genuinely wondered if he thought rolling your eyes at someone was the human equivalent to flirting.

"Okay, no drinks, I get it. Then what do you say about us ditching the others and have some private fun instead, hm?"

"You’re drunk, fish lips, and you know my answer. It’s the same as always."

"And? C‘mon, I’ve been dying to get a taste of you", he chuckles, cocking his head as he looks down at you. "Let me show you how good I could make you feel. I mean what I said earlier, and you know it." For the last part, he leaned down enough so his lips brushed the lobe of your ear as he spoke lowly, "Don’t be shy, let me ruin that pretty little tawtute pussy. I know you want it."

God, he was so insufferable. You knew that you would probably never hear the end of it if you didn’t finally do something against this...

Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched the others lost in their drunken chitter chatter, too distracted to pay you both any mind. Good. "You know what? Fine. Let’s go somewhere else", you said with a shrug and to your amusement, looked back at Ao’nung at the exact moment his brain had processed what you had just said. There was a split second in which his face dropped in utter confusion, before he proudly puffed his chest out and licked his lips in anticipation.

Saying he was like putty in your hands was a fairly humble brag at this point. In truth, he was all yours– fully and completely yours. He just didn’t know it yet.

Watching his wide curious eyes scan the makeshift labs full of sky people technology was a sight better than anything you could’ve ever dreamed about. You love that the big cocky guy seems so out of place here, as he clumsily ducks under the doorframe to your bedroom. Closing the door behind him, you then feel his gaze on you. Ao‘nung doesn’t make much of an act around hiding the lust in his eyes as he watches you discard your mask to the little table next to the door, practically eye-fucking you already.

"Sit down", you tell him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the amused smile wanting to spread on your lips. You want to play along for a while longer, just for the fun of it. "Straight to the point, huh?" Ao‘nung smirks as he does as instructed, the bed creaking under his weight. "I knew you wanted this just as much as I did."

You shake your head with a giggle as you step closer between his spread thighs. "You’re just so tall", you bat your pretty long lashes at him, talking in your most seductive voice as your hands reach out to wander from his board chest to his shoulders, before your arms encircle his neck. "It’s easier for me to do this when you sit down", you say in a hushed whisper, before pressing your lips against the corner of his mouth, then one more properly on-center. Ao’nung parts his lips, greedy and desperate, but you just ignore him, kisses his bottom lip and bites it softly. Bites it again, harder this time, raking with your teeth until he can feel it swelling up a bit.

And then you kiss him nowhere near chastely. A sigh escapes you and you let it ebb into a soft moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. His mouth is messy and clever, but you’re making these little noises that are starting to turn him on so damn much, you just know he’s going dizzy with how good it is.

Ao‘nung groans into it, his hands immediately running up your thighs and backside, boldly grabbing a handful of each one of your ass cheeks. He‘s greedy in the way he kisses, taking control of all movements and you let him. For now. Until his mouth’s almost numb from kissing.

Ao’nung hasn’t done this much kissing since he was fourteen and had his first girlfriend, and he definitely hasn’t ever been kissed like you kissed. It’s the perfect mix of submissive, yet so filthy and dirty, it makes him as hard as a rock. Your ass fits right into his palms and he kneads the supple flesh, attempts to spread your cheeks and nearly rips the seams of your jeans.

He‘s so impatient, it would’ve been cute if it didn’t worry you that he would skip the foreplay completely and just pound you into the mattress. This guy needed some relief first, you decided.

After a while of sucking on each other tongues, panting against each others lips and kissing so hungrily, there’s spit running down his chin, you gently push yourself away with a hand on his chest. His eyes are still half lidded and his lips are parted once you’ve put some space between you both and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of his desperate state. He’s so easy, you think to yourself.

Your hands then wander from his tattooed chest, further down his toned stomach, skimming over his muscles and past the cord that holds his loincloth together. The sound of him sucking in a sharp breath once your palm runs over the outline of his hard cock makes goosebumps appear all over your body. God, no wonder he was acting so cocky all the time. Ao’nung was huge. More than just proportional to the rest of his body.

The look in your face must’ve given your thoughts away, because the metkayina man then grins and chuckles, "I told you, paskalin. I will ruin you."

A smile pulls at your lips at that and then you sink to your knees between his spread thighs. It takes both of your hands and a little help to get him out of his loincloth, but the effort is rewarded with a mouth watering sight.

Ao’nungs cock is long and thick, the same pretty cyan as the rest of his body, hard and flushed and standing upright, slowly dripping pre-cum. You could even see it twitch to the rhythm of his rapid heartbeat, wordlessly begging to be touched. You lick your lips at that, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed.

"You want to suck my cock, hm?" Ao‘nungs hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen bottom lip. "Think you can take it?"

"I can try", you say in hushed whisper, smiling up at him with those big doe eyes you know will drive him insane. His cock throbs heavily as you run your small hands up the inside of his thigh, then grabbing his length with both of them. He’s too thick to close your hands entirely around him, but that only adds further to the exciting flutter in your stomach.

It’s just a lick, from base to tip, at first. One quick run with your tongue. Ao‘nung makes a noise, clearly made in an effort to keep himself from moaning and you grin mischievously. You start shallow and easy. Somewhat slow and lazy. Just working him up with kisses on his smooth tip and kitten licks along his shaft. As a reward, he makes soft, low groans every now and then. It encourages you to pick up the pace and go deeper.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue glued to the underside and then you slowly suck him in as far as he could go before making you gag -which wasn’t much, considering that his tip almost filled your mouth out completely. But you managed to make it work, your hands coming to help and stroke every inch you couldn’t reach.

Ao‘nung let out a strangled moan at the tight heat your throat formed around him and then tangled his fist in your hair. "Fuck, that’s good…"

A glance up reveals a pair of lust darkened eyes staring down at you, his bottom lip sucked in between his sharp canine and his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure. You chuckle and hum around his cock, tasting the musky, earthy tang of his pre-cum dripping onto the back of your tongue as you suck and slurp around his cock.

Ao’nungs noises are slowly growing louder and more frequent, but they aren’t out of control. Yet.

You let the tip of your tongue flick against his slit, and this time the metkayina didn’t even try to hold back a moan. "Great mother– shit, keep that up and you‘ll make me come!"

At this, you pull off and look up with a wicked grin that quickly turns into a little pout. "Not yet, big boy. I want you to hold it.” Your tongue darts out again to give the head of his cock a seductive lick. "Hold it so you can come inside me, yes?"

Ao‘nung swallows thickly, trying to compose himself and keep his calm, and then nods. "Get up here then, c‘mon", he huffs, sounding a little too breathless for his own liking as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. Your clothes were off faster than you could even process with the speed of an extra set of hands that were just itching to feel every inch of your exposed skin.

"What a pretty little demon", Ao‘nung cooed as his eyes raked over your body, his hands groping at your ass and hips, one of them running up to knead your tits. "Always knew you’d be a sight." He then places a couple of open mouthed kisses on the warm, soft skin of your breast, his lips closing around a nipple to gently suck before he released it with a wet pop.

"We should make sure to get you ready for me", Ao’nung whispered before he continued to lap at your tits. "Get you all nice and wet, stretch you out for my cock", he said after a long drag of his tongue over your sensitive skin.

"Yeah", you breath softly, letting your head fall back as you enjoyed the feeling of his tongue tease one nipple, and then the other. "We should."

"How does the tiny human want me then, hm?"

A mischievous smile spread on your lips as you straddled the big na‘vi, making sure to shuffle in position by letting your cunt drag over his cock which emitted a sharp hiss from the man under you. Both of your arms were now back around his neck, your chest pressed tight against his as you arched your back for him.

"Want you to finger me before I ride you", you whispered lowly into his pointy ear, before licking along the soft shell. You giggle at the way it twitches in excitement of hearing your desires, before Ao‘nung wraps a strong arm around your middle and reaches between your thighs from behind with the other.

He makes a low sound, between a groan and a growl, as his finger glides through your slippery folds. He locates your clit with ease and teases the little bundle of nerves by drawing featherlight circles on it. Sweet gasps of pleasure tumble from your parted lips and directly into his ear and he grins. More arousal seeps out of you the more he plays with your clit, and it doesn’t take him very long to grow impatient and let his fingers wander to the source of it. Your tiny hole clenches with the need to be filled and Ao‘nung let’s out an appreciative hum as he pushes his index finger past your entrance with minimal resistance. You’re so wet, so ready to be taken, he thinks. But you’re also tight, he realizes quickly.

Wriggling the second finger inside is more of a challenge, but you still take it. Your moans grow louder as he begins to push his fingers in to the last knuckle, thrusting them in and out slowly, curling them just right for your legs to tremble.

Once he deems you ready enough and his impatience seems to get the best of him, Ao’nung retreats his fingers and grabs your hips to position you right above his cock. He presses you down to where it lays hard and heavy on his stomach, then guides you by the hips to run your cunt up and down his length, lubing himself with your arousal.

"Think you’re ready for me, paskalin?", Ao’nung asks, but his voice sounds more strained that he would like admit. He’s so precious, holding himself back so much. And he’s was doing so well there. He’s not even inside you yet but you can feel his cock pulse, so close to the finish line already.

For a moment you debate if you should shake your head and make him eat you out first, just to see how long he can hold it in. You knew that would be mean. But that was exactly the point. He might be as hard as a rock, but you had the patience of a saint, and could easily drag this out. But the thought of him finishing early over how tight you are is just so much better.

"See for yourself", you purr into his ear, before leaning back with a hand on his chest, the other one grabbing his length and positioning it to nudge against your entrance.

"Go slow, tawtute. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, do we?" Ao’nung chuckles confidently, but the sound is quickly cut off once you lower yourself onto his cock. "F-Fuck", he gasps, his hands on your hips suddenly tightening. He groans through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth embrace the tip of his cock. Letting him stretch your tight hole, you pause every couple of inches, just slowly making progress. But it was enough to get Ao’nung on the verge of loosing his composure.

Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could feel was the suffocating heat all around his cock, swallowing him whole, inch after inch. All he could do was lay there and try to control his rapid breathing, groaning loud and deep the further you sank down.

You’re so tight, so incredibly tight, it’s like nothing he has ever felt before. It was a vice like grip that squeezed his cock for all it’s worth and you hadn’t even started to move properly. Exhaling another shaky breath, he finally felt you snug against him, which made him pry his eyes open slowly.

"What’s wrong, hm?" You said, cocking your head at the man below you. "You’ve always got such a mouth on you, pretty boy, what happened?"

Ao’nung couldn’t even react, his breath cut off completely and his eyes rolled back into his head as he felt your hot walls pulsate around his length.

"Bit off a bit more than you could chew, huh?" You giggle softly. Looking down at yourself, you couldn’t just feel but see the very prominent bulge of where his cock was nestled deep inside you.

"Fuck, you’re so big", you said with a smile. Ao’nungs eyes were so heavy with lust as he stared at you, biting his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper in order not to loose himself right here and right now. But you weren’t making it very easy for him.

"Look how much you’re stretching me out", you whispered, before taking his hands from your hips and repositioning them to rest and the bulge of your stomach. "You’re so deep inside me, can you feel it?"

And then, torturously slow, you lifted your hips up. The combined feeling beneath his big palms and also his cock, of him sliding out of you, drove Ao’nung close to madness. He was almost completely out, only the tip resting inside you, when you stopped. You could see the self-restraint in his feverish gaze, his pupils grown so much his eyes were almost fully black now.

"Ready, big boy?"

He wouldn’t possibly know what to be ready for, so he just nods, drunk of lust.

You don’t sink down nearly as slow and carefully as just a few minutes ago when your body still had to adjust to his size. You slam yourself down and Ao’nung makes a sound that’s close to a punched out moan. He feels the head of his cock nestled against your cervix, pressed right against the opening to your womb and it makes him physically shudder.

His back arches and then your hands find leverage on his chest and you start bouncing on him.

"Oh eywa", the metkayina gasps loudly, "Are you trying to kill me?" The soft, velvety walls of your cunt squeeze around him at his words and his eyes almost cross at that. "You– shit, you feel so good. You’re so– so tight, fuck!"

Instead of a verbal response, you just grin and decide to let your body do all the talking for you. Starting with a pace that he least expected now, moving your hips hard and fast— lifting yourself up and down on Ao‘nung cock and spilling moans that he felt deep to his core. His cock almost slips out each time, before you slam your hips back down, turning him into a moaning, whimpering mess.

Ao’nungs toes curl at the feeling of your tight heat swallowing him over and over again, and you felt the way his cock throbbed heavily inside you. He was so close, so so close. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched your breasts bounce with every thrust, providing the perfect view of yourself, moving how you pleased without a care for anything else. There was so much salvia pooling in his mouth, Ao‘nung felt like a starved man forced to stare at his favorite dish right in front of him.

With the way you plunged his cock into your pussy over and over again, deeper with every thrust, he was certain that it must feel like he was already in your stomach. And you were moaning like that was the case. The sounds you knocked out of his throat were a mixture of groans, grunts and sweet whimpers, whenever his dick knocked on your cervix like an iron hammer –until it was all too much for the poor man.

"I- Stop, shit, slow down", he managed to force out, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew they would be bruised by tomorrow. That didn’t stop you from riding him, though. "Eywa woman, you’re gonna make me–"

"You’re eating your words yet, hm?" You cut him off, switching from bouncing to grinding yourself against him, circling your hips as if you were trying to spell his name.

"H-Huh, what?", he tries, but fails to understand what you were trying to say, once your walls seem to suffocate him, squeezing around his length particularly hard. "Oh sh-it!"

A smile pulls at your lips. You’re enjoying this far too much.

Leaning forward you press your lips against his, then move from his mouth to his jaw, places open mouthed kisses on his throat and up to the tip of his ear. Your blunt teeth graze his lobe and then you whisper, "You said you would ruin me for all of my kind. But who’s ruining who now?"

"Okay, I- I get it", he says in a breathless moan. "Shit, please, you–"

"Say it", you demand with a harsh thrust. "Who’s ruining this big, strong warrior for all of his kind?"

"Y-You!" Ao’nung groans, his hips raising off the bed as if to chase the tightness of your cunt as you lift yourself up and then down again. "You do, fuck, you’re ruining me!"

"Hmm, you’re so loud", you hum, "It’s like you want everyone to hear how good the little tawtute’s making you feel."

It's not enough, the slow drag of you pulling out, and then the harsh thrust of him filling you up again. It’s not enough but it's also too much, too good! Ao’nung can't take anymore.

"I– I’m gonna come!" He groans, throwing his head back in bliss. "I can’t– ca- hngh– you just feel so good, I’m gonna fucking come!"

"What, already?", you giggle, "That’s so sweet."

His excitement suddenly overwhelms your control, and he thrusts up into you, fast and hard as he begins to come. He drops his head onto the mattress, suddenly weak with the pleasure rushing through him, and his cock jerks inside your warmth. You feel the pulse of his blood pounding, pounding, and Ao’nung pushes in one last time as deeply as he can.

"C‘mon, do it then", you say between moans, your voice bouncing from the sheer force of his jackhammer-like thrusts. "Come for me, baby. I want you to come inside me, make me feel good."

Sweat was already beading at his forehead, curses being hissed through clenched teeth as he held you steady and plunged his cock into you over and over again.

Ao’nung couldn’t think straight anymore. You were still so tight, so good, every inch of his cock sliding into you made his brain turn into goo. It felt like waves of water rushing over him, drowning him in the feeling before something pulled him out and his lungs finally filled with air.

Ao’nung comes hard, shaking and squirming beneath you as his hot seed fills ever inch inside you there is to fill. The sheer intensity of it is enough to help you tumble over the edge with him, and you find his lips just in time to moan into each others mouths, tongues curling and lips sucking the other in. It’s so filthy, so wet and messy, it takes you a hot minute to realize the na‘vi underneath you has grown limp before you stopped grinding against him.

You go still for a minute, just smiling at the mess you’ve made out of the man that had so much to say about ruining you earlier that night. And then, almost casually, your hips roll up in a gentle thrust. Ao’nungs breath catches on a noise, and even he isn’t sure if it's pleasured or pained, nerve endings still flayed and raw-open. He’s so overstimulated from the tightness of your human cunt, he shudders when you finally lift yourself up and off of him.

Finally, Ao’nung pushes himself up to one elbow, words forming on his lips, but they're lost on a ragged gasp as you gently push him back down by his shoulders.

"What- what are you doing?" He chuckles in disbelief, his eyes eagerly following your every movement. His cum still oozes out of you in a thick flow, the sight alone so obscene it makes his cock already half hard again. His hands reach out to hold you, but you remove them, before shuffling to straddle his head.

"You can still talk, Ao‘nung. And when I say I’ll ruin you, I mean it. Now lay back down and let me see what else that dirty mouth of yours is good for."

[bruh-changbin]

think pink

pairing: pink power ranger!hyunjin x afab reader

genre: smut, stupidity (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), public sex kinda?, unprotected sex (be safe), creampie, tit sucking, alcohol consumption, very brief mention of female masturbation

word count: 8.2K

a/n: IM AT A CONCERT DRESSED AS SLUTTY LIGHTNING MCQUEEN RN WOOHOOOOOOO (this is a queued post). happy horny halloween mofos! very glad to be posting this fc bc i was supposed to post it last year and then just gave up LMAO so she's been a long time comin. pls give her some love i would really appreciate it!!! hope you all have/had a super safe sexy halloween!

october is overrated.

i mean sure, there is something undeniably cozy and heart-warming about crunchy leaves and pumpkin patches and all of the other shit that comes in the ‘fall aesthetic’ package. but the truth is that october is too windy, halloween is overhyped, and pumpkin spice tastes like ass.

and who wants to go to a halloween party where you can’t dress like a slut because of the wind chill? no one.

“you’re too negative.” jeongin sips his starbucks while keeping his eyes trained on the road, his left hand gripping the steering wheel of his beat up silver volkswagen jetta that he calls his baby, his pride and joy.

“i’m just telling it like it is,” you shift in the passenger seat to face him, “there is no need for so much hype around a mediocre holiday. what’s there to enjoy about getting violently drunk and stuffing your face with so much candy you feel sick?”

“listen y/n, i don’t know what your problem is but halloween is fun.” he appears to stop there, but then keeps going, “and i will not have your sour attitude ruin my favourite holiday.”

you just scoff and gaze out the window at all of the trees now bursting with shades of red, orange, yellow. 

as if sensing something was off from your previous conversation, jeongin breaks the silence “you’re still coming to jackson’s party though, right? i don’t wanna go alone…”

“you won’t be alone,” you counter, “seungmin will be there.”

jeongin groans, “but seungmin’s so boring at parties. all he does is complain about how bad alcohol tastes and try to talk to people about books and films. i don’t trust a bitch that says films instead of movies! they always think they’re better than everyone.”

“that’s not true, seungmin’s fun at parties!” albeit you do admit you’ve only been to one party with seungmin where he went buck wild and were later told that that is very uncharacteristic of him. 

jeongin’s expression turns sour, and you start to take pity on him.

“innie, i promised you i’d go to this party. when have i ever broken a promise? i’ll be there, alright?”

with that his face softens, and he goes back to his regular chatty self. 

“knowing jackson it’s gonna be even bigger and better than last year. and you know y/n, i’m pretty sure hyunjin’s going as well.”

your heart drops to your stomach at the mention of his name.

you try to act as nonchalant as possible, “why would i care if hyunjin’s there or not?”

“because you’re in love with him.”

“i am not in love with him.”

jeongin scoffs, “please, i see those googly eyes you make every time you see him - scratch that, everytime his name is mentioned. and you sucked his dick.”

“oh so the second you put a guys dick in your mouth you instantaneously fall in love with him?”

“okay fine! maybe you don’t love him but there’s something there, no denying it,” he pauses, and then adds, “and i for one think it’s something worth pursuing.”

leaning your face against the passenger side window, you sigh contemplatively, “that ship has sailed, my friend. at this point hyunjin probably doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“i don’t know y/n, he still seems a little…. hung up on you,” jeongin attempts to reason with you, “why don’t you try talking to him?”

“what the fuck would i even say to him? hey hyunjin, everytime i think of you i get really really wet. could you please bend me over the nearest hard surface and fuck me so hard i can’t walk for a week???!!!!”

“so vulgar and for what.”

you roll your eyes, “shut up jeongin. if you want me to get with him so badly, maybe… i don’t know, help?” 

“no way. you two are adults, you can sort it out yourself.”

“gee, what would i do without you and your incessant outpour of advice jeongin?” you tease, since jeongin is inherently quite awful at offering meaningful advice. 

“i give good advice!!! you just never take it,” your best friend scowls as he drives through campus, pulling into a parking lot located in the midst of all of your school's buildings. 

“sure innie, whatever makes you feel better,” you grab your tote bag off of the floor of the passenger seat and step out of jeongin’s car. as soon as you’re outside a brisk gust of wind engulfs you, the chill making its way through your sweater and making you shudder; you should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

jeongin does the same as you, slamming the driver door shut before grabbing his own stuff from the backseat.

“i’ll see you in a couple hours, kay? text me when your class is done,” he states before heading off towards to library, his broad shoulders protected from the frigid fall weather with a thick wool sweater and a puffy black scarf. the heels of his boots scuff the pavement as he trudges away, pulling out his headphones as he prepares for a couple hours of studying.

you make out in the opposite direction of your friend, heading towards the building where your lecture hall is located. all around you students are dressed in jackets and thick sweaters, scarves donning their necks and leg warmers wrapped around their ankles. the grey sky makes everything appear dull, spare for the bright coloured leaves that have been blown off the trees and crunch under the weight of your boots when you step on them. 

soon you make it to your lecture hall, revelling in the warmth of being inside as you slowly close the doors behind you and making your way over to your (un)official seat. ever since the amount of people attending lecture every week started to decrease, you staked your claim on a seat in your favourite section of the room and refuse to sit elsewhere.

after a couple minutes of waiting your prof begins class, delving into lecture without a hitch as you attempt to scribble down notes. however, just as you’re about to get into the meat of today's class, your focus is broken when a late-comer yanks open the doors to the room with full force.

in walks hwang hyunjin, and a small part of you dies inside. 

as the metal door swings shut behind him with a dramatic bang! you lock eyes with him just for a second before his gaze is averted to your professor who he gives a small, apologetic smile to. 

in your head you’re screaming don’t you fucking dare hwang hyunjin as he walks closer and closer and closer to where you’re sitting in the sparsely populated lecture hall. you roll your eyes so hard your head hurts when hyunjin chooses the seat almost directly in front of you (just a little off to the side so it looks like it was a total accident - fuck you hwang).

of course you knew that hyunjin was in this class as well, but he’s usually on time and usually sits far away from you, at the back of the lecture hall. today he just feels like being an asshole, i guess. 

hyunjin’s weird. he’s weird because he had the hots for you during the sweltering summer months, when jeongin rented a beachside airbnb for a week and invited all of his close friends - including you and hyunjin. he’s weird because he always applied sunscreen on your back and helped you cut up watermelon and sat beside you during bonfires. he’s weird because when everyone else left to go to the pier he encouraged you to stay back and yanked on your hair while you sucked his dick, bit your bottom lip with his front teeth, and fucked you so hard you saw stars. 

he’s weird because he now pretends that the two of you have no history and fucks with you on purpose by shooting you flirty looks when he sees you at get togethers or on campus but does nothing more than that. he knows that you think about him, but does he think about you too?

staring at the back of his ebony-haired head, you can’t shake the image of hyunjin on top of you, his puffy bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he fucked you into his mattress, out of your head. the needy whines and groans he emitted when his cock was down your throat are ringing in your ears; you cross your legs under your desk in a pathetic attempt to ease the ache you feel in your cunt that you hate yourself for. come on brain, we cannot be horny during lecture! focus!!!

the next few hours drag on and on and on as you force yourself to keep your vision trained on either your notebook or your prof, resisting the urge to allow yourself to gaze upon the man who occupies your thoughts almost 24/7 (which is so not feminist of you btw). 

ergo, when your prof finishes lecture 20 minutes early, you heave a sigh of relief. great, now you can gtfo and go finger yourself in the bathroom before getting jeongin to drive you home. but of course, a certain someone decides to ruin your plans by turning around and leaning against your desk, his dark chocolate eyes staring down at you mischievously. 

“are you coming to jackson’s party?”

is he talking to you? 

“are you talking to me?”

hyunjin looks around while the few other students surrounding the two of you scramble to pack their bags, “i mean, who else would i be talking to.”

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “anyone but me i guess.”

god this is so awkward. gag me with a spoon.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“hmm?” you pretend to busy yourself with the task of shoving your pencil case into your near empty school bag.

“jackson’s party? you coming? jeongin said you were.”

of course he fucking did. because jeongin just loves stirring the pot.

“oh, uh yeah. i’ll be there.”

“what are you going to dress up as?” hyunjin clearly does not see how much you want to end this conversation - or maybe he does, and he just likes seeing you squirm. bitch.

“i don’t know yet.”

“the party’s tomorrow… and you still don’t know what you’re gonna be?”

“nope.”

“oh.”

hyunjin’s lips curl into a subtle smirk and you know he’s just dying for you to ask him the same thing, so you do.

“what are you dressing up as, hwang?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he swings his backpack over one shoulder, “i guess you’ll just have to find out.”

and with that, he leaves you alone in the lecture hall with your professor, your half-packed bag, and your soaked panties.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

back in jeongin’s jetta as he gives you a ride home, you complain about hyunjin.

“he’s fucking with me on purpose, i just know it. god! he’s such a…. just like a little…. WEASEL! he’s a fucking weasel.”

“come on y/n, he’s not that bad,” jeongin sticks up for hyunjin, who is also his friend, mind you.

all you do is wave him off, “you don’t know how it feels to be played by a man that beautiful, innie.” 

jeongin throws in the towel, and the two of you drive along the paved roads of your town in silence. as you continue to move along you soon find 

“that forest still gives me the creeps.”

”come on, you seriously still don’t believe in all of that ‘lost john’ bullshit, do you?”

lost john’s forest is somewhat of a fable in your town; folklore, if you will. for ages people have been passing around this story about how a tourist named john who was exploring the town wandered into that forest one day to never be seen again. there are some variations, of course. some people say that they’ve seen john out and about, or that john was actually a cult leader and if you go into the woods you’re bound to get sacrificed. no one knows if john actually ever existed, or if the story is just all horseshit used as a cautionary tale to keep kids out of the forest at night.

doesn’t make it any less creepy though.

you huff as you stare at the endless sea of trees you’re driving past, “it’s not that i actually believe in it, it’s just that those stories come from somewhere, you know?”

jeongin doesn’t seem to understand the point you’re trying to get across, “...so?”

“so there’s gotta be at least some truth to them, right? or else where did they come from?”

“i don’t know y/n, i think it’s all made up to scare kids.” 

the two of you sit in silence for a moment as you pass the last stretch of lost john’s forest before being surrounded by houses, apartment complexes and coffee shops once again. 

“hey, do you know what costume hyunjin’s wearing to the party?” 

as soon as the question passes your lips you regret it, and your regret increases tenfold when a devilish smirk makes its way onto jeongins face.

“oh! i thought you’d gotten over hyunjin, but here you are asking what he’s dressing up as for halloween. interesting!” 

“oh my god jeongin shut the fuck up!! it’s not like that, he was just being a twat when i asked him about it in lecture today,” you huff in annoyance over your friends antics. and for the record you’ve never said that you were over hyunjin, just that you aren’t in love with him. 

“sure y/n, whatever you need to tell yourself,” jeongin laughs, clearly thinking that he’s won this little scuffle, “you need to figure out a costume though.”

“ugh i know.” you scratch your head tentatively, “what are you going as?”

“a banana”

you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips. is he for real?

“what’s so funny?” jeongin questions, his brow quirked. 

“really? a fucking banana?”

“what’s wrong with that?”

“it’s a dumb costume, that’s what’s wrong.”

“it’s not dumb y/n, you just have no taste.”

“oh i have plenty of taste - that’s how i can tell your costume is bad.”

“it’s not bad it’s just- why are you being such a bitch right now?”

“did you just call me a bitch??!”

“yes i did because you’re being one!!”

“okay well SORRY for telling you that your costume is STUPID!!!”

“oh yeah? well in that case good luck finding a way to jackson’s party because I’M NOT TAKING YOU ANYMORE!!!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!!”

“FUCK YOU JEONGIN!!”

“FUCK YOU Y/N!!!!!”

in a fit of blind rage you grab your bag and shove you way out of jeongin’s car, a gust of wind ruffling your clothes as he speeds off as soon as you slam the door behind you. he is totally in the wrong here. you were just being a good friend, looking out for him by telling him that he’s setting himself up to look like a total idiot.

a squeal sounds behind you as jeongin floors it away from your house, the smell of burning rubber lingering around where his car was moments ago. what an aquarius you think to yourself as you head into your house, tossing your bag to the floor with a thump as soon as you’re inside. whatever, fuck jeongin! you’ll show him that you can have fun without him.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

“okay, what about this one?”

seungmin is in your bedroom for the first time ever. 

which is weird, since the two of you have been friends for some time now. but hey, he’s here now eating chocolate covered pretzels while perched on the corner of your bed helping you pick out a costume for jackson’s halloween party.

“it’s cute.”

“... just cute? anything else?”

“i don’t know, you look… nice?”

you heave a sigh of frustration, “you know seungmin you really suck at this.”

he raises his hands in defence, “sorry! i’ve never done this before, you’re my only female friend.”

“yea yea whatever,” you command him to stop speaking with a wave of your hand, eyes flitting back and forth between the two costume options you’ve spread out on your floor and the one currently donning your body.

“so the final contenders are olive from easy a, slutty michael myers, and…” you look down at your legs, which are clad in the same black latex stockings you wore for halloween last year, “a sexy nun.”

seungmin shakes his head, “don’t do the last one, that’s blasphemous.”

“okay… sexy nun is out. i’m thinking easy a, you?”

seungmin ponders for a moment, his eyes squinted as he gazes at both the easy a and slutty mike myers costumes splayed across your carpeted floor. 

“i second that, your boobs will look killer in a corset,” he eventually attests before shoving a couple more chocolate covered pretzels in his mouth. 

you playfully smack his shoulder, “see min! you are good at choosing outfits.”

he just smirks in response before dusting the pretzel crumbs on his fingers off on his pants. with your arms full of discarded garments you head over to your closet, putting the clothing items of the unchosen costumes back in their place.

“hey can i ask you a question?” seungmin quips from your bed, where he’s now made himself comfortable by lying down and scrolling through twitter. 

“shoot,” you say while hanging up your navy blue jumpsuit.

seungmin pauses his scrolling to ask, “how come you didn’t ask jeongin to help you with this? i mean, not that i don’t like helping you or anything, but you guys are like always together.”

ugh. jeongin. just hearing his name makes you 

“we got into an argument,” you explain, opting to foresee the fact that said argument was over a fucking halloween costume, “he’s being petty, and i don’t want anything to do with him at the moment. and he keeps getting ”

seungmins brows raise momentarily before he responds, “it seems to me that both of you are being petty. also what happened with hyunjin?”

shit. you totally forgot seungmin isn’t caught up on everything that’s gone down. it’s his fault in all honesty, always opting to stay home instead of hanging out. 

“uhhh it’s nothing,” you decide now isn’t the best time to get into everything, “but hey, you’re supposed to be on my side here!”

“i am!!! but why don’t we forget about your drama and watch….. coraline. capisce?”

coraline does sound nice, so you tug on your pyjama pants and join seungmin on your bed to indulge in a fitting movie. 

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

today is halloween.

today is halloween and you’re dreading it.

seungmin slept over last night and the two of you have been lounging around all day in preparation for tonight, which you are not looking forward to, what with both hyunjin and jeongin being there.

neither you nor jeongin have reached out to the other, both too stupid to be the first one to text the other and apologise. whatever, he’s the one who was up your ass about coming to this party, you’re gonna prove that you don’t have to follow him around like a lost dog at every function.

when it comes time to get ready you blast deftones and the twilight soundtrack (much to seungmins dismay) while painting your face. when it comes time to get into your outfit you recruit seungmin to help, making him stand behind you and yank the ties on your lacy black corset. with each tug you can feel the boning hug your ribs and stomach tighter and tighter before the mere action of breathing is uncomfortable.

it’s just for a couple hours you remind yourself while pulling on your black mini skirt and grabbing a pair of black sunnies from your vanity. the glossy scarlet red ‘a’ that you hand stitched onto the left breast of your corset last night glints in the mirror as you examine yourself, perfectly content with the costume you managed to pull off in less than 24 hours.

“holy shit, how can you breathe in that thing?” seungmin says as he stares at you from the same place on your bed, seemingly taken aback by the resilience of your rib cage.

“it’s for fashion, min! this halloween is all about reprisal, and i wanna look damn good while doing it.”

“okay shakespeare,” he jests before grabbing his costume from where it’s laying on the floor. it takes him a mere minute to throw on his outfit, and you envy him for it.

once you’re finally sure that you’re ready you toss a few tequila shots back in your kitchen as seungmin watches, stating he doesn’t wanna get fucked up tonight (when does he ever) but relents when you ask him to do at least one shot to keep him warm on the walk over to jackson’s.

the bite of the night autumn air has you questioning if you even want to go when you step out onto your porch, the leather jacket you borrowed from seungmin hanging from your shivering shoulders. no, you can’t back down now. with a skip in your step you all but drag seungmin off of your porch, those tequila shots slowly but surely making their way through your system.

by now many of the trick or treaters that lined the streets earlier in the evening have retired to bed, leaving the rest of the holiday to be celebrated by the mature population. so, the roads are mainly empty as you walk down them, the pavement damp and shiny.

when you arrive at jackson’s place you take pity on his neighbours, for the music is so loud it seems as if it might trigger a small earthquake. a few scattered groups of people are on the lawn but most are inside, and you can see the party raging through the front windows. seungmin doesn’t say anything, just shoots you a knowing look before the two of you make your way inside.

immediately upon entering you’re almost ploughed over by a guy in one of those blow up t-rex costumes, who barely spares a look at you before running away and continuing to wreak havoc.

“i don’t think I’m drunk enough for this min, we should just go,” you turn to leave but to your surprise are stopped by seungmin.

“come on y/n, we’re already here. let’s just stay for a bit, ok?” he reasons, and you relent with a dramatic sigh.

out of the corner of your eye you catch of glimpse of someone waving to you; actually, waving to seungmin, motioning him to head over there. you see 3 guys, one in a red power ranger suit, another in a green and yet another in a pink. the puzzle in your brain slowly pieces together as you glance down at seungmins blue power ranger suit.

don’t tell me….

the 3 guys pull off their masks at the same time, and you’re met with the grinning faces of jeongin (red), hyunjin (pink), and their friend jisung (green). and just to add more salt on the wound, a boy name felix whom you’ve meet a handful of times shows up with his friends dressed in a yellow ranger suit. stupid! you should’ve know seungmin was a part of a group costume, who would dress up as a solo power ranger?

“why didn’t you tell me that you were doing a stupid group costume with jeongin and hyunjin!” you sock seungmin in the shoulder.

“i didn’t think it mattered!” he whines while rubbing the spot where you punched him.

“well it does, because now we have to spend the whole night with them,” you whine, although what you said isn’t necessarily true. you’re just salty because seungmin is supposed to be on your side in this whole debacle, and because jeongin decided to change his costume after your quarrel in his car the other day.

much to your dismay, seungmin wraps his bony fingers around your wrist and drags you towards the group of his friends, towards your doom. as soon and jeongin realizes you’re headed this way he departs, running up the stairs like the coward he is.

“seungmin! you made it!” jisung exclaims, clearly already a couple drinks in and clearly unable to sense the tension between you and everyone else.

“haha, yep!” seungmin answers sheepishly as you wrench your wrist free from his grasp. traitor!

you sulk as you listen to felix, seungmin and jisung talk about god knows what, probably video games or baseball or something stupid. it doesn’t help that you can overhear parts of hyunjins conversation with the girl that felix brought. thankfully, you’re blessed with the gift of being able to tune everything out if you so chose, so you stand there in silence and dream about going home.

it isn’t long until you can sense a looming presence beside you, and you snap out of your stupor to see hyunjin standing only a few feet away from you. the way his eyes scan the expanse of your body doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“so,” he starts, arms widespread in a clear gesture to his costume, “what do you think?”

“geez, and people say girls dress like sluts. you know i can see your whole dick print, right?” you taunt,

“nothing you haven’t seen before,” he sneers while his eyes scan the length of your body, hyper focusing on the red ‘a’ sewn into your corset, “what…. what are you?”

how uncultured!

“olive from easy a. you know, emma stone’s character?” you state matter of factly, arms folded across your chest.

“never seen it.”

“really?” you ask, genuinely shocked since hyunjin seems to love fun cult classics. and because he’s friends with seungmin, who's seen about every movie under the sun.

“really,” he reaches over and picks up his drink from where he left it on the counter, “off topic, but a couple people about to play truth or dare in one of the bedrooms upstairs, you should come. or don’t, i don’t care.”

and with that the boy dressed as the pink ranger turns on his heel and walks away, patting whoever was dressed in the yellow ranger costume on the back as a signal to hit the road.

truth or dare? for real? didn’t realise this was a high school party.

you make your way over to seungmin, who’s busy playing with the pop tab attached to the lid of his mikes hard lemonade. it’s clear he doesn’t really plan on talking to anyone else all night, and is only here because you dragged him and he had a duty to fulfil as a result of being part of a group costume.

“they’re about to play truth or dare upstairs min, can you believe that?” you scoff, feeling your cheeks warm up as a result of the alcohol you’ve consumed.

seungmin makes a noise of agreeance, his lip quirking upwards as he responds, “for real? that game is just so…. childish.”

both of you nod before looking at the floor, you drawing small circles with your feet and seungmin playing with his pop tab again.

“but it is kinda fun, you know?” seungmin speaks up first.

“no you’re right,” silence again, and then you add, “should we go join?”

all seungmin does is nod and pass you your drink before the two of you make your way upstairs, opening to the door to a bathroom and accidentally interrupting some kind of fuck session before finding the correct bedroom and slinking inside.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

a messy circle of people meets you when you enter, with everyone sitting on the floor or bed or chairs that were definitely stolen from the dining room. there aren't a ton of people, maybe 13 or so, but you seem to know everyone at least to a certain extent.

“nice costume, y/n,” jeongin practically emerges form the shadows to sneer at you, his voice laced with poison.

“thanks jeongin, it is a nice costume. what happened to you going as a banana? did you heed my advice and finally realise it was a stupid idea?”

all he does is scoff at this, choosing not to retort for the sake of looking like the bigger person.

“jeez, you guys are really pissed at each other, huh?” seungmin remarks while grabbing your wrist and dragging you away from jeongin in case you were about to reach up and slap him.

you don’t respond, but the sour look on your face says it all.

“alright guys, let’s get this started!” hyunjin announces to the room full of people, and all of the individual chatter dies down, “the game is truth or dare, as you all know, but we wanted to make it extra frightening for halloween. jeongin?”

jeongin stalks over to hyunjin, and you’re worried for what he has planned.

“if you do not fulfil your truth or dare, you will face a penalty. that penalty is doing a shot,” he takes a breath, “and showing the entire circle the last nude you sent.”

chaos. everyone erupts in anger at jeongin’s sick idea of a punishment.

“come on jeongin, that is so over the top,” one of the other girls in the room, chaeryeong, shouts above everyone else.

all jeongin does is raise his arms in a shrug, clearly loving playing the villain. ugh, you’re so over him.

“rules are rules you guys! we want to make sure people are following through on their dares! or truths, of course.”

he does have a point there, but still, his rules are a bit excessive.

the room quiets down and a few people decide to get up and leave, opting to not take the risk of exposing themselves if they get stuck with a particularly damning truth or dare.

“great, lets get this show on the road then,” jeongin acts as the ringleader and gets everyone settled, “who wants to go first?”

“me! i wanna go!” jeongins friend felix, the yellow ranger, throws his hand in the air.

“ok felix, truth or dare?”

the rest of the party can be heard as the room falls silent to let felix think, allowing him time to ponder since he was the first to volunteer.

“i’ll go dare,” he finally announces, and a chorus of ooooo’s sound as everyone waits to hear what felix has in store for him.

“i dare you,” jeongin ponders, trying to come up with something juicy and exciting, “to give us your best strip tease!”

everyone shrieks and felix hangs his head in embarrassment before standing up, clearly not backing down from the challenge. someone turns on pony by ginuwine and everyone shrieks even louder as felix starts doing his best strip tease, filled with body rolls and thigh grabbing as he peels the top part of his yellow power ranger costume off, exposing his defined abs and smooth back in the process.

after a couple minutes everyone agrees that he’s done enough and he pulls his costume back one before plopping back down in his seat, his cheeks and ears a bright cherry red. nevertheless, a triumphant smile is plastered on his face as everyone cheers for him having successfully completed the first dare.

the game continues without a hitch; chaeryeong confesses that her first wet dream was about hiccup from how to train your dragon, seungmin has to do a blowjob shot from between felix’s legs (you almost thought he was going to accept the penalty), and you find out that the weirdest place jisung has had sex was in a mcdonald’s bathroom.

suddenly jeongin locks eyes with you and you, knowing that he’s probably had one too many drinks at this point, feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of your stomach.

“y/n! your turn, truth or dare.”

you know that whatever you choose it’s gonna be bad, so you opt to bite the bullet and just go for it.

“uhhhhhh ok, dare.”

in that moment it looks as if jeongin has quite literally embodied the devil himself and you know that you’ve chosen wrong. all you can do is brace yourself for whatever dare he’s about to challenge you to - which you’ll have to fulfill for the sake of not looking like a loser.

“i dare you,” he smiles, “to spend 10 minutes exploring lost john’s forest.”

the room goes silent.

no fucking way. does he want you to die???!!

seungmin comes to your rescue, “come on jeongin, that's a little too intense for a game, don’t you think?”

“a dare is a dare! if y/n doesn’t want to do it she’ll just have to face the penalty instead.”

everyone continues to look around the room tentatively, waiting to see what happens next. most gazes are fixed on you, eyes with with worry and excitement, but some stare at jeongin.

“come on, do you guys seriously still believe in all of those bullshit urban legends? that stuff is just for kids, we’re all adults now!” jeongin speaks up and sips his beer as if to further prove his point.

“regardless of if those rumours are true or not, don’t you think it’s unsafe for y/n to be out in a forest this late at night? you know, alone?” this comes from hyunjin, and you’re surprised he’s sticking up for you.

only after hyunjin’s comment do you see jeongin’s tough guy facade start to waver, but he holds his ground, “y/n’s a big girl, she can speak for herself.”

suddenly everyone’s gaze is on you. dear god, why on earth did you come to this party??

“you know what, fine. fiiiine!!!! i’ll do it,” you declare as you stand up, adjusting your skirt that had shifted in place while you were seated. jeongin’s face deadpans, and that alone is enough to give you the courage

“wait, how will we know if she actually goes to lost john’s forest though? what if she just waits outside and then comes back in 10 minutes later?” jisung quips, and you’re tempted to reach out and slap him across the face. bitch.

“that’s a good point,” jeongin pauses to think, “ok fine, someone should go with her to make sur-”

“i’ll go,” hyunjin volunteers before standing up a little too quickly, which is evident in the way he wobbles slightly before catching his balance.

jeongin’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull at this; it’s clear he wants you to have the worst night ever, meaning being alone in a forest with a guy you have the hots for is strictly off the table “wait no, someone else should go.”

“why? i’m fully capable of escorting y/n to and from lost john’s to make sure nothing bad happens. besides, does anyone else want to volunteer as an escort?” hyunjin retorts before waiting expectantly.

the circle of people sit there, unmoving. after a few seconds seungmin slowly moves to raise his hand but a dirty scowl from hyunjin makes him freeze.

“right then, it’s settled. let’s go y/n” he states while grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the door of the bedroom you’re in.

you look back at jeongin over your shoulder, who clearly isn’t pleased. all you do is shoot him a cheeky half smile before following hyunjin out the room, down the stairs and into the night.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･

standing at the edge of lost johns forest, you think you might pass out.

but you neglect to tell hyunjin that.

“you ready?” he asks while shooting you a comforting look, his words have no trace of teasing or mockery.

you look at the vast expanse of trees in front you. it looks as if it stretches on forever and ever, and you gulp as you think of all the possible things that could be inside, waiting for you and hyunjin to enter before striking.

that being said, you’d rather do this with him than do it alone.

“let’s just get this over with. the sooner we’re done here the sooner we’ll get back and I can strangle jeongin.”

hyunjin laughs before offering you his hand, which you take and pray that he doesn’t care about how shaky you are.

making sure to take note of the time on your phone you head into the forest, feeling twigs and leaves snap and crunch under your feet. the exposed skin on your legs stings as a cold gust of wind blows, the trees offering minimal protection.

“you know if you ignore all of the creepy stories about this place, it’s actually quite nice. so quiet…” hyunjin aloud.

“if you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

a branch snaps, an owl hoots, you exhale shakily. it’s dark, but the scarcity of leaves still attached to their trees allows for just enough moonlight to seep through the spindly branches. soon enough, the two of you stumble upon a small-ish clearing, opting to stay there as opposed to trekking further and getting lost.

“jesus I hate this, how long has it been?” you ask hyunjin while rubbing your arms in an attempt to wake them up.

“it’s been…. 2 minutes.”

that’s it. this is the worst experience of your life. you are actually going to kill jeongin.

“come on y/n, it’s not that bad in here. at least you have me!” hyunjin tries to comfort you, but you can tell that he’s nervous just like you are.

“please, as if you’d be able to protect me from anything,” you tease, but when hyunjin doesn’t bite back you worry that you’ve struck a nerve, “i am glad you’re here with me, though.”

“i would’ve volunteered to go with anyone, honestly.”

“really?”

“...no.”

a small smile creeps it’s way onto your face at this, and not matter how hard you try you can’t wipe it off.

“sooo you volunteered to go with me because…?”

“because i have…… feelings….” he looks at you, and then looks at the ground, “for you….”

the word that comes to mind upon hearing hyunjins confession is satisfying. satisfying because you’ve known that he’s had feelings for you since the summer, he’s just a shithead. so, you feel satisfied.

“and i know it’s probably unfair for me to say this but i can’t stop thinking about you and i know that this is also the absolute worst place to confess but-“

he doesn’t say anything after that.

he doesn’t say anything because you press your pout against his, breathing in his scent as he kisses you back.

no words need to be exchanged as you briefly pull away before going in for more, hyunjins lips your absolute favourite drug that you crave day and night. a groan escapes hyunjins mouth and he moves to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in and tugging on your hair as he pushes you yo against a nearby tree.

with your head tilted to the side you weasel your tongue past his slippery teeth and into his mouth, sliding against his own. both of you parrot each others moans of desire as your hands explore the expanse of hyunjins back and shoulders.

you feel so cold when he pulls away from you, like your only source of heat has been ripped away from you eternally. when you pry your eyes open, not before a dissatisfied huff passes your lips, you see hyunjin descending.

it appears as if he sinks to his knees in slo-mo, eyes never leaving yours as he kisses his way from your knee to the inside of your thigh. with deft fingers he reaches under your skirt and hooks the waistband of your panties around his fingers before dragging them down your legs and tossing them to the side, soon to be forgotten.

“hyunjin,” you breathe, voice already shaky as you anticipate what’s to come (you). he doesn’t say anything, just grabs your right calf and swings your leg over his shoulder, his face now a mere few inches away from your pussy. it feels as if you’re on display for his eyes only, forced to watch as he sucks and nips at your thighs while leaving dark bruises and bite marks in his wake. slowly be surely he inches closer to the place where you want- no, need him most.

when the tip of his wet, pink tongue drags through your cunt your breath catches in your throat. he continues to offer only feeble kitten licks, and soon enough it has you craving more and more, his actions not enough to fulfil the growing desire you can feel boiling inside of you.

with outstretched fingers you reach out and grip a fistful of his raven hair, pulling on it and all but shoving his face impossibly closer to your wet, hot pussy. the tip of his nose nudges your clit, and the one leg that you’re balanced on almost buckles.

“you taste so good, honey,” hyunjin confesses while lazily dragging his fat tongue through your pussy, “sweet like candy.”

“ ‘s just for you, hyun,” your heads rolls back between your shoulders, resting on the tree behind you. for the moment you elect to forget where you are, focusing on the cute boy between your legs instead of the darkness of the surrounding forest that threatens to swallow you whole.

hyunjin cycles between sucking at your clit and teasing your hole with his tongue, a combo which, although has you seeing stars, is not enough to bring you to release.

“more, jinnie,” you plea, the pet name rumbling past your lips before you can catch yourself.

“you need more, baby?” hyunjin coos while gazing up at you, his eyes foggy and plump lips swollen and glossy. the hand of his that’s been laying dormant on your thigh moves to cup your pussy, groping you before he slides his index and middle fingers through your folds.

in one deft movement he slips his digits inside of you, his tongue poking and flicking your clit at the same time. your needy whines grow louder and echo around you, the goosebumps on your skin now from arousal and not from the cold.

hyunjin continues to finger you at a relaxed pace, his mouth traversing between stimulating your aching clit and nipping at the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. his eyes never leave yours however, and you feel as if you might slip and fall into his gaze, unable to escape.

“one more?” god you sound pathetic, but you don’t care at this point, “please?”

wordlessly, hyunjin slips his ring finger into your cunt. the stretch is subtle but has you yearning for your sweet release. the grip you have on his hair tightens, and you rock your hips against his face to help bring yourself closer and closer to your orgasm. the moans that leave his mouth in response to you tugging on the roots of his hair vibrate through your core, leaving you a stuttering, whiny mess above him.

“jinnie, I think i’m gonna-“ a desperate moan escapes you when hyunjin wraps his lips around your sensitive bud once more, sucking in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers.

over the volume of your own moans and the howl of the wind you can hear the squelching of your wet pussy as hyunjin finger bangs you until you cum all over his hand, his palm and chin sticky with your juices.

your heart drums in your chest as you slowly come back to earth, the warm body between your legs now gone and standing in front of you.

hyunjin looks as if he wants to eat you, swallow you whole, with hair a mess and cheeks splotchy and pink. through his costume you can see he’s hard, his cock begging to be released from the fabric prison it’s confined to.

he kisses you again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, fighting off any embarrassment you feel with the justification that getting your pussy devoured by him felt so fucking good.

your tongue slots against hyunjins inside of his mouth, and you feel him move to push his pants and briefs down to allow his cock to spring free. his sticky warmth mouth is pulled from yours and you watch as he pumps his dick several times to get himself fully hard.

his cock is long and veiny with a slight curve that has you practically drooling all over his feet. of course you’ve seen it before, but it’s been so long and you’ve thought about it so much.

his tip is a dark shade of pink as he moves to drag it through your cunt, allowing it to kiss your still sensitive clit which sends a jolt through your body. not wanting to waste any time, hyunjin wraps the same leg that was sling over his should a few moments ago around his waist. with one hand grubbing your thigh and the other gripping the base of his cock, he slowly sinks into you, allow you to feel every inch of his aching shaft.

“oh god, hyunjin,” you cry, feeling so full after months and months of feeling so empty. hyunjin breathes through his nostrils, attempting to control himself as he bottoms out in your tight hot pussy.

the bark of the tree that you’re pinned up against scratches and digs at the skin of your shoulders and upper back but you’re too drunk on hyunjin to care. all you care about is his cock that’s fucking into you, his tongue that’s tracing your jawline, his curious hand that reaches into your corset and pulls out your breasts.

his mouth makes its way from your neck down to your chest, where he deftly takes your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving the same treatment to the other.

your legs cramp as you spread them apart as far as possible given your current position, doing your best to accommodate hyunjins dancer hips. his hips that move so fluidly against you, rolling upwards and grinding against your cunt with each thrust.

every time hyunjins tongue rolls across your tit you can feel it in your core contributing to the small fire that’s growing with every move he makes. one of your hands finds purchase in his hair again and the other finding stability by gripping his shoulder,

“jinnie, hngh-“ you stutter and whine embarrassingly, thankful for the fact that there’s no one around to hear how desperate you are. hyunjins pace picks up and he pumps his cock into you faster, harder, deeper. your limbs turn to jelly as he fucks you with no restraint.

“fuck y/n, I’m so close,” is all he can pant after pulling himself off of your tits, the hair at the base of his neck damp with sweat despite how cold it is outside. the walls of your pussy flutter around his cock as you’re on the brink of your orgasm, waiting to feel your release wash over you.

it only takes a few more thrusts to send you spiralling, creaming all over hyunjins cock as he finishes inside of you. his cum feels hot and heavy inside of you and it warms you to the core on this cold fall night.

the heat you feel in your cunt slowly begins to wane, and you whimper when hyunjin pulls his now soft cock from your hole that’s dripping with his cum; some of it sticks to your thighs.

with a chaste kiss to your lips hyunjin pulls away, fixing himself up before helping you adjust your corset and reaching down to grab your phone that had fallen to the forest floor.

the blue screen almost blinds you when you turn it on, and you’re met with several missed texts from jeongin.

[12:55] jeongin: okay y/n it’s been like 15 minutes you guys can come back now

[1:03] jeongin: seriously y/n it’s been a while, people are starting to worry

[1:04] jeongin: not me of course, but other peopl

[1:16] jeongin: ok y/n this isn’t funny anymore, i get that you’re pissed at me but seriously you guys need to come back

[1:19] jeongin: unless…. the lost john legends are true

[1:19] jeongin: oh god

“this shithead,” you mutter, opting to leave him on read for now

you glance at hyunjin, who’s standing there awkwardly, looking at the moon through the branches of the trees.

“do you wanna come back to my place? i don’t really feel like going back to the party,” he says in a way that seems like he’s bracing himself for you to say no, “we can watch easy a? you know, since i’ve never seen it.”

you stretch out your hand, encouraging him to take it.

“yea, I’d like that,” you say before the two of you make your way out of the forest before strolling down the street under the yellow glow of the moon

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･

a/n: apologies if the smut seems rushed I wrote it on a bus lol

[anama-cara]

swipe right

Rhysand x reader drabble

Summary: After matching on a dating app, you meet Rhysand at your local café for a 1st date. It does not go how you expected. Word count: 2.2k Drabble. AU. Set in the real world. Descriptions of reader’s clothing only. Use of y/n.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving)

You’re sitting in a booth with your back against the wall, facing the door. He’s late. You swirl your cup of coffee in front of you. You know you should have waited for him to order, but you felt bad taking up a table and not ordering anything. You dressed up a bit for your date, but not too much. You don’t want to appear like you’re trying too hard, or be over dressed if he wears something really casual. You wear a black skater skirt and a light blue sweater with a silver pendant.

              Did you just get stood up? You stare at your cup, only a third left. The bell above the door jingles and you look up. The world seems to go quiet and you stare. He’s freaking gorgeous. Darkness seems to ripple out of him. The people chatting around you go quiet for a second. Tall dark and handsome would be an understatement, you think to yourself. You blink and avert your eyes before he can catch you staring. The talking around you starts up again. My gosh he is unbelievably attractive. He was handsome in his profile picture sure, but the photo was a bit farther away and kinda grainy, this… him… Your heart is beating embarrassingly fast.

              He glances around the café and his eyes land on you. Your stomach flutters at the eye contact made. He grins and you began to feel that flutter a little lower. He approaches your table, smoothly. So smooth. He moves silently, full of ease and grace.

              “Y/N?”

              You have to clear your throat before saying, “Yes, nice to finally meet you in person.”

              He drags the chair out from the table and takes a seat across from you. You watch him as he moves and gulp. You watch his hands as he grips the chair, broad and strong, watch the muscles flex in his forearms. His arms were tanned and muscled, his biceps tight under his charcoal short sleeved t-shirt. The shirt also graciously showed off his broad shoulders and chest. You knew underneath there hid a very toned abdomen. You said a silent thank you to the shirt. He wore black jeans and black boots to complete the look. Peeking out underneath his shirt collar you could see whispers of a dark flowing tattoo that swept across his chest. It wound around his biceps too. You had never really been a fan of tattoos but suddenly it seemed like the most attractive thing in the world. That is, until you looked up and met his eyes as he sat down as gazed at you, smiling broadly.

              Shit.

              You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you felt a tug between your legs. His eyes were violet. Impossible. He had violet eyes that seemed to dance in the light. You stared until you realized you were being rude and blinked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed your awe. He did. His devilish grin grew.

              “Hello darling”

              Oh fuuuuck. That velvet voice. You were in trouble alright.

              “Nice to meet you too. This is a charming little place you picked,” he says casually, glancing around the café. He looks back to you. “Cozy,” he says with a wink. A flirt.

              He noticed your already half drunk cup of coffee and frowns. “I’m sorry I was late. A friend of mine, Cass, was in a tight spot and I had to help him out.”

You realize you haven’t spoken a word yet. You were too enthralled with his beauty. You shake your head ever so slightly and ask calmy, “Oh no worries. Is your friend okay?”

              “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied with a cocky smile. “He’s just one of those friends that sometimes does stuff without thinking and trouble always seems to follow them.”

              Just then the waitress arrives and stands next to him to take his order. Very close to him. He gives he order quickly – coffee. Black.

              “Thank you,” he says as she writes it down. His voice is polite and quiet. Not at all like the flirtatious tone he had just been using moments ago, despite the waitress flashing smiles and batting her eyelashes, giving all the obvious signals like you’re invisible. You clear your throat. She throws you a glare before leaving.

              “You look beautiful.” Now his tone is respectful. Sincere. You hide your blush.

              What a flirt. But it was working.

              “Thank you.” You give a little laugh. “You look beautiful too.” He smiles at your compliment.

You chat back and forth about all the normal first date stuff: where you both grew up, what you studied in school, what your favorite book was, what kind of music you listened to. You got to know each other, sipping on coffee and giggling at his shameless flirting. Before you knew it two hours had gone by and the shop was closing.

“Where did you park?” he asks. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m behind the back and down the alley,” you give a shrug. “Free parking.”

He chuckles and stands from his chair, offering you a hand. You take it and he helps you up. He doesn’t let go of your hand. He leads you through the shop to the back door. As you pass the waitress you give her an overly sweet sarcastic smile.

Its late in the afternoon and the sky is a fading blue and the sun sinks into dusk. There’s a street lamp on the road, but the alley is mostly painted in shadows.

He stops and turns to face you. “I had a good time today. When can I see you again?” He’s still holding your hand.

Your mind is blank, he’s so much closer, there’s no table between you, no café full of other people. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by shadow in the still night and he is standing right in front of you, so very close. You could reach out and touch his face, you could…

--

His eyes move back and forth between your own. The slight anxiety he had from you not answering his question instantly vanishes and he clocks your expression. He takes a step forward, closing the space between you. Your hand floats upwards on its own accord and reaches out to cup his jaw. Your eyes never leave his own and you still look dazed. He smiles to himself and takes another step. You instinctively follow his lead, stepping backwards until your back is pressed against the cold alley wall. He lets go of you and cages you against the wall, hands pressed into the concrete on either side of your head. Your beautiful hand is still cupping his face and he leans into your touch closing his eyes a moment to relish in it. When he opens his eyes again you’re still gazing at him and your glossed lips are slightly parted. He lowers his head and leans in closer, whispering against your skin barely inches away.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod and close your eyes. He smiles and takes pauses, taking the image of you in, committing it to memory before he presses his lips to yours.

--

His lips are soft and full as they move against yours, taking your breath away. You lift your head off the wall slightly, deepening the kiss. He reciprocates your eagerness and you part your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. Your hand that was resting on his jaw moves down, lightly sliding along the skin of his neck and collar bone to grip at his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. You hook one leg around his waist to pull his whole body against yours. Any tenderness in that kiss is gone and you are full on making-out. Your body grinds into his and you feel his body tense in response. What is wrong with you? You don’t do this on first dates. You don’t make out with people in dark alleyways. But he has some power of you, there’s just something about him that draws you in and won’t let go. All rational thoughts leave your head as your body takes over, focusing on the feel of his lips against yours, the muscles in his shoulder, the warmth of his body pressed to yours. His right hand drops from the wall and reaches for the leg you looped around him. He hikes your leg up and hold you, slowly running his hand up and down your thigh. Your skin tingles at his touch and you feel yourself getting wetter. His hand moves farther up your thigh and he skims the hem of skirt. He pulls back, gasping. You tilt your head back, leaning it against the wall for support.

“Can I- “

“Please” you immediately respond.

He smirks and leans forward to kiss you again. His hand moves all the way up your thigh, under your skirt and his thumb hooks the waistband of your lacy underwear. He slowly pulls them down, taking his time as his hand brushes against your skin. Not wanting them to fall on the dirty alley floor he tucks them into his back pocket. Maybe you’ll just let him keep them. Then his hand is back on you, gliding up, leaving a trail of electricity at the contact. His touch makes your skin come alive and you arch your back at the feeling.

Gently his fingers reach your core and he runs his middle finger up your seam. He groans into your mouth at the feeling of your wetness. It drags up and down a few times tantalizingly, then circles your entrance to gather slick before sliding back up to your clit. He flicks it then begins rubbing slow circles. You moan into his mouth as he plays with you. His finger glides back down and pushes into you, curling against your wall in the most wonderful way. You break the kiss as you tilt your head back into the wall, pressing against it as your back arches and your hips roll into his hand. He brings his lips to your chin that juts out, leaving a kiss before his open lips trail down your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. Your having trouble figuring out where to focus, his mouth or his hand. He presses his lips into the hollow of your throat then into the bit of cleavage visible above the V-neck collar of your sweater. He sucks on the soft flesh of your breast as he continues to slide his finger in and out of you. It feels so good and you let out a strangled little noise. His hand stills and leaves you to rest on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to yours and his lips leave your flesh.

“Are you sure?” He asks. His violet eyes are gleaming and eager.

You nod as you reach for his pants in response. You unbutton his jeans and look up to meet his eyes again as you slowly lower his zipper. He is completely still; you think he may even be holding his breath. Your fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans and boxers at his hips. With both hands you tug them down till they rest on his thighs. Even in the low lighting you can tell that his cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him. But he doesn’t give you any time to admire it. He leans you back against the wall again and hooks your leg back around him, holding just below your knee. He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back to wrap a large hand around his thick cock and guiding it into your entrance. He pauses there to read your eyes again before slowly pushing all the way into you. Once he is inside you, he breathes deeply. His hand brushes against your cheek affectionately before he places it back onto the wall. He shits his weight forward, leaning against his hand and thrusting even farther into you, pushing your own hips into the wall. He hits something deep inside you and you let out a moan. Spurred on by your sounds he pulls out halfway then thrusts back into you as he sets up a pace.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building.

“Rhysand I’m-“

“Me too darling.” He replies with a grunt as he deepens his movements.

And then you’re contracting around him, holding onto him as you ride your waves of pleasure. Your hand is squeezing his shoulder and your pussy is squeezing his cock as you cling to him. Just as you’re coming down you feel him quickly pull out. He strokes his cock and points it at the alley wall beside you but he sees you lift your skirt up and groans loudly as he spills on your lower stomach. It trickles down onto your mound and your sensitive core.

He lets out a shaky breath and leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, his cock pressed against your sticky stomach. You feel his chest rise and fall against yours and his hot breath on your back.

“Tomorrow. I’m free tomorrow.” You say and he laughs. It’s a bright, beautiful laugh and you smile underneath him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder then your lips.

“Good.”

[gretavanlace]

Through the Looking Glass

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, pet names, fingering (fem rec), Jake is a cocky fuck, etc

Okay, just something quick because I’ve been terribly busy, but I loved this ask! Thank you, anon! Please keep those requests coming, everyone, they feed my devious brain. Also, I just wanted to say I have merely borrowed ‘bunny’ as we all know that our dear @garbagevanfleet and Abaddon Josh owns. that. shit. Flat out. Period. Alright, on with the show……

“I told you to sit still,” his voice is silken warmth against your throat as he licks over your riot of a pulse.

Your response is a timid, wilting, “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” His teeth drag over the curve of your flushed neck, light as the wings of a butterfly. His demand is quiet, and yet, it bears a stern weight.

He waits until you’ve settled your twitching, writhing muscles, and then presses a kiss to your cheek in reward. “There’s a good girl. Suck on them for me.”

Your lips part, welcoming his fingers into your mouth. Pillowing them with careful devotion against your curved tongue, loving them as you would his cock…if only he would let you.

“You see, bunny?” He swirls his touch further back, searching, until he is greeted with a gentle gag. “You can behave when you apply yourself. You can sit so pretty for me. Look at you being just the best little listener.”

You don’t have to change a thing to follow his directive, your eyes are already honed in on the reflection of the beautifully debaucherous stage Jake has set.

He sits behind you, fully dressed in tattered jeans and a worn, stretched out T-shirt, sleeves cuffed and showcasing his arms in a manner you know wasn’t intentional. Silver necklaces rope around his neck glinting and winking as he moves, brushing against one another and sounding faintly of metallic bells. His gorgeous face, dewy with a sheen of sweat, is twisted into a devious mask of bliss - drunk on lust soaked power.

And you, splayed out on the bedroom floor, bare aside from your drenched panties. Back pressed to his chest, legs hitched and spread wide over his thighs, breasts peaked and achingly on display for him, though his gaze remains trained on your pleading eyes as they drink him in from the immense, ornate mirror resting in the corner.

Jake is an exhibitionist in the worst way. Nothing gets his blood pumping and his cock throbbing like being watched and wanted. Nothing aside from being the one who watches.

He loves to study you this way; slightly removed and voyeuristically. Loves watching your entire body dissolve into an itch you just can’t scratch, all because of him. Loves to watch you shiver and beg with your pretty, needy pussy, and your doe eyes pleading for him. Only for him. Always for him.

His fingers are still stuffed into your mouth, slipping over your tongue, nudging into your throat, until a trail of saliva drips from your chin to roll between the valley of your breasts.

“Messy,” He taunts, admiring the trail it blazes, tracking its glistening path down to your belly button. “Why do you look so fucking whiny, pretty girl? Is there something you need?”

“Touch me,” You whimper, muffled around his digits.

His free hand lands a swift smack against the inside of your thigh. “Manners, bunny.”

“Touch me, please…” the plea mumbles out pathetically as he continues to tease past your lips.

“Yeah?” The tip of his nose nuzzles your cheek so sweetly, in such contrast to his insidious touch and bullying words. “Touch you where? Where does bunny rabbit want my fingers?”

Eyes locked on the amorous display he has created with his nefarious hands, the breath catches audibly in your gasping lungs as he reaches down and tugs your panties up, dragging the satin across your clit.

“I can see it, you know,” He whispers, lapping over your flesh like you’re a heroin-laced lollipop and he’s in shaking need of a fix. “How swollen that sweet little clit is. Look, baby…can you see?”

You zero in on the tiny bump that hides behind your shamefully wet panties, and offer a bashful nod.

“Aw,” he clicks his tongue, tenderly scolding you. “Don’t be shy, bun…it’s only ‘cause she misses me. Is that where you want me to touch you? Do you want me to spoil this greedy little cunt for a while? Push your buttons just right?”

“Yeah,” Your nod against his shoulder is too eager. You should care about that, right? You don’t.

“Yeah? Bunny wants to ride my hand so she can see how delicious she looks cumming for me dirty?” He’s pulling at your panties rhythmically now, as your hips begin to rock, keeping time.

But just as quickly as the relieving friction came, he lets go of your panties, and it’s gone.

Another kiss against your jaw does little to quell your pathetic whimpers for more.

“Pull them to the side.” The softer his demands come, the faster they unravel you, and this particular one came barely a whisper.

The moment your fingers hook into the sodden fabric, his hand is there too, spreading you apart. “Poor baby girl. Look how badly you need it…squeezed up so nice and tight. Spoiled little brat.”

At long last, you’ve got him where you need him. His touch circles and strokes over your entrance as your hips chase after his touch subtly enough that he decides against chastising you for it.

After all, it’s his fault you’re such a mess and so completely far gone, and this is his favorite game to play.

He dips inside, but just barely. Two fingers indulging you only to the very first knuckle. “Shh, settle down and relax, bun…” he hushes, mouth hot and sweeping over the shell of your ear, “Let me in.”

You will your muscles to comply - body opening up for this man you can’t imagine you deserve like the evening primrose loosens her petals to greet the moon.

“That’s my girl,” his praise brings to life an arch in your back as he delves into the warmth of you…his most beloved place to be

“You’re so wet,” his words carry a blip of a tremor now that he can feel you from the inside. “Naughty fucking cunt is crying all over my hand already. Give me some more.”

He crooks his fingers, punctuating his filth…grinning wildly at you in the mirror when you moan through a frantic exhale, shaking in his grasp, biting out his name through clenched teeth.

You tug harder on your panties, yanking them aside further until they threaten to rip and tear away from your body, and thrust yourself into his touch over and over. Grinding and hunting for the release you just need so fucking badly.

Fingers winding into your hair, he guides your line of sight back to the mirror when the back of your head meets his shoulder. “Nope. Want you to watch that sweet little cunt take my fingers. Fucking take them, baby. Doing such a good job, aren’t you? Nasty fucking girl using my hand.”

“I need to cum…” whines out of you, vibrating with a hungry longing that makes his cock twitch.

“Yeah?” He clicks his tongue again, tsking as though you’re an overly indulged little girl demanding a pony. “Does baby need to cum for me just so, so bad?”

Your nod is feverish as your eyes burn into his through the glass - willing him to find grace in his heart.

“You’re just a desperate bunny, huh? My desperate bunny. My lovely, greedy whore just wants to cum for me, doesn’t she? Just wants to soak my hand with her pretty pink cunt. C’mon then, be a good girl. Give it to me. It’s mine, and I fucking want it.”

It explodes through you. Blasting fervently into your very soul like a blue flame wave; incinerating you right down to the ashes even as your phoenix wings stretch and ache to kiss his sky.

It’s a sobbing, gushing, perfect release…made sweeter still by the filth he groans out like wanton lullabies. A chorus of ‘yes, yes, yes, just like that,’, a melody of ‘that’s it, bunny baby, that’s it,’. Praises that come tender and quiet as he strokes your hair until the fog in your mind lifts enough for you to find your way back to him.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @profitofthedune @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal

[cambion-companion]

okay so, i was going through my old writings (like at least 10 years old) and i saw a scene i wrote down for my novel - anyways i thought it would be perfect for aemond and his wife where they're just laying down and he's like fully on top of her, telling her shit and she's under him, trying to breathe because he's so fucking heavy and is crushing her

"Aemond, please put the cutlery down before you hurt anyone."

Aegon sniggered into his cup as you chided your husband, hands atop your hips.

"And you." You wheeled on the eldest prince, snatching the pitcher of wine away from his reaching hand. "Don't tell me you got my husband drunk again."

"Quite a lapse in judgement." Aegon leaned back in his chair, watching his brother with a grin. "Don't know what came over me."

"He wouldn't see it coming." Aemond demonstrated yet again the upward swipe with his butterknife.

"Isn't that rather the point, brother?" Aegon quipped over the rim of his goblet. You shot him a glare.

"I don't think you'll be doing any lasting damage with a breadknife, my love." You approached him, holding out your palm for it.

Aemond regarded you blurrily for a second, glancing down at the small weapon in his hand. "Wise as ever." He muttered. "Perhaps a spoon, then."

He dropped the knife into your waiting hand, you returned it to the table, taking hold of your husband's wrist instead and tugging lightly. You underestimated how inebriated Aemond was, he stumbled forward into you, knocking you to the ground, the air leaving your lungs in a huff. You struggled to catch your breath, the heavy weight of Aemond on top of you crushing your lungs.

Aegon was laughing uproariously, so much so you could barely hear Aemond speak. "Not how I intended this evening to go, though I'm not complaining at our current predicament."

You spat out a mouthful of his hair, wriggling a little beneath him. "I am! Aemond you're smushing me."

"You're very comfortable."

"I can't breathe."

"I might take a nap right here." He laid his silver head upon your bosom.

"Aegon, help!" You squeaked, peering up at where he sat looking down at you two.

"And rob my brother of a cozy place to sleep?" Aegon looked aghast. "Never."

"I hate you."

"Cheers." He toasted you before drinking another gulp of wine.

"Aemond." You said softly, running your fingers through his argent hair until he raised his head to look at you. "My legs are going numb."

"Why can't we remain in bed for a while longer?" He sounded agitated now, his lilac eye narrowing as he tried to focus on your face.

"We're not in bed, Aemond." You tried to reason with him, but he was hardly listening. "We're on the floor of the dining hall."

"My love, we can try again perhaps later." Your brow furrowed as he continued his slurred speech. "These things take time."

"What?"

"Creating a child." He shifted to pat a hand low on your abdomen, looking at your cleavage fondly. "It can't be rushed."

"I-do shut up Aegon." You hissed, closing your eyes, praying to the Mother for patience. "Perhaps you would like to shift off of me if we aren't...making a baby right now."

Aegon opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and took another gulp of his drink.

"You're so warm." Aemond practically cooed, nuzzling his nose against you. "You smell of wine and roses." He sighed deeply, his breathing steadying as he started to drift off again.

"Aegon if you don't get him off me, I'm telling your mother about what you did last night." Now you couldn't feel your arms or your legs.

"Oh, you're playing dirty now." Aegon grunted, looking displeased as he finally rose from his seat. Able to hold his liqueur better than Aemond, he was barely tipsy, hoisting his brother off of you with only a little struggle.

Aemond was awake at once, and as alert as he could be given the circumstance. "Unhand me at once!" He struggled, proving to be superior in strength to Aegon.

In a flurry of movement and curses, Aegon and Aemond were now tangled on the ground together. Though instead of talk of making a family together, they were shouting in High Valyrian what you could only guess to be various obscenities.

You slowly rose to your feet, leaning on the back of a chair as the blood returned to your limbs. The door opened and you saw Daeron appear, his face shocked as he took in the scene of his brothers wrestling drunkenly on the ground.

"Uh." He cleared his throat loud enough to get their attention. "Mother wishes to see all of us in the throne room."

Aemond seemed to have sobered up at that, his hair was a mess, he disentangled himself from Aegon doing his best to straighten his rumpled clothing. Aegon remained sitting on the ground, his chest heaving from the exertion as he looked incredulously at Daeron. "Right now?" He asked.

Daeron nodded. "Unfortunately for you, yes."

Aegon groaned.

You crossed to Aemond, combing through his tangled hair with your fingers, adjusting his eyepatch that had slipped down his angular face.

"We will be there momentarily." You told Daeron, returning his smile.

He gave you a little bow, his smile dropping as he shot Aegon a withering look before departing.

"Can you walk?" You asked Aemond who nodded. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes of course I know who you are." He sounded more than a little annoyed as he held a hand down to Aegon, helping him up. "I already have a headache. The next time you try to get me to sample the vintage red wine, remind me to say no."

"You have my word." Aegon rolled his eyes, smacking Aemond on the shoulder a little harder than necessary.

Aemond pushed him in return, sending Aegon stumbling back.

"Boys!" You clapped your hands, pleased when both princes froze to look at you. "Enough. Your mother wishes to see us."

Aemond gave you a little nod, offering you his arm. "Allow me to escort you, my lady."

"Oh please. In your current state it'll be me escorting you." You couldn't help but giggle a little, he was already trying to steer you in the wrong direction as you exited the dining hall.

Aemond leaned his head down to whisper in your ear. "Do you think mother will be able to tell?"

"That you're drunk?" You have him an appraising look, trying to give him a convincing smile. "Of course not! You're the picture of sobriety!"

"I'm going to murder Aegon myself." He muttered, clearly not drunk enough to buy into your white lie.

"I heard that." Came Aegon's voice right behind the two of you. He sounded amused, and the three of you laughed together as you wound your way down the hallways towards the throne room.

[cosmal]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary — james, as nervous as he is, kisses you at midnight on new years eve.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, alcohol consumption

Tonight is the night. James swears of it.

He's not sure how he'll make it work, but he usually does, so he will. Granted, he's had plenty of turndowns in his life, and not enough fingers to count them on. But, he's almost certain you like him. The feeling he gets when he's around you is enough clarity to put him at ease, though sometimes it morphs into a number of nerves that he thinks it's all in his head.

But he really thinks he might kiss you tonight.

You cling to him the entire night. Half of him doesn't know why because all your friends are here, though you're not rude because you still stay close even when you're rambling about everything with Lily. The other half of him, at the idea of you wanting to be by his side, has him swelling with adoration and his ego grows tenfold.

23:49. He's still sober enough to read the clock on the wall. He's spent the entire day on squash and enough pints to drop a toddler. If he stays sober just so he can't stuff up the night, he keeps it to himself. Though, Sirius notices because, of course, he does.

"I've never seen you this sober at a new year's party, mate."

On the other hand, Sirius is just as drunk as expected - fortunately for James. If everything goes to shit tonight (which James half expects because you make him more nervous than anyone has ever) the only people who will remember are him and, unfortunately, you.

"Lovely," he murmurs, only because you're so close, into your ear. He's selfishly loving it. More when he watches you shiver.

Your conversation with Alice fades off slowly and you turn to him with a little hum. He traces the edge of your lips and takes in the colour of your lipgloss. He expects a matching mark to be swatched around your glass. Then, like he has been most of the night, traces the silver glitter over your sticky eyelids, the extra length of your soft eyelashes. If he's been obvious about it this whole time, he doesn't care.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks, pressing his knuckles into the skin above your tights. He's pushing his luck, he knows it, and if he thought you'd want him to stop, he would. But then you're wrapping your hand over his where it's at your thigh and you smile. It's shy, barely there, James loves it all the same.

"Yeah, c'mon." You eagerly stand from the booth and tug James up with you.

He has no problems when you lead him through the crowd. Still, he keeps a hand up your arm to shield you from rowdy patrons.

You get to the bar and James says, "I was offering to go get you a drink."

"And leave me in the booth?"

James has half the mind in him to not mention that there are eight other people at your table. You giggle knowingly.

"Right." He nods like it makes any sense.

"What are you having?"

"Whatever you choose." He says because he can.

You order two of the same drinks. Two cosmopolitans with extra lime. The glass is wet and awkward to hold, thin and its stem way too small to hold in his big hands. Still, he sips at it with no qualms because he won't act like he's above a cocktail. In fact, he loves them. Especially when you reach your hand across to wipe the line of pink from his top lip.

When you reach back to your table, everyone's shuffled down. The spot you and James had been cramped into only big enough for one.

With your mouth around the rim of your glass, you offer James the seat with a smile.

"You take it."

"It's okay," you say now, licking stickiness from your thumb.

"Y/N," he frowns.

You frown back. It's more adorable than his. "Sit."

James thinks it might be easier not to argue with you. He sits, unwillingly he wants to add, but it's worth it when you move to his side and place a hand in his hair.

You twist soft locks around your fingers, your hand a warmth he loves more than he would ever admit to anyone. He's glad Sirius and Remus are too busy loving each other in the other corner of the booth. He loves it so much he has to hide his giddy smile in his drink.

The new year is quickly approaching and the pub starts to fill. Most people have their arms linked through someone else's, their lips excitedly pressed to others' cheeks. James grows nervous suddenly. More than he has been since he got here.

He second-guesses every choice he's made tonight up until this moment. He's not entirely sure if you'd want to kiss him (like your lovesick giggles and your hand in his hair isn't enough to prove anything to him). He distracts himself with his sweet drink and thinks, stupidly, he'll see how the next five minutes play out.

Everyone in the pub circle around the TV above the bar, like sardines, pushed snugly up against each other. You press really close into his shoulder until he can feel the bump of your stomach. He worries for you for a moment and looks up over your arm. You smile until someone knocks you into his lap.

You startle and James wraps his arms around your back to stop you from toppling off of him. He's gentle with his touch, barely grazing you. Still, it burns.

"Sorry," you say loudly. Everyone shifts to excited yelling. Standing from their seats, drinks in hand.

You don't show that you want to get up. James isn't sure if this makes him feel better or worse.

The cheering gets louder as the clock ticks over to one minute from midnight. James isn't sure you'll be able to hear him. He's not even sure that he has the courage to say anything at all. Until your hands come forward to wrap around the lapels of his jacket to stable yourself. You don't tug him forward but he leans in anyways.

"Do you," he yells, but he still stammers. If it was bright enough inside he's sure you'd be able to see the blush creeping up his cheeks. "Are you kissing anyone at midnight?"

You smile. So wide that he can hear the thump of his heart over the rowdy atmosphere. "I'm not sure yet. Are you?"

James straightens his back out and you shuffle in his lap. He's feeling pretty lucky. "Maybe!"

The crowd begins the countdown. He leans in and waits for any sign that you want to back out. Like you aren't in his lap. Like this isn't the first time any of this has happened. Granted, this time he thinks he's actually going to kiss you.

James is in his head and he'd be stupid to think you'd not notice. "James!" 7! 6! 5! "Are you gonna kiss me?" It's louder. He still knows you're giggling.

"Fuck," he murmurs to himself, leaning forwards. "Can I?"

You kiss him. You actually kiss him. Right on midnight. Everyone who isn't eating someone else's face cheers. It sets him on fire. Your lips up against his. Soft and tender just like he expected. James squeezes his eyes so hard he sees stars. Brighter than the fireworks he'd expect to see if he wasn't having the best time of his life right now.

He's still buzzing when you pull away. Smiling because he can't help it.

"Happy," James blushes, smiling into the side of his hand when he turns his face away, "happy new year, Y/N."

You're so close James can still feel your breath. It fans over his lips and makes the heat he feels worse. In the best way possible. "Happy new year, James."

James thinks it's the happiest new year he's ever had. In a total adoring and cheesy way. It's even better when you lean in to kiss him again.

[donteattheappleshook]

(not so) young, drunk and alone 1/1

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else. Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

(We'll give this a light M)

Oh hey, it's me, neglecting all the WIPs for something new.

This fic is a little birthday present to myself. It's completely ferral and I had very little control over it but I listened to Dial Drunk on repeat for 3 days and then this happened. This fic is unbetaed but thank you @the-darkdragonfly for answering all my texts and rambling calls while I was writing it!

A Silver hook story because apparently everything I write is now...

Read it on Ao3 (where my italics work)

******

(not so) young, drunk and alone

She shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that. Not with a smirk caught between her teeth in a way that makes his throat dry and his pulse race. Not with the barely restrained promise of a laugh he’s sure would come out in different company that makes his face burn and and his eyes unable to meet hers. He can’t look at her when she looks like that, and she’s looking at him like that, and he looks - he assumes not great. 

So he focuses on the floor instead. The floor is safe. The floor doesn’t stir up conflicting and confusing feelings he’s managed to ignore for the better part of a year. The floor doesn’t make him question every terrible decision he’s made in his life that led him to this exact moment. The floor is… moving. It’s not supposed to do that. Although that’s likely the booze, he rationalizes. But the floor isn’t interested in being rational so Killian lets his forehead fall against the bars he’s already holding onto in an attempt to stay upright. The bars are nice, they’re cool and solid and it slows the spinning in his head a fraction.

“Big night?”

He takes a full ten seconds, counted slowly, and a few deep breaths before raising his head again and facing that smirk. It doesn’t help. The absolute delight in her eyes delivers the same gut-punch it always does - even if it’s at his expense - and the soft blonde curls that have fallen from her probably hastily pulled up bun make him ache to reach out and brush them away from her face just so he can feel the strands between his fingers. 

He shouldn’t have called her. He knew it was a mistake when he did it. He should have just let the sheriff keep him in this bloody cell. It’s not as if he hadn’t slept it off a night or two in another cell in another town throughout his youth. But he’s not so youthful now and the sight of the cold, hard bench, the thought of his aching back and the copious amounts of rum still coursing through his blood had been enough to send him over the edge into madness apparently. So he’d pressed the blurry little “absolutely not” in his contacts and called the only person he knew in this whole bloody city.

“Swaann.” He attempts a smile but it turns into a wince as he manages to slur the single word. When he works up to meeting her eyes again - so green, like the sea glass he used to collect on the beach when he was a boy and that takes his breath away every time - there’s a bit of pity mixed in with the amusement. 

He feels pretty pitiful. Forty-five and so stumbling drunk that he’d been tossed out of the pub and into a police car, only to be forced to face the one person he’d hoped the rum would chase from his mind. He’s too old to be acting like this. Even with his wits sloshing around in the drink he’d tried to drown them with he knows he’s too old to be acting like this. When you’re young, it’s funny, an anecdote for another time - spending the night in the drunk tank. When you’re his age, it’s just pathetic. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Her voice is sweet, with a laugh still hiding somewhere behind it, and it’s the first sound since he was brought here that hasn’t made his head feel like it was being scratched at from the inside. 

“You shouldn’t’ve come here. S’the middle of the night,” he tells her. She doesn’t belong in this sad little room in this sad little jail with the lightbulb that keeps flickering in and out. Still, he can’t stop the stupid smile that finds residence on his face whenever she’s near - because she is here. She came to get him. 

Emma raises a brow in a way he thinks she may have picked up from him. “You called me three times.”

He blinks. Fuck. He doesn’t remember that. He looks at the sheriff waiting a little ways back who nods in confirmation, giving Killian his own pitying wince like he tried to stop him. Killian sighs. “‘Mm usually much more charming.” 

She rolls her eyes but smirks again as the sheriff slides a key into the ancient looking lock. “Yeah, I know. Come on, Graham’s going to let you off with a warning -”��

He nearly falls flat on his face when the door he’d been leaning against swings open. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay with him, Em?” 

Oh great, they know each other. He’d be more annoyed at her cozy relationship with the unreasonably attractive sheriff if he wasn’t a little bit grateful to the man who caught him and is still holding him up now. If he can just get his legs to go back under him where they belong… 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” 

Killian feels himself being passed from the man who smells strikingly of the forest, to the woman with the irreplicable scent of honey and drugstore soap that overwhelms him with the memory of every time he’s had his mouth or his hand on her skin. The fingers of his one remaining hand burn with the urge to feel her under them again so he balls them into a fist as she drapes his arm over her shoulders. “What about you?” It takes him a moment to realize that he’s who the question is directed at. “You going to be okay to walk out of here?”

Sheer determination not to make an even greater fool of himself than he already has in front of Emma Swan is the only thing he can attribute to both not falling right over with the nod of his head, and the steadiness of his first step as she leads him out the door. 

He stumbles three times between the building and her car. She catches him every time with a hand on his chest, her head turning so that her hair brushes his cheek and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t do it on purpose after the first time - though he can’t really trust his own thoughts at this point since they have to be yelled at him through an ocean of rum. 

“It’s your bug!” he beams at the old, yellow car. “I love your bug.”

“You hate my bug.” 

Oh, right. He does hate the car that broke down every other time they drove to his hotel in the middle of the night, the one that had broken down the night they met. ‘I swear I’m not trying to stand you up. It’s just my car is literally on the side of the road right now and the tow won’t come for another hour at least and there’s… smoke.’ 

It had been an interesting night, getting an Uber in a strange city to go pick up a stranded woman from a dating app who'd been on her way to his hotel for anonymous sex - a woman he found out had lied about her age when she pointed out that the 1993 beetle was older than she was. ‘I didn’t think you’d swipe right if you knew there was a whole high school senior between us.’ ‘Anything else I should know about?’ he’d teased when they were back at his hotel room where she’d managed to get him out of his shirt with impressive speed. ‘Is Anna even your real name?’ ‘Uhhh, about that…’

She leans him up against the aggressive yellow of the door as she fishes in her pockets for her key. Her cheeks have gone red from the cold and it reminds him of the flush that would sometimes come over her skin if he found the right words or the right touch. 

“You’re so lovely.” His thumb is tracing over her cheek though he doesn’t remember raising his hand or reaching for her. 

She snorts. “Yeah, okay, Jones. So not gonna happen tonight, but nice try.” This time her smirk is wicked and if he had any real control over his body or his brain he would kiss it right off her smug mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything!” he swears, prosthetic on his heart as she unlocks the passenger side door. “I’m just grateful you came all the way out here to rescue me. My knight in awful yellow armour.” He gasps. She rescued him from a dungeon. “Bloody hell, Swan -” He speaks slowly, managing to get almost every word out coherently. “I’m the princess.”

He’s waiting for her to come to the same mind-blowing realization as he has, but she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Get in the car, your highness.” 

It takes an impressive amount of self-control for him to sit still and keep his hand to himself despite his racing heart and thoughts as she leans over to help him secure his seatbelt. Because he’s not supposed to have those thoughts. And his idiot heart can keep its cruel reminders to itself. He shouldn’t have called her. He hasn’t called her - not in months. Not since he realized his mistake and knew this thing between them had to come to an end. 

He’s missed her so bloody much. 

“Killian.” She’s beside him now in the driver’s seat and saying his name like it’s not the first time she’s asked him this question. “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I…” Shit. He knows this. He’s got this. Think. There was a hotel. A big hotel with really good room service. Maybe they could go there and he could buy her room service. She always liked that. ‘Listen, I know I came over here for sex and that was great and everything, but there’s a freaking lobster grilled cheese on this menu so do you think I could be here for sex and room service tonight?’ She’d looked at him with that same wicked, eager smile and he was already reaching across her for the phone. ‘I feel like I should be concerned that you seem more turned on by this sandwich than you did by anything else tonight.’ ‘Well, it’ll probably take them a little while to deliver it if you want another go at out-seducing bread and cheese.’

“A hotel,” he tells her finally. 

“Yeah, I kind of figured. Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which hotel, Killian? Which hotel am I driving you to?”

“Oh.” He knows this one! “Mine.” 

She sighs, forehead falling against the steering wheel for a long moment. He waits, not sure what he did wrong but positive that he did something. “Okay,” she says, sitting up and starting the car. “It’s late. You can sleep it off on my couch for tonight and I’ll drive you back in the morning when you’re less… wasted.” 

She sounds frustrated and he thinks it might be his fault. He looks at her carefully as she turns out of the parking lot, really looks at her for the first time since she walked back into his life a moment ago. Holding his breath against the eyes and hair and skin that always try to steal it away, he takes note of her messy hair, the lack of any makeup, the grey sweats he knows she likes to sleep in. He looks at the clock next, the late - or rather early - hour shining angry, bright and orange. He can figure this out. 

“I’m sorry.” He’s an idiot. She glances at him before turning back to the dark highway ahead of them.” “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not.” He hangs his head, hoping he looks sincere and not just as pathetically pissed as he is. “I woke you up.” 

“Really, Killian, it’s fine. I was just going to bed.” He looks at the clock again and he envies her youth not for the first time since meeting her. He supposes he’s up this late as well, but that wasn’t by choice. That was the rum’s decision. The rum always makes bad decisions. 

“But it’s cold.” She must be cold. She’s always cold and he made her go outside. She hates outside. She probably hates him now. ‘Listen, I’m all for this whole hooking up when you’re in town no strings thing.’ She waved a hand in his general direction. ‘Big fan of everything you’ve got going on here. But it’s cold as balls outside, so from now on you can come to mine and I can stay inside where it’s warm, or I’ll see you in the spring.’ 

The smirking curl of her mouth tugs at her cheek but he doesn’t reach for it again. “Yeah, it’s November.” 

November. The last time he saw her it had been the dead of summer, both of them hot and sticky and barely dressed, stretched out in front of the single standing fan by the bed in her little apartment with no bloody air conditioning. 

He misses that apartment. Misses being there with her and letting her make him boxed mac and cheese while he complained about her eating habits. Misses the ridiculous sheets with little Millennium Falcons on them that she’d found when he was running late to meet her that one time. He’d made her wash them before putting them on her bed - ‘fine, mom’ - and then listened to her make Star Wars puns from between her thighs until they tightened so hard against his ears he couldn’t hear anything at all. 

And he misses the way she would smile at him when she opened the door, just before she dragged him inside, asking about his flight between heated kisses and frustrated hands. ‘I hate your stupid ties’. 

He’s a bloody idiot and he should have never stopped calling. Or he should have stopped calling a long time ago, before there was anything to miss. They had a good thing going, an understanding, no strings. He’d reach out when he was in town for work and they would meet for one or however many nights he was staying. No expectations or dates or sleepovers, none of the complicated stuff. And he’d screwed it up.

His feet slip dangerously against the icy ground - at least he’s pretty sure there’s ice, or the ground isn’t staying still again - as Emma practically hoists him out of the car. “You remember the stairs right?” she asks, ducking under his arm again to steady him. She fits well there with her arm wrapped around his waist. 

He hadn’t remembered the stairs. Though he should have, he’d complained about them enough times. ‘What’s so wrong with an apartment with an elevator?’ ‘Aw, can your old knees not handle it?’ He’d caught her as she bolted up the last few flights at his glare, laughing the whole way, and he’d spent enough time on his ‘old knees’ to make her take it back. This time, he’s not so sure he can handle it as he looks up at the rotating stairs that seem unable to settle on a height. 

“It’s either that or you’re sleeping in the lobby, Jones.” 

He considers it. “Is that David guy still your landlord?” The one who was particularly hostile to the man in his forties coming over at random hours of the night to visit his twenty-eight year old tenant. ‘Give him a break, he still thinks I’m the sixteen year old kid he illegally rented to when I first moved here.’ 

In fairness, Killian would probably judge himself too if he were in the landlord's shoes. He has judged himself many times for becoming a stereotype of Dicaprio-sized proportions. But the alternative would have been resisting Emma Swan, something he’s incapable of doing - or at least had been until that morning he ruined everything. 

“Okay.” The stairs are still moving.

“Hold on.” She takes out her phones - there’s definitely two of them - and holds them in front of his face. “I just want to get you on camera saying that I’m not liable if you fall down these stairs and break your neck.” 

“Is that really necessary?” He got that whole sentence out in one try. 

“I know you have a lawyer.” ‘You have a what? Wow, I knew you were older but I didn’t know you were like, old old.’ ‘I don’t think it counts if you’ve stolen from parent’s liquor cabinet.’ 

“Fine. Don’t sue Emma if I die. She’s very nice and doesn’t have any money anyway.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’ll never hold up in court.” 

“That would be way more convincing if you could pronounce all your consonants.” 

The climb takes twice as long as it should and he’s forced to stop once when he makes the mistake of looking down and his stomach rolls violently. ‘I swear to god if you puke in my hallway I’ll leave you here to sleep in it.’

“I don’t remember there being this many floors.”

“It’s four floors. You’ve done two.” 

He might die.

He doesn’t die, but just barely, and when Emma leads him through the door and into the studio, she practically drops him onto the old couch. It’s not her fault; he’d made himself very droppable in the last few minutes. At least he landed on the couch and not the collection of wooden crates she’s glued together next to it. ‘That’s not a coffee table, Swan.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, is that or is that not your coffee cup on it right now?’

He doesn’t see her for a few minutes, his head too heavy to lift, but he can hear her moving around the apartment and he can picture her, walking through the kitchen on her toes. ‘It’s not weird, shut up.’ ‘I just thought you’d like to know that most people use their whole foot.’ 

When she finally comes back, he forces his eyes open, unsure who exactly glued them shut or how they did it without him noticing. Fuck she’s beautiful. Even through the boozy marinade he’s made of his head he can see that, and he wants to tell her. He could. He could blame it on the rum. But that would be a bad idea. Complicating things between them would be a bad idea. They’d already gotten complicated enough. God, he’s such a fuck up. Things were good, they could have stayed good. He just had to go and ruin a good thing with his stupid, greedy heart. 

“Here.” Two little pills and a frighteningly large bottle of water are set down in front of him. He’s not sure what the pills are but he’s also pretty sure she wouldn’t try to poison him even if he is an asshole who called her in the middle of the night after ghosting her for months. Pretty sure. The water sounds like a good idea. 

“Have you eaten anything or did you have rum for dinner?” 

“There were peanuts at the bar,” he tells her after guzzling down enough water to drown himself with. She shakes her head and walks out of his line of sight again. This time she comes back with a bag of crisps and he thinks maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as he thought because they’re the kind he likes most. 

“Eat that, drink that, and take those,” she orders, pointing to each with a stern look. “And then lie down on your side so I know you won’t choke to death in the night, and get some sleep.” 

“Yes ‘mam,” he salutes.

“Don’t get cute with me.” He wasn’t trying to be cute. But it makes him unreasonably happy that she thinks he is. She rolls her eyes at his probably once again dumb smile and repeats, “eat,” before disappearing where he can’t see her again. 

When she comes back this time her hair is down, falling over the shoulders of her oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt she’s apparently had since she was twelve, and he wants to whine or cry at how desperately he wishes he could reach for her and what an idiot he is for being the reason he can’t. She’s carrying an empty garbage can, a blanket draped over one arm. 

“Do not puke on my rug. It’s the only new thing in this whole apartment and I love it more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” 

Killian leans over from where he’s stretched out on the couch that’s too small for him, running his fingers over the blue and white pattern and nods. “It’s lovely, very soft.” 

She’s silent for long enough that he looks up again, only to find her with her lips pressed so hard together against a laugh that he can see her chest lurch with the force of containing it. He frowns, looking from her to the rug and back again before realizing that he’s been stroking the rug with his prosthetic hand. 

“Emma… I might be drunker than I thought.” 

The laugh that bursts out of her is loud and horrible and obnoxious and it’s the best sound he’s heard in a long time. He’s missed that sound, the one that had shocked him so completely the first time he heard it that they’d both ended up on the floor, stomachs hurting and eyes tearing, neither able to remember what had set her off in the first place and unable to stop giggling like teenagers. 

“Aw, babe,” Emma crouches down in front of him with a pitying look before beginning to work the straps of his false hand loose. Her hand settles soft against his cheek once it’s free, smirk still lingering on the corner of her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been as drunk as you are right now.” 

Her face is so close to his that his heart forgets how it’s meant to work, stopping and racing of its own accord. He wishes she would close the distance, that he could feel her mouth against his for the first time in months, or that she’d simply stay here with him for the rest of the night because the distance and the silence between them has been more than he can take. He doesn't know how he ever convinced himself that staying away would eventually make the ache for her fade. 

She smiles at him again, giving his cheek an affectionate pat before draping the blanket over him, the soft one he knows had been her prized possession before the rug. “Get some sleep, Killian. I don’t think anyone’s ever been as hungover as you’re going to be tomorrow either.” 

He’s not sure whether or not the way his fingers close around hers before she can pull away was his idea or the rum’s, but she’s looking at him, waiting for him to say something and he doesn’t know what he was going to say or what he was thinking. He just knows that he missed her and he screwed it up - and then he screwed it up again, possibly beyond repair the second time. 

Being in this city that he managed to avoid for months in the hopes that he could forget about her has been one of the worst decisions he’s ever made. To think he really believed that he could live here, that he could take the job that was offered and not be haunted by her every waking moment, not dread and hope to see her around every corner. 

Being naive enough to think he could ignore the draw of her is how he ended up in that bar tonight. He’d tried to figure out how many shots of rum it would take to make him forget that he loves Emma Swan, but it seems there isn’t enough rum in the world for that - or at least not enough in that bar. 

She’s still looking at him and he wishes she wasn’t watching him with a hesitation and a carefulness that hadn’t been there before. It had always been so easy between them; he’d never felt less self-conscious with another person in his life and now it’s all consuming. She’s lost the carefree warmth he used to see in her eyes, like he took it with him when he left that morning and didn’t come back. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment in her sigh. “I already told you, it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “Not for calling you tonight. For not calling you. Every other night. I’ve been an ass and I’ve been a coward. You didn’t deserve that.” By the grace of whatever gods might be listening to his poor apology, he doesn’t slur a single word.

Her pause is long enough that he worries he said the wrong thing, and he can’t read her expression through the haze of booze and exhaustion swimming around in his head. He should let go of her hand, but he’s painfully aware that this could be the last time he gets to touch her and she’s not pulling away. 

She sighs again. “Why don’t we talk about this when you’re feeling better?” 

He lets go. “Aye, Swan, whatever you want.” 

She walks away. Beyond repair then. 

***

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else.”

Killian jumps, heart pounding. He feels like he’s woken from a coma, body so heavy with sleep that parts of it aren't responding to him and never having been more confused than he is in these first few moments. It’s daytime, but it’s not morning, the light is too dim, and he’s asleep but not in his bed or in his hotel room, on a couch he recognizes but can’t really place. He has a vague recollection of things that may or may not have happened while he lay here; the sound of someone moving around the room, someone saying his name, a door shutting, an angry car somewhere far off and the bark of a dog somewhere close, the sound of keys and the strange sensation someone poking him in the face - hard. 

All of it feels like a fever dream now as he looks towards the tinny sound of the belligerent man’s voice coming from the phone in her hand.Oh no. Oh god what the hell had he done last night? He recognizes the room, the soft blanket he’s under, the long legs clad in grey sweatpants perched on the table in front of him. He doesn’t think he can bring himself to look at her.

“Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

If you’d like to save this message, press - there's a loud beep before another message begins to play. Bloody hell. He remembers the pub, and the cop - sort of - and he remembers that little line on his phone screen. ‘Absolutely not’. From the looks of it, he absolutely did. 

“Heey, isme again. I don’t think I told you where I am. Is’not great, Swan. They put me in the jail.”

He winces, sitting up carefully, head still light and disoriented. “Did I…”

“Mhm.” 

Another wince. “Are they all-”

“Oh yeah.”

“‘M not even that drunk. The sherfs just got a commpelex or something.”

“Swan, we really don’t have to -”

“Shh, this is my favourite part.” 

Killian hangs his head. “I - Oy, I’m on the phone, sherirff! Don’ they teach you manners at cop school? The cops in your city are rude, Swan. Hey! No - iss my phone. I can call whoever I want.” There’s a shuffling sound that stirs up a faint memory of trying to back deeper into the cell, then a small shout and he remembers why his ass hurts and that he’s probably got a bruise on his hip the size of the one on his ego. Emma has her lip caught between her teeth again, flashing him the same look she had when she arrived at the station. 

“Hello? Swan? Oh, right. Yur prolly asleep. You should be asleep, that’s good. I jus’ called ‘cus I…” For a blissful minute he thinks he might have had the sense to hang up, the silence on the other end dragging on and he almost breathes a sigh of relief. But then the message rings out again. “I can't remember why I called you. I think somethin’ made me think of you.” His voice gets softer and so does her expression for just a moment. 

“That happens a lot. I been thinking ‘bout you a lot, all the time, really. And not just in a sexy way and not just yer face.” Killian hangs his head. “Even though I’m a fan of your face. And all your other parts too.” 

He wishes he could just perish right here and now, wishes the dull ache in his head would become an aneurysm and take him out without a fuss. 

“I been thinking about those ridic’lus tiktoks you used to send me and when I was in meetings ‘n I jus’ wanted to be with you. I don’t know anything about Taylor Swift anymore, Swan - I don’t know how to find those myself.” There’s another pause but he knows better than to hope this is over, much of this coming back to him now in mortifying waves. 

“I’ve too many shirts in my closet now - It’s so many shirts. I always brought extra ‘cause I knew you’d steal ‘em an’ then you’d walk ‘round your kitchen in ‘em with no pants like yur a sexy Winnie the Pooh or somethn’ and I had to watch you climb yur counters while I had a heartattack  ‘cuz you wouldn’ jus’ let me get things off the top shelf for you. Bloody stubborn.” There’s a sigh over the machine. “I don’t want this many shirts, Swan…

‘Anyway I - What? Who does? Sorry, Swan the sherf is being rude again. He wants to know if yur picking me up. Are you picking me up?” There’s so much hope in his past self’s voice that he almost feels bad for him. But he also knows what a bloody idiot that man is and it’s hard to feel anything but the overwhelming urge to disappear into this couch and not have to listen to any more of his drunken rambling. “That would be nice. But it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d understand. Gnight, love.”

To delete this message press - She hits a button. Message saved.

Killian braces himself for the next one. Gods, how many of them are there? But this time it’s not his voice that comes out over the speakerphone, it’s another man, Irish and vaguely familiar through the sleep and the unfortunately returning memories. 

“Hey, Emma, it’s Graham.” Killian’s heart drops into his stomach at the sound of another man calling her in the middle of the night. Of course she wouldn’t have sat around pining like he did, not for a man who treated her as carelessly as he had. Of course - “Listen, I don’t know who this guy is but he says he knows you. I thought maybe he was one of your clients but when I asked him how he knows you he just asked me if I’ve ever been in love...”

The brow Emma raises at him is equal parts question, challenge and amusement and he feels the blood rush from his face. Fuck. He wonders whether four floors would be high enough for him to end this misery if he just went out the window. 

“Anyway, just let me know if this is another Walsh situation and I’ll make sure he stays in here, alright? Goodnight, love.” Killian can’t even begrudge the man or the endearment he adds to the end of his message when he’s only looking out for her. Probably a good thing she has someone to keep old, drunk dickheads away from her. 

He hears another beep of her mailbox and braces himself for whatever’s coming next. “Hi, love, ‘m sorry for calling so much. I know I made too many ms’takes to be ‘loud to say this, but… I miss you, Swan… And I’d jus’ really like to see you again.”

End of messages. To - 

Emma shuts the phone off, setting it down next to her on the coffee table. She tilts her head to see his face which he’s currently trying to bury in his hands. “Sounds like you had quite the night.” 

“I thought I’d be more hungover.” His head hurts and he’s tired and his mouth is dry but he expected to be near death after the way he threw them back last night.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Oh. He does the math of how long she’d let him sleep in her apartment after everything he’s done - after she picked him up. 

“At one point I had to make sure you were alive. But I figured if you were able to leave such eloquent voicemails last night that you probably weren’t in danger of alcohol poisoning.”

“Swan, I…” He’s fully aware that he deserves her mocking but he’s too humiliated to even begin to try and explain his behaviour last night. How can he without explaining everything right down to that morning in July where he messed up the best thing in his life.

She takes pity on him, giving a small shrug. “Forget about it. Everyone says stupid stuff when they’re hammered. Everyone calls people they know they shouldn’t.”

“No, Emma -” He finally lifts his head to look at her. “That wasn’t…” He needs her to know that wasn’t what this was, she wasn’t just some drunk dial in the middle of the night. He thinks of how many times in the last three three months he’s looked at that contact in his phone, her name replaced with a reminder that he should not and absolutely could not go there. She mistakes his hesitation. 

“You okay?”

“No.” He needs to talk to her, to apologize and beg her forgiveness. But he can’t find the words in his tired, muddled head to tell her without telling her everything. “I’m a bloody idiot.” 

Emma smirks. “Yeah, we established that last night - a bunch of times.” 

“I mean it. It wasn’t -” He rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep and avoid looking at her. “I didn’t just call you because I was drunk. I’ve wanted to call you. For months. Last night just gave me an excuse.”

“You needed an excuse to call me?” 

He sighs. “I was coward enough to convince myself I did.” 

When he finally forces himself to face her, he finds her watching her phone, fingers wrung in her lap and lips pressed together tightly the way they always are before she asks something that’s answer matters to her. 

“How much of last night do you actually remember?” 

“Most of it, I think.” It’s been coming back to him in increasingly horrifying details since she played that first voicemail.

“You said a lot of stupid stuff.” 

“I know.” 

“How much of all of that was true?”

“All of it.”

She raises a brow. “All of it?”

“Aye.”

“Sexy Winnie the Pooh?”

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “I stand by what I said.”

He wonders which parts of what he said she’s focusing on as her silence stretches between them, heartbroken when he sees a little wall go up. This is why he stopped calling. He knew this would happen. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like you owed me anything. We weren’t -”

“Don’t do that.” His hand reaches out for her, fingers playing carefully with the fabric of her too-big sweatpants. “We may not have been in a relationship but we weren’t nothing.” He won’t let her excuse his behaviour, not after they spent over a year in each others’ lives only for him to disappear from hers. “I shouldn’t have acted like we were.” 

“So then why did you stop calling?” It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever heard her sound even though she hides it well and he can’t bring himself to look at her. “I liked what we had going. I liked spending time with you.”

“Aye, so did I.” Too much. 

“I guess I thought - I guess I thought we were friends at least.” 

“We were.” His fingers dance along her calf through the fabric he can’t stop fiddling with and he feels the muscle tense but she doesn’t pull away from him. 

“So then what gives?” The anger in her voice makes his gaze snap up to hers. Finally. He’s been waiting for her to be angry with him, she deserves to be angry and he deserves it too. It gives him that small flicker of hope he’d been unable to find until now, a hope that if she’s angry, it’s because she cared enough to be hurt. “Why did you just…” She gestures vaguely with her hands. Disappear. 

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“Do what? Hook up? Jesus, Killian, I’m a big girl. You didn’t have to run away because you were over the benefits part of this friendship.” 

“I wasn’t. I left because I broke our rules.” 

“What rules?” 

The ones they’d so carefully established when they decided to continue this arrangement beyond the first and second time he saw her. The ones that were meant to keep either of them from getting hurt like they both were now. 

“The last time I was here, we fell asleep and woke up in the morning still in your bed and I…”

“That’s why you freaked out? Because you accidentally slept over? That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He can hear the disbelief in her voice and also the relief but he’s not done. “It wasn’t like a hard and fast rule -”

His fingers curl around the back of her knee, squeezing as he draws her attention. “That’s not why.” He traces his thumb over the fabric covering her shin and he knows he has to tell her because he can’t do this anymore without telling her and he can’t go back to how things were. 

And he thinks that just maybe, she’ll want to hear it. Because as small and insignificant as it may seem, those aren’t her sweatpants, they’re his, lent - stolen - after a rather frantic afternoon in his hotel room six months ago where he may have torn her skirt in his haste to get it off. ‘You need better quality clothes, love.’ ‘Is this you finally offering to be my sugar daddy?’ They have his bloody initials on them - a strange gift from his lawyer friend. And she hasn’t gotten rid of them, didn’t toss them away when he did the same to her. She still sleeps in them. 

“I freaked out because I liked waking up with you, and I started thinking that I’d like to wake up with you every morning.” He’d been hot and sweaty and sore from sleeping on her old mattress but he’d looked down at the woman wrapped around him despite the stifling heat, her cheek pressed to his chest and her hair in his mouth and he knew that he wanted this, wanted her, maybe forever. He hears her small intake of breath, his thumb still stroking her skin though the fabric as though it’ll give him the strength he needs. “And I hadn’t felt that way about anyone since…” He can’t finish and so she does for him. 

“Milah?” 

“Aye.” His reason for never wanting anything more, love lost in the same instant that cost him a piece of himself. He’d told Emma about her, one night when they’d lingered a little too long entangled in the aftermath. He didn’t know the details of her reason, only that she’d been far too young and that he’d hurt her deeply enough to make her wary of anyone who claimed love or devotion. 

“I hoped that if I stayed away for a little while that it would fade away and that we could go back to how things were because I knew that if I told you I would lose you. But the longer I stayed away, the more I missed you and the more I wanted you and I realized it wasn’t going to go away - because I loved you.” 

Killian watches her for a reaction as he tells her the truth he’d been hiding from her for months and from himself for far longer, but she remains unreadable, fingers still wringing nervously in her lap, breathing a little shaky. But there’s no abject terror in her gaze as she waits for him to finish.

“And by then I’d avoided you for too long and it was too late to tell you or try to go back to how things were and I lost you anyway. Then I managed to convince myself that it was for the best because this wasn’t what you wanted and you deserved better anyway.” Better than an old widower with a used up heart who’d run the moment things became real. “But I thought you had the right to know that I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you. I left because I cared too much.” 

Fabric slips from his hand as she stands, circling the coffee table and leaving him feeling untethered without her and with a barrier set between them. He focuses on the rug, her reaction expected but no less painful, as she paces the length of her glued together crates a few times. 

“Okay two things.” Her tone snaps his gaze up to where she moves anxiously and restlessly in the small space. “First of all, that’s the last time you make a decision for me.” He hadn’t expected this reaction. “I don’t need anyone to decide what I do or don’t deserve or what I can or can’t handle. If you want to know what I want, you ask me. You talk to me like the grownup you keep pretending that you are.” That one hurts but he nods. It’s all rightly earned. 

“You’re right.” 

“Good.” She stops, shoulders squared as she faces him from across the table. “Second.” He waits, the anger from before no longer sustaining her as he sees the wall she hides behind slip just a little. “You said you loved me.”

He’s not sure what answer she wants, but he gives her the truth. “I love you, Swan.” Try as hard as he did not to, he knows it’s not going away. And he’s not willing to attempt another eight shots of rum a second time to make sure. 

She nods. He waits, or she waits, he’s not sure who’s supposed to speak here only that he needs to know how she feels and he’ll wait as long as he needs to. 

“Well? Are you going to ask me what I want?”

“What do you want?” He’d give her whatever she asked for at this point as he watches her bite her lip and definitely doesn’t wish he was the one biting it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Fair enough. 

“Look, I get running away from feelings - I’m very familiar with the concept. But the way you did it was really shitty and -” Her voice goes quiet, arms wrapping around herself in a move so full of self-preservation that it breaks his heart a little. “It hurt, okay?”

Her words, thick with betrayal and rejection, pierce sharp through his chest, painful and deserved as she avoids his gaze as determinantly as he’d avoided hers. God, he’s an ass. He’d pieced together enough about her past from the small glimpses she’d given him late on those nights where they were still tangled naked in her sheets and the dark lent them the boldness to be vulnerable to know that she’d been left before. 

He joins her on her side of the table, reaching to touch the soft, golden waves that he’s spent months wishing he could tangle his fingers in again. “I’m sorry.” He pushes them behind her ear, thumb stroking over her cheek like her skin could break beneath his touch. 

When she looks up at him her eyes are red and wet he pulls her to him without thinking. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, Emma feeling fragile in his arms for the first time since he met her. She’s a force, his Swan, a tempest that could devour a thousand ships and it hurts to see her storms wane. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter, pressing a kiss to her temple as he brings a hand to stroke the hair at the base of her neck, feels her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he speaks against her brow. “I’m so sorry, love.” His lips brush over the crown of her head and he feels her arms slip around his waist, holding tight to the back of his shirt. He holds her just as tightly, nose settling in the crook of her neck where he presses another kiss and whispers a thousand more apologies. “I’m an ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” Her voice comes muffled from where her face is pressed against his collarbone and he laughs in relief to hear her tease him. He pulls back enough that she can lift her head to face him, eyes still red as he wipes at the dampness left on her cheeks. All he wants is to kiss her and spend the night and the next day and every day after that making this up to her, but he knows better than to push her.

Her hands slide from his back to his chest as she meets his gaze and takes a steadying breath. “I still don’t know what I want. You’re not the only one who’s bad at dealing with feelings and you just put some pretty big ones out there.”

“I know.” He doesn’t expect to hear the words back, not after three months of silence. But if she gives him the chance to stay and try to win her heart then he’ll spend forever earning back her trust. 

“But maybe, if you’re still in town for a bit, you could stay for dinner.” 

It takes everything he has to contain the ecstatic smile that wells up from his chest, afraid he’ll scare her off. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.” He’s not leaving her again. Not unless she sends him away. 

***

“When do you go back?” she asks when they’re sat at the kitchen island. ‘What, exactly, do you have against real furniture? Especially tables. They seem particularly discriminated against.’ ‘Do you see any room in here for a twelve-piece dining set?’ He swallows the bite of the boxed mac and cheese she’d made him cook ‘Because I’m still pissed at you and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer through this.’ ‘Sadist. Can I at least add -’ ‘No.’  

Killian looks at his watch. “My flight was an hour ago.”

“What? You should have said -”

“And miss all the delicacies that Maine has to offer?” he asks, lifting his mismatched bowl. “It’s fine, Swan,” he adds when she looks genuinely concerned. “I’d rather be here.” He can get another flight at the last minute before he’s due back in New York on Monday. Getting his things back from the hotel, however, may be a tad more difficult. 

“That’s sweet and all but I think you’d also rather be employed.”

“Aye, well, I may not be employed there much longer anyhow.” 

Her eyes widen. “Oh god, don’t tell me you left them voicemails too.”

Killian snorts. “No, I’ve just… had another offer.” 

His heart pounds frantically as she asks, “where?” terrified that he’ll scare her off. 

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He nods. “I wasn’t going to take it, not after realizing how much I’d miss you if I was here. But, well, that was before I drank a full bar. And this town does have its benefits.” 

She gapes at him and he can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. “You’re not moving for me, right? You want the job? Because I told you I don’t know what I want or if I can even do… whatever this maybe is and I -” 

He reaches for her hand, calming the rambling that had started. “I do want the job, but of course I’m moving for you, Swan. And I know you’re not ready to decide anything, and I’m not asking you to. But whether you do or don’t decide that what you want is me, I’m going to be right here while you figure it out. I’m not going to leave you twice, Emma. I don’t want to miss you like that again.”

Emma just stares at him, mouth opening and then shutting with questions that don’t find voice and he sits, stewing in the worry that he said too much, asked for too much. He swallows as she jumps out of her seat, his turn to ramble now as she rounds the island.

“I mean, I will have to go home and get my things and resign but I -” 

“Shut up,” she tells him, hands sliding into his hair and mouth colliding with his. 

He’s more than happy to do exactly that, wasting no time in gathering her up in his arms and pulling her close, returning the kiss he’d missed so damn much all these months, missed the feel of her soft and warm against him like this, for the little sound she makes when his own hand tangles in her hair just hard enough that he can keep he there a little longer.  

“Wait,” he breathes and her hands pause where they’d been working the buttons of his shirt free. “Maybe we should slow down.” There’s a part of him screaming at his stupid mouth right now for the words falling out of it. “You said you don’t know if this is what you want. So maybe we shouldn’t rush things.”

She barks out a small laugh. “You’re moving to another city for a ‘maybe’ and you don’t want to rush things?” He doesn’t really have an answer for that. 

Her brow and mouth quirk up in one devastatingly attractive motion that has him ready to go back on everything he just said. “This was never our problem,” she reminds him, fingers tugging the buckle of his belt loose. “We’re good at this part. Everything else is where we get messy.” She works the button of his jeans open next. “So just try not to make any more big confessions while you’re inside me…” She runs her teeth over the skin below his ear as she slides her hand into his jeans and he nearly chokes. “And we should be fine.” 

“Bloody hell.” His rational self may judge him later, but his current self has Emma Swan with her hand around his cock trying to get him out of his clothes and he’s already established that he’s not a very smart man. “I promise.” 

***

It’s a strange feeling to be laying here, wrapped up in an old duvet and Star Wars sheets with Emma’s head on his shoulder and her fingers drawing patterns over his chest. They’ve never done this part, never lingered beyond the time it took them both to catch their breaths before untangling themselves from one another and going about their day - or tangling themselves again. He likes it, but it’s strange, new, something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not with anyone. 

“This is kind of weird right?” she asks, breath warm against his neck. 

Killian laughs. Bloody mind reader. 

“Aye, a bit. I think I’m out of practice.”

“I never practised in the first place.” 

He presses a kiss to her hair. “But, it’s not bad, right?” She can probably hear his stupid heart racing as he waits for her answer. 

“No,” she shakes her head, sliding her arm around his waist and fitting herself more snugly against his side. “It’s not bad.” He can feel her smile against his skin, glad she can’t see the absolutely ridiculous one stretched across his own. They lay there a little longer, the room darkening with the earlier and earlier nights as he begins to dread the fast approaching hour where he’ll have to leave, until Emma shifts. “My neck hurts.” 

“My arm’s asleep.” 

She sits up and his arm is flooded with the sudden relief of no longer being squished, but he misses the warmth and the closeness of her immediately. He has two arms. Who really needs both? He’s done fine with one hand. “Where are you going?” he asks when she rises from the bed, reaching for his shirt that she tossed on the floor and he made himself leave there. ‘Do not fold your clothes while we’re in the middle of having sex or I swear I’ll put mine back on you fucking weirdo.’

“Thirsty,” she says as she finishes buttoning it. “You?”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Water? Or would you prefer rum?”

“Hilarious.” His stomach rolls, not finding her so funny. She certainly seems to think she is, smirking as she fetches two water bottles from the fridge. “You know you’re going to have to give me my shirt back this time. It’s the only one I’ve got.” At least until he finds out if the hotel hung onto his suitcase when he missed his checkout. “Unless you have the others squirrelled away here somewhere.” 

“I thought you had ‘too many shirts, Swan,’” she reminds him in a poor imitation of his accent and he rolls his eyes. She hops back onto the bed, climbing into his lap to sit astride his hips. His hand and wrist settle on her waist, the shirt in question riding up and making him groan at the feel of her pressed against him. 

“Aye well I’ve only got the one to wear out of here tonight and while you look infinitely better in it than I do -” 

“Like a sexy Winnie the Pooh, would you say?”

He sighs. “I’m never living that one down am I?”

“You want to show me your hundred acre wood?” Killian lets his head fall back against the headboard as she laughs herself silly. “I have another solution,” she tells him, hands wringing nervously in the sleeves of his shirt. “I was thinking, maybe, since you’ve already missed your flight, and you probably don’t have a hotel room anymore, that you could stay here tonight. And maybe we could give that whole waking up together thing a shot.” 

Her cheeks are flushed, freckles bright against the soft pink as she looks up from her hands to catch his eye. He kisses her hard enough that she’d have fallen right off his lap were it not for his arms holding her steady and close to him. 

“That a yes?” she asks, mouth curling against his and he catches that smirking bottom lip between his teeth like he’s wanted to since she showed up at the station. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

She nods and it’s him smiling against her mouth now. “For tonight at least. But I think there’s still a lot of grovelling in your future before it becomes a regular thing.”

He kisses her again, rolls her onto her back beneath him. “Then I’d better get started right away,” he says, lips finding the length of her neck as he begins to work free the buttons of his stolen shirt. 

“Well, you did promise you would write poetry about my boobs.” 

“I what?” He looks up only to see her wearing the same confused frown as himself before her eyes widen with laughter and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my god. You haven’t seen your texts have you?”

Fuck. 

*******

Tagging the usual people but let me know if you want to be removed or added!

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[zeezelweazel]

i love love your blog!!! could you write a oneshot of best friend! lottie pining over fem! reader and confessing after she gets jealous when a guy flirts with reader at the party?

Lottie Mathews| I'll be yours, if you'll have me

______________________________________

Thank you so much!

I've read a few fics like this with lottie so I hope this didn't turn out to be too similar to them

______________________________________

"Ok Lottie, I love you but there's no way you're wearing this shity dress that you stole from TJ Max to Jeff's party. The whole damn school is going to be there!"

Lottie groans and puts that dress to the side while pouting. For a rich girl your taste is very shity Matthews, you're lucky you're cute.

"You only talk shit because you look good in everything."

You giggle at your best friend's childish behaviour and take her hand to pull her towards the closest. All of the deliberate fashion advice that you give her doesn't register to Lottie's brain, her head is already full of you and how gorgeous you look in this outfit and how your make up is flawless and how soft your voice sounds and how silky your hair looks and-

"Earth to Lottie? Do you like the blue skirt or the grey one with this top?"

"Um the blue for sure."

You only nod at her and continue looking through her accessories. Lottie is already stumbling with her words and you haven't even gotten to the party yet. She can practically hear Taissa's voice in her head. 'She's literally head over heels for you just confess to her already'.

"Easier said than done." She mumbles quietly as she stares at you trying to envision a pair of silver earrings with the outfit you've assembled and her insides feel warm.

When you arrive at the party, only 30 minutes late, majority of the people are drunk off their asses. You and Lottie move through the crowd keeping eachother in sight so you don't get lost. Now, when it comes to parties the Yellowjackets usually are spread around. Van and Tai are most likely having a make out session in a random room at Jeff's house. Speaking of Jeff, him and Jackie are probably together and where Jackie is Shauna has to be nearby. Nat is with her friends and Misty is probably not even here.

You and Lottie share a look and mutually decide that it's better to just hang with eachother for now. You enter Jeff's house and like you expected there are tons of people there, talking, dancing and drinking. Speaking of drinking...

"Hey Lot, will you go grab us some drinks? I'll try to look if any of the girls are around here."

Lottie just nods and makes her way to the kitchen where the drinks are, leaving you alone in the crowded living room. After you took a good look at all the people and didn't recognise any of the girls you decided to head towards the pool. That's usually were all the popular girls are and by extension the jocks and if the jocks are there Jeff, Jackie and Shauna must be as well. Sure enough, you spot the three of them sitting in the side of the pool. You start to head to them but someone calls your name and you stop in your tracks. It's a guy from the baseball team, his name is something like Martin..?

He cuts your path to your friends by getting in front of you and starts complimenting your outfit.

"You look so good in that... urm whatever it is! Even at school you always dress so nice. It seems like you know what fits you perfectly. You know what would fit me?"

You suppress a sigh as you heavily contemplate on saying no and just walking away but since Lottie isn't even here yet, and this guy has no chance at all you decide to humor him.

"What would?"

He chuckles and moves closer to you bringing his hand on your chin.

"You, of course."

You can't really hold your laugh this time as a giggle slips through. Unfortunately for you the boy took that as approval of his horrible flirting and got closer as he wrapped his arm around you. At this point you were ready to push him off you hear someone shout from behind you.

"Hey get your hands off of her Markus!"

The boy instantly turns around to look at a very pissed off Lottie coming towards you. She doesn't even wait for him to say anything before she tugs you on her side and glares at him.

"Get the fuck out of here. Now."

You can't help but be surprised at her aggression as you keep looking between her and Markus. Lottie rarely got so angry. As Markus leaves embarrassed Lottie is still following him with her eyes. You look at her face, trying to study her expression.

"Um, Lot? What was that?"

She looks at you surprised, as if she just now realized how obvious her jealousy was. She can even see Jackie and Shauna looking at her with a questioning look.

"Nothing, he was just being creepy and I helped."

You fold your arms over your chest and look at her with a 'do not bullshit me Matthews' look.

"You went like full beast mode there Lot. I've only seen you get like that, like, twice."

Lottie can't handle your questions or the looks from her teammates and there are just so many fucking people in this stupid pool area. So without another word Lottie just storms off, leaving as fast as she came in.

You follow after her as you keep calling out her name. You are even more confused now. Why did she get so angry at that boy flirting with you? And why did she get so defensive when you asked her about it?

You eventually manage to catch up with her in what looks like a guest room. She's sitting down on the bed and looks up at you with e defeated expression.

"Well damn Matthews now you really have to tell me what the fuck was that."

Lottie takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. There's no way out of this now, she knows that much, but still she's scared of telling you how she feels. She can't bear the thought of loosing you. You're the most important person in her life. The one who understands everything when it comes to her parents and her schizophrenia and all that comes with that. You're a good person so she knows that you won't be disgusted or anything but just seeing that pitying look on your face as you try to gently reject her would break her heart. Well it's not like you have any other choice.

"I um... I was jealous." She can see how you're even more confused now but thankfully you let her continue. "There's a reason why I never like anyone you date. Even when they're good people. It's because I get jealous. And I get jealous because well, I like you."

Your eyes widen for a moment and then soften as you look at her sweetly.

"Oh Lot, I like you too, you know that right?" Lottie is so surprised but excited to hear you say that, she almost can't believe it. "There's no way I would let any stupid boyfriend, or girlfriend, come between us. We're best friends."

Best friends

Of course, how did Lottie ever think that you'd like her like that? She feels frustration bubbling up in her chest. You didn't even understand what she meant. Well if she's going to confess might as well do it properly, so she can get rejected properly as well.

"I want to be your stupid girlfriend!"

She doesn't even mean to shout but her words shake you anyway. Holy shit Lottie fucking Matthews said she wants to be my girlfriend?! You are too busy with your internal panic to notice Lottie being on the verge of tears. All you see is a blur passing by you and heading for the door.

Oh hell no, you're not running away again.

You manage to grab her wrist before she makes her escape and spin her around so she's facing you. You don't waste a single second as you grab her face and bring her down so your lips meet in what definitely seems to be the best kiss of your damn life.

Lottie immediately gets the memo as she puts her hands on your waste. It's impossible to kiss for much longer because both of you can't stop grinning. When you pull back, you take a moment to just look at your girlfriend.

"I think we need to thank Markus for this."

"Oh fuck no."

____________________________________________________

[joannasteez]

T.O.B.- headcanon thingz!

authors note: the following content is merely being created for fun and to supplement the major plot(s) of the original story. all headcanons will be labeled as such, and will feature a hand full of little facts and tidbits about the third generation members of the blood line during their youth!

they called him pretty boy rhodes. too blue eyes and that punchable perfect smile. "my boy dashin' ain't he?", his father would say all the time. but it was true. cody was more pretty than the biker world needed him to be. 

"they voted me most handsome"...he said once, very nonchalantly. and they did, the last year of HS. which surprisingly did nothing to affect his meekness.

when cody was eighteen, dusty gifted him a harley davidson fatboy. black, silver, and so damn beautiful.

when cody was sixteen he randomly got a nose piercing that he kept up with faithfully until his mid twenties. "chicks dig the piercing". he attempted a septum but dean told him it was ugly and cody had never heard that word come his way ever and it surprisingly scared the shit outta him. he stuck with his little diamond stud till the tattoos started rollin in more heavily. apparently committing to both was too much work. he got a very weird, oddly placed neck design that made everyone grimace. (he was drunk and orton was practicing)

cody fucking hates beer. "its effervescent hot piss. fuckin miss me please". he much prefers rum based drinks.

he's an affectionate drunk. tells all the guys "he loves them". when he starts getting teary eyed, they know he's had too much.

cody was slightly affected by the "dashing" thing. on his inner arm theres a small black inked square covering what used to read "PBR", which means pretty boy rhodes. once again. kinda drunk, and jey was practicing.

cody was very briefly the tattoo test dummy. he stopped when he realized he was wasting skin on amateur work.

cody doesn't think he has superior music taste, but he likes what he likes. radiohead, the smashing pumpkins, jeff buckely (a girl he dated for 2 weeks in HS introduced him to jeff. probably the only fruitful thing from those two weeks of hell) when he's feeling a little angsty and stevie wonder because dusty played the classic shit.

leather jackets. dark browns and old worn black leather jackets. always smelling like cinnamon. the girls fucking loved it. most times with worn boots. a lot of layering in the winter/fall. long sleeve white tees under crew necks. band tee tanks in the summer.

cody loves the matrix.

cody is a bare knuckle kinda boy in a fight. people who don't know him underestimate him because of the "PBR" stigma. but he's a bloodline kid through and through. gets bloody and a little dirty like the rest of them. has definitely let you wrap his knuckles a time or two after a particularly bad bar brawl. some asshole sliced his hand with a bottle. he used to be a tattoo test dummy though, so high pain tolerance.

[theincognitomoth]

Sweeter than Custard

Mr. Wolf x female reader

Rating: +18

Word count: 7.4k

Summary: “I meant what I said last night, Moe,” you said. “And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. So don’t… don’t pretend it didn’t.”

Water drops falling from your face into the metal of the sink never echoed so loud, other than that, your heart beating on your ears was the only sound in the apartament. Your guts twisted.

“Please say something.” you said.

“You were very drunk.” Wolf finally spoke. “I… tried not to think much about it. I didn’t know if you would even remember last night, much less that you really meant any of that.”

“I did.”

During a party late at night, you get drunk out of your good senses and let your feelings for your friend slip. The next morning you can't tell what haunts you more; Your words or your actions.

Warnings: smut - vulgar language - friends to lovers - drinking - pra!se k!nk - reader is a bit bit of a pillow princess but only because Wolf is a service top - no Y/N - I swear, the summary is the angstiest part in the entire fic.

 

The ‘too soft to sleep in’ couch swallowed your overheated body cocooned in a furry blanket. Awake for some time now, you knew pain awaited the moment you opened your eyes, lovely Mr. Sun outside, in all its glorious morning shine, would blind you and enable the sledgehammer banging your skull to keep going at full strength.

Stupid, foolish, horny little you. A conscious person would’ve quit after the fifth drink, but no, not you, you kept going, the strawberry mojito cold sourness overpowered your exhausted resilience. If only your problems resumed to the hangover. A liver failure perished in comparison to the hot shame crawling its way over your twisted guts as the blurred memories gained focus.

“Shit…” You pressed your palms against your eyes.

Wolf was right, hangover and regret don’t go well together.

Last night was supposed to be harmless fun. After a particular rough work month, Diane decided to treat you and the guys to a private party. She reserved the top of the fancy condominium you all had the privilege to live in - perks of working and being friends with the governor, the budget was anything but tight - Chilly night, open sky dotted with fainted stars by the city lights, and a crystalline pool smelling of chlorine. Colorful lights and two dozen silver balloons scattered completed the scenery. Diane filled the place with snacks and drinks, and you couldn’t keep your hands off the custard tarts, sitting in one of the floral sofas by the covered bar area, you devoured the sweets. Uncovering criminal masterminds from the city alongside Diane’s re-election campaign drained pleasure out of your life, you needed and deserved to indulge a little.

 Chatter, dance, and music at the right volume to avoid noise complaints. Harmless fun. The problem began when Diane, bless her unknowing soul, pointed out the sheer variety of alcoholic beverages up for grabs in the open, do it yourself, bar. Chances of avoiding a fine due to loudness flew out the loft alongside Piranha’s pants. Property damage would weigh on his and Miss Governor's wallet, for as it turns out, drunk Diane much enjoyed wrestling, and Piranha jumped at the opportunity to go crazy. She poked his eyes and he bit her tail, whoever lost the round that no one bothered to judge took a shot of rum with orange soda, ending with the two passed out on the floor. Snake stayed with Wolf at the bar, drinking and talking like civilized people, but forgot the calmness when Shark took hundreds of push-pops to the pool with him. Snake threw himself in the water without much thought, ‘I’m a quarter river snake!’ he said, and came back five minutes later with no push-pop, but poor Weebs, who in her drunken state cannonballed the 8 feet deep pool. She was saved, but her laptop passed to a better place. After that you guys played impressions, and if not for Shark's impeccable acting skills, Wolf would’ve won with his unhinged Professor Marmalade act as he screamed the meteor was a heart and not a goddamn buttcrack. Shark passed out in the pool, Snake and Weebs called it a night soon after. You almost followed suit, trying to be a responsible drinker to avoid a next day death wish, but everytime you glanced at the strawberry mojitos, your hand moved on its own and before you knew it, you had downed two more.

Now there you were, the once cold glass turned lukewarm and unable to stand still as the world spinned. You pushed yourself from the bar’s stool and your brain almost fell out, blurry vision trying to make out the exit to either pass out in the elevator or in your home’s living room carpet. You hoped, not wanting to come up with an excuse as to why a neighbor's kid found a woman in the elevator, smelling of alcohol and surrounded by puke. But your traitorous eyes refused to find the door; instead they found a lone gray figure, leaned on a sofa five feet away from you and going through pictures with a smile. Your heavy feet marched towards him on their own, pulled like a magnet with disregard for furniture on the way - you stumbled and knocked chairs down - and for your body -tripping and falling on said furniture - At the end of your painstaken journey with one scraped knee and a broken nail, Wolf looked at you with amusement.

“Wolfie!” You threw yourself by his side with a giggle, the man letting out a ‘hmph!’ as your head hit his chest. “Hi.”

His arm weighted comfortably on your shoulder.

“Hi to you too,” he said. “Someone clearly had fun.”

“Yeah, I ate all the custard tarts.” The creamy sweetness still lingered on the back of your throat, even after the mojitos. “But I wanted more, they’re gone so fast. I blinked and puff! No more custard tarts! Gone… I wanted more.”

His large clawed hand reached for your face, wiping the hair away from it and showing custard cream in his fingertips, you wanted to lick it off to savor the godsend taste one more time, like an sweethoot addict, but Wolf whipped the cream away before you could.

“Tragedy of life, you don’t always get what you want.” Wolf pointed his head at the bar. “So you drank your sorrows away?” 

“Yeah… like…” You counted on your fingers. “Probably more than six strawberry mojitos. I lost count.”

On the small round table in front of the sofa sat a half filled glass of said drink, ice already melted and probably tasting more of water and rum than strawberry. Who knows whose mouth was in that glass. 

Before your half asleep brain stopped your hand, you downed the drink. Your nose scrunched, tasted as shitty as you thought.

“Hey, that was”- Wolf said, looking at you and at the empty glass. “... Nevermind.” “Strawberry tastes good.”

“Sure does.”

“Custard tarts are better though.”

You glanced over to his hand, leaning further on his chest to see what he held, his heartbeat quick and short over the white cotton shirt.

“What’s that?”

Wolf’s chuckle reverberated through his chest, the hairs in your neck rising with the motion.

“Tonight’s highlights.”

He flashed the polaroid pictures to you like a deck of cards, forever immortalized in them were Diane’s and Piranha wrestling match, Weebs ruling the dance floor with her tarantula exclusive moves while Shark did the vogue on the background, and Snake pulling the most random drinks from the bar and mixing them with a professional bartender’s confidence. The last picture was of you, pouting at the empty tart’s plate while Wolf smiled like a bastard and the last one to the camera.

You gasped, hitting him lightly in the chest. The utter betrayal!

“You jerk. Evil, evil jerk,” you said.

“C’mon, I only took one! The other twenty four were all you.”

“Hmm… fine. I guess it’s fair.” You said, but the pain of letting one single sweet sleep away lingered. “Are you putting those on the fridge?”

“Only the least comprasing ones. Don’t want police or news barging into my place and finding out dear governor over there passed out drunk in orange soda.” Wolf put the pictures in his coat pocket. “The others are going in the bedroom drawer.”

“Ah, blackmail material.” You smiled.

Wolf placed one hand over his chest and looked down at you with believable offense.

“Now, that wouldn't be very nice of me, would it?” He opened that grin that made your legs weak. Changed for the better or not, the ‘bastard grin’ always suited him. “If these things end up in a golden frame, and, by complete chance, annoy the living hell out of the guys, it will be a complete accident.”

Face buried in the fluff of his neck, you laughed amidst a hiccup.

“You’re so mean,” you said.

In this position, you could smell the subtle cologne on his fur, it was like a walk in a pine forest after rain mixed with rum. You felt it before, burned into your mind from the first time you met, a reminder from everytime you sat close to each other and he leaned in to whisper a witty remark about the current situation, or when he asked you to dance, held you close, and the pressure of his hands lingered on your waist after they left, as much as you wished they stayed longer. Pine grew to be one of your favorite smells. Before you knew it, your tights squeezed against each other.

 The softness brushed your cheek, an invitation to lay on it. Any other day, a sober day, you would've slapped yourself for the pathetic neediness. Wolf was your friend, even if he set your body ablaze with just a look, you would like to keep him as your dear friend. Any sober day you would pull away and ignore the heat forming in your core before it rose to your brain and deemed it useless, freeing you to make stupid decisions… Today was no sober day, and the mojitos in your bloodstream were highly flammable.

You caved and laid in fur silkier than expensive bed sheets, more comfortable than your own bed, even with his neck and shoulder tensed up. Your clenched hand on his chest felt his heartbeat stop for a second and come back faster than you could count. Wolf squeezed your arm, tail wagging against the sofa cushions with muffed thuds.

“You’re fluffy.” You snuggled further into him. “Smells good.”

“The wonders of conditioner.”

“Hmm…”

Both your hands ran over his chest grabbing the suit’s collar, pulling closer. You moved your leg across his shut together ones. His hands firmly held your waist in place, preventing you from sinking into his lap. 

“Moe…” You moaned.

Wolf dragged a sharp breath, stern gaze on you.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Okay, but you’re drunker.”

You rolled your eyes, snaking your hands to tangle around his neck.

“I’m not that out of it, Wolf.”

He glanced over your shoulder, skepticism plastered on his handsome face. You followed to find the chairs, little tables and sofas you stumbled on to get to him, one of the chairs knocked over all the way to the pool. Shame heated your cheeks.

“Listen - Listen!” You ignored his smug look and pulled his neck closer to you. “Even if I was sober, I would still want to bang you.”

Wolf looked as if someone poured ice down his neck, half lidded eyes growing to the size of dessert plates, his claws dug into your waist, making your back arch.

He said your name as a warning.

“You’re my buddy,” he said. “So for your own sake, I’m asking you to stop talking.”

“But it’s true!” You giggled at the utmost unholy scenarios forming in your head. “If we go back to my place right now we can fuck in the shower.”

“Oh, okay. You’re still talking.” He shut his eyes and threw his head back on the sofa.

“No, no, I can’t sleep with wet hair. Uh… the kitchen counter then-”

“Listen to me, hang over and regret don’t go well together!”

“Oh! You could pin me against the window and when people look up-”

You fell on your butt as his hands let go of your waist to cover your mouth. Wolf didn’t look at you, and only spoke after too many seconds of silence.

“I need another drink.”

He held your shoulders and laid you on your side, face smushed on the cushion, and went straight to the bar.

“Gimme one too,” you said, leaning on your elbow to have a better look at him.

“No,” He pulled a whisky glass from the counter, filling it up with a blue drink you didn’t recognize. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t remember anything after your sixth drink, this would just be extra migraine on you.” He downed his drink in one shot, wiping his mouth with the suit sleeve. “Come on, let’s get you home.” 

Wolf came back and pulled you up by the hand. Your knees gave in the moment weight was put on them, your legs useless wet noodles. He threw one of your arms over his shoulder and one hand supported your waist.

“Nooo,” you struggled out of his grasp, almost kissing the floor before he caught you. “Take Shark first!” You pointed at poor, unmoving Shark, face first in the pool and surrounded by empty push-pops with no sign of air bubbles on the water. “He’s gonna drown!”

A smile formed on the corners of his mouth. 

“I’m sure Shark will be fine. These two on the other hand…” He gestured with his head to the floor, where Diane and Piranha laid over orange soda. “Hope her insurance covers a massage plan.”

The walk was a blur until you two reached the elevator; Wolf now and again pulled your slipping body upwards, jolting you awake. Sleep crawled into you, made your eyes sting and fill with water the longer you kept them open. You yawned and tried to focus on anything to keep you awake until Wolf got your drunk ass to the apartament, but in a dark elevator, you could either look at a panel changing numbers or him. Obvious choice, these numbers could be Calvin Klein models and you still would look at him.

He frowned at the metal door, body slouched by your weight and visible tiredness. His mouth pulled downwards, the same it did when he struggled with a harsh decision during field work, his suit was wrinkled and the first button on his shirt popped off; perhaps you pulled a little too hard on it. Ruffled up fur marked where your hands had been. Messy, tired and worried. How was it fair that he looked beautiful even with all of that?

“Wolfie…” you said. When Wolf turned his head to look at you, you booped his snout. “Hehe. I love you.”

Your knees hit the carpet floor before Wolf managed to scramble to catch you, sharp pain on the already scraped one. Who’s idea was to invent rough carpets in a world where gravity exists? Sadistic monsters! You yelped when he pulled you back up by the forearm.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said.

Something fluffy repeatedly hit the back of your legs, his tail wagging violently. Wolf let go of your waist and grabbed the thing like he meant to choke it.

 “I’m sorry.”

Between the chokehold on his tail and panic on his face, for the first time tonight, you felt as if you’d done something wrong. Your conscience woke up to kick you in the shin and curse your idiocy. You just confessed to the man you loved drunk out of your senses in an elevator, while he had to carry your sluggish body home.

The shame was enough to slightly sober you up and fight the overwhelming sleepiness. You had to salvage this in any possible way.

“I mean it, Moe.” You said. “I love you.”

The last thing you heard was the elevator beep before sleep took over.

May death take you out of pity. Let your prayers be answered and God will open the ground to swallow you whole.

 You could deal with the nausea and crippling migraines, hell, you would double the pain if it meant a distraction from sheer embarrassment. Which one was worse? Saying a drunken ‘I love you’ in the elevator without a single hint that you liked him beforehand, or  shamelessly offer to have sex when the most physicall contact you ever had was a hug?

 I love you. The words haunted you.

 I love you. I love you.

 Diane would have to excuse your absence from work, you needed a week alone to sulk, living on type water and custard tarts deliveries. Not the fancy ones, no, the cheap, factory produced tards; you didn’t deserve homemade sweets after such humiliation.

Headache took the focus away from your self pity as someone knocked on the door. If it was a complaint about yesterday's loudness, the poor soul who disturbed your misery was in for a face off with the devil.

Another fucking knock.

“Coming.” You kicked off the blanket and used the couch as support to get on your feet.

You dragged yourself across the living room, not bothering properly opening your eyes and swinging the door open.

“What?” You said, ready to bite off a head.

“Someone’s in a good mood today.”

Your eyes shot open - you held the door handle to not lose your balance.

“Wolf.”

“Yes, last time I checked.”

He stood there with a bag with green bottles and some painkiller boxes in hand. Light blue buttoned up shirt and one hand on the navy pants pocket, trademark grin spread across a clean face. He looked way too well.

“Passing by to check on everyone. You should’ve seen Diane, her fur was all sticky from the soda.” He reached on the bag and handed you a bottle and pills. “I got you some green juice, the very nasty one; good for a hangover. And some strong painkillers.”

“Oh…” Your hand robotically grabbed them. Wolf was in front of you, the man you asked to bang, offering a green juice bottle. I love you. You shoved the memory away.  “... Thanks.”

Letting go of the handle, your feet stumbled backwards, head too heavy to stay in place. Wolf’s gentle hand steadied your back and the other held your elbow.

“Easy there.” He kicked the door shut and guided you to the couch, taking the green juice and handling it uncapped with a painkiller pill. “Here, if you drink it fast it doesn’t taste as bad.”

You stared at Wolf, at the bottle, and back at him, mouth agape as if words wanted to come out. His casual smile twisted your stomach. How could he look so normal after everything you said? After what you’ve done? 

I love you.

Wolf sighed.

“Okay, that was a lie, it tastes awful anyways.”

Your chest tightened. Him not remembering  last night was impossible, being much more sober than you. Yet he acted as any other casual sunday; pretending nothing happened. You couldn’t look away, trying to see if his face gave away deeper feelings; a different twinkle in his eye, an ear twitch, anything that differentiated this Wolf from the Wolf you didn’t offer yourself to. 

His smile dropped.

“I can get you water and a salad if the juice is too disgusting,” he said.

You let out an incredulous laugh, steering your eyes away from him. Nothing. Nothing at all. Maybe he was pretending to not embarrass you to death, maybe he hoped you forgot all about it as he said you would.

Before the knot on your throat tightened, you snatched the pill and green juice, drinking more than half of it in one go, plastic bottle cracking with your grip. You pressed it to your forehead, eyes squeezed shut, and curled into yourself. You should be grateful, he got you home and pulled a blanket over you; He came to check on your pathetic state, brought medicine and healthy drinks; He did the favor of embarrassing you. Wolf did nothing but be a good friend, you were being such a baby. You should be grateful, and say thank you like a polite adult.

Say thank you, just open your mouth and thank him. Say thank you. 

I love you.

Shit, you fucked up.

Wolf’s hand touched your shoulder and you jumped. He looked at you with worry. You opened your mouth but not a beep came out. With an apologetic smile you left the couch and made your way to the kitchen sink, opening it and splashing cold water on your hot face. This was easier when alcohol blocked your basic self preservation. For so long you kept your feelings to yourself, ignored the want to hold his hand, kiss him. Keep to yourself the praises that didn’t relate to his genius planning abilities; like how beautiful he looked in a particular well-fitting disguise; how you melted when he held Mr. Cat like a precious baby, and how talking to him lightened up your day after it started with stubbing your pinky on the bedside table and a coffee stain on your outfit. All the things you lacked the guts to say and do, spilled out in one night in the worst possible way. You had to do better than this. Put on your big girl pants, face your feelings. Wolf was there, he was right there staring at you from your couch. Drunk you couldn't be braver than sober you.

You clenched the sink’s edge and took a deep breath as if it could fill you with courage instead of air.

“I meant what I said last night, Moe,” you said. “And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. So don’t… don’t pretend it didn’t.”

Water drops falling from your face into the metal of the sink never echoed so loud, other than that, your heart beating on your ears was the only sound in the apartament. Your guts twisted.

“Please say something.” you said.

“You were very drunk.” Wolf finally spoke. “I… tried not to think much about it. I didn’t know if you would even remember last night, much less that you really meant any of that.”

“I did.”

You turned on the sink to face him, Wolf leaned on the back of your couch in a similar position to yours, holding onto to it, one leg crossed over the other, his bashful face made you much more relieved.

“It was one of those ‘alcohol in, truth out’ situations,” you said.

Wolf pushed himself from the couch, walking towards you, each step made your heart beat faster. You fought the heat rising to your face when he looked down to you, hot air from him warming the curve of your nose.

“How long have you…” He slid a hand down his neck. “... You know.”

“Almost two years by now.”

His ears perked up, small grim on his agape mouth.

“Two years?”

“Almost two years.”

Wolf squinted, one of his years flipped down.

“I was in jail at that time.”

“Yeah, and I missed you.” You looked down, your hands tugging your shirt suddenly very interesting. “Way more than a friend misses a friend.” 

Although you missed all of your friends in the year they’re locked up, after a phone call, the heartache subsided; you heard their voices, reassured they’d be fine, knowing you’d get to see them soon. With Wolf, all that phone calls did was remind you he wasn’t there. Simple things you paid no mind to turned melancholic; Bitter coffee without a ‘good morning’ and raised a mug while he read the journal, fishing articles about The Bad Guys to share with the crew. Going for a walk around pine trees tightened your throat, because the smell was so much like his; You only realized how affectionate he was by going touch starved for an entire year. A muffled voice over jail’s shitty phone wasn't enough.

“The day you’re released, Diane asked if I wanted to get you guys home,” you said. “But I still needed time to figure this out. And when I did I couldn’t look you in the eye without wanting to bury my head on the sidewalk.”

“Wait a second,” Wolf said, way too amused. “Is that why we didn’t see you for a month? You said your grandma needed support because her dog died.”

“I know, I lied!” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m a terrible person, my grandma doesn’t even have a dog.” You dragged your hands through your face and looked up at Wolf. “You’re not supposed to find out like this, I’m sorry, Wolf.”

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself over it.”

“I confessed to you in an elevator while you literally dragged my drunk butt.”

He smiled.

“It wasn’t the most embarrassing thing you did last night.”

“Oh, god.” You shrunken on yourself, hiding your face. Sadly, it didn’t make you disappear. “Kill me, have mercy and kill me right now.” You shrunk even more when Wolf laughed.

As you repeated your death wish prayers, Wolf’s hands took yours, peeling them off your face, not a glimpse of mockery on his eyes, but a look you only ever imagined he would give you.

“Did you mean to do that as well?” His big hand ghosted over your check. “It’s fine if you didn’t, I just wanna know.”

Your bones all melted, lucky you’re getting quite good at standing on weak knees. He was so close, his scent invading  your senses and messing with your brain. Body pulling into his, you hold on the sink tightened so much  you thought it was going to crack. Stupid as your actions were, the drinks did nothing but feed the already existing flame. You wanted him, craved the intentional touch that came from a place of passion instead of friendship.

You leaned into the hand on your cheek.

“Yeah,” you said.

Wolf’s cold nose brushed against the overheated skin on your face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Letting go of the sink, you placed your hands on his chest. “I did.”

Inches apart, you closed your eyes and tilted your head.

Sparks flew when his lips touched yours. So very sweet and gentle, Wolf pulled your face closer, claws tangling with your bird’s nest of a hair. You ran your hands up the velvety shirt, his accelerated pulse not going unnoticed when you reached his ruffled neck. Your checks began to hurt and you realized you’ve been smiling through the kiss.

You panted when he let go of you; not for lack of air, but a worthless attempt from your body to cool itself down. Gushes of air couldn’t put down the blaze within you. You kissed. You kissed the man you’ve been in love with for too long, and it felt better than you could ever imagine because it was real and you didn’t sink in guilt once the pining fantasy was over. You kissed, and by the blissful way he looked at you and how his tail cut the air with the wagging, you’re safe to assume he felt the same.

“Now that the mojitos are out of the picture,” Wolf said. “How much of last night do you still mean right now?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pink fog blurred your surroundings and your body grew too hot for your clothes. 

“All of it,” you whispered against his lips.

Wolf gripped your waist and pulled you up on the kitchen counter, legs spread to accommodate him between them, sealing his mouth to yours again. When his tongue brushed against your lips, you parteted them with pleasure; his to explore as he wished, and good grace, he did. Slow and deep, fervor followed from your tongue to your sex. Wolf squeezed your waist and you gripped the back of his shirt, back arched as well as every hair on your body.

He let go of your mouth, hot breath now on your neck, whoever, no pressure from his teeth. He stared, conflicted, you assumed by his knitted eyebrows. With a maw filled with piercing teeth, you understood why, and should be at least a little scared, yet no fear crept to you. How could it when he made you feel so secure?

 You exposed your neck to him and caressed his back. A contempt sigh brushed your skin, followed by a velvet tongue and a soft nibble.

“Moe…” you moaned, legs locked around his waist.

He hummed against you and pulled your hips closer, your body whimpered when Wolf grinded against you. You held to him as if your life depended on it, rational brain melted into aphrodisiac mush as one single thought remained: Fuck me.

“Fuck…” You squeezed him between your legs.

“That’s the idea,” His hand slid up your shirt.

And that’s when you remembered. You’re on the kitchen counter.

“Wait, wait-” you said. His hand froze in place and you catched half lidded eyes growing three times in size. “My bedroom.”

Any pity you might have felt for scaring the hornyness out of him fell in its face when he gave you the bastard grin.

“Ah,” Wolf tapped the corner of his mouth. “You know, I recall someone saying I could do her anywhere.”

Ice water poured over the fire in your loins.

“Oh no.” You groaned into your hands.

“In the shower, the kitchen counter-”

“Stop Talking.”

“Even against the window. That was a surprising one.”

“Shut up, shut up! It wasn’t me talking, it was the mojitos.”

“Allow me to paraphrase then.” Wolf took your hands off his face, and you never wanted to smack him more than now. “It was one of those ‘alcohol in, truth out situations’.”

If you weren’t head over hills for the asshole, you'd put back your hills to kick him out in a literal, painful sense. Since that wasn’t a viable option, you put on your best displeased face and stare him dead in the eye.

“Keep talking and I will blue ball you.”

His smile dropped.

“So is your bedroom the door to the left?”

Wolf had his hand on the small of your back, soft kisses on your shoulders and neck during the short hallway walk kept your insides fuzzy. You opened the door to the white bedroom, noon sun filtered by the semi sheer curtains in your favorite color, matching the still tidy queen sized bed sheets. Presentable enough, even if Wolf knew how much of a mess you could make, a wrinkled bed and clothes scattered on the floor didn’t set the best romantic mood. 

You sat on your bed with a bounce, hands stretched for Wolf. He sunk into you, deep kiss and fingers on your hair, he laid you on the pillows, pulling one strand out of your face.

“Aren’t you pretty?” he said, gazing at your mascara stained face and possibly blood shot eyes.

“You’re one to talk.” 

Wolf quirked his head.

“Am I now?” he said, amused.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know how hot you are.”

“Can you believe that I don’t? Mind telling me?” You rolled your eyes with a chuckle. Oh the dangers of stroking this man’s inflated ego. You supported yourself on your elbows and cleaned your throat, one dramatic hand over your chest.

“Mr. Wolf, you’re painfully handsome, hotter than the sun, and I could stare at you for longer than any pretentious art piece.” You smiled, proud of your little act. “Happy?”

You expected a chuckle, a playfully annoyed look, but your heart fluttered with the genuine delight in his face. Oh, he liked that. Good to know.

Wolf shook his head, snapping out of the awestruck look.

“Yeah, that was…” he said. “Good enough description, nice delivery. Gonna take it.”

Your hands held each side of his face, thumb stroking it gently. How could he look more bashful now then when you flirted with him? 

“You are really handsome, you know.”

He leaned in your palms, snuggling in them, you were sure he was going to melt in your hands. 

“My pretty girl.” He kissed your wrist.

‘My’, your head became light. ‘My’, he said.

He kissed you with fervor, hand roaming from your lower leg to your tight, and up the naked skin under your shirt, tickling your stomach. He slowed down at the curve of your waist, the oh so light claws against it sending goosebumps up and down your torso, shirt lifted along the way. Waltzing to your back, he did  quick work unclasping your bra, tension leaving your shoulders and overnight restrained breasts. You lifted your arms as he took off your shirt and bra together and tossed them away. You held your breath as he stared at your chest; shameless, Wolf gave your right breast a soft squeeze. You gasped, face much ablaze in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Your heartbeat shook you from head to toe, and Wolf’s hand on your chest might just feel it; hell he might just hear it, so dramatically loud.

He lowered his muzzle to the top of your head to place a kiss, his covered chest in reachable distance, the pretty fancy shirt blocked the view. You opened the buttons and ran your hand through the light cream fur, never getting tired of how silky he was. Wolf’s shirt soon joined yours in a forgotten corner, you now free to devour him with your eyes, taking in the curves from his lean muscles and hints of ochre mixed with the warm gray of his fur. Where your hands had been left ruffled up marks; you itched to do so in all visible places, ruffle every little hair, front and back, a reminder of where he let you touch him.

He squeezed your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples;  you pulled his chest fur, a breathy moan on the back of your throat escaping when his wet tongue touched the sensitive bud, circling around it before taking into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck…” You squeezed his shoulders, grip tightened when Wolf hummed around you.

His hand massaged and sparsely pinched your other breast. Uneven breath, you tried to control yourself, nails digging a little too hard on his shoulder - You didn’t want to claw him, not when he’d been so careful with you, but oh, how hard it was to control your squirming body, needy for more and unable to steady itself. 

Wolf let go of your breasts. You contained a pitiful whine and he chuckled at your pout.

“Like that, sweetheart?” 

Your heart leaped. ‘Sweetheart’.

“Yeah, you did so well ” you praised, receiving a similar delighted look on his face. “Felt really good.”

Fur on his cheeks ruffled up, he tugged at your pants waistband, sliding it down your hip bone.

“Gonna make you feel even better, pretty girl.”

Your hips jolted up, hot antecipation between your legs, where you wanted him in so bad, so, so ready to be fucked out of your mind. 

“Please do.”

Your pants out of the way, he traced kisses from your jaw down to your stomach; cherishing the sensation, you eagerly waited for the sound of an unbuckling belt, arousal so intense it started to turn painful. But Wolf kept kissing down, lower, lower, his lips brushing the inner of your tights. You yelped when he muzzled your clothed clit, hot air against your soaked panties. You would wind up crazy by the end of this.

“Moe, please,” you breathed out, hips bucking forward. “Please, touch me.”

“No need to ask, sweetheart.” His claws slid down your panties - you couldn't get rid of them fast enough.

You caught his mouth watering, looking at you as if your smell made him drunk.

Wolf’s tongue dragging a line along your heat, savoring your taste with licks and wet kisses. You choked into your moan, gripping his head and pulling as if his mouth could get any closer. You clenched around nothing, excruciating in your own greedy pleasure, because there was no way in the world he could put his fingers inside of you. Oh, but you’re wrong. As if he read your mind, Wolf pushed his tongue inside you, ripping a pornographic moan from your throat, as he rubbed your clit up and down. if he kept on like that, the knocks growing  tighter on your belly would come undone in his mouth. The image melted you like lava.

Still, you wanted more. It would be so easy to let yourself go, turn into a quivering mess and let him pleasure you for as long as your body would take - which wasn’t for much longer, regardless. But you craved something different; not a skilled mouth and divine fingers - him. So deep inside you, making you forget where your body ended and his started. You wanted to feel Wolf entirely, and for him to feel you as well. Him - you needed him.

Gentle and firm, you pulled his head away, maw glistened with your sinful fluids.

“You’re okay?” he said, worry in his eyes.

“Fuck me.” You sounded desperate to your own ears. His claws sunk in your tights. “I want you, Moe, I want you so bad, fuck me.”

He stared at you in awe, letting out a shaky breath. Something shifted in the air, even if for a brief moment, before Wolf got himself out of trance, you swore he stared at you like a starved predator. He stood on his knees, unbuckled belt revealing a clear voluptuous outline on his black underwear.

“No little hearts this time?” You raised a brow with a smile.

He laughed, a deeper sound than usual.

“Ditched those a while ago.”

His bothersome underwear out of the way, a red, generous erection greeted you, glistering raw shade and leaking pre cum made your mouth water and rub your tights. Wolf crowned on top of you, holding one side of your waist, light kisses scattered over your face and neck. You scratched behind his left ear, earning a contempt sigh he leaned in your hand. Hot and adorable, he felt too good to be real, as if at any moment you’d wake up with a crippling headache on the floor. Yet it was reality, yours to touch, and shamelessly feel, and it was so good; He had been so good to you, got you shivering in lust, bubbling with joy, he was such a-

Amid sweet touches, a light switched on in your head.

“Good boy,” you cooed.

Wolf went stiff. Claws tore the bed sheets - sinking in the mattress. The familiar wag of his tail brushed your lower legs.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, face hidden in your neck.

“You like that, Wolfie?” 

He nodded with a whine. A once feared wanted criminal, feared by many due to his sheer size and sharpness, heist mastermind, completely melted with praises; and yet it made so much sense, of course he would like it. You would call him adorable to his face if not for it taking a blow to his ego; Maybe another time. 

“My good boy.” You cupped his flushed face out of hiding and rubbed his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, taking such good care of me.”

His hips rolled against you with a choked groan, spams running through you like lighting.

“Look what you do to me, sweetheart.”

“Should do it more often.”

“Oh, I agree.” He repeated the motion. “Wouldn't mind squeezing it on my daily schedule.”

Your heavy eyelids shot open.

“Daily?”

“Why not?”

“Because I like walking!”

“Awn.” Wolf placed one hand over his chest. “You flatter me.”

You playfully slapped his arm, giggling together, one relaxed moment before boiling anticipation.

Wold align himself with your warmth, the simple pressure made you whimper; legs wrapping around his waist.

“Ready?”he said.

“Yes.”

 Careful and slow, he pushed in. Your wet core accommodated each inch with relative ease - blazing ache replaced by relief, the sparks from your previous edged orgasm making your toes curl and head lean back. 

“Fuck… you’re good?” Wolf panted, whole of length buried inside you.

Oh, just ‘good’ wasn’t enough, you’re fucking wonderful, fantastic, filled to the abslute brim in a way that fogged your mind.Wolf hissed when you clenched around him.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You held onto his back and pulled him for a messy kiss. “Move for me?” you said, voice covered in honey.

A handful of your tight and the other leaned on the mattress, Wolf slid himself out and sunk back in, making you see stars. Your needy sounds filling the room with each thrust on a steady pace- he reached deep inside you, fucked your sanity away so good that you didn’t miss the ability to think for a second. He squeezed the plump of your ass; sucked and nibbled wherever his mouth would reach. Pine forest cologne mixed the smell of sex in the hot bedroom.

“Fuck, Moe- that’s it. Don’t stop… Fuck …  just like this” you mewled, tension building on your muscles. “Good boy, good boy-”

His pace turned wild the moment praise left your lips. You cried in pleasure, nails digging on his back.

“Shit, sweetheart… Not going to last like this.”

Oh, yes, yes yes! Fuck, yes. You’re so cock drunk you didn’t want anything more than for him to make a mess inside of you.

His hand found your clit, circling sloppy rubs; you all but screamed, clawing his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Good boy, good boy- Fuck!”

Your legs squeezed and pulled him close enough to immobilize his hips, making him grind inside you. Wolf pulled one of your hands tearing at his back, tangling your fingers together, a couple more seconds of him buried inside you and more rubs on your overstimulated clit for you to roll back your eyes and come undone. It didn't take long for Wolf to follow suit, shallow grinds through your intense orgasm before thrusting deep. He reached his high with a reverberating  growl.

Through your blissed out state you tried to catch your breath, muscles shivering, Wolf’s hand clenching and unclenching yours.

Coherent thought began its way back to you, pants becoming steady breaths, legs sliding down and hands stuck in a claw position, off Wolf’s mistreated back. He winced.

“Sorry…” You said.

“It’s fine.”

With a tired smile, he pulled out of you, Softly nuzzling your cheek and kissing on the bridge of your nose. You reciprocated with a peck on his muzzle, embracing him and his warmth that covered you better than a fluffy blanket. He laid by your side and you snuggled in his chest, ear on his heartbeat. Wolf’s hands steadied your fluttery state, rubbing circles on your lower back. 

“You’re okay?” He said.

“Uhum, I’m great. Actually…” You played with his chest fur. “I might add this to my daily schedule.”

“That good, huh?”

You felt his ego inflate and take up the whole room.

“As expected from such a good boy.”

Said ego blew back on his face. He winched. 

“Yeah, about that. Let’s keep it between us, alright?”

“Relax, Moe. I won’t embarrass you in front of the others.”

He sighed.

“Thank you.”

“... Good boy.”

Wolf hissed, head buried in your hair. You failed holding back chuckles.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, kissing his chest. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

Moe snuggled his chin over your head. You closed your eyes and caved to the comfort that was him and your bed, sun warming your naked body through the curtains, outside world muted. Diane could call and say somebody stole the moon, you still would not leave this little piece of heaven. 

Your hungry stomach, however, was not Diane, and took now out of all times to complain that it only had a green juice today. 

You sat up, away Wolf’s grasp, feeling like a monster when he looked at you like a lost and kicked puppy.

“Don’t give that look.” Your shoulder blades popped with a nice stretch. “I’m just hungry.”

“Oh?” He immediately sifted to his trademark smile and sat up as well. “Let’s go out then.”

Go out? You’re planning on eating leftovers and staying in bed with him all day! Maybe gatter the willpower to clean yourself, but that was a big maybe.

“What? Right now? Moe, I’m sweaty and-” You held back before saying ‘sticky’ “- a mess.”

“Come on, we can get brunch at that bistro you like, my treat.” He put in his pants and searched for the lost shirt.

Now that he mentioned, that place had your favorite dish.

“Can we get custard tarts?”

“All the custard tarts you can eat, sweetheart.” He buttoned up his shirt, waiting for your answer.

Well, it was a better option than getting who-knows-what collecting frost in your fridge, and a shower sounded nice.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“It’s a date,” Wolf said, kissing your heated check. “I’ll get the wallet and wait in the car.” He opened the door, but raised his finger before walking out. “I almost forgot.” He turned on his heel and winked at you. “Love you too, pretty girl.”

Wolf left you alone. Five minutes already gone by when you stepped in the shower, because that’s how long it took you to stop gushing like a teenager.

[tteokdoroki]

— it’s still his birthday somewhere so…i’d like to bring your attention to piercer!kaminari.

+ warnings: smut, mdni 18+, piercer!kaminari, genital piercings, clit piercings, slight!shock play, oral sex, condescending kaminari, slight!vouyerism, afab!reader.

your boyfriend who you lose a bet to convinces you to get your first ever intimate piercing, right on the clit. your boyfriend kaminari who takes you softly by the hand, cracking jokes until you’re on the piercers seat so he can ease your nerves. “relax sweetheart, you’re doin’ this for me! you care about me so much. gonna love you even more for this,” he tells you, massaging your thighs and your hips, your nipples and your chest in ways you know would be unethical for any other piercer to do. he just wants to help.

kaminari who makes the mistake of getting too close to your inner thighs, marking them up as his and getting distracted from the task at hand— letting his mouth suck on your pretty folds, dipping his tongue into your hole and it’s not until you whine that he remembers what he’s really there for. he still provides you with a distraction throughout the pain though, knuckle deep in your cunt and wriggling against your g-spot with latex gloved fingers while he gets an eager friend (cough cough, kirishima) to help with the job in exchange for the show.

kaminari says you came more from being watched by his best friend rather than your boyfriend touching you— but you deny it, pouty and sore from the piercing session.

piercer!kaminari, your sweet boyfriend who helps take care of your horizontal clit hood piercing every day— nearly loses his shit when he finds out you’re fully healed. helping you switch out the bland silver ball for sparkly studded yellow one that glistens even more when kaminari manages to get you wet within the first five minutes of finding out you’re healed. for the first time in months he’s able to latch onto your pretty pussy without you flinching back in pain, his tongue sucks on and circled the hood of your clit— sending delicious tingles up your spine with the sensitive metal addition.

kaminari who lets his own tongue piercing roll over your clit one, creating a jolt of electricity that had you crying out his name, creaming on his slender digits and bucking your hips up for more. “hands by your sides, yeah? no moving! nuh-uh baby, i said don’t move. you do that right? you can listen.” denki jests, though his tongue wriggles through your swollen folds to run laps over your sparkly jewellery— conducting electricity against it, euphoria drowning you in deep waves. a tattooed arm is thrown over your tummy, a lazy smirk written against your throbbing sex too.

“kaminari!” you try to be stern, surnames only but you sound a little pathetic when said piercer gives up on playing with your sticky pussy with his fingers and switches to the drooling tip of his cock instead— rubbing it up and down, dipping it past your entrance and right out before slapping it hard against your clit, stimulating you and the jewellery just right until your body betrays you and you end up cumming a little too soon.

“how about it, huh? knew this pretty. little. thing.” kaminari, who forces your knees into your shoulders, slurs, amber eyes drunk on the way your cunt starts to suck his cock in every time his hips drag over yours— flickering up to your precious little clit ring. “would make such a fun, addition to playtime.” his laugh is raspy as he presses all of his weight into you, smearing his thick precum all over your wet mound. you’re barely here at this point, as he sparks you again but with the tip of his dick this time. “maybe i outta get my dick pierced too, huh? make this shock play thing a little more fun, huh baby?”

you cant respond, eyes rolling back as kaminari finally bottoms out inside of you— thanking the stars he convinced you to get your clit pierced as he pinches it in tune with the slow strokes of his slender hips.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Arctic Monkeys’s songs (II): Fluorescent Adolescent.

Imagine you are Aegon’s ex who goes to his wedding… next to his brother, Aemond. What will result of this charming meeting (not to stay a different story)?

Warnings: (loosely?) based on this movie with Keanu Reeves and Wynona Rider.

Warnings 2: light reading, modern world, rom-com vibes.

***

• You used to get it in your fishnets. Now you only get it in your night dress. Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness. Landed in a very common crisis…

As you wait to fly to Dragonstone from King’s Landing airport, you still wonder why you are doing this to yourself. To accept Aegon’s invitation to his marriage to Miss Rhaella Velaryon, his cousin, feels like a complete exhibition of some lack of self esteem.

You think you’ve gotten over him, that you overcame the wounds of this relationship, but this doesn’t sound accurate, no. What you did in practice was stopping getting yourself drunk and going to parties where you felt like a sidekick character just to please him. Part of you admits that his breaking up with you did some good to you. You quit alcohol and started to lead a healthier lifestyle.

But now here you are. Waiting for the moment where you’ll hear a voice in the airport to call the passengers of the flight 321 (how original, you think) to get to their seats. And soon you will fly to see your ex-boyfriend marrying someone else.

As you wonder whether Aegon was really a good boyfriend, you don’t spot a taller, serious, cranky-faced man coming to your side. He is wearing a dark leather jacket and simple clothes, very appropriate for a two hours flight. The man is chewing a gun and is also in a nonchalant posture that annoys you for no reason.

“Would you please stop doing that?”

The silver haired man looks at you, somewhat puzzled by what you tell him.

“Excuse me, what?”

“You know. That.”

“What’s “that”?”

“The arrogant attitude as if you are standing there, contemplating many ways to bother people with your handsomeness.”

He could not help but laugh at your disastrous attempt of flirting. As you realize what you said, you get annoyed at yourself for your lack of social skills.

“If that is your way to compliment me, I appreciate it”, he chuckles. “But I don’t think this is the right way to get to someone.”

“Oh please.”

It comes out wrong, so wrong but you haven’t done this business for ages. Now that it occurs you as you contemplate the amusement behind this stranger man’s smirk, you notice he possesses lilac eyes.

A trait that only a certain family has.

Oh shit.

“You are a Targaryen”, you remark.

He looks rather bored at your observation.

“Indeed it looks so.”

“This means… you are going to the same flight as I? To Dragonstone?”

It then occurs you both an awkward perception.

“You are his brother, Aemond.”

“You cannot be…”, Aemond looks shocked. “Who…?”

“Y/N”, you sigh awkwardly. “His ex girlfriend.”

“Fuck”, is all he can say.

Thankfully the call for the flight interrupts this situation, but it appears that you are not meant to stay away of each for so long.

***

Aemond wishes he is somewhere else, but here he is, next to his brother’s ex girlfriend. You’ve got to be kidding me…

He watches as you struggle to open the bottle of water, wondering whether he should interfere since you haven’t asked for help.

Then, opting to ignore this awkwardness between you and him, he says:

“Need some assistance there?”

You shoot him a disdainful look, but what for? A few seconds later, you say:

“…Maybe.”

He chuckles, taking it and easily opening it before giving it to you. After a while, Aemond, too involved to let go of his curiosity, asks you:

“Why are you going to his marriage?”

Accepting that these two hours may be longer than planned, you sink in your seat, but take the thread offered.

“I need to put a closure in this.”

“He’s going to marry someone else who isn’t you. Shouldn’t this be a closure enough?”

You blush at his complete reasonable remark, unable to convince yourself otherwise.

“He invited me out of politeness and by the same reason I accepted it.”

“When someone does so out of politeness, my dear, it’s because it’s expected that you don’t take it.”

You tilt your head and Aemond seems to notice how nice is your y/c hair. He can certainly see how Aegon fell for you, though he’s not going to admit it.

“Oh please. What would you know about matters of etiquette being that arrogant, Mr Know-It-All?”

“Little wonder why Aegon broke up with you. This is a title far more appropriate to you, smart ass.”

And there you have it. For another hour and half you and him do not speak.

***

• Everything's in order in a black hole. Nothing seems as pretty as the past, though. That Bloody Mary's lacking a Tabasco. Remember when you used to be a rascal?

To you and Aemond’s dismay, your hotel room is next to his. Which means he’s going to be your room neighbor.

“Your heavy sigh is enough to let your distaste known, thank you very much”, you grumble, trying to avoid that unwelcoming sentiment of being unwanted.

“I did not say a word, barely so I sighed”, Aemond protests. “Goodness me, woman, not everything is about you.”

That being said, he walks impatiently through the door and you do likewise. But destiny is not over with you yet.

*

Aemond wishes you’d dress badly, to the point where your supposed beauty is omitted and he could have a reason to mock you. But his eyes linger at the dark, short dress you wear, noticing your well shaped curves… though stopping himself to lust after you even if your y/c hair is loose in cascade and your make up highlights the color of your eyes.

“Do I look weird?”, you ask, forgetting to disguise your broken pride.

“No, not at all”, Aemond answers you, surprised by what he is inquired. “Why’d you think so?”

“Because you are staring.”

Tonight, your former brother-in-law is looking rather attractive to you. He had got ridden of his long hair, having it cut short; he is wearing a nice polo white shirt and jeans that make him look fancy.

And you could not help yourself a surprising naughty thought at what would be like to ride him.

A thought you promptly dismiss, of course.

“Am I?”, he clears his throat. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to. You are actually…”

Before he can say “beautiful”, to your disappointment he’s distracted by the presence of Aemond’s nephews. Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon, brothers of the bride.

“Nice to see you, Aemond”, so greets Jacaerys, and you swear you detect some irony behind his gallant words.

“The same, nephew. Looking strong I see”, Aemond smirks, wiping out the smug of the other’s face.

“I think”, you decide to intrude before this could end unwell for both parties, “that you should follow me in pursuing wine, Aemond. Good evening boys.”

As you lead the way out of trouble, Aemond raises his eyebrows at you.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“Yup. Aegon may be a rascal, but you have no reason to be either.”

Easily convinced by you, he pours some wine in his glass before taking a distant seat at the restaurant. Aegon is busy entertaining guests, and it’s when you spot Alicent arm-in-arm with a dark haired woman.

“That is her girlfriend”, you hear Aemond say when seeing where your curious eyes are wandering to. “My mother’s a lesbian. She had a huge crush on her stepdaughter and former childhood friend, Rhaenyra, my sister. But they never made it because Rhaenyra likes men.”

“Oh”, you blink. “I didn’t know that.”

“Aegon didn’t tell you the gossips of the family?”, Aemond muses sarcastically, placing a hand on his heart, feigning to be offended.

“I’m afraid he was too busy partying”, you say rather uncomfortable, taking the wine to your lips as you savor the sour taste of it. “This wine isn’t Dornish.”

“It’s not”, he agrees.

• Oh the boy's a slag. The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams weren't as daft as they seem, my love when you dream them up.…..

Again silence hangs in between the two of you before Aemond gives you a look, studying you for a moment.

“He wasn’t a good boyfriend to you, was he?”, so he inquires after a while.

“No, he wasn’t. But I give him credit for trying.”

Aemond chuckles quietly.

“Kudos for doing the least.”

You smile at him. Perhaps Aemond isn’t as dull nor arrogant as you formerly judged.

“It appears I must engage in socially acceptable behavior”, says Aemond then. “To greet my brother and new sister-in-law and repeat expected speeches.”

“Expected only because you correspond to these expectations”, you nudge his sides.

“And do I have another choice on the matter?”, he scoffs.

“No one forced you to come, so don’t get at me for it.”

Somehow it surprises you both that these teasings do not end up in a clash of words. Aemond actually chuckles before conceding reason to you.

“That is very true. But I am a dutiful man, Y/N.”

Saying so, he moves away to greet his brother at last. You watch him go, already missing his company and the warmth of his presence.

The funny part about all of this is that, when looking at Aegon, you don’t actually miss him. And when looking at his bride, you feel rather oddly comfortable in getting at them to congratulate for the merry occasion.

Past is past, after all, and the aching of this ugly truth doesn’t seem to ache any longer.

***

• Flicking through a little book of sex tips, remember when the boys were all electric? Now when she's told she's gonna get it, I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it. Clinging 'til I'm getting sentimental, said she wasn't going but she went still likes her gentlemen to not be gentle…

Aemond watches as you meet your former boyfriend with his now bride-to-be. Judging by your face and your body language, all goes well. However, there is still that expected discomfort as you greet them.

So attentive is he that he doesn’t see Helaena coming. She leans by his side, amused by what is going on right under her nose.

“She said she wasn’t going, but she went still.”

Aemond turns his eyes to his favourite sibling.

“How’d you know that?”

“We remained friends, Aem. Y/N is a really good person, Egg didn’t deserve her.”

“When does he deserve any relationship he’s in?”, Aemond snorts, partly playful, partly meaningful.

Helaena smirks.

“Don’t be mean, Aem. They look genuinely happy now, which is good. I never thought I’d see him settling down one day.”

Her brother doesn’t answer, eyes still glued in the odd trio. Miss Rhaella is very comfortable in her shoes. But of course she is, she has captured his heart. At what cost, though?

“How come they broke up?”

Helaena scoffs at him.

“Oh please. Don’t tell me you don’t know the reason why they are not together for some years.” And then she adds, after poking his sides. “Do I detect an interest in you, Aemond Targaryen?”

“Laena, darling. Often the wise in our family, don’t play the dumb now.” Aemond rolls his eyes. “I could never nurture any interest of the kind in my brother’s ex. Y/N is particularly irritating.”

And that is the last part you hear.

***

He doesn’t know why, but this prince who takes pride in never falling in love with anyone, nor ever chasing after a woman, is going after you.

You too cannot conceive the reason his words hurt you, but it takes little to comprehend that you’ve been vulnerable with this odd circumstance you spontaneously dragged yourself into.

“Y/N”, he holds you by your elbow, forcing you to look at him. “Didn’t mean to say what I said.”

You shrug your shoulders off.

“In the end you have a point, though. What kind of ex goes willingly to a wedding where she was only invited out of politeness? Besides, have you seen the embarrassed look in your mother’s face? She wasn’t expecting me there”, you scoff.

Aemond smiles at you, and you don’t like how it makes you feel—as if there’s hope in the horizon.

“I don’t think this is the case. She was probably expecting a scene. Not from you, of course, but most likely that Rhaella would be unnecessarily loud. Or even Aegon. Who knows? But definitely not you.”

That being said, walls are knocked down. It all settles for now.

“Well, you know what? I think I need some wine.”

“I take it”, so says Aemond. ���It’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has”.

And you smile at each other.

***

The next day both of you are found in the same bed, except nothing really happened in the night before. You realize how nice it was to just cuddle him, that his scent was much fitter to yours… than Aegon’s. Such thought embarrasses you when you get back at your senses.

You panic internally and try to disassociate of his arms, albeit unwillingly. It’s when he opens his eyes.

Aemond too is shocked when promptly observing how one got tangled with the other… without necessarily having the need of taking each other’s clothes off. This perception sort of annoys him, though.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, he asks in a voice that gives you shivers. “It’s fucking early.”

“I best find my way back to my room”, you say, hoping not to sound too awkward.

“Mm”, but of course he cannot take it for himself. “Last night was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was”, you give him a soft smile, but something about your eyes makes Aemond smile at himself. “I just don’t think prudent if we are caught. People can talk.”

“Let them talk”, he gently pulls you back and you effortlessly fall into his arms again. “I think we could go for a horseback riding today before lunch.”

You smile at yourself. Aemond spots it and he smiles too.

“We could. Though I’m afraid I don’t do horseback riding.”

“I could teach you.”

“Do I detect malice in your speech, Aemond Targaryen?”

For the first time in many moons, this bad boy is genuinely brought to laughters.

“It really didn’t occur me at all, but if you’re up to it…”

You punch his arm playfully. But for a while you two just stay like this, lying in bed, sharing laughters as if you have been the best of friends.

***

“I hate how I feel like an adolescent again. I thought I’ve done this already. Countless times”, you remark.

It’s nine in the morning and you two are dressed like going to a picnic, not a fancy breakfast to celebrate the union of the families Targaryen & Velaryon. Maybe it’s not of either interest to participate it. Besides, the landscape is far more inviting than dealing with posh relatives.

The hotel is surrounded by nature. Large trees are spotted above a green hill, surrounded by lakes and some wild animals that every now and then stop by. Not far from it, is this large, crimson white house rent by the Targaryens to celebrate the marriage of Aegon and Rhaella. The said event will happen only the next day since the couple are very fond of celebration.

Uninterested in these endless festivities, you and Aemond are heading to the top of the hill carrying with nothing other than wine and bread, perhaps some fruits too.

"And here we are", says Aemond, surprisingly in a good mood.

You two sit on the grass and its your former brother-in-law who opens the wine bottle. You two share it as it is, with no need to use glasses for the purpose of savouring the red, warm liquid.

"It is a shame we haven't been acquainted properly", you muse after a while. From where you two are, you could still spot Mrs Hightower and her lover receiving the guests alongside Mrs Velaryon, who, you seem to notice, is accompanied by a dark, curled haired man who doesn't strike you as Mr Velaryon.

"Eh, I was a little busy when you were with my brother", and when following your curious gaze, Aemond smirks and adds: "That is Mr. Strong, by the way."

"Busy? With whom?", you tilt your head, eyes now locked with his purple ones. "I feel as if I'm missing something here."

Aemond cackles before lying on the grass. As he's on his elbows, you hate how your eyes scan his frame, taking notice of his body, his part-opened legs under an old pair of jeans and a random comfortable shirt that shows some of his well build muscles.

Fuck.

You lean to grasp a few grapes before suddenly finding interest in the cloudless skies.

"Well, that is Harwin Strong", says Aemond, ignoring the first part of the question you asked him. "He is my sister's lover."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed. Where were you when our family messed up?"

"I have no idea, maybe we were busy breaking up", you shrug your shoulders.

Now you miss the long gaze Aemond casts at you. He notices your shapely legs, well reinforced by your blue velvet shorts. A mischievous thought occurs him at the thought of removing these shorts. Containing a sigh, but not holding back such sinful thoughts, he notices you have nice, firm breasts just by the stare he gives your blouse.

Desire seems unbearable. Useless to fight against, but he stops the urge. He must. For his sake.

"You deserve someone better."

And your gaze meets his.

"My brother was unworthy of you", and he, a careful, wayward man, is drawn to you.

You, likewise, are inclined to get closer to him. Is it too early to get drunk and do things you might regret? Where is conscience when you need it?

"And who is worthy of me? You?"

Aemond side smirks at you. You two are so close to bound in deeper waters.... when someone else comes in to ruin all, of course.

It's Alys Rivers, his ex-girlfriend.

***

•You’re falling about. You took a left off Last Laugh Lane. You were just sounding it out. No you're not coming back again.

You are quick to leave the scene. Tired to be someone else’s sidekick character, you know it’s the time to part and be the protagonist of your own.

It’s been too much humiliation. First to put a closure with a man who is marrying someone else. Second… to be able to fall for his brother in a matter of, what, a day and HALF?

You realize no one is missing you anyway. So you are leaving before ceremony even begins.

As for Aemond, it’s all going worse than planned. He wishes you’d have more time to spend together. But, in honesty, he doesn’t blame you for parting like this.

He never mentioned that he and Alys were not entirely… what word could capitalize it? Untogether? Does this word even exist?

Regardless. He’s taken by a strange urge of going after you.

“…you’re not even listening to me!”, the protestations of his now ex girlfriend are annoying him.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn”, he responds rather coolly. “You’ve left me in balance for a while and now you think you can take me back? I don’t think so. Farewell, darling Alys.”

Saying so, he’s not wasting his time. These are crazy days, one might judge, where long relationships end unexpectedly and short ones may begin out of the blue.

Or perhaps not so out of the blue…

***

You are about to get in the cab when Aemond gets to you.

“Hey”, and once again he holds your wrist, thus making you looking at him. “Don’t go.”

“I can’t stay here”, you sigh dramatically. “You have unfinished business with Alys. I mean, been there, done that. Not really in the mood to rerun this movie.”

“No, this is untrue. Fuck, you are the most interesting girl I’ve met and look at me playing the fool here. Always the indecisive and vindictive, I want something new.”

Aemond doesn’t know where this urge comes from, but, unlike his brother, he is not willingly to let go of you so easily.

“And when this new goes away”, you counter argue him. “What then?”

“I am not leaving you. I am not Aegon”, he says rather anxiously. “Allow me to get to know you better, Y/N. We are going through this shit together.”

You tilt your head, but as if to shush any remaining doubts, like the adolescent he never was, Aemond pulls you against him and finally kisses your red lips.

***

It’s the wedding day. You are elegantly dressed in a pink gown that reinforces your curves and shows some collarbone. Your y/c hair is tied in a braid Helaena’d done it and you are wearing a pair of emeralds over your skin.

But you lose your breath when you see him, elegantly dressed in a black suit with a green tie. His hair purposely messed, he’s every inch the sobriquet he proudly wears.

Bad boy prince.

When his gaze meets yours, both of you know this day will be no good to either of you.

“Ready to be my partner?”

When your hands intertwine with his, so is your destiny for once and all locked with Aemond’s. One smile, one kiss. And what is meant to be a funeral is turned into something more beautiful for this unexpected couple.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Non / Disney Villains x Reader || Headcanons [PART 2]

More characters, more kinks- I hope you find something here! ^^ A part 2 to this post.

Topic: SMUT- again.

Warnings/kinks: NOT. SFW, I can tell ya that much!! Ruts, panty-sniffing and stealing, somnophillia, sex work, alien fucking, probable size difference, riding, tentacle sex, dub-con roleplay, cybug!king candy/turbo??, legit breeding, referenced non-con (Just saying you couldn't get away if you wanted to), monster fucking, one-night-stand, orgasm denial and edging, dumbification and teasing, hypnotism and possible non-con, voice kink, betrothal, age difference, sexual sacrifice?, Step Mother/Step 'Child' (Not really a child!!!! An adult!!!!!), finger-sucking kink, and manhandling.

Includes: Sheriff of Nottinhgam, Mr Scroop, Captain Gantu, Scar, Wheezy Weasel, Ursula, King Candy, Eris (Sinbad; Legend of the Seven Sea's), Steelbeak (2017), Smartass Weasel, Kaa, Shere Khan, Mr Swackhammer, Shan Yu, Queen Narissa, Prince John, and Oogie Boogie.

Okay, the Sheriff of Nottingham may not seem to be the type to be hounded by his animal instincts but he does indeed experience heats. It starts out pretty tame, he just starts to particularly enjoy your smell when you're around, getting a little more touchey feely with you and perking up when you're around- but then he's taking your underwear to work and visiting you multiple times throughout the day, and finally- he's got his snout buried in between your legs when you wake up in the morning. He couldn't help himself!, sorry.

The next time that Silver's crew turns up at your work (The Brothel), its Scroop that gets to you first. Now 'kind' is not a word you would use to describe this one but he is still experienced- the way that old alien uses your body that night is damn practised. He roughly spreads your legs to the perfect angles to receive his selfish thrusts, the mean smirk on his face punctuates all the awful things he says to you in just a way that has you even more turned on, and the cold way he looks at you sends tingles straight up your spine. When he leaves in the morning, the only tip he offers you is a warning not to leave here- he'll be back sometime.

I know someone has mentioned this before, but riding Captain Gantu?? He is so stressed and just needs to be enveloped by something nice, and hot, and all-encompassing for a good long while. Your cunt/ass is his first choice, so impale yourself on his huge cock and slowly rock your hips. Don't let it go too quick, either- Make it last for hours, just live with the full feeling for as long as you can. And watch the stress leave his body.

Scar's a dom but he expects you to do all the work- And call him your majesty, hm? The only time that he'll service you, is when he thinks you're going to leave him or he wants something from you. Then the manipulative little shit will prove how king-like he really actually is... at oral. His licks dipping into you/leading up your length are lazy but deep, and purposeful, and strong, and he takes his damn time, too- dragging out your pleasure and your perfect orgasm until you're twitching and writhing underneath him. Until he's good and ready (A.K.A, when he's sure you're so absolutely tongue-drunk you'll agree to anything). And oh, he loves the sight of you like this. He thinks, maybe he should do this more often... then shrugs. We'll see.

Another lazy one is Wheezy. You wouldn't think he has much sex drive, and to be honest it is rather low- or was. When he saw you, though, he knew he wanted you. And he wanted to make you feel good. He wont lift a finger until he deems it necessary, those cold eyes just watching you undress while he stands fully clothed and smokes, the tiniest smirk on his face. He might feel tired enough to even just keep standing there and let you suck him off, first. But then he knows he has to give back, though, so lie down now baby. Spread your pretty legs. Or he'll sit down at the edge of the bed himself and pat his lap, getting you to straddle him and ride him. His movements will be slow, but methodical.

And we've reached the tentacle sex and roleplay segment- with Ursula, of course. You get to be the innocent beach-goer and she gets to feel you up like you don't know eachother. Imagine you're relaxing, laying on a rock a little further out from the beach, in the deeper waters, with your eyes closed against the warm sun when something tubular and slimy prods and slips around the confines of your bikini bottoms- enough creeping over you lips. Because she's lubed up quite enough from being underwater and you've been slowly getting wetter and wetter waiting on her, it doesn't take long at all before one fat tentacle is pumping into and massaging your meaty walls, your back arched up, your shaking hands gripping at the rock and the towel beneath you and your moans muffled by the second tentacle gripping and squeezing around your mouth. Your orgasm is silent, explosive, and Ursula promises more later before disappearing back into the depths of the sea..

CYBUG KING CANDY FUCKS LIKE A DAMN RABBIT. Any time and anywhere- you are his mate and sometimes he wants you so bad that he drools... Luckily for him- he's so ginormous that you couldn't get away from him even if you wanted to. So he has you. And he can take you and shove his huge, seemingly eternally hard cock into your tiny perfect hole whenever he pleases- which is very very often. Also every time he mates with you, the intent is to breed, to make a horde of little him's and you's, because you're just so perfect and he loves you and- godddddddddddddddd he wants you so bad. Lay down gum drop, he needs you again now~

Like with Sinbad, Eris makes it no secret that she wants you. It probably wouldn't change her intent to use you and probably ruin your life for some chaos~~ But if you wanted to, she would happily spend a night with you. Unlike Sinbad? You go for it. Her mouth tastes sweet like ambrosia and she kisses deeply, stroking your tongue almost soothingly... before she edges you for hours, denying your orgasm until you cry for her. She's the goddess of chaos, cutie... what'd you expect? She's going to destroy you.

Oh my goodness, Syndrome is such a dick. He has you, his assistant and lover, going about business (At MEETINGS, with important potential BUYERS) with a powerful vibrator inside you that he has the remote for in his pocket. Most of the day its on, but on a lower mode, just steadily turning you on and making you sensitive so when other people ask you for things they find that you act... really nervous, and awkward. They figure its just nerves, though. Syndrome'll turn it up so you're dangerously close to just cumming on the spot when he asks you for something and you'll feel his eyes and smug smirk on you as you go to do that thing, legs shaking and just desperately trying to control yourself. And no- you cant go to the bathroom. This is very important meeting, Y/N. Damn.

Steelbeak LOVES dumbification. Just making you as cock-drunk (1) as fucking possible so he's the smart one, for once. And he's a big guy- so he can absolutely plow you until you're absolute mush. Definitely takes advantage of that, because he just Loves having you whine and not even be able to answer the simplest of questions as he slows down again to a terribly maddening speed and tucks some hair behind your ear- like what's four plus four baby??... What's our address?? Sugar, where we at right now? ... What time is it? ... Heh, no baby that's so wrong! He'll chuckle, when all you can manage is to beg him and call his name, squeezing tight around him. With you grinding against him and clenching him so freaken good he wont be able to hold off from giving you what you want for too long, but- It gives him such a trip and makes him so happy while it lasts. So when he gives you that look at the end of the day... you know you're in for a long night.

On how Smartass listens to Greasy a whole lot more then anyone thought: You thought being with the gangster was going to pretty boring; You know, vanilla. You would get undressed, you'd kiss, he'd get off and you would fake it. But... good lord, you haven't even managed to get all your clothes off and you've already had an orgasm?? And he's not done???? Smartass knows exactly where the erogenous zones are and abuses them relentlessly. He's not gentle, of course, he touches your skin roughly and sneers in your face- but good god the way he uses his tongue is downright disgusting. In a textbook way, because he's not a big fuckboy and he just knows this stuff in theory- but fuck! it works.

Kaa... well I think you know where we're going with this one. You know we had to discuss it. Kaa and Hypnotism~~ Whether you're going into it having asked him for it, having wandered into the depths of the jungle in search for him, or you're just a poor~ unfortunate~ lost soul that accidentally found yourself in his coils- you will be totally at his mercy. This snake has a dark, dirty, demented mind despite the gentle sound of his voice, and he'll have plenty of creative ideas for what you can do for him: Starting with bending over at the waist to pick some flowers for him like a sweetheart while he 'watches over you'~ to holding your own legs open nice and wide for him~

Shere. Khan's. Voice. He knows what his voice does to you, and he definitely abuses the advantage. He loves to prowl up silently behind you when your attentions are preoccupied and speak directly into your ear- making your squeak, or gasp, or sigh. Its just adorable. He also talks a lot during your private times~ together; Giving you directions, like- raise your behind, darling., Open your mouth, would you~ , and Take a walk, darling... lets see if you struggle at all. If not... well we aren't finished with each other, are we?

Imagine being the only other Larger Sized One of the alien species on moron mountain- this is because of evolution. And it means that you're supposed to be sacrificed married to Swackhammer. Become his partner. Now, imagine your wedding night. You don't know him very well, you've barley spent any real time with him... and he's peeling away your clothes and touching you like he owns you. Like you're his. He smokes in your face, too, and presses his mouth to your skin greedily, licking up and tasting you. And yet... you find yourself keening into him, arching your back towards him, moaning into his mouth... is this biology, or do you like this gross old man???

You're a sacrifice to Shan Yu from the people in a village who desperately want to be safe. So they take you from your bed one night, and throw you out into the snow before him in just your sleep-wear. You willingly, though, go with him when he flashes a dark smirk down. You willingly sleep in the same tent as him. And you willingly allow him to take you inside it every night, moaning loud enough to keep the other men awake. Since you were a virgin when you were given over, you know only the pleasures that he can provide to you and you know that makes you the naïve, sweet, innocent one of the group of men around you everyday, and you do get teased (And desired. Coveted. Watched). But when Shan Yu has you moaning like a very common whore in the nights, his mouth worshipping your cunt/cock or his powerful manhood grinding against you- you cant bring yourself to give a fuck.

Oh my lord- Step Mother Queen Narissa!! Your father is a King, and she married him to develop her wealth and power, but you're the one that truly intrigued her. You reminded her of herself, when she was younger... prettier... untouched. Well... mostly untouched. Her fingers are buried inside you/curled firmly around you most every night, but... that's just a little fun between the two of you.

Prince John for sure has a finger sucking kink, for sure. Just tuck your thumb over his bottom teeth while you stroke him down there, or offer your pinky to him while your other slips under his tunic, or have him clean up all your fingers after he made a mess of them. He's quite good at it.

Oogie Boogie and manhandling!!! Yes!!! I've read stuff with this before but I love it. He throws you around like a sack of potatoes! Wrapping his canvas arm around your wrist or your waist and tugging you in quite suddenly against him, shoving you down onto that table so he can 'assess' you~, dragging you to him from across the floor or that table by your leg, grabbing you and twirling you back to him as if its all just a game... Anything to keep you close, keep his face and his chuckles against your neck, his 'hand' pressed against your hot as fuck crotch.

~

(... yeahhh that pun may have been intended)

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

From My Headphones: Party Tricks

AN: Hey y’all! A while ago I made a post about wanting to write fics based on songs and this is the first fic in that series. They’re gonna be generally quicker reads and just real small cute shit for now. Y’all should fr tho listen to the song, that shit goes hard ngl lol. 

Summary: The Queen’s in her own world, would she notice your absence? 

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol think that's it.

Word count: 2,138

Suggested listening: Party Tricks by Äyanna 

“Tell me, baby If I left the party would you look for me? Would you wonder where I went? Tell me, baby If I left the party would you look for me? Or would you just keep on Dancing to your own beat.”

Riri’s birthday was a national holiday as far as she was concerned, that’s why she begged and pleaded with you to plan it for her. Before taking a job as a photographer in Wakanda you were a top party planner for you and Riri’s friend group throughout college. You had developed a reputation for being able to throw a banger no matter the budget. When you were all freshmen without a dollar to your name, you managed to make a shitty college apartment look like the hottest club ever. And when you all did finally get some money in your pockets, the parties you were able to plan were things of myths at MIT. 

But when you decided to move to Wakanda full time ( Riri splitting half her time between there and the US due to her Iron Heart duties) you gave up the party planning life for a camera and a lens; not regretting the peaceful change one bit. To be honest you hated parties, the loud music, obnoxious drunk people, and just general overwhelmingness left you rarely in attendance at your own parties. That’s why letting it go didn’t bother you that much, if anything it left you with relief knowing it was one less thing you’d have to stress about. 

Riri knew this of course when she approached you to plan her twenty-third birthday party, but she also knew after what she, you, and Shuri had been through with Namor you had a hard time saying no to her. That’s how you ended up on a stage in Wakanda’s hottest nightclub that had been themed black and red for Michael Jordan. Dressed in your skimpiest black dress watching Riri blow out her birthday candles in front of everyone. She turned back to face you and extended her arms pulling you into a hug. 

“I know this was a lot for you but thank you for all this. You really are the best friend I could ask for Y/N.” Riri squeezed your body tight against hers and you felt the sincerity in her words. 

“Of course honey, you deserve it.” You pulled out of the hug and winked at the shorter girl. “Your Jordan year, yeah? Nothing but up from here.” 

Riri pulled you in for another hug and you relished the moment grateful you were able to take the time to celebrate your best friend. Other people called her name and you urged her to go continue in the festivities, ensuring that you would be fine on your own till you left. With that you slipped off the stage and beelined towards the bar, needing something to take the edge off the raging headache. 

You hopped onto one of the bar stools and ordered an old-fashioned, eyes scanning the room while you waited for your drink. You spotted Shuri easily in the crowd, the silver accents on her suit sparkling underneath the strobe lights. She was dancing like you hadn’t seen her dance before, completely letting loose and yelling out the few words she did know to the American rap music you and Riri had introduced her to. All though she was surrounded by people she looked as if she was in her own world only worried about where the next beat was going to take her body. 

The relationship you and Shuri had was hard to describe because there was hardly anything to describe it with. You hadn’t known her for long before you were suddenly kidnapped together and forced to go through traumatic events in both of your lives. You almost died trying to save Queen Ramonda from drowning and your unsuccessfulness meant the death of Shuri’s mother. The attempt left you in a coma for days and it took you a while to feel normal again. Shuri was part of the reason you did though, you two both found unlikely comfort in each other's presence. 

It started out slow, she would come and visit you while you were in the hospital and just sit with you while you watched tv. Eventually, when you were released she would meet you in the garden and you would chat while she was on lunch break away from the peering eyes of others. The nighttime meetings were accidental at first, she stumbled across you hanging out on a balcony and was concerned that there was something wrong. When you explained that the quietness of the city at night helped quiet your own mind it prompted Shuri to ask if she could join you. 

She found you every other night after that, sitting with you till the wee hours of the morning soaking in your presence. While you said the quietness of the city helped to still your mind, Shuri soon learned that your presence seemed to have the same effect on her. She found herself craving the peace that your energy washed over her and soon she was ready to admit it was a full-blown crush. But what about you? Shuri could never tell if you felt the same electricity when your hands touched or if it warmed your heart as much as it did hers when you shared secret laughs with each other. No. You were too special to her, the last good thing she had left. And Shuri was going to be damned if she let some crush get in the way of your friendship. No matter how strong the crush was. 

The music at the party seemed to have increased and the alcohol was doing nothing to help your headache. You reached discreetly into your bra and pulled out a small black case. You popped each of the round circles into your ears before slipping the case back into your bra. Noise-canceling earbuds were a gift from Shuri when she realized how loud noises affected you after the events with Namor. They were a godsend now, allowing you to shut out all of the noise and just watch the partygoers enjoy your event. The brightness of the strobe lights seemed to intensify with the lack of sound and after five minutes you decided it was just best if you called it a night. 

You hopped off the bar stool and looked at the dance floor one last time. Riri had made it down finally and she and Shuri were going bar for bar on First Day Out. The sight of Shuri struggling to keep up and Riri rapping with ease almost made you want to stay but an untimely flash of light in your eye had you beelining for the door. You wandered around aimlessly for a while before stumbling on the door to the roof. Perfect. 

The roof had a view of the city, unlike the one you had at the palace. This one made you feel like you were immersed in the world, with the soft twinkle of city lights surrounding you from all angles. And the quiet. Once the door shut behind you all of the noise seemed to go with it and you were left with the soft hum of the vibranium trains. It was the best thing you could have asked for at the moment. You found one of the reclining outdoor chairs and sat with your back to the door, outlooking the city and enjoying the silence. 

Inside the party, Shuri was questioning if the added respiratory benefits she got from being the Black Panther were anything close to the lungs of steel Riri seemed to have. The Queen had been going back and forth with Riri on all of the classic black party hits for the past twenty minutes. While Riri hadn’t missed a word from Love Sosa all the way to Dreams and Nightmares, Shuri had to pause to catch her breath after the second song. 

It was during her pause when she was reflecting that she hadn’t felt this happy and carefree in a while. The only other time she remembered feeling this light was when she was with you. Speaking of you, where had you gone? Shuri knew she saw you at the bar getting a drink but suddenly you were nowhere to be found. The royal scanned the party, relying on her panther vision to see in the darkness of the nightclub. But she came up with nothing. That was when she started to get worried. She knew that you only came to the party because it was Riri’s birthday and that generally large settings like this were not your scene. That coupled with her realizing just how loud this music was and how overwhelming this all could have been sent the Queen into overdrive. 

She didn’t wanna alert Riri, especially if it turned out to be nothing and you had just gone to the bathroom. So she elected to slip out of the party, unnoticed hoping to bring you back so she could share in her happiness with you. The Queen started first in the bathrooms but was unsuccessful, she tried the various lounges and VIP rooms all to no avail. You wouldn’t have left without telling her, right? ‘It is not like we’re together’ Shuri told herself. ‘But we’re closer than her leaving without telling me. It would feel wrong.’ 

Shuri was stumped. She had checked every inch of the building that she could think of and you were nowhere to be found. ‘Maybe you did really go home’ She thought. ‘Maybe I’m reading too much into our relationship.’ Just as she was about to give up and go back into the party an idea popped into her head. 

“Griot, where is Y/N?” She spoke into her kimoyo beads. 

“Y/N is at the same location you are at night now your majesty. Club Red.” The AI responded. 

So you hadn’t left her. “Where specifically is she, Griot? I haven’t been able to locate her.” 

“Y/N’s kimoyo beads indicate that she is on the roof, your majesty.” 

The roof, of course, that’s where you’d go! “Griot you beautiful AI!” Shuri kissed her kimoyo beads in celebration, a little extra yes but she now knew where her girl was. 

“Why thank you my Queen I think I’m quite handsome myself-” 

“Hey! can it. I made you.” Shuri cut off Griot’s self-hype as she made her way to the exit for the roof. 

Chilling on a roof wasn’t too far off from chilling on a balcony so for you to be out here didn’t surprise Shuri at all. She opened the door and immediately saw you sitting out near the edge. At first, she was tempted not to approach you, it was quiet on the roof and she knew you well enough to know you were probably enjoying it. But selfishly, selfishly Shuri wanted to be in your presence. Light on her feet not wanting to scare you she walked up behind your chair. 

“It’s a beautiful night out isn't it my Queen?” You asked when you felt her behind you, you could always feel Shuri. Something became magnetic in the air, like nothing else you’d ever experienced when she was around. 

“Mhm,” Shuri said in agreement, walking around the chair so she was now in front of you. “But it’s just as beautiful in there, I know a certain party planner worked very hard to make sure it looked nice.” 

An involuntary chuckle fell from your mouth at the Queen’s compliments. “I prefer it out here, you know that I like the quiet.” 

Shuri let a beat pass before she looked down at you, noticing how cold you looked in just the black dress. “Are you not cold entle?” Shuri asked. 

“Ehh, just a little bit. I’ll take the cold and quiet over the warmth and noise in there any day.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Scoot down,” Shuri commanded. 

“What?” You looked up at Shuri confused as to where she was expecting you to go on the lawn chair. 

“Just scoot down. For me?” 

You gave Shuri another confused look but obeyed her command sliding down the chair and leaving space between your back and the back of the chair. In one motion Shuri positioned herself behind you so that you were sitting comfortably between her legs. While the position was unfamiliar to you both it felt natural, like your bodies melded together in the space they were always meant to be. 

“Is this okay?” The Queen asked once you both got situated. You didn’t respond at first but the feeling of your body relaxing into hers was enough to ease her nerves for the time being. 

You grabbed her hands which were resting on either of her thighs and wrapped them around your waist. “Stay with me?” You asked, your hands still on hers that rested comfortably on your waist. 

“Anything for you.” 

Tag List: @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal

[silkscream]

sangria🍷 jealous peter and enemies to lovers

genres: enemies to lovers, jealous!reader, academic rivals, implied smut

you didn’t have a particular reason to hate peter parker. if anything, anyone you knew who would surely disagree about your negative opinions of him. but maybe that was what did it — the kid was squeaky clean, new york’s favorite boy-hero, and had an academic record to impress any ivy league. how utterly cliché.

peter had tried to be civil with you, but after years of your high school bickering, he took his throne as the top of the class with you as second, and the two of you were known rivals.

“would it kill you to be nice to him?” mj quips next to you. “he’s my friend.”

“you have poor taste in friends. i mean, look at me. midtown’s cunt, is what flash called me?”

“oh, but you love that title.”

you shrug, smirking as you take a shot.

“i need a cigarette.” mj nods and salutes you on your way out to the steps of the large row house.

perched upon the front steps, you light your camel crush and exhale the smoke into the velvety night, the summer air thick with august’s end. your ears perk up when you hear voices at the end of the street getting closer. it sounds like a lovers’ quarrel.

“not now, cat.”

“you are such a buzzkill, peter. i thought getting outed as spider-man would give you a reality check but you’re still so small and scared of the world around you! like, have you even talked to anyone at this party?”

“yes, i have. i don’t need you following me around when i’m off-duty!”

“oh, please. you need me. your virgin status is a cry for help.”

you don’t mean to eavesdrop. you’re just… there. but when peter gets to the front of the house with an incredibly attractive silver-haired girl attached to his hip, your face goes hot for some reason.

“hey,” you mumble.

he either doesn’t hear you, or he chooses to ignore you.

“can i bum a cig, lovely?” the girl asks you, her tone saccharine-sweet. she grabs peter’s arm before he’s able to walk up the steps. “peter, don’t be rude! say hi back.”

“this is my last one, sorry.”

“hey, y/n,” he huffs.

“hey,” you echo. “i thought i was the only one allowed to bully you.”

you use a playful tone but he rolls his eyes. for some reason, it stings.

“oh, honey, i’ve probably been at it way longer,” silver hair quips. her mere presence is making your blood boil. you try to hold your tongue until it bleeds. you stomp the cherry of your cigarettes on the concrete.

you clear your throat. “i wish we could stay for a chat, but i just remembered that our friends were just looking for peter!”

peter flashes you a confused look when you grab him by the arm and usher him into the foyer, slamming the front door in black cat’s face. out of panic, you open the first door you see in case any of your shared friends see you.

“what the hell was that?”

“she was annoying me,” you shrug.

“okay… so why are we in the coat closet?”

you purse your lips, staying silent. frantically, you reach for a light that isn’t there and end up accidentally touching peter’s chest in the dark. as you lean back into the wall, your body hits the light switch.

“are you okay?” you sigh. “she seems like a bitch.”

“she is a bitch,” peter shrugs. “nothing i’m not used to. why do you care?”

“maybe i’m nicer when i’m drunk.”

“oh, was that supposed to be you defending me back there?” peter doesn’t even look at you. instead, he’s looking around at all the random shit around the two of you. when he jiggles on the door handle, it doesn’t budge.

“oh, shit.” he bangs on the door. he looks at you with a hardened expression.

“if this is one of your little games, i’m not in the fucking mood.”

“it’s not!” you exclaim, crossing your arms in defense. you swallow the lump in your throat. “i was… trying to save you from her cruelty!”

“or you’re jealous because you’re not the only bully in my life. is that it?”

“you’re just as much as a dick to me!”

“i’m really not, y/n. you started this in freshman year and haven’t stopped since. i had no idea why, i don’t think i’ll ever know why.”

he searches your face for clues and it leaves you vulnerable. fuck it.

you press your lips to his quickly, clutching his shoulders as you lean in. he’s kissing you back to your surprise, holding you by the back of your neck. you gasp in between kisses, leaning back in for more passion each time as your tongues mash together, tasting of cider and cigarettes.

“so, that’s how you’re nicer when you’re drunk and jealous?” peter sneers, his voice low. his face is inches away from yours.

“i’ll be a fucking sweetheart if it gets you to shut the fuck up.”

“there’s my girl,” he muses. your eyes close when you feel his warm tongue on your neck.