#that drives him wild and spills over when drunk in a single-minded way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

studiojeon · 3 years

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use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

Text

Sanguine Nocturnus | 5

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Sorry this took so long. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The night was cool, despite the sun’s remnants still radiating from the cobblestone roads like a thin blanket, the heat spreading up Henry’s legs as he and Vinicius made their way to a matte black Ashton Martin Vanquish, the car looking as though it had just rolled out of the dealership.

“Spending wisely, I see,” Henry smiled, taking in the car with an appreciation he shared with most mortal men. While it wasn’t a sturdy black stallion, it would certainly do the trick.

“It was a birthday present from Lucy, I had no say in the matter.” Vinicius answered with an equally cheeky grin, unlocking the car with a push of a button, the engine roaring to life simultaneously. It was only once the doors opened that Henry noticed Gregory sitting in the back seat, looking around anxiously, like a junkie looking for a fix.

“I’m afraid he’s still famished. Nearly emptied the vaults of A+, and yet he’s still ready to bite the first thing that moves,” Vinicius explained, nodding towards Gregory, who barely acknowledged him before turning in his seat to look over his shoulder, watching for anything that could pass as food.

“So m’lord, tonight we go hunting for your first real meal!” Vinicius announced as he looked through the rear-view mirror at Gregory.

“I’ve hunted before,” Gregory replied in a defensive, whiny tone, his gaze showing his confusion. In that moment, Henry read the young vampire’s thoughts and had to discreetly move his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Hunting, for Gregory, had consisted of going to a nightclub and picking up the most self-conscious girl there. Their new elder hadn’t even bothered to try and pose her in a way that would keep the Carabinieri from asking questions. It was amateur at best, and Henry was certain Gregory’s victim hadn’t gone to her death in ecstasy.

“Not the proper way. Not even close,” Henry smirked, sharing a knowing grin with Vinicius as the Vanquish sprinted out of the city center, heading North towards the vineyards.

Once clear of the light pollution, Vinicius eased his foot off the accelerator, preferring to take the two-lane roads at a more leisurely pace, something which, judging from how fidgety he was being, was pure torture for Gregory.

“What have you lined up for us tonight, oh Master of Feasts?” Henry joked as Vinicius began to look around, watching as much for buildings as he was for the road. It didn’t take long for him to find the farmhouse, the small amount of light coming from the dwelling's windows confirming that it was a family owned vineyard they would be enjoying. Henry could hardly keep the grin off his face.

“Lesson number one, Gregory. If you are going to feed on a human, do so with discretion. Pick wisely, and choose only the sweetest of bloodlines.” Henry explained as they veered off the road and onto a gravel laneway.

“And never drink them dry. That’s the easiest way of getting ill.” Vinicius added, glaring jokingly at Henry, both having gone through the undead equivalent of the stomach flu when they were newly-turned.

As Vinicius pressed a button on the dash, Henry heard a sudden whoosh of air spill from the tire in front of him. Briefly shocked, his smile grew into one of awe and mischief as he realized why Vinicius had kept such a present.

“You fiend! What else does this contraption do?” Henry laughed, knowing that they now had a verifiable excuse to ask for aid. Shaking his head, he could only chuckle as the car came to a slow stop and Vinicius cut the engine.

“We have a flat. Come on boys, it looks like there’s help just up the drive,” Vinicius smirked, motioning for the other two vampires to follow him.

Vinicius exhaled deeply, invigorated by the fresh blood he’d just pulled from the now-limp girl in his lap. Looking around, he found their new Elder still suckling from a hearty old man—the owner of the vineyard—and Henry looking down at the seemingly-sleeping form of the wife that he’d just drunk from.

With a sharp look to his oldest friend, Vinicius pointed out Gregory’s quickly-approaching error. Eyes narrowed, Henry waited until the last possible moment before sweeping in and yanking the man’s body out of Gregory’s grip, a move which was met with understandable hostility and a hiss of aggression.

“I wasn’t finished!” Gregory lamented, standing and wobbling a bit as the blood coursed through his veins, shooting straight up to his head.

“You would have been if you’d kept drinking any longer,” Henry answered, shaking his head. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get a stomach ache. If you’d kept on and tried to drink her dry, you might very well find yourself in the ground next to her…permanently.” He explained. No vampire to his knowledge had ever tried to drain a meal, but the warning had been there as long as he’d been a creature of the night, and Henry wasn’t about to take the risk of finding out when the vampire in question was the head of the Roman coven.

“Good stock.” Henry commended Vinicius on his choice of victims, both men ignoring Gregory’s silent thoughts regarding how they could wipe out an entire family so easily. It was natural for a young vampire, especially one thrust into such an important position, to question the nature of how they came about their food. While many newly-turned preferred to stick with the donation system, those born before the 1900’s were accustomed to feeding from the source. It was imperative for Gregory to become accustomed to both, especially since he would be parlaying with the heads of other covens, most of whom expected the luxury of a fresh meal whenever meetings were held or visits were made. Though it was still too early to tell, Henry didn’t foresee Gregory’s initial reaction being any sort of hindrance to his rule.

“Dessert is back at the house, so if you two don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.” Vinicius announced, getting up and all but throwing the poor girl to the ground, stepping over her as one would step over litter on a sidewalk as he made his way to the front door.

Gregory's fidgeting only increased on the way home, his mind filtering through both Vinicius and Henry at the speed of sound, most of them relating to food or his fear of being prosecuted for murder. The two older vampires smiled, both restraining their laughter at the new vampire's paranoia and hunger.

"Don't worry. We're untouchable." Henry smirked, allowing the thought to filter into Gregory’s mind so subtly that it would seem like his own idea. He watched in the fold-down mirror as their new Elder’s anxiety diminished, allowing him to slump back against the seat and actually relax for a moment.

Almost as soon as they arrived, Gregory was accosted by no less than six coven members, all of them offering their fealty in the form of gifts, all of them desperate to get on their new Elder’s good side, lest they incur his wrath. In a flash, he was being made comfortable; fresh blood, warmed to perfection, a luxuriant housecoat and the finest tobacco. Like any new child in a household, he was being spoiled, something which would only make Henry’s job of teaching him that much harder. It was bad enough he had to walk a newly-formed vampire through the ways of his new life; to do it with one who would be ruling over all of Italy for the next 100 years would be near-torture.

The older he grew, the less patience he had for new vampires. Though he did his best to stay in tune with society and culture as it progressed at faster and faster speeds, having to put up with the endless questions, insatiable hunger, and now the endless fixation for social media would be trying for even the most saintly person. It was one of the many reasons he could never be convinced to sire his own fledglings.

Finding the whole scene distasteful and feeling a touch jealous of the boy, Henry turned on his heel and headed back out into the night, his mind venturing back to a time not long after his own immortal birth, when he was still ravenous and wild.

Four years had simultaneously been an eternity and a single moment. Through it all, his hunger had never abated. Romans who dared live in the darker recesses, or outside the city gates knew to fear the creature that came unbidden in the night. The one who left nothing but terror and blood in his wake. Prayers were useless, as were offerings. Even sacrifices to the gods did nothing to keep him at bay.

The hunger ruled his every waking hour and removed any notion of sanity, allowing him to commit unspeakable atrocities to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the domos he entered. He drank five to seven bodies’ worth a night, sometimes more if any of them were particularly small. Man, woman, child; It made no difference. They were all massacred, left in pieces, ripped limb from limb in his blind need for satiation.

When the high of drinking his fill wore off--and it wore off quickly--Herminius inevitably found himself sickened by what he’d done. Many tears were shed over the corpses of those he’d sent to Charon, a litany of apologies whispered over bits of hair and skin before the hunger invariably took over once more, the ache in his belly unquellable.

Night after night, he scoured his birthplace, looking for those who were already near death’s door, those too feeble to cause a scene when his teeth sank into their flesh. More often than not, their blood did little to satisfy, and he would be forced to find a family of young, healthy, Romans to feast upon. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle that Herminius thought would be nearly impossible to break. At his most desperate, he attempted to end his existence, but not a single method he attempted did anything other than temporarily open his immortal vessel.

When it became clear that Rome was no longer a safe haven, Herminius wormed his way into the hull of a ship heading for Alexandria. By the time it reached the Pearl of the Mediterranean, he was the sole inhabitant of the vessel. Though he’d learned some restraint on the voyage, being in a new city seemed only to amplify his need for blood.

Herminius had only been in Alexandria a few nights when Caesar’s men--his former brothers--set the port alight, maligning any chance of him returning to his beloved Rome without further risk to his life. His maker had only taught him one lesson, and it was one which made travel nearly impossible for one such as himself:

The sun is your death.

Homesick and famished, Herminius watched as the library of the great jewel burned along with the port, the vast knowledge turned to mere ash by the carelessness of men he’d once fought alongside of. He wondered if any of his brothers had given any thought to what they were doing or, if like him, they’d thrown themselves headlong into the task with blind fury. Though they were now two very different animals, seeing the glee on their faces eased his guilt some; at the base level, all people were bloodthirsty creatures.

His hunger eased some that night at hearing the cries of anguish from learned men who were forced to watch as their life’s work disappeared before their eyes. By the time the fire was extinguished, nearly half the library had been engulfed, tiny scraps of papyrus floating through the air like the snow in Gaul that had so marveled some of his brothers.

He drank from only one soul that night, that of a young prostitute. Unlike the madness of meals past, where anger and desire coursed through him in equal measure, this time, Herminius sought only to drink and enjoy the nubile woman beneath him. For the first time, he heard the sweet music of pleasure come from his prey, her body writhing, begging him for more. Piercing her neck with his teeth as he pierced her core with his cock, Herminius made the girl sing. Her slim figure trembled in his arms as he slowly drank, fingers pressing her down until he felt the familiar ripple of delight sprint its way up her back.

She took no note of the blood streaming down her neck as he moved his lips down to her small breast, nipping gently until he found the perfect place once more. Sinking his teeth in brought another moan from the girl, Herminius smiling as he drank what little there was left of her. Her final breath came as he spilled his impotent seed, unlatching from her breast just as she went limp in his arms.

Setting the girl down, Herminius covered her and quietly slipped out the window, feeling solace for the first time since he himself was bitten.

A few patrons still lingered at Romulus when he entered, and though it was accidental, Henry couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction when his scowl had them all scampering for their belongings, not one of them making eye contact as they headed for the door.

“Wow, you sure know how to clear a room,” the bartender smirked as she dried a row of shot glasses, unphased by her other customers’ quick exits.

“It’s a gift,” Henry murmured, taking a seat in front of her, still feeling the barbs of anger pushing into every fiber of his being.

“Long night?” She asked, ducking her head a bit to try and catch his gaze. Henry finally looked up, feeling the edge begin to dull on his mood as he was met with a warm, open smile.

“You could say that. Glass of the old stuff with a splash of bourbon, if you please,” Henry requested, jerking his chin towards the wall behind her, pointing at the bottles of Sanguinem that held a place of high regard among the other booze.

“You and your buddies are real fond of this stuff, huh? I’m not sure I get the appeal,” Carla chuckled, shaking her head as she got everything ready to go.

“There’s a certain…generation of us that grew up having sips of it. It became an old habit.” Henry explained, giving her a wink, his smile growing as he saw a blush flood Carla’s cheeks.

He fell silent as he watched her prepare the drink, intrigued when Carla took a shot of the sanguinem before looking over her ingredients. Eyes narrowed, she chose carefully. Henry was hooked as he watched her light a few Cloves until they smoked, quickly turning what he assumed would be his glass over the smoldering herb and a sprig of Thyme before allowing the glass to cloud with the white plume. In her shaker, she put the sanguinem and his requested shot of bourbon, sprinkling cinnamon on top before shaking it up, knowing better than to add ice, as she’d yet to see any of the patrons who ordered it ask for it on the rocks. Finally, she turned the glass over, quickly pouring the drink into it and trapping the smoke in amongst the alcohol.

“I present to you, the Caligula. Get it, ‘cause the sanguinem tastes like blood?” She beamed, taking a joking bow before watching Henry take his first sip.

Before he could even let the liquid touch his tongue, the scene brought him back to the Rome of old, Henry’s eyes closing of their own volition as he drank. Savoring it, he did his best not to swoon, memories of meals past coming back as though he’d just finished them, the flavor bringing back with it memories that actually made him smile.

When he finally came to, Henry’s expression had softened into one of wonder and appreciation. Staring into Carla’s eyes, he felt something he had felt in ages; attraction. Without allowing his mind to crawl into the decrepit place it usually went when it came to any sort of relationship outside of friendship, Henry let his mouth and heart do the work.

“Carla,” he read her name tag, “my name is Henry, and you, bellissima, have just created the only way I’ll take this drink for the rest of my life.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #sanguine nocturnus #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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mintseesaw · 4 years

Text

kapag lasing malambing | myg

translation. (you’re) only sweet when (you’re) drunk

chorus. verse i. verse ii.

pairing: indie musician!yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, light angst, light smut, est. relationship au

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, hints of arousal, yoongi being touchy and straightforward af, light dry humping, yoongi ft. his fingers // rating: 18+

note: hello!! This is my first entry on the Paraluman Project a.k.a. Tagalog-titled drabbles/fics. You may also submit requests for the drabble game: Paraluman Playlist until the end of August. ✨

pending drabble requests will be posted in the coming days huehiehue. Enjoy!

Few bottles in and Yoongi started whining a bit more than usual. In fact, he’s never one to ask for your attention in sobriety. Nevertheless, he is needy but would rather save his pride than admit it without the alcohol clouding his state of mind.

You’re always the one between the two of you who initiates any form of skinship. And most of the attempts you did in public, your success rate— had unfortunately dramatically slumped at 0 in a scale of 1-10.

However, when the situation permits him no other means but to set his so-called reputation aside, Yoongi would willingly participate on displaying his tender feelings in public. One of those rare moments was on your first year anniversary. He had no choice but to pull off a move to make up for the damage he had unintentionally inflicted on you when he almost didn’t show up to the restaurant you personally reserved for dinner.

He never once called you that day, his phone was strangely out of reach and the lack of interaction led you to believe he was gonna surprise you for he would never not return your call nor would turn his phone off without giving you a heads up.

He came, which was three hours too late for you to remain delighted for the occasion. When you stood up from your chair, swallowed the tears that were threatening to spill out, you didn’t beat around the bush and impulsively told him, “We’re done.” before walking passed him even though you didn’t mean it at all. You were just so hurt that night that it was the only thing you have managed to say.

Shocked by the abruptness of your decision, Yoongi ran after you and kept you secured in his hold, cupped your face with his palms and pulled you in a sweet kiss. Perhaps it was the first time he ever did more than just a peck on your forehead with an actual audience gawking at the two of you. He didn’t care nor stop murmuring apologies while he peppered tiny kisses all over your face until you stopped crying.

Turns out, he did have a surprise for you. It was the keys on his palm he fished out from his pocket that he forgot in his apartment on his way there. Apparently, he drove back to his then-apartment to collect his surprise and got stuck in the Metro traffic. Keys of a new apartment that you two now share for the past two years now.

Another time was that new year’s eve party some months ago when he had already chugged down alcohol passed his limit. You lost track of how frequently he had planted pecks on your shoulders and even refused to let go of your hand as if you were being held hostage in his captive. He was just so touchy, at the same time, extremely attentive of you.

It’s not everyday that you are showered with his oddly affectionate treatment so when these rare instances ever occur, you let him spoil you with his generously sweet attention.

Yoongi is naturally caring without him even trying it. And at times, he may show it through his rough facade or fatherly scolding. He shows his affection in a different language, that you once mistaken as some sort of coldness or indifference. Yet, no matter how inwardly warmhearted he is when it concerns you, he would never initiate nor let you advance to the first base in public. Of course, your guy has a reputation to keep. You don’t even understand why his cold exterior, seemingly rude around the edges attracts more women than you deem amusing to witness first hand.

Tonight, you’ll surely entertain yourself while he unravels a thick cover of his facade just from the looks of his glassy eyes and red face. He’s way beyond the tipsy state which only means one thing. Either he’d be extra sweet or needy.

To prove one of your assumptions, you suddenly heard his provocative voice, snapping you out of your reverie. “Baby, come here.” He slurs, his drunkenness more profound with the radiating crimson tinging his dumpling cheeks.

Your eyes roll before scooting closer until your sides are flushed against each other. Both of you are sitting on the floor across the table with your backs leaning against the foot of the couch. Yoongi drapes his arm over your shoulder, then leans on your side to nuzzle your cheek with the tip of his nose while his palm idly scurries on the expanse of your thigh.

You caught his wrist, stopping whatever intention his hazy mind has. Groaning, Yoongi buried his face on the crook of your neck, yet refusing to utter a word.

“Yoongi,” You hiss, retreating back to create some safe distance before he kindles something that should not be stirred awake while you’re here at Jin’s place. His friends are pretty much wasted so the close proximity and his extra provocative hands do not really bother you, except for the fact that your body quickly reacts to his feverish touches.

“Fuck! Let’s go home.” He proposes.

You chuckle, “You’re so drunk, babe.” You say, pinching his beet-red cheeks.

“So drunk, I wouldn’t mind fucking you here in—“ Your eyes widened suddenly hearing such vulgar words coming from him. Your palm met his mouth in a smack.

“Shut up!”

To your dismay, your boyfriend obnoxiously smirks, pulling your other wrist and placing it, out of the blue, on top of his semi-aroused crotch. You lightly jump taken aback and quickly collected your hand back when you felt his clothed cock twitches the second your palm comes in contact with it.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He purrs, sniffing your hair.

Instinctively, your eyes briskly scan the room to see if anyone caught what your boyfriend did. It only took one glance at Jin who is clearly amused at the two of you before your face profusely heated up in embarrassment.

Unlike everyone else in the living room, he seems to be the only man standing aside from you and your boyfriend who can hardly recognize his own name. Jungkook is literally sprawled, face flat on the floor. Hoseok is snoring on the single seater couch on you right. You could hear a faint sound of puking from somewhere, wild guessing it was Taehyung and Namjoon must be helping him out in the bathroom. Jimin and his girlfriend are nowhere in sight.

Jin teasingly winked in your direction before he stood up and disappeared from one of the doorways. Maybe in his room.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend seems to be unbothered, and proceeds to bite the shell of your ear sensually. You try to push him away for the second time of the night. If he continues this tempting advances, it won't be too long before you give in to his bidding.

You sneered, “Your friends are here.”

“We can use the bathroom or something.” He murmurs suggestively.

“No thanks!” You answered back too quickly, somehow taunting him in vengeance of the countless kisses he had turned down from you in the past.

“Babe, come on.” Whines Yoongi as he hovers your mouth with his fingers holding your jaw to his advantage.

“Not here.” You prompted.

“I don’t think I can still drive.”

“I will drive—shit!”

Yoongi pulled your tube top down, exposing one of your mounds.

“No one’s awake.” He reassures, smirking down at the delicious view served in front of him. You shot him a glare, ignoring the surge of heat washing through you.

While you’re busy pulling your top back, Yoongi’s arm curls over your back on your waist, hurling you on his lap facing him without a single inch of difficulty. Your denim skirt bunches up on your hips as your thighs parted.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?!” You exclaimed, while shooting peers sideways to make sure no one can see you two in a compromising position.

Yoongi paid no heed to your panicky voice, baring your mounds once more all the while wrestling with your arms when they tried to cover your beautiful breasts from his ardent stare. He shifted you further close so that your center directly presses against his prominent bulge.

Your lips parted in a soundless gasp, sparking your senses alive and Yoongi used your momentary shock to capture a peak with his mouth. The palms digging on your hips coaxing you to move against him.

Your eyes fall shut, “Fuck Yoongi! I said not here!”

“Should I stop then?” He teases.

No! Your corrupt mind objects.

The friction down your soaking mess of an aching core against his crotch eliciting tiny yet unmistakable whimpers from your agape mouth, head thrown back when pleasure immediately starts to build up in your core.

“Yes, baby. Just like that. You will be good and come for me, right love?” He purrs next to your ear. The hoarseness of his natural voice and the low register of his tone made possible by his alcohol-filled system increasing the heat in your body.

“Yoongi, please…” You wail breathlessly, needing more stimulation to give what he wants.

In the midst of your supposed blissful momentum, you have failed to sense the nearing sound of footsteps in the living. It was only when Yoongi cursed under his breath, and shoved you flushed against his chest that you snapped out of it, while the sparks ebb away into actual nerves. He hurriedly shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, draping it over your back to cover your nakedness due to your top slipping down to your waist.

With your face buried on the curve of his neck, you panted heavily as your ears perked up at the sound of his friends approaching the room. He kisses the side of your head, and right away rubs your back to soothe your nerves.

“Hyung, Tae and I are lea—oh! Is she alright?” You heard Namjoon ask, probably surprised at the sight of you resting on Yoongi’s body.

“Yeah, she just fell asleep is all. Go on, the kid looks like he’s about to pass out any second.” Yoongi says coolly.

“Sweet. We’re gonna head out, lovebirds.”

As soon as you heard the sound of the door closing, Yoongi’s hand snaked in between your bodies, pushed your lace to the side and started thrumming your clit. Your arms instinctively went around his neck for leverage, helplessly sobbing against his sweat covered skin.

For the next few minutes, your muffled delightful cries took over Yoongi’s senses while his fingers worked their magic on your center, and to the muscles of your drenched hole, skillfully driving you to oblivion.

At least, he’s sweet enough to let you come despite the situation you two are in, with his pretty wasted friends who could’ve heard your scandalous moans should they have not been sleeping the entire time.

#yoongi x reader #bayanihanboost #paralumanproject #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff

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hyuniebaby · 4 years

Text

Focus (5)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

A/N: And a new character appears... 👀

@coffee-prince-kyungsoo

As much as you wanted to stay in Mr. Kim’s office, you had to leave. He was looking extremely pissed off after finding out that you’ve slept with Baekhyun.

“Mr. Kim, I’ll - uh - go now.”

He didn’t even look at you, he was so lost in his thoughts.

You quickly left his office, breathing a sigh of relief once you shut the door. Whatever happened in that office was intense.

You can’t believe you’ve just sucked him off. You can’t believe you’ve sucked two men in a span of two days. You felt so dirty but for some reason, you liked it. You like how they made you feel.

You’re still hot and bothered from Junmyeon’s ministrations. You’re going to kill Junmyeon next time when you’re both outside the campus. He’s no longer an authority figure to you when he steps out of this campus. He’s dead meat.

You check the time on your watch and realized that it was still early. Maybe you could grab a quick drink and a quick fuck somewhere. But first, you have to clean yourself up and wear some panties.

As you got home, you plopped on your bed. Baekhyun and Junmyeon immediately invading your mind. How were you supposed to meet these two men tomorrow in Bio class? Were you supposed to tell Baekhyun that something happened with you and Junmyeon? Was he even supposed to know? Junmyeon knows about you and Baekhyun though... What if he reacted the same way as Junmyeon?

Ugh, they were driving you crazy. You definitely need a drink now.

You get off bed and proceed to your bathroom. You stripped off your clothes and observed yourself in the mirror. Fuck, Junmyeon gave you so many hickeys. You’re gonna have to cover it up with foundation and concealer. This adds to the growing list of why you should kill Junmyeon the next time you see him outside campus. You hated wearing makeup!

Deciding that staring at the hickeys won’t magically get rid of it, you step in the shower. Once you were done, you picked up the shortest dress and the highest heels you can find. You’ve been wild these days, you might as well embrace your new normal.

As you sat on your bed while trying to put on your heels, you see a piece of paper on your bedside table. Curious as to what it was, you reach for it and read it.

Y/N, I’m sorry I had to leave early. I enjoyed last night. - B

You didn’t know what to make of the letter. Was it supposed to be a thank you, goodbye? Was it supposed to be a let’s do this again next time? You decide that you’re going to dwell about it some other time. You want to forget about Baekhyun and Junmyeon tonight.

You go to your vanity and start putting on your makeup. You initially wanted to do subtle makeup, but you remembered that tonight, you were going to go wild, so you put on your red lipstick, and went with a smokey eyeshadow look. Once you were all set and done, you grab your phone and purse and went off to the bar.

You went straight to the bartender for drinks. You immediately down two glasses of whiskey. You take a good look at the place before you felt a pair of eyes looking your way. You look for the source and found the man who was looking at you. You both held eye contact. He was attractive, extremely attractive. Immaculate, even. He was tall and lean. He makes his way towards you.

“Why’s a lovely lady drinking alone?”

“Just a bad day.” His face looks better up close. “What about you?”

“I just wanted to drink. No reason.”

There was a moment of silence before he says, “Sehun. My name is Sehun.” Sehun, even his name sounds as good as his looks, you thought. In response, you tell him your name.

“So do you want to share with me what’s bothering you, darling?” The words rolled out of his mouth soothingly, you suddenly had the urge to spill every little thing that has been bothering you. So you did.

In the midst of telling him everything, you got overwhelmed and started drinking more. He tried to stop you but you wouldn’t budge. When you got everything out of your system, you were slurring your words.

Sehun was a nice man. He was a gentleman. He wasn’t just going to leave you alone. Based on what you’ve said tonight, your problems stemmed from sleeping with two men. He knows fully well that you don’t need another person to mull over. So he grabs your phone surprisingly you didn’t have a password for it and randomly dials a contact from your phone. Fortunately for you, it was Mina who he has been able to reach. He tells her about your state and where you were. Mina tells him that she’ll pick you up in five minutes.

“Y/N, your friend will arrive here soon to pick you up.” Sehun helps you stand up. You immediately cling to him. This was the moment the Sehun knew you were clingy when you’re drunk. What ever happened to the woman who looked so lonely earlier?

“Sehunie is so warm.” You slur. “Sehunie is the best. He listened to me all night without judgement. I hope Sehunie won’t ever feel lonely.”

He got flustered by how you said these words. No one has genuinely said these words to him ever. It was heartwarming to say the least.

“I-is Sehunie single?” You hiccup.

As if on cue, Mina arrives at the bar and claims you from Sehun. She thanks him profusely for taking care of you. She takes you to her apartment and cleans you up and lends you her softest pajamas. You dozed as soon as your head hits the pillows.

You wake up with an intense headache. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were yellow curtains. You internally panicked upon realization that you did not have yellow curtains in your room. You look around the room and realized you were in Mina’s apartment. You sigh in relief.

You walk to the kitchen and find Mina cooking soup. “What happened?” You asked her.

“Before anything else, eat this and drink this.” She hands you a bowl of the soup she prepared and some pain reliever. “Secondly, I should be the one asking you what happened.” She gives you a pointed look.

“Well remember the professor who thought I was doing something with Jongdae in the janitor’s closet? After class I went to his office and I got scolded. Like the embarrassing kind of scolding.” You say, exaggerating a little bit. “You know I hate being scolded. Especially for something I know I didn’t do.” You frown. “So yeah I was so upset and wanted to drink everything away.”

You pause, trying to remember what the hell happened last night. “And then I remember drinking a lot... and... I think I met a guy?”

Mina listens intently to your story. Feeling sad that you were going through this alone. She could’ve been there for you.

“Hmm... Sehun? I think Sehun was his name. But I don’t remember what happened next.” You pout.

“You know you could’ve called me, right? You don’t need to keep these kind of things to yourself.” Mina says softly. “You’re lucky this Sehun guy wasn’t a creep! You were so out of it last night, something worse could’ve happened to you!” Mina scolds.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry”

“It’s okay. Next time call me or Joohyun or Seulgi. You know we’ll drop anything for you. Especially if there’s alcohol involved.” She teases. You laugh at her statement. Feeling a tad bit better than last night.

You let Mina know that you have classes by noon. She tells you to just borrow some of her clothes so you don’t have to go back to your house. After all, she lives just around the block of the campus.

The only problem for you was that Mina’s clothes are composed only of crop tops, skirts, dresses, and skinny jeans. You suppose it’s okay if the crop tops were the loose type, but they weren’t... Mina was nice enough to lend you her clothes so you opt to wear the fitted crop top and the skinny jeans. You don’t dare wear a skirt or dress because well these were the type of clothes you wore when something happened to you and the two men.

You bid good bye to Mina. You apologized for the inconvenience and thanked her for helping you out.

There were so many thoughts running through your mind as you walked towards your class. You walked with your head low while you try to massage your head. The throbbing of your head was still there and the unnecessary thoughts were adding to the pain you were feeling.

You ran into someone and you automatically apologize. When you look up, it was the guy from last night. He was getting some books from his locker and you literally crashed into him.

He was about to snap and say something in the lines “Watch where you’re going.” But he sees you. A look of shock was evident from his face, then his face relaxes and shifts to an amused look.

“Sehun?”

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animetrashlord-007 · 4 years

Text

AHS ~ Storm

Word Count;; 1.6k

Genre;; Humour, Suggestive

Pairing;; Kisame x Reader

Published;; 2017-10-22

My Masterlist

Akatsuki Halloween Special Masterlist

You slammed the car door shut, earning a startled glance from the man waiting in the driver’s seat. After a long moment of staring ahead at the many vehicles passing by, your anger subsided enough to face your companion. He laughed and started the engine, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the car pulled out of the gas station’s lot. With an exaggerated huff, you rolled your eyes and shuffled in your seat, getting comfortable for the ride home.

“Calmed down yet?”

“Piss off, Kisame.”

“It’s just because they think you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute and I don’t want creeps looking at me!”

“You’re a showstopper. Even a gentleman like me can’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Alright, alright, no need to turn your wrath onto little ol’ me.” He threw one hand up in mock defeat but his voice held nothing but amusement, an airy laugh on his lips as he continued his teasing, “As they say, Hell hath no fury like-”

“Hah! I’ll show you fury!”

“Just when I was going to offer to go back and kick some ass for you. It might be more effective just to set you loose on them.”

“You should be more worried about yourself at this point, buddy.”

The playful bickering continued even when the car came to a halt, stuck amidst a traffic jam. This type of fun atmosphere was second nature when it came to Kisame. You two had known each other for so long that ruthless teasing and sarcastic remarks were the only acceptable form of greeting. It was just another Saturday afternoon, just a normal conversation between friends. Friends. That was the part that left you feeling empty. You wanted to be more than friends - you had since college - but whenever you were single, he wasn’t. It was always bad timing (at least that’s what you had told yourself) yet here you both were, single and ready to mingle but, for some reason, not dating each other. It had caused you many restless nights.

“Earth to the airhead, we were having a conversation here,” he sighed, frowning as he gazed at you from the corner of his eyes. “What’s wrong? Am I boring you?”

“It’s nothing. Sorry I zoned out.”

“Come on, I know you. Don’t lie to me,” he whispered just loud enough to be heard above the hum of the hundreds of engines purring around us as we all waited for the congestion to ease up and traffic to flow unhindered once more.

“I’m just… conflicted. I have all these emotions brewing in me. There’s a storm raging within and it’s uncontrollable and insatiable and terrifying and I’ve become overwhelmed by it! There’s something, or rather, someone I want but I shouldn’t pursue. It just…” you trailed off, frustration ebbing away at your sensibility, urging you to throw caution to the wind. “It just isn’t fair, Kisame!”

“What do you want? Tell me, maybe I can help,” he smiled, his tone as kind and gentle as always.

“We’ve known each other a long time, yeah?”

“Duh.”

“Then-” you turned in your seat to face him, “-why haven’t you ever made a move on me?”

He blinked at you twice, the words not computing in his mind, before chuckling, the sound deep and hearty, “You’re hilarious. I thought you were being serious.”

“Am I not making my intentions obvious enough? Are you not picking up what I’m putting down?”

“Wait, you’re not joking?”

“I’m cute and sweet and friendly in public, just as anyone would want. Modest, honest, intelligent… and I’m interesting! Not to mention, my body is amazing! Remember that time you walked in on me changing? I looked sexy as all hell, right?!”

“I, uh, I don’t- no, I haven’t- it’s not, not-”

“Maybe I’m not your type. I’ve never felt that I was much different from the people you've dated, though,” you mumbled, your fingers scratching your collarbone as you continued, ignoring his flabbergasted stammering and incoherent stuttering, “It could be in the little things, I suppose. As roommates, you already have a sense of who I truly am, not the facade I present to strangers. That would make sense. That’s where most of my relationships end, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t be so rough on yourself!” He managed to calm his racing thoughts long enough to shout the words, his sudden exclamation reminding you of a drunk phone call you had with his last ex.

“From what I’ve been told, we would be sexually compatible. You know, I’m a bit of a freak in the sheets, an absolute sinner, but so are you!”

“What?!”

“Now, I’m not one to bow down and accept commands from just anyone, but I think I can manage if it’s you… I’d have no objections submitting to you. Well, not many. I mean, just look at you and that body of yours. You could toss me down on the bed and tell me to undress and I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d say, ‘yes, sir, and the panties too?’ You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined it. Those big hands of yours exploring my body, groping my breasts and pinching my nipples until I whimper. Your mouth on my body as you nip and suck on my skin a little too harshly, leaving bruises and marking my body as yours,” you murmured, your eyes distant as you recounted your fantasies, your fingertips massaging the soft flesh of your inner thigh absentmindedly. “Just thinking about it makes me wet and I haven’t even gotten to the sex yet.”

Lost in your own dream world, you didn't realise how red Kisame had gotten. His eyes were trained on the road, awaiting even the slightest movement in hopes of escaping the traffic jam. His silent prayers went unanswered; they weren’t making it home any time soon and that sweet rush of burning desire that settled in his groin and begged for acknowledgement would have to be ignored to the best of his abilities. He scrunched his nose and closed his eyes in concentration, hands turning pale as he gripped the steering wheel with a little too much force. It wasn’t until you heard him muttering under his breath that you snapped back to reality.

“Sorry. I made you uncomfortable.”

“That’s… that’s not it. I’ve just never imagined you as the submissive type.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

A mischievous grin crossed your features as you leaned over and propped your elbows onto the middle console armrest, the tension in the car rising as you purred, “Oh? So you’ve thought about me that way before. Is that how I’m different from the others? You’re willing to switch?”

He avoided your prying gaze, his voice shaking as he asked, “What do you mean?”

You heard his breath catch in his throat as you leaned in closer, your tongue dancing across your lips as you whispered into his ear, “Have you ever wondered what I looked like in leather with a whip in one hand and handcuffs in the other? Or maybe you like the more subtle domination... a fancy business suit and six inch heels with a no-bullshit attitude, my voice dictating your every movement. Would you like to see me take charge, to command you? Want me to call you a good boy?”

“It seems the traffic is clearing up ahead, we should be able to move soon!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Sure it is!”

“Have you ever had sex in a car, Kisame?”

“We’ll be home in no time!”

“Answer me,�� your eyes darkened as your tone dropped, your words cold. “Answer me now, Kisame.”

“No, I, uh, haven’t. It isn’t safe to, you know, do it while you’re driving. Pretty sure it’s illegal even when you’re parked, so that’s definitely a bad-”

“Stop talking.” Your words were sharp enough to stop him mid-sentence, his blush deepening as he witnessed the sweet girl he knew transform into the woman he spent too many nights lusting over. “Touch yourself.”

Objections rested on the tip of his tongue, threatening to challenge your authority, before he decided against speaking. Old habits die hard but he wasn’t going to risk receiving a punishment, not when in clear view of the many other drivers parked and waiting to continue their commute.

He hadn’t expected you to do this inside of the car, though he wasn’t complaining. He couldn’t deny that he had wondered about this side of you ever since his ex spilled the beans after that drunken phone call. You were so happy-go-lucky so the idea of some wild, sadist side seemed farfetched, but he couldn’t shake it from his mind. Now the chance to experience it firsthand had arrived and he found himself growing weaker, the temptation overwhelming him. He had never thought of himself as a masochist, never thought he would submit to anyone, but today was a day of surprises.

Taking a deep breath, he stared into your eyes, watching as they softened. Sensing your resolve wavering, he unzipped his pants and pulled them down, exposing his hardening length beneath his tight boxer-briefs. Your gaze was heavy with approval and appreciation, and he felt like a teenaged boy once more as he averted his eyes, his face bright crimson. Slipping his hand under the soft cloth, he began to stroke himself until a sudden sting blossomed across the back of his hand.

“Not yet. Do it over the top of the boxers and do it slower until I say otherwise-” His eyes snapped open as your delicate hand gripped his chin, forcing him to face you once more, “-and don’t you dare look away. I want to watch you crumble before me.”

#kisame x reader #kisame hoshigaki #naruto #naruto shippuden #akatsuki x reader #naruto oneshot #anime #anime oneshot #akastuki oneshot #animetrashlord-007

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fangirlingincamouflage · 4 years

Text

365 Days of Drabbles: Day 12

Title: Dream Wolf Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 2,642 Pairing: Solas x Reader Chapter Rating: R (Rates high on the steamy factor) Themes: Angst, Plot, sex, oral sex, Disclaimer I do not own Solas, nor do I make any money off of this fanfic. Solas is the property of BioWare/EA. Personal Note: I hate how much I love this character. I am fully aware that he has...uhhh...flaws. My personal preferences can usually be summed up to: I like men who seem like they would bake for the homeless and women who would kill anyone who got in their way. Solas is one of the rare few who fall outside of that and I don’t even know why I like him but I do.

It’s a dream. You know it’s a dream, but that doesn’t keep you from sinking further into it. The heady scent of water and ferns beckons, impossible to resist. You slip away from the familiar feel of your sheets, from the sounds of your room settling; and fall into the depths of the Fade.

The ethereal realm embraces you like an old friend, and why not? It is here where memories are made and they are all you have. Memories of hope, of war, of survival, but most of all there are memories of love. For a moment you let yourself be distracted by some of the better ones, the ones that make you laugh. Unable to help yourself, you walk through a field of what once was, lingering in the places you cared for most. You know that a spirit of kindness dances at the edge of your consciousness, but you don’t mind. After all, he taught you to see the aspects of the Fade rather than the fear of it.

As if summoned, the field of memories solidifies beneath you. The murky land becomes a green grotto, filled with the scent that called to you in the first place. Ferns and grasses form a delicate hill. A waterfall feeds a pool of crystalline water. Mist forms on the surface. It is all too easy to kneel at its edge, touch the cool surface. Your hand disrupts the mist, and it curls around your wrist. For all it is a dream, it feels gloriously real.

A different spirit, ephemeral as a wisp, follows you here. The weight of its presence tugs at you, demands your attention. At the very edge of your vision a shape forms in the mist. A dog, you think at first, but honestly you know better. It is a Wolf, dark and proud and beautiful. It’s paws, twice the size of your hand with fingers splayed, make divots in the soft earth.

For a moment, your eyes linger on the bestial shape. Not out of fear, but hope. Your heart gives a painful lurch in your chest. You cannot count the days since you saw him last. Anger and hope war within you. Some days you wish you could forget him entirely. Some days you cling to his memory.

The mist coalesces. It grows thick and impenetrable. The wolf disappears behind its curtain. For a miserable moment you think he might, yet again, be gone.

“Wait!” you cry. “No!”

You surge to your feet, throwing yourself into the mist. Blindly, you run through it. Your feet cross water and grass and bark and rock. Curtains of mist give way to curtains of velvet. Natural rock becomes worked stone. When the mist clears you are back in your room at Skyhold, and you are alone.

Hope gives way to anger. Anger gives way to grief. You collapse on your bed and tears, unwanted and hot, stain your pillow. The soft light of day fades into deepest night.

“Vhenan?”

The single word, softly spoken, rouses you from your turmoil. With a gasp, you roll over and stare into the night.

A long, lanky male figure stands there; silhouetted by the stars. He wears a simple, nearly translucent jerkin and green breeches, sewn to the very shape of his legs.

“Solas?” you ask, wondering if this too is a dream.

He steps forward, some trick of light reveals his face in inches. The dip in his chin. The perfect bow of his lips, ever curved in a knowing smile. The light of his eyes. On and on it goes, from ear tip to the hairless crown.

“Tell me your here, that this isn’t a dream.”

He tilts his head to one side, the wolf-jaw necklace slithers over his chest.

“Of course it is a dream,” he says. “But that does not make it worth any less.”

You kneel on the edge of your bed, much like you did the pool. You want to run to him, yell at him, kiss him. You want answers and promises. You want so many things all at once that it leaves you frozen in place.

“What do you want?” you finally ask. The words come out harsh.

His head dips. The light in his eyes fade, and the smile along with it.

“Forgiveness.”

You are so startled by the admission you lunge out of bed. Anger spurns your steps. You close the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

“Oh? Is that all?”

“Your anger is warranted, Vhenan. But I would like to remind you that I warned you. I told you that this would be easier if we didn’t.”

He had, but the ring of truth doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

“Easier for who?” you spit.

“For us both.”

You aren’t sure if it’s his words or the single tear that comes with it that has your temper cooling. He had told you, he had resisted. You had pushed and what wolf can resist the love you offered.

“You left,” you say, shoulders sagging.

“I am here now.” His hand reaches up, the warmth of his fingers glides over your cheek.

“For how long?”

“As long as you can stay asleep.”

Your eyes close as his fingers curl beneath your chin. He tilts your head back and his lips glide against your own.

In your anger at being left you have kissed others, tried to tell yourself that it was just as good, but you know that you were lying to yourself. The press of Solas’ mouth to yours makes you melt against him. The flick of his tongue drives the strength from your knees. He wraps a slim, strong arm around your back, holding you to him as he deepens the kiss even further.

By all the gods, Forgotten and Old, his mouth tastes of rain and honey. His tongue dives against yours, retreats and dives again. The arm around your back tightens, pulling you closer. Your body flatbed against his as you feel the sweep of his teeth skim against your lower lip.

“Vhenan,” he growls against your mouth. “I crave you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes. You feel drunk, intoxicated by the feel of him so close.

“Then taste me,” you whisper.

You feel him tense and hesitate. Your eyes snap open and you see the glitter of his eyes at war. He wants to stay, you realize, but even now he is telling himself it’s the wrong thing to do.

Not this time, you tell yourself. Not tonight. If this is to be your dream, it will be one worth remembering.

With a motion you slide your hands down his chest, exploring the thinness of his tunic, and the hard body that lies beneath. For a moment your hands settle on his hips, your thumbs curling inwards to frame the shape of him beneath his breeches. You push the fabric down, tightening it as you go to your toes and muzzle against his neck like a beast.

“Do not leave me tonight,” you murmur. You close your eyes again, letting the tip of your tongue trace the line of his neck. “Give me what we both crave.”

With another sound he sweeps you up in his arms, carrying you the short distance back to your bed. You open your eyes in time to see his hands grip the edge of his tunic. In one fluid motion he peels it off and banished it to the other side of the room. Half naked, he prowls over you, his necklace skimming against your chest as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You are to be my undoing then?”

You smile, and wrap your legs around his hips. “Since you’ve been mine, it seems only fair.”

He holds back for one more moment, his hands rooted to the pillows behind you. You see that struggle in his eyes light, and then, as his gaze sweeps across you, he relinquishes himself to his own need.

He falls upon you like a wolf. His mouth goes from your neck to your collar and down. With a snarl he yanks your bedclothes up and off, sending them to join his own. He allows himself one look at you laid out before him before his mouth dips to your chest. He tastes you like a beast, licking and nipping like a man gone mad.

“Solas,” you cry as the heat rises in your body. He seems to feel it, sense it, following it down the length of your body until he settles between your thighs.

“Do you still wish for me to taste you?” he asks, his breath spilling against you. An answer springs to your tongue but there is something about the way he looks up at you, eyes filled with animalistic hunger. It sends a thrill through you that has no name.

Your response is a moan, and lifting your hips towards him.

His fingers, which seem sharper than normal, yank the last of your clothing away, leaving you naked before him. Before your body can settle back against the bed his hands wrap around your thighs, shoving them apart. You have one mindless moment of being bare and exposed before his tongue descends on you.

The dread wolf can be a gentle lover, you are sure of it. But there is nothing gentle about the way his mouth savages at you. His tongue seems to make way for lips and teeth. A part of you knows that it ought to hurt, but nothing but pleasure rolls through you as he eats you like a beast.

You want to wrap your legs around him, but his hands keep you pinned to the mattress. The sheets catch and ripple beneath you as your back arches, as your hands fist in them. Your moans of pleasure mingle with his as he focuses on the apex of your need. He is relentless, and you can’t help but give in.

A wet, heavy weight builds in the place where his tongue and teeth play. His lips form a kiss and he sucks the tender parts of you between them as he releases one of your thighs. His fingers plunge into you, and he makes a satisfied sound at finding the depths of your wetness. He crooks his fingers, pressing against the wild heat that is building within you. He makes another sound, and you know that he is demanding you to give in.

You hold back. You want to give in, but he made you wait this long, it seems only fair that you make him wait too.

His eyes roll upwards, watching you from his place between your thighs. You see a question in them, and then realization. They narrow and he scoops his free hand beneath you, curling your body up as he tucks himself beneath you. With your legs over his shoulders he redoubles his efforts, and feasts.

It is a strange dichotomy, this precise man with his cunning intellect and careful speech. To see him worry at your most tender parts like a beast awakes something primal inside you. His font gets curve against your pleasure, and every move of your hips grinds against his mouth.

“Yes,” he growls against you. “Let me taste your need.”

You don’t know if it is the crook of his fingers, the lewdness of his words, or the way his mouth moves against you but that ball of pleasure within you shivers, cracks, and spills. Your high rips through you, primal and wild, drawing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you could make.

With a snarl of satisfaction he glares up at you.

“Withholding from me?” He asks.

You are to breathless to speak, your mind still dealing from the dwindling energy of your orgasm. You manage a halfhearted shrug.

“We shall see.”

His long fingers wrap over your hips. With one deft movement he scoots back and sends you tumbling to your knees. He seizes your legs and pulls, lifting your backside into the air. He licks across one cheek, ending with a deft bite. You make another sound and his hands slither over the lines of your body, sculpting as he lifts himself over you, licking a line up your spine.

“Need,” he said the single word like a growl, a prayer.

“Take,” you invite.

You feel him shiver, his breath in your ear as his body lowers over the back of yours. His lips run along the line of your neck as his hand darts between your bodies to yank at his breeches. You feel the hard length of him press against you. He rolls his hips, grinding against you. He curses in a form of elven so old that you can’t follow it.

“What?”

He pants and then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Wet,” he snarls, half desperate, half possessive.

The mattress shifts beneath your body as his hands slide over your hips. He slides back, lining the tip of him with the entrance of you, and then thrusts forward, sheathing him inside of you in one swift movement. There is no hesitation. His thrusts are deep, desperate, needful. He curls one arm beneath your body, hand over your shoulder, holding you in place as he shoves himself into you over and over again. But you know, even now, that he is holding back.

“Yes,” you croon. “Solas, yes!” You arch, pushing your hips back in ardent invitation.

“Vhenan,” he growls at you, holding you still. “Do that again and I will not be held accountable for how I react.”

With a smile on your lips, you shove against him.

“I said ‘take‘.”

He sits back, still rooted inside of you. His hands skimming their way down your sides. He grips your hips, fingers curling right enough to make you hiss. He moves back, pulling until only the tip of him is still rooted inside of you.

“As you say.”

Take he does. His hands hold you still as he starts to pound. He moved hard, taking his pleasure of you with a wild, primal joy. He mutters under his breath phrases to old and crude for you to understand. It’s hard to hold yourself against the desperate pillaging of his need. As you start to dip forward he grabs your hair, fisting it in one hand and pushing you against your mattress.

“Harder,” you moan into the sheets.

He lets out a sound, a growl and then a howl. The tips of his finger dig into one hip, leaving bruises behind. You croon your pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you. The very end of him reaching your wet depth.

“Vhenan!” He cries, letting you know that he is close.

You reach back, wrapping your hand around his wrist. You feel the tendons beneath your fingers flex as his wild rhythm reaches a new depth.

“Yes, Solas, yes!”

With a last wild thrust he empties himself inside of you. He throws his head back and howls like the wolf he is as his hips twitch with his own pleasure. He cries your name at the last of it, just before he sags over you.

Your legs, already pushed to their limits, collapse. The two of you tumble to the bed, getting lost amid the mess of sheets. You expect him to pull away, to leave now that he’s had his full and you’ve had yours. But instead, surprising you both, his arm slides tenderly around you middle, he curls behind you, placing a kiss on the shoulder that he bit.

“Forgive me,” he whispers.

“Whatever for?”

He hesitates. “There will be marks.”

You smile and curl closer. “Stay with me until the dream ends, and all will be forgiven.”

He pulls you closer, tucking himself in the curve of you. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

“I love you too.”

#readerfic #solas/reader #bioware fanfiction #solas romance #solas x lavellan #solas fanfic #smut #sexy solas #Dread wolf #the dread wolf #Dragonage

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

Something New

A/N: this is something of a passion write I had been working on during finals week back in May. Special thanks to my betas, @cherryyharryy and @meetmeinthehallwayhs for helping me through this :D

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: some smut

Summary: Harry may have just found his new muse.

***

The walls in Harry’s apartment are paper thin.

He’s roused awake by the rattling of his keys on the table beside him. His heavy lids force apart, and he half expects to be blinded by the morning sun. Instead, he’s met with a skyline painted a dark navy with hints of orangey-yellow peeking from the bottom. Wiping the crustiness away from his thick lashes, he’s able to decipher the time and place. The clock on his right reads 4:21 AM in large, red figures that sting his eyes with their intense vibrancy. He can’t help but wonder who in their right mind would be awake this early and let alone have the energy to cause such a commotion at such a dreadful hour.

A subsequent snort sounds from the back of his nose. The sleepiness he had felt when he’d gone to bed is quickly stripped away, but ever present with the unwillingness of his limbs to make themselves useful. He turns to lay down on his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s far earlier than he’s used to, but now his mind is running wild with thoughts that will surely bother him throughout the day. Like how he may or may have not forgotten to give his mum a ring like he said he would after he had gotten home from the club, or that he can’t recall whether he had given Niall his cousin’s number (Niall has a bit of a crush on her, although she doesn’t seem to be all that interested) while he was drunk and dancing to Cher’s Believe. Come to think of it, he isn’t even sure how he’s managing not to drift off considering he had only gotten in a little less than three hours ago.

It takes longer than he would ever care to admit, but Harry is finally able to convince the rest of his body to leave the warmth of his sheets. The hairs on the back of his neck rise as his feet come in contact with the creaky wooden floorboards. He lifts off the mattress with a little jump, and it’s then the frigid air from the open window collides with his bare chest.

He moves into the bathroom with dallying steps –– after all, time seems to be on his side today –– that cease once he reaches the outside of the tub. He feels behind the other side of the curtain for the faucet, and it elicits the faintest whine as he turns the water on.

Once inside, he lets out a relieved sigh as the hot pellets land on his back and massage every inch of his skin. He stands with his arm outstretched and braced against the cool tiles with his head hung low, wet hair falling heavy in front of his eyes with water streaming from the ends.

His other hand slowly slides down his body, starting from the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen leading south. He swallows hard as the tips of his fingers are tickled by the coarse hairs of his pubic bone. They move further down and wrap around his semi-hard cock one at a time. He hisses when he gives it a generous squeeze, bucking his hips forward on reflex. He begins to tug on himself, each proceeding breath becoming more staggered than the last.

The tip of his member screams with a rose-flushed red. Each drop of water feels like electricity jolting each nerve in his body from dormancy. He shuts his eyes tight, leaning back against the wall as he jerks himself off in a quick but steady rhythm.

There’s the slightest twinge of guilt that consumes just a part of his brain, but the larger part craves for the ultimate bliss of a much needed release. His other hand moves down to his aching balls. They feel tight as he rolls them with his palms, each stretch of the skin making his toes curl and creating a squeaking noise that echoes in the acoustics of the room.

He fantasizes being able to fuck his cock between a pair of supple breasts. How the mixture of sweat and his excitement allow for him to thrust through the tight valley with ease, far enough so that the head is just able to be sucked into her greedy mouth. Her expert tongue licks over him like a lollipop. Its underside brushes along his slit, and he’s unable to constrain himself from bucking forward and feeling the back of her throat. She gags on him, bolstering his ego. The vibrations of her lips cause a ripple of shocks to spread across the surface of his skin and startle his very core.

“Fuck me,” he moans shakily as his knees begin to grow unsteady. His movements become more desperate, and he finds his mind drifting to filthier, more sinful thoughts that will surely reserve him a special place in hell. He imagines pushing into a mouthwatering pussy, drenched in the sweetest juices that takes every single inch of him until the slap of his skin against hers drowns out their husky and panting voices. The way her walls clasp around him, keeping him as deep within her nearly draws the cum from his taut balls and drives him closer and closer to seeing the blinding stars behind his lids. She screams out his name like a sacred hymn, looking up at him with lustrous eyes with each fluid roll of his hips against hers.

He fists his cock aggressively for a while longer before his body begins to spasm as creamy ribbons progress out of him like an active stream. His lungs burn as they fill with the humidity around him. He twists the pointed end of the faucet, finally being allowed to breathe again under the frigid rush.

***

Harry emerges from the bedroom half an hour later in a pair of well-fitting grey slacks with a crisp, gentle lavender button-up on top. He mindlessly goes through the task of making himself a cup of dark roast coffee and putting together a bowl of Corn Flakes with sliced bananas and half a cup of almond milk splashed on top. Sometimes, he likes to simply listen to his teeth as they crunch down on the grains until it slithers down his throat.

There’s the screech of a chair against the floor that sounds from the apartment next door. He hadn’t even realized that it was being occupied until this moment. The people that used to live there, a train conductor called Emmitt Pearlstein and his eighty-year-old mother, had moved out only a few months ago.

(To be honest, he’s still feeling a bit guilty for having never accepted any of their dinner invitations. But it’s not entirely his fault! He heard from Susan and Kelly from downstairs that all the food was blended since Mrs. Pearlstein refuses to get herself a new pair of dentures.)

Maybe he’ll introduce himself when he gets a day off...whenever that will be. It is wedding season after all! And he’s booked for client meetings and events until the end of May. Harry is a photographer, and as circumstance have proven, one that is very in demand. The pay is more than decent to substantiate his current lifestyle –– i.e. pay his rent, put gas in his car, and set aside a few extra pounds for leisurely spending on a rainy day because Gucci isn’t cheap, after all!

He slurps up the leftover milk in his bowl before rinsing it out in the sink. He checks his watch, 7:54, which gives him more than enough time to check-in at the office before touching base with the bride and groom (separately, as old school superstition dictates) staying at the hotel across town for some pre-ceremony pictorials with the entourage.

As he locks up behind him, his ears perk at the sound of the elevator’s ding just around the corner. Taking giant leaps, his tripod and camera case swinging over his shoulders, he’s able to thrust his hand through the slimming crack of the doors. There’s a girl inside, large chocolate brown sunglasses covering nearly half her face.

“Morning,” he greets, nodding at her politely as he steps in. He pushes the already lit up lobby level button out of habit and waits patiently as the doors attempt at yet another close.

On the reflection of the walls, he notices how she averts her gaze from looking anywhere but her suede ankle boots, and it’s as though she’s designated her position to be cramped up in the corner as far away from him as possible. Harry dips his nose close to his collar and takes a subtle whiff. Between his cologne and his botanical rain fabric softener, he thinks he smells pretty damn fantastic.

The stiffness in the enclosed quarters makes the ride down from the fifteenth floor feel slower than real time. All that’s able to keep him engaged is the toe-tapping tune playing softly through the speakers. He gives the situation the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she’s not yet had her morning coffee or really is just very shy around strange men she encounters on the lift.

A sniffle suddenly erupts between them, and Harry glances back up at her reflection just in time to see the tips of her fingers disappear underneath her glasses. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. “Here,” he gives her a small sympathetic smile that nearly wavers when she looks up at him. “I’m sorry if I’m...if I’m intruding or anything.” He trips nervously on his words as they spill out. “I just thought you could-”

“Thank you,” her voice is grateful but weak, as though she’s thoroughly tired out each cord, but the way it vibrates through his ears leaves him at a loss for words. She takes the handkerchief from him and pushes it under the frames of her shades and dabs gently. It’s then he sees her puffy red-rimmed eyes. They make contact with his, in a flicker that he isn’t sure ever occurred.

His curiosity gets the better of him as he tries again for a better look when the bell rings signaling that they’ve arrived at the lobby. She nods at him, grinning faintly as she makes her way towards the glass door exit. It leaves Harry standing in the shaft to gape at the ghost of her trail.

As soon as he steps out to follow, the doorman, Martin, stops him.

“Harry, my man!” he exclaims, patting him on the shoulder a little too harshly. “Off to work, already? It’s what...” He glances down at his watch but soon his brows furrow, and he taps on the glass to get it start again. Typical Martin is all Harry can think as he rolls his eyes.

“I could’ve sworn I just changed the battery on this! Last time I’ll ever get a fix behind a T.K. Maxx...” he grumbles, shaking his head as he continues to scold himself.

“I told you, there’s a decent place around the corner. Cheap replacement. You’re in and out in ten minutes tops, mate,” Harry says.

Only momentarily does he allow his eyes to wander back to the door and scan across the windows of the entrance.

***

“Alright, I want big smiles from the lot of you,” Harry instructs the newlyweds and their families as they stand in front of the altar. “C’mon, Dad, I know you can do better than that.” The father of the bride sneers at him before begrudgingly offering the camera a minimal show of his teeth. “And...” Harry snaps a few shots, two with flash and three without. “Beautiful! Greatly appreciate it.”

The rest of the guests pack into their cars as they move the celebration to the reception venue, leaving only Harry and the wedding party to take pictures in the church. As he’s packing up his camera and tripod, he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. He zips up his tripod before turning around.

“Hi!” He’s met immediately with a flowy maroon skirt that nearly touches the marble floor before he trails his eyes up to find a face. It’s one of the bridesmaids, the one who had lit the candle, he thinks. He’d noticed her earlier while she proceeded down the aisle, and he definitely didn’t miss the way she looked at him while he took candid pictures of the ceremony.

He smirks as he stands up. “Hey.”

She leans in close to him, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she whispers something naughty which he’s sure the guy upstairs won’t appreciate in his sanctuary. But fucking hell does this girl have a mouth on her. She backs away slowly, a mischievous grin spread across her plump lips.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah?” she confirms as she pivots on her heel, glancing over her shoulder.

This is a normal thing for him, as ill-sounding as it is. He’s twenty-five, single, and has a job that just so happens to put him in a position where he’s surrounded by boatloads of women on high-level emotional limbo because the effects of weddings make them more vulnerable and wanting some intimacy until an inevitable hangover dawns upon them the next morning. And hey, he’s only human and admittedly only has the competence to hold a relationship for a few hours.

He tilts his head back, watching amusedly as she sways her hips for him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

It’s a little after 2am when Harry arrives back home. He’s exhausted, in more ways than one, and all he really wants at the moment is to collapse onto his bed and sleep in to an acceptable time. If only he were that lucky. The bride had pulled him aside as he was about to leave with an urgent color to her voice that required the pictures to be ready as soon as possible.

��Which, to put it into more exact terms, means that she wants it no later than forty-eight hours from the present time. And that doesn’t even take into account that he has another client wedding tomorrow afternoon which by the way, happens to be two and a half hours outside of London, which furthermore means he’s going to have to be out the door at least five hours beforehand because traffic is always unpredictable. He quickly pulls out his phone and looks for the email with the event details.

Danvers-Belton Wedding

(All he knows is that the bride-to-be’s family is fully loaded, and her engagement to her fiancé had been published in every entertainment paper in the city. Her dad is some CEO of a steel company or something like that. Harry had met him at their first meeting, and honestly, he had nearly spooked the shit out of him.)

Getting back to work, he inserts the memory card into his computer and stares numbly at the pinwheel-like loading icon. His job is great and has its perks (that bridesmaid from earlier truly made it worth his while), but this process is no doubt the part he least looks forward to. There are probably about 3500 photos he’ll have to go through by the end of the night, and out of those, around 400 to 500 he’ll pre-select and send to the couple before he begins editing.

He unbuttons his shirt down a little more than halfway, just enough for his chest to not feel so constricted in the stuffy atmosphere of his flat. “For fucks sake,” he groans, standing up from his chair and stalking across the living room to open the balcony door.

The breath of the wind sends tingles down his spine as it dries the beads of sweat from his body. He steps out, hoping to rejuvenate himself before burying himself in his work. He stares into the deserted streets and thinks about how peaceful everything it is at this hour. Just the sound of the city asleep feels like living in an entirely different world, as though someone had pressed the pause button on time. Only the simplistic soundtracks of the night dances through his ears and make his eyes drift close as he enjoys it all.

But something interrupts the natural melodies, an unexpected interrupted cadence written in with crayon in the score. His brows crease when it occurs again, but this time accompanied by a heavy weep. He looks to his left, Alfred Dimalanta’s place is pitch black inside (he might be working the nightshift tonight), and then to his right. A faint fluorescence wavers behind the curtains of the newly occupied flat.

Inside, someone sobs uncontrollably. Harry steps closer to the rightmost rail of his balcony and crosses his arms over the cool metal. His head drops as he listens.

He knows the feeling well.

***

“So, then I told her, ‘listen, I’ve been understanding of your situation, but you haven’t paid your rent in like four months...Joaquin is gonna chop up my balls then feed it to his tiger if I don’t collect it by the end of the week.’” Martin explains, using hand gestures to portray the possible castration in his future. Harry hums, only half paying attention has he sorts through his mail one by one.

Junk.

Ju-oh! Coupon for a free half-chicken from Nando’s!

More junk.

“You’re gonna share that, right?”

Harry barely looks up. “Like you shared that pizza that I paid for on Tuesday?”

“Hey!” Martin counters in defense. “You left!”

“I left to use the toilet, and that was barely three minutes.”

The doorman slumps down in his chair as he begs to disagree. Harry throws the rest of the unimportant letters in the waste bin beside them, only keeping the coupon and his monthly bank statement. As he’s about to respond to something Martin had just complained about, the lift dings.

When he turns his head in its direction, the girl from yesterday emerges from it and similarly rushes out just as she had done before, even wearing the same sunglasses. She walks out of the lift in a dress that’s soft blue, pleated skirt flows like a wave as she gracefully moves through the lobby. He watches her this time and observes as she pushes out the door and crosses the street, soon disappearing out of the frame.

“Is she new?” Harry asks, trying not to sound overly interested when he turns back.

Martin gawks at him in disbelief. “She’s only been here for the last 3 months and living next to you, nonetheless! I’m surprised you lot haven’t met yet.”

***

The Danvers-Belton wedding is nauseatingly perfect. Everyone is equipped with their oh-so happy smiles and photo-ready poses as Harry swims through the room snapping pictures that are meant to be candid. It’s as though they’re all in great joy over this seemingly destined union. The bride and groom are completely enthralled by one another, so much that they’ve barely mingled with the guests in favor of staring adoringly into each other’s eyes by the dessert bar.

Harry pans around the reception hall –– which is more like some ballroom out of a princess movie, but that’s just his opinion –– with his camera as he looks for his next subject to capture since he’s taken enough lovey dovey pictures of the newlyweds for the time being. He takes one of the bride’s parents as the father engages in an animated conversation with some balding old men that he assumes are business associates of his. The mother smiles sweetly and nods next to the gentlemen even though her presence is completely ignored by all.

The rest of the guests are all distributed in groups: there are the dancers moving their feet to a swing song played by the live band; the bargoers all giggling drunkenly over their fifth round of tequila shots; and those, like the father, chatting about how gorgeous the ceremony had been and discussing about how much this damn party must have cost (rumor has it, over £5,000,000). He takes shots of each niche.

“You there, photographer!”

He pulls the camera from his face and turns in the direction of the voice. It’s the grandmother –– he thinks? He couldn’t tell you with all the Botox and fillers. “Take a picture of me by the ice sculpture, would you? Make sure I look thin!” The elderly woman strikes a side pose, the knee closest to the camera popping out and revealing her still flawless skin through the cuts of her dress. He signals when he’s finished, and the woman walks away without even a thank you. It’s something he’s used to by now.

As he looks through the lens again, he’s able to preserve a particularly adorable moment. The flower girl and the ring-bearer high on the tips of their toes as they dig into the remainder of the once towering cake. He gets it, he’d been served a slice and it was the most delicate and divine thing to ever touch his palate in his entire life. And maybe he’ll bribe one of them with a crisp fifty-pound note to set aside a piece for him.

Next to them, however, is someone who he’s only just taken notice of. He drops the camera so he can see with his own unobstructed vision. For a time, he switches between the two perspectives because he’s in such disbelief. The girl from his building, his neighbor as he’s recently discovered, is here, sitting by herself at the table with her own share of cake. She stares down at it with such intensity in contrast to the weak grip she has on her fork that seesaws in her grasp and above the edge of the plate.

He debates whether he should approach her. Would that be weird? Would she think he’s stalking her? But why would he? Up until this morning, he thought she was just visiting someone for the week. What would he say? “Hey, I live next door! Sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet, but no time like a wedding, right?” or maybe “Hi, I’m Harry. I don't know if you remember, but we met briefly on the lift back at the Grove?” Oh god, since when has he become an imbecile at making conversation?

Well, he supposes there are worse ways to make a first impression. He maneuvers through the other guests and pulled-out chairs, barely dodging a server with a heavy tray piled with used glassware and utensils. When he’s about a few steps from her, he halts, smoothing out his pants and making sure his collar is tucked away neatly in his suit jacket. He brushes his nose against the fabric, making sure his cologne hasn’t worn off in the six hours he’s been here.

“Hi.”

Like slow-motion, she takes her eyes off her cake to lay them on him. She squints them almost suspiciously. I should’ve taken more pictures of Grandma; Harry thinks to himself. He bites down nervously on the inside of his cheek, going back and forth between walking away or evaporating on the spot.

“I know you from somewhere,” she suddenly says, pondering. She props her hand under her chin and it’s only a few seconds later that her eyes widen in realization. “You live in my building!” She nods to the empty seat beside her.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, graciously accepting her invitation. “I think you actually live next to me. I’m in 15D.”

She laughs. “Really? Then why haven’t I seen you around before?” As a waiter passes by, she points to her empty glass of wine and sends him a quick ‘thank you.’ “A bit odd that I’m meeting my neighbor for the first time at a party nearly three hours away.”

“That’s my fault,” he sheepishly admits. “I’m on a pretty strict schedule.” He holds up his camera. “Been snapping photos since one.”

“A photographer, huh?” Her face brightens with amusements. “Have any of me on there?” Her smile is playful as she smiles shyly. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she stares into her lap.

It’s surprising how taken he is by such a seemingly innocent action. It’s the first time he’s really seen her without those large shades, and he’d be messing with himself if he said she isn’t beyond attractive. She’s wearing the same dress he’d seen her in this morning, and now he’s able to fully appreciate how perfectly she fills it out. But instead, all finds himself doing is admiring the glow of her skin in the light of the setting sun, and how a dust of rose pulls across her features terrifically.

He lifts up his camera, wanting nothing more than to commit this image to memory. She looks up at him. At first, she has a smile so virtuous that he’s unable to get a focus on her, but soon enough it falters when her attention flips to something behind him. It draws a frown in its place that causes Harry to lower his arms. He dares try to trace the line of her gaze back to whatever’s caused such an antagonistic shift in an otherwise splendid expression.

The groom holds his bride close as they sway to a slow and sweet melody from the string quartet. They still look as happy as they gaze at each other, cherishing the final moments of this amorous evening.

“We used to date. Philip and I... Four years, actually.” The words are strangled, leaving her throat as though pushed out forcefully.

“Oh, I-” but he’s left without anything to say. She lets out another laugh, but this one is coated in melancholy.

“We broke up because he said he didn’t want to get married,” she pauses, taking a shaky breath that feels almost painful. “What he really meant was that he didn’t want to marry me.” Her voice begins to tighten even more, and his head drops when he hears the faintest sound of that first whimper. He stares at the ends of the tablecloth in reflection. “He got engaged to Bethany less than five months later. Funny how that works, yeah? How you can spend four years of your life thinking you’re on the same page, but it turns out you’ve been four chapters ahead the entire time.”

Harry can’t bring himself to look her directly in the eyes. The music playing abruptly turns into something more heart-wrenching despite its major key. Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers her hand with his and gives it a comforting squeeze. There’s nothing his words can do to alleviate even just a fraction of how this must affect her.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can whisper. “That probably doesn’t mean much, but I am.” Through his lashes he sees how she acknowledges it with genial character as she bows her head slightly.

A silence falls between them, but neither make an effort to move their hands. There’s a clamor of dishes coming from the kitchen that manages to distract him for a bit. Harry watches with mild delight as Bethany’s father barges through the swinging doors, and he can see how the red slowly creeps up his neck. What person, he wonders, is having the displeasure of being at the end of the fire of fury.

Another hand layers on top of his, grabbing his attention away from the unfolding scene. He studies their hands for a moment before finally facing her.

“Y/n,” she speaks up, gently. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

The crevices of his dimples slowly sink in. “Harry.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #one direction #one direction fanfiction #writing

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plumblossomkun · 5 years

Text

Masquerade

word count: 1999

synopsis: in which Mark goes to a party, and doesn’t really party at all, and wanders about a little lost. you know that feeling. [alludes to Mugunghwa, but no real spoilers.]

warning[s]: mentions of alcohol [underage drinking]; a single bottle of hard lemonade. party elements, a cheating trashbag. not based on real people. one profanity.

a/n: this is not a spoiler for Imagine That, not really. i want them to have met at a party, but not this one. anyway, sorry this one’s late! i’ll also be posting the next oneshot a bit late since i was working on this one for so long.

“Are you coming to Lucas’s place tonight?”

Mark looks down at the tiny girl who has just sidled up to him on his walk down the stairs to his sixth period class, and puts his arm around her to give her a brief hug. She is bouncing on her heels with excitement, though, so she slips out of his hold rather quickly. “Noona, aren’t you gonna be late for AP Lit?”

“Mrs. Dorian doesn’t really care.” She elbows him, just hard enough to get a cough out of him and draw his attention back down to her. “Tell me you’re coming.”

Mark considers it, pores over the schedule in his binder to see whether or not there’s a youth group meeting or something, but there isn’t. “Sure, I guess. Can you give me a ride?”

“Hell no. My dad thinks he’s dropping me off at a friend’s house to do a group project.” She scrunches her nose. “I’ll ask Taeyong.”

“He’s not driving you?” Mark raises a brow at that; she and the AP Dance wonder are rarely ever seen apart these days, always walking together during passing periods and eating lunch together. “Dude, he’s so whipped for you.

“Not even. We’re just friends.” She laughs, but the sound is a little strange, like she’s unsure of those last three words. “I’ll actually be late to class if I keep walking with you, so... I’ll see you tonight?”

Mark doesn’t push the topic, only ruffles her hair, earning himself a displeased yowl. “Tell him to text me after the last bell. If he can’t drive me, I’ll ask Johnny-hyung.”

She shakes her head vigorously to unfrazzle her hair. “Okay~ Bye, Mark.”

“See you later, noona.”

Taeyong and Mark pull up to Lucas’s house at nine, an hour after the festivities have already begun. Behind the curtain, the windows flash a rainbow of lights, and laughter spills out into the street, not loud enough for the neighbors to voice complaints, but loud enough for anyone outside to know that the party going on inside isn’t one they want to miss out on.

“Did you bring a mask?” Taeyong stops just shy of opening the door. Cackles of glee and roaring laughter lie just beyond it, and the clink of bottles against cups call tantalizingly to him.

“No, what for?”

“I guess Lis didn’t tell you, huh?” The older boy hands him a white mask, whose facial features are gilded in gold leaf and with ornate details; it’s a bit hefty in the hand, and Mark nearly drops it as he fumbles with the strap. “Give it back to me when we leave later; I borrowed it from the theatre club.”

“Borrowed, or stole?” Mark teases, pulling the mask over his face. He can scarcely see out of the holes carved in it, and his breath comes out in hot puffs. “This is kinda uncomfortable.”

“Borrowed.” Taeyong laughs as he slips on his own mask, a plumed red piece that only covers his eyes and cheekbones; other than his icy-white hair, he’s unrecognizable. “Can’t be helped. It’s the party’s theme, anyway.”

Mark checks his phone’s camera and marvels at how he can barely recognize the shine of his own eyes through the mask. “Lucas’s idea?”

“I think it was Ten’s, honestly.” He pushes the door open, and they enter into the fray.

At some point, Mark acquires a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade on his walk from the front to the brightly lit pool in the back. He’s caught a couple of snatches of conversation between voices he thinks he recognizes and others he doesn’t, but everyone keeps their masks on. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he wanders.

He jumps when someone in a vibrant Mardi Gras mask places a hand on his shoulder, but he recognizes the high-pitched giggle that falls from the person’s lips and grins. “Yoooo, Lucas.”

“Mark! Oh my god, man. Where have you been all night?” Lucas leans down and peers into Mark’s cup and gasps when he sees that it’s empty. “Let me get that for you, dude. I think Johnny-hyung has the bottle opener.”

And then he’s gone again, snatching up the bottle of hard lemonade and vanishing back into the house.

Mark watches the pool slosh against the cement. He’s never really been into drinking, doesn’t like the taste of most alcohol, prefers sweet things-- so the idea of getting drunk repulses him a little. What else can he do, though, when Taeyong and Lis are nowhere to be seen, Lucas is playing host, and all their other mutual friends are nowhere to be seen or heard?

Lucas returns within a couple of minutes with the bottle opener and a red Solo cup, tucking the bottle opener into the pocket of his jeans. “Here you go, dude. Did you bring a date?”

“Me?” Mark chuckles, taking a sip of the drink. The burn of alcohol is so discreet, that he forgets that there’s any in it when swallows. “No, I didn’t bring anyone. I came with Taeyong-hyung.”

“Ah, yeah. I saw Lis trying to dodge him earlier. Wonder what’s up with them?” Lucas crouches next to him and watches, grinning, as Mark takes another deep draught from his drink. “Heyyyy, thatta boy. You know, you should see if you can find a girl tonight.”

Mark grimaces. “I don’t--”

“Not like that, I mean,” Lucas amends himself with a flustered laugh, “I mean, like, someone nice to get to know better. Not just casual. There are a lot of single girls here, man.”

“Either way, dude…” Mark trails off, pouring the rest of his bottle into his cup. “You really think a good girl would come out to a party like this?”

“Oh, I know a couple.” Lucas takes the empty bottle and exchanges it for a little key on a lanyard. “Anyway, I know you don’t drink much, so when you’re done with that, there’s some juice and water in the fridge in my room upstairs. You can chill up there, if you want.” “Thanks, dude.” Mark pockets the key and stands.

“You can give it back to me whenever, just don’t let anyone else up there.” Lucas sighs. “I don’t want to have to wash my sheets again.”

Mark pushes the key into the lock and opens the door to Lucas’s room. It’s like a breath of fresh air, quite literally; with the windows all up to clear the room from the fumes of weed and alcohol outside, it’s just cold enough to sober him up a little.

Not that he’s drunk. Who could get drunk off of something with only 5% alcohol?

Still, he feels a little tingle at the tip of his fingertips reminding him that it’s in his bloodstream, and he sits on the bed, processing his emotions and thoughts just a little slower than normal.

So when a girl comes tumbling into the room, and slams the door shut behind her and locks it, he doesn’t react immediately.

She turns around to see him sitting on the bed, and holds a finger to her lips. Her mask is one of the masks that only hides half her face; behind the matte white material, her eyes gleam, and her lips curl with silent laughter.

Footsteps clatter up the stairs, and someone bangs on the door, with slightly slurred speech, “Hey, open up!”

Another person speaks, in a loud whisper, “Dude, this is Lucas’s room. Let’s not.”

“That bitch-- she stole my phone!”

“You can afford another one, dude. I don’t wanna get on Lucas’s bad side.”

As if summoned by those words, Lucas’s voice booms out, loud and clear as day, “Hey! Man, the whole house is open, but not my room.”

The sober one titters nervously. “Yeah, I was just telling him.”

“Fine, I’m going,” the drunker one blubbers, and then Mark hears him stumble away, presumably back down the stairs, and back into the jubilation of the party.

A moment passes, and then a soft knock. “Mark, you in there?” Lucas calls.

Mark looks at the girl, who is sitting at Lucas’s desk in the corner of the room, checking out her reflection in a mirror on the top shelf. She senses his eyes on her, and shrugs without looking back at him. “...Yeah, I’m in here.”

Lucas peeks into the room, mask raised to his forehead. When he spots Mark, he raises his hand in greeting, but freezes when he sees the girl in the corner, sitting at his desk.

In response, the girl raises her left hand in a peace sign and says, “Hey, Xuxi. Lis told me to come up here if I wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Ah! Noona! I didn’t recognize you with that mask on.” Lucas gasps, and crosses the room to fist-bump her. “That dude said you stole his phone?”

“He was cheating on my friend,” she says coolly, raising said phone in her other hand. “You don’t mind if I just find the evidence and give it back, yeah?”

Lucas shakes his head, chuckling. “No problem.” He glances at Mark and grins. Mark almost bolts right there and then, because he knows the look on Lucas’s face, the devious glitter in his eye. “Do you know Mark Lee?”

The girl is swiping through the gallery of the stolen phone, but snorts and looks up when she hears the question. “Who doesn’t?”

“What does that mean?” Mark splutters. He studies her features, or at least, what little parts of her face he can see, but finds that he doesn’t recognize them at all, though he’s sure he knows her voice from somewhere.

Someone stars hollering for Lucas downstairs, and he perks at the sound, peeking outside into the hallway. ““I gotta go, dudes,” he says, leaning back into the room, “I think someone’s getting a little too wild downstairs.”

She laughs softly. “Xuxi, you wanna lock the door? I can’t stand the fumes.”

“That’s one thing the two of you have in common.” Lucas starts to shut the door, then pauses when he sees Mark watching him with wide eyes. “She’s a good girl,” he mouths, and then he closes the door, and it locks with a loud click.

The room is mostly silent, except for the sounds of the party downstairs coming up muffled through the floor and the open window. The girl keeps her eyes glued to the phone in her hand, and she giggles to herself once in a while, but doesn’t look up at Mark at all.

Mark fiddles with his hands, unsure of what to say or do. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to drink any more, his ride is still downstairs, and the girl next to him is probably not going to leave any time soon. Plus, the mask on his face is making it real stuffy and hard to breathe.

After what feels like an eternity, she puts the stolen phone down, and leans back in her chair with a sigh. Then, she stands, and comes to sit on the bed, leaning back on the pillows, while he stays frozen at the foot.

“Wanna tell me why Mr. Bad Boy, Mark Lee, isn’t downstairs drinking with the worst of them?” she asks, patting the spot next to her. “Otherwise, we can just sit here in silence, and be awkward. Because I don’t have any battery on my phone, and I don’t want to look through this dude’s texts anymore.”

He stares at her.

Without a word, she crawls up the bed, and lifts the mask from his face, laughing when she sees the surprise lighting up his face.

And in response, he reaches out, and tugs her mask off too.

They stare at each other, and fire burns across his face when he recognizes her, realizes why her voice is so familiar.

He’d never have expected to meet his middle school crush at this party.

#neotober #cznnet #mark lee oneshot #mark lee drabbles #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee imagines #nct imagines

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loveislattes · 5 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Yandereplier

These are all personal opinions of mine. Of course, others might see it differently, but I hope you all enjoy the read no matter what!

(Re-post! The original got removed because I had an actual sex gif in here, so now there’s just a link!)

Also, I hope no one minds, but I completely h/c as Yan still being a male that just enjoys wearing female clothing, and looking totally adorable doing it! <3

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Yandere is all about the cuddles. In fact, he’ll probably wrap himself around you like an octopus, or request you do the same to him if he’s feeling brave enough. All the while, he’ll press soft kisses over your face and the top of your head, whispering how much he loves you and how amazing you are to him. He’ll be sure to make you feel like royalty.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He can’t pick a favorite part of his body, but if his lover really, really pushed for it, he’d say his mouth. It lets him kiss them, please them, and taste them.

His favorite part of his lover though, oh, that’s equally as difficult because he loves everything about them. He would tell him he loved the passion in their eyes, the tilt of cuteness in their smile, the softness of their skin, the way they feel touching him, the voice that so perfectly says his name; Literally everything. He won’t find fault in his partner in even the darkest corners.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He thinks cum is messy, and he can’t bring himself to soil the perfection of his lover by cumming on them. On the other hand though, when his lover explodes and coats his mouth in their cum, or it drips down his body? He finds it unbelievably erotic. He also enjoys the claiming act of having his cum spill deep inside his lover as they twitch and flutter around him like mad.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Yan had of course lusted long and hard over his lover, viewing them as his senpai for a long time before finally approaching them. It took him months of dating them to start relaxing around them, but no matter how long they’re together, he’ll always see them as his senpai and hold that reverence for them in his head. Sometimes during sex, he calls them senpai in a whisper that they can’t hear, just because he’s still in awe to have them.

He is also a switch, but he’d never let anyone other than his lover know it. His lover needs a dominant person? He’ll gladly fill that role. His lover is into being dominant? He won’t hesitate to submit to them.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Yandere had very little experience, having no real interest in others until he met his lover. Once he found them, whoo boy. He did a mountain of research, and he always strives to improve sex for his lover (no matter how many times they tell him that he’s already blown their mind). What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm and willingness.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

YandereFavoritePositionGifOne

YandereFavoritePositionGifTwo

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s pretty serious during sex. He makes it his personal mission to do everything right so he pleases you beyond your wildest dreams. If you were to giggle about something, it would take a bunch of hugs and kisses to reassure him that you weren’t laughing at him before he could get back into the mood.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Yan grooms himself however his lover prefers and has no preference for his lover as long as they’re comfortable.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Yandere is incredibly romantic. He’ll start with soft words and gentle kisses raining down your face, trailing down your neck and chest, all the while whispering everything he loves about the area he’s kissing.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He hardly ever jacks off, and it’s usually only by his lover’s request to do so. He had little to no sex drive before his lover and sees what urges he does have as a waste unless he can spend it with them.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Yan is rather vanilla when left to his own devices.

However, he has a huge body worship kink. He wants to take his time and make each part of your body feel amazing. The little hollow under your knee, the sensitive patch of skin below your navel, the sweet spot on your neck, he’ll make sure to hit every single spot that brings your pleasure, and it turns him on to do it!

He also has an enormous praise kink. While he wants to worship you and tell you every part he loves about you, it drives him insane to hear that he pleases you. Whether it’s his name said in a breathy moan, or you’re screaming about how good he makes you feel, it’s an aphrodisiac with him.

If his lover were more dominant, he has no issues playing submissive for them. He’ll get into, too. Begging for them, letting them edge him and tease him for as long as they wish, letting them use him for their own pleasure. He’d be the perfect sub as long as he knew his lover was happy.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His favorite place is in bed. It’s classic, and he gets a big, soft space to take his time with you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Praise, praise, praise! You could walk by him and make an off-hand comment about how you were still aching from last night, and he’d instantly get turned on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

No sharing. Absolutely a hard limit for him. He also won’t go too far into hurting his lover but will instill some of the easier BDSM tactics if they really want it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It’s a tie for him. In giving, he gets to hear your moans and screams and feel you get off for him. In receiving, he gets to feel every little wonderful thing your mouth can do. He’d give up receiving if he had to choose, but he loves them both.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Yan is usually slow and passionate, taking his time and hitting every pleasure spot he can. The only time he gets rough is if his lover requests it, or if he’s hit by jealousy. His lover had been talking to another man for too long, or let the man hug or touch them? Oh, he’d take his frustration out by fucking them into next week (with their consent of course).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He hates quickies unless his lover demands it. He’ll do anything for them, of course. He much more prefers to take his time with them.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yan is completely open to new kinks and toys, as he’s constantly looking for new things to amp up the pleasure for his lover in the bedroom. He won’t do anything that would risk their safety though.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina is pretty average. 1-2 rounds and done. The foreplay and oral and worship can take anywhere from ten to twenty minutes, and the actual sex is about the same. He’s learned amazing control over how long he can stave off his orgasm to give his partner multiple.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns toys that he bought for his lover, and a few in case they want him to be submissive. Whether they’re used on them or him, totally depends on the situation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Yan doesn’t tease too much. Of course, he doesn’t realize how sexy it is when he gives you that seductive stare because he’s thinking something dirty about you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Oh, he’s loud as can be. Moaning, grunting, whining, groaning. You name it, he does it. He doesn’t hold back just how good you make him feel, telling you in panicked breaths as he teeters right on the edge of climax. It’s not usual to hear your voice screamed into the pillow beneath you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Totally believe that when he’s drinking, he’s the subbiest sub. Male or female lover, it won’t matter. He’ll ask them to fuck/peg him from behind and use him like a filthy toy for their pleasure. Drunk yan is a kinky yan.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Slightly over average in length and much thicker than average, he is hung to please the pickiest of lovers but not harm them with his size.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is average. Before he found his lover, he had none at all. So he was shocked when he started craving physical intimacy with them.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Pretty quick. Once you’re snuggled up to him, big or little spoon, he’s out with a few sweet words.

#yanplier #smut #alphabet #yandereplier/reader

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plenoptic07 · 4 years

Note

Because the WORLD is saved ❤️

volpe puts the WHOLE WORLD at stake

It was only Ezio who got the satisfyingly dramatic conclusion to the saga of Cesare Borgia’s reign of terror. While he got to enjoy tossing Cesare off the walls of a fortress, Machiavelli got paperwork, and paperwork, and then an added helping of, yes, more paperwork. For nearly two weeks after the news of Cesare’s death made it to Rome, all Machiavelli did was write, fielding not only the startled inquiries of the brotherhood and their allies but also frantically penning dispatches back to the Signoria in Florence, advising about their next course of action. Paradoxically, Cesare’s death weakened the Templar Order and strengthened the position of the Papal States, whose newest pope, one Giuliano della Rovere, could sleep easy in his bed for the first time in over a decade. That meant that his sharp mind could turn from worrying about Cesare’s knife in his back to the knives he himself could put in the backs of others. Excellent news for della Rovere. Bad news for Florence.

While Ezio took his sweet time sauntering back from Vianna, savoring his victory—and even Machiavelli would begrudgingly admit that he’d earned it—Machiavelli found himself in the unenviable position of keeping the rest of Italy on course without compromising either Florence or the brotherhood’s interests. He was tired beyond tired of those interests butting heads, tired of straddling Rome and Florence and simultaneously trying to keep Ezio from burning the whole country down and also trying to appease the Signoria and the Ten of War, whose expectations of him were fast outstripping what was commensurate of any single man’s abilities (to say nothing of his paycheck).

“Settle our relationship to the papacy, Machia,” he muttered to himself, scathingly. “Make gestures of friendship to France, Machia. Oh, and there is the matter of the Milanese and the Romagna and Venetians all slavering over our territories, and of course Pisa is in open rebellion, again, and while you’re at it, Florence still lacks a standing army, Machia!”

Machiavelli paused midway through a letter to his senior, Marcello Adriani, tapping his pen against the paper and leaving behind a great blot of ink over a particularly inventive curse he’d been using to describe a “collaborator who prefers to remain anonymous” (read: Ezio). It was time Florence had an armed citizenry. Long past time, in fact. That lack had nearly been the death of the republic when French arms swept through Florence in 1494, back when Machiavelli had been young and without office and powerless to affect any kind of meaningful change in the city he loved. But that was no longer the case. Cesare was gone, the Borgia court dismantled, which meant Rome was no longer any of his concern. And if the Signoria tried to send him back to the holy city, God help them all.

The hideout’s door suddenly banged open, and Machiavelli jumped, spilling a container of ink all over his dispatch. He was still swearing when la Volpe came charging down the stairs, his dark eyes wide and bright and his face split into a wide smile.

“Cesare Borgia is dead!” he announced, coming to a halt in front of Machiavelli’s desk, and threw his arms in the air.

Machiavelli stared at him. After a lengthy pause, he frowned and said, “Are you drunk?”

“Entirely sober! Borgia really is gone! Ezio killed him in Vianna—threw him off a bridge!”

“It was the wall of a fortress, actually. And it was two weeks ago.”

Volpe’s smile faltered. “What?”

“I said it was two weeks ago.” Machiavelli dropped his ruined dispatch into the bin beneath his desk and pulled a fresh sheaf of paper close. He rummaged in his desk for a fresh container of ink.

“That’s…” Volpe lowered himself into the chair across the desk, his mouth agape. “Two weeks ago? How am I just now learning of it, then?”

“I don’t know, Gilberto,” Machiavelli said, his tone sarcastic and biting, “perhaps you should attempt to report to the hideout more often, or, dare I say it, even stay in one place long enough that any of my previous twenty letters might have reached you.”

“Two weeks,” Volpe repeated again, his voice faint. “Christ. Where’s Ezio?”

“He hasn’t yet returned. I had a letter from him a few days ago assuring me that he is, in fact, returning.”

“Was that in doubt?”

“It’s Ezio,” Machiavelli said, as if that explained all, and really, it did. He uncapped the ink and saturated his pen, then began rewriting his letter to Marcello.

La Volpe pushed his hood back and ran a hand through his hair. It was beginning to grey at the roots, Machiavelli observed, and he found that surprised him a little. “What have you been doing?”

“Offering my custodial services to the whole of Italia,” Machiavelli muttered. When Volpe stared at him, puzzled, he sighed and waved a hand. “Cleaning up Ezio’s mess.”

“Mess? What mess? A tyrant who plagued all of Italy is finally slain! Why are people not celebrating in the streets?”

“Because as fast as one tyrant falls, five rise up to replace him.” Machiavelli flipped his page over and shook out his hand before taking up the pen again.

“Perhaps as far as the rest of the world is concerned. Will you stop writing for a minute?” Volpe demanded, and reached across the desk to grasp Machiavelli’s wrist. Machiavelli snapped his head up, glaring, and Volpe sighed. “We’ve finally killed the most powerful man in the Templar Order. They’re reeling. We’ve secured the Apple of Eden. We saved the world, Niccolò.”

“We ended the tyranny of an ex-cardinal who failed to mind his pen and pocketbook as well as he minded his sword,” Machiavelli said flatly. “And all manner of princes both just and cruel scramble over one another to occupy his petty throne. Shall we drunkenly celebrate our minor victory while those snakes slither in the dark?”

Volpe smiled, and it was a bitter thing, and sad. “You’ll drive yourself to madness, amico, if you don’t learn to savor even those minor victories.”

Machiavelli snorted and bent back over his dispatch. “I envy you the luxury of your time, Gilberto, but some of us have republics to defend.”

Volpe was quiet for a long moment—and then he lunged forward, seized the letter, and darted to the other side of the room with it held high over his head. Machiavelli stared at him, open-mouthed, pen still poised to jot the next word.

“What are you doing?”

Volpe took a step backward, toward the fireplace at the other side of the room. Machiavelli twitched. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you dare. You’ve already made me restart once.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Volpe said, and took another step toward the fire.

Machiavelli got to his feet. “Gilberto.”

“Niccolò?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I have neither the time nor the patience for your childishness. Give it back.”

Volpe was at the fireplace now. He held the letter toward its yawning stony mouth, his eyebrows arched. “Give what back?”

Machiavelli circled his desk, growling. “God damn it, Gilberto, stop teasing.”

“Come here then, and take it from me, if you want it so badly.”

Volpe’s hand threatened toward the fire, and Machiavelli lunged at him. He should have known better than to think he’d be successful in snatching it from the finest thief Italy had ever known, but Machiavelli was nothing if not ambitious. Volpe flicked it out of his reach as easily as a parent might deny a child a treat, and then the thief’s other arm was around his waist, pulling him in close, and Volpe’s mouth was on his. Machiavelli drew up short, startled both by the suddenness of the kiss and by its intensity. Volpe’s other hand—God only knew where he’d put down the missive, probably down the back of his hose, with Machiavelli’s luck—wound tight in his hair, cradled the nape of his neck.

Volpe drew back, smiling into Machiavelli’s stunned expression, and then leaned forward to kiss his slack mouth again. There was such heat in that kiss, so unapologetic, and Machiavelli felt it like a current that travelled from his lips to his toes. He surprised even himself when he leaned into it, seizing handfuls of Volpe’s cloak and pulling him closer, and when Volpe’s lips parted around a soft, pleased note of surprise, Machiavelli swept his tongue into the older man’s mouth.

Volpe grabbed him and turned him around, pressing him against the nearest wall, and Machiavelli let him, growling and tangling his hands in the thief’s hair to tug him down for a kiss that turned rough, almost brutal. Volpe’s mouth was slick and warm, and Machiavelli plundered it with a hunger that surprised even him. When they parted, breathless, panting wetly, Volpe’s eyes were wild and that mouth was grinning. Machiavelli groaned and leaned close, bit gently at the thief’s lower lip.

“Why now?” he murmured, and gathered Volpe’s hair in his hand, tipped the thief’s head back. Volpe let him, and Machiavelli leaned in to caress the older man’s racing pulse with his mouth. “After all this time?”

Volpe chucked, throat vibrating against Machiavelli’s tongue. “Would you have let me kiss you while Cesare Borgia still drew breath?”

“No,” Machiavelli admitted. “But God, the time he’s stolen from us.”

“We have time yet.” Volpe cupped Machiavelli’s face in his hands and tilted his chin up, brought him close for a kiss that was very nearly tender. “Perhaps all the time in the world—which we saved, by the way, in case you’d forgotten.”

“For a moment,” Machiavelli reminded him.

The kiss Volpe placed against his mouth was sharp and full of promise. The thief’s dark eyes glittered as they drew apart to gaze at one another. “Then the moment is ours,” Volpe murmured, and the press of their mouths was so delicious and so intoxicating that Machiavelli almost believed him.

#volpelli #kiss prompt

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threeletterslife · 5 years

Text

Lack of Apathy

→ summary: Love’s enemy is not indeed hatred as many may think. It’s actually indifference, apathy, in simpler terms just not giving a goddamn fuck. In fact, love’s very own kin is hatred. You need to care enough to both love and hate—an important factor to duly note.

→ pairing/rating: hoseok x reader | PG-13

→ genre: probably the lightest angst ever existing but whatever | breakup!au

→ warnings: insults you should NEVER EVER say to anyone (or even to yourself)

→ wordcount: 2k

→ a/n: i’ve always wanted to write an all-angst oneshot,,, this was not what i had in mind but i mean, it’ll do for now lmaoo

♫: Red Ribbon by Madilyn Bailey | All of my Life by Park Won

A week without him is arguably the worst 7 days of your life. You don’t know if this week will turn into a month or two; you don’t know if that month will merge into a year or even a decade. You don’t know anything and it’s driving you fucking crazy.

Normally, you’d say you’re a control freak — it’s the only way things can go perfect, or at least according to your well thought out plans. Maybe that was why he left you. But then again, he liked to do things his way too. Maybe that’s why you left him. And now as the memories flood back, you realize it had been a spur of the moment thing.

Nasty arguments had built up, and once the point of no return had been reached, both of you could no longer undo the damage your words had caused each other.

You don’t deserve me… you don’t deserve me…

His words echo endlessly in your ears, staticky and piercing. It’s enough just to bring tears, the way the phrase was said, the way it was put together so quickly and ruthlessly. The way that it heightened the verbal fight.

You’re dating me for my money, aren’t you?

That’s enough for you to choke on your own breath. He had always known that it was one of your greatest insecurities when you two had been together. You can never get over the judging looks of others, the whispers stabbing you behind your back. Gold digger… thirsty coquette… leech. He had used your vulnerability against you. And in more than one way.

To think I’ve wasted seven years with you.

It’s enough to make you fall to your knees. While your friends have had at least ten fleeting relationships in the past several years, you’ve stuck with the same man—and for a good cause. He was everything to you. It wasn’t a perfect match made in the heavens, none of that soulmate nonsense, but it was a trustworthy relationship, tolerable and overall reciprocating.

Even after the breakup, you don’t doubt that.

You might as well still love him. In fact, you love him so much, you hate him. You hate how you find yourself indulging in thoughts of him, basking in the memories of a past, ruined relationship. And you hate how you still care for him, how you have to resist the hundreds of urges to call him or text him to apologize.

Most of all, you hate how he hurt you. You hate what he told you before he left, slamming the door and never once looking back. Those are the words that are enough to kill you.

They’re so simple but indescribably lethal. They squeezed, tore and obliterated your insides, painting your internal organs with permanent pain that you can undoubtedly feel to this day. And you realize it hurt as much as it did because you still care; unlike he who had so fiercely told you:

I don’t care about you anymore.

The loud, repetitive beats bounce off the multicolored walls, thumping in everyone’s chests as they drink and dance heartily. Jung Hoseok takes a shot of water, not particularly in the mood to party despite his festive surroundings. Normally, he’d go out to clubs any chance he got, relishing in the lax social life. Granted, he’s been going to more of these things ever since he left you.

One, because you never appreciated fleeting, one-time relationships, nor did you feel the need to build rapport with avid drunks. Two, because he needed a distraction from you.

How ironic, he thinks. Hoseok had come here thinking he could lose himself in the all too loud music, and shot-taking, but he’s only getting lost in his own thoughts. Thoughts of you.

He doesn’t understand why his mind pines after you. You’d hurt him, shut down the parts of his brain that permit happiness and optimism and good, healthy thoughts.

My parents were right. I shouldn’t be dating you.

They were unspoken acknowledgments. Both of you had known your parents had never approved of him. Hoseok has a few ideas why: he’s spoiled, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and diamonds on his crown, he practically lives in night clubs, chasing after transient relationships so he never has to reveal his true self and worst of all, he’s aggressively verbose.

In fact, both of you are. Words have the greatest power to hurt or heal, depending on the bearer, and both of you had used it against the other. But then again, it had been a spur of the moment thing. With a heavy heart and tired mind, Hoseok admits that he still loves you. He hates you and what you’ve told him, but he cares enough to yearn for you. Even when you threw and shattered the crystal jewelry box he gave you for your first anniversary. Even when told him to go fuck off.

I don’t love you anymore. And I might as well never have.

Even when you’d whispered that with tears streaming down your red cheeks and hands in tight, angry fists, he still cared.

He cares enough to worry about your wellbeing now. You’re sensitive but you like to act tough, and he knows you’re stubbornly hanging onto the words he’d screamed at you out of pure anger.

Hoseok, on the other hand, couldn’t care much less of what you’ve uttered. He only misses your presence; he needs you back in his life. You’ve been there, next to his side for seven years, possibly more. In the end, your words had hurt, but not as much as your absence.

He needs to see you.

“I don’t care about you anymore,” is arguably the worst thing to say to anyone. The opposite of love isn’t hatred. Love is to care. But if you hate someone, you still care—their face looms in the back of your mind, not in a positive way, granted, but their presence is there. The opposite of love is apathy. When you just don’t give a fuck.

Exactly what Hoseok had confessed to you when he’d left.

[a week ago]

“You didn’t mean that.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I apologized, and you don’t think it was genuine?”

“Of course it wasn’t! Just look at your face, the way you said it! You don’t fucking mean it!” His voice rises with each uttered sentence, and he already regrets picking a fight with you. But it’s too late now.

“And who’s to judge if I meant it or not? If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have apologized!” you yell right back, standing up from your seat on the couch. “Besides, not everything is about you, asshole!”

This time, Hoseok scoffs, standing up as well. “I never fucking said it was about me!”

You laugh dryly, arms crossing in front of your chest. “The fact that you’re demanding a more rightful apology when I’ve already given you one says everything. Don’t you think I deserve an apology as well?”

“Oh yes, I am so fucking sorry for having to deal with your insistent accusations!”

You frown, face becoming heated. “My parents were right,” you jeer, throwing the television remote behind you, “I shouldn’t be dating you.”

Hoseok grips at his hair in frustration, glaring at you. “Good, because you don’t deserve me.”

“Don’t know why we’re together.”

“Well, you’re dating me for my money, aren’t you?”

It’s silent. Then, you scream, reaching over to grab the nearest object and hurl it, not towards Hoseok but close enough to scare him and display your rage. The object happens to be your first-year anniversary gift—an expensive crystal jewelry box containing your favorite earrings, necklaces and rings of all assortments. It shatters ear-splittingly.

“Fuck off!” you shriek, eyes wet with tears and your hair wild.

“Gladly!” Hoseok yells, “to think I’ve wasted seven years with you!”

“Get out of my sight!” You attempt to wipe the tears flooding your face, sniffling and falling back on the couch. Your body shakes with anger, sadness and frustration. “I don’t love you anymore.” You look him right in the eye, causing him to step back. “And I might as well never have.”

The words shock him and he stumbles, chasing after phrases to say next. He doesn’t want to apologize, not like this when anger and hatred courses rapidly through his veins. Besides, it’s too late. The damage has been done.

So with that thought, he stomps across the house, flinging the front door open with such force that the floor beneath him shudders. Hoseok’s halfway out the door before he stops, turns to you, looking you right in the eye and utters the last of the damage: “I don’t care about you anymore.”

He slams the door shut and never once looks back like you had expected him to have. It was over right then and there. You knew as you wept loudly on the floor that he wouldn’t come back—not after this fight. He should also know you’d never go out to look for him, either. You have your own pride, thank you very much. That and the fact that he blatantly told you he doesn’t care for you anymore.

There’s a thin line between love and hatred, a mere sliver of a slow-running rivulet, whereas love and apathy might be so different they’re oceans away from the other.

The soft pad of his pointer finger hovers just over the doorbell. The last time he’d entered your house, he’d left with hurt, regretful tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He hopes things won’t end similarly.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes the little, weathered doorbell. He can hear the short chime going off inside your house, and his insides especially twist when he hears your scurrying footsteps coming closer to him.

Suddenly, he panics. God, this was a bad idea. Hoseok doesn’t know what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. What if you tell him you hate him, or worse, tell him you just don’t give a single fuck about him? This had been an impulsive decision, thus unsurprisingly a bad decision.

Maybe he should leave—

It’s too late when the front door swings open and Hoseok sees you, eyes puffy and red and looking uncomfortably bloated. He watches as your sad face morphs into shock then confusion then back to sadness.

“Hoseok?”

Your voice sounds so refreshing, saying his name like that with no hint of anger or hatred laced between.

“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly. “I-I…” he takes a deep breath, closing and opening his eyes and steadying himself before speaking again. “I didn’t mean the things I told you before.”

“I didn’t either.”

“I care for you, Y/N—I’ve never stopped. I was just furious and hilariously immature. I wanted the last words, and unfortunately couldn’t stop myself from saying that…” He maintains eye contact with you, although it's humiliating to admit to his past mistakes that pained you so. “I deserve for you to hate me right now… You can even shut the door on my face because you just don’t give a fuck—” he takes a deep breath—“but I just want to confess that I’m sorry that I—”

“Hey, it’s in the past,” you interrupt. “We don’t have to list out our past faults. We don’t care for them, we care for each other, right? Besides, I trust we’ve already learned from our mistakes.”

You open the door wider, tired face blooming into a small but radiant smile. You’ve never looked more beautiful in Hoseok’s eyes, and he realizes this is the best thing he’s done since a week ago. He smiles right back at you, which in turn makes you realize he’s never looked more perfect.

Both of you care enough to try again. After all, there is a thin line between love and hate. And neither of you really ever stopped caring.

“Come in,” your voice speaks in smiles, “let’s talk.”

masterlist

#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok ff #bangtan fanfiction #breakup au #lack of apathy #loa #i tried angst out... yikes

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leelee10898 · 5 years

Text

Born to Love you: There she goes. (2/?)

Leo & Alicia

This is from the cgw (Cordonians gone wild) universe. A collaborative AU effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @cocomaxley @riseandshinelittleblossom and myself.

If you haven't read the OG when Leo met Alicia, I suggest you do so . This takes place the moments between some of the eventa and situations mentioned. Read it HERE

Leo laid in bed, tossing and turning. The night playing over and over in his mind. Her smile, those big brown eyes, her laugh, from the moment he saw her it was like time stopped it was an odd feeling to him. sure he had been attracted to many women, he wasn't dubbed the playboy prince for nothing, but this was different. He wasn't sure what to think, but one thing he was sure of was the need to see her again, to hang out with her and lucky for him, she was staying in the palace for the next 2 months.

“Anything I can help with?” Liam eyed him suspiciously “you want to help? You hated this stuff, that's why you abdicated.”

The next morning he got up, his mind going a mile a minute. Thinking of ways to spend some time with her. He showered, dressed and headed to Liams office. “Hello little brother, what's on the agenda today?” Leo flopped down on the couch, resting his feet on the desk. “Several proposals to look over, a meeting with the zoning committee for a new park and dinner with Anitah.” Liam nudged his feet off the desk.

“No, I don't mind helping Liam. And we all know i abdicated so I didn't have to marry Madeline.” Leo shot him that cocky grin. Liam shook his head and smiled “touche.” He rubbed his chin sitting back in his chair. “Ok Leo, if you are serious I could use an extra set of eyes and hands on these. Aside from our father you have had the same training as I so I trust you to help.”

Leo poured over the papers with Liam, pointing out several things that should be negotiated to better benefit the country. Liam was happy to have the help, it meant getting to dinner on time, and Anitah would be happy.

“So dinner huh? Is it just you and Anitah?” Leo nonchalantly asked.

“There it is. Leo I warned you stay away, she has a boyfriend. And she's Anitah's best friend.”

Liam tossed his pen on the desk.

“Had. She had a boyfriend, she's single. And i'm not doing anything. She seems like a fun girl, I'd like to get to know her better.. as Friends, dad!”

Liam let out a long sigh. “Yes, she will be there. I'm assuming you want to join us?”

Leo shook his head “Don't mind if I do.”

“Leo im serious, she's not like these girls at court. She doesn't care about titles or wealth. If you hurt her Anitah will kill you. And then me.”

Leo put his hand up in the air “Let me stop you there Li. I am wanting to hang out with her, to have fun. I said nothing about getting into her pants.”

Liam shook his head standing as they walked out of the study. “This has disaster written all over it. We leave at 6.”

Liam made reservations at the best restaurant in the capital. They lead them quickly to a private dining room, secluded from the other diners. “Allow me.” Leo pulled her chair out. “Thank you.” she grinned as he took a seat next to her. Liam doing the same for Anitah.

“So Alicia. how are you enjoying Cordonia?” Liam asked.

“Well, its beautiful from what I've seen. But i have seen the airport, and some of the capital.” she giggled. “I can show you around, if you'd like. I know many secret spots that aren't on any of the tourist list.” Leo smirked. Liam gave him a pointed look “Really? That would be great. Can we go tomorrow?”

“I don't see why not.” Leo grinned.

They spent the dinner talking laughing and joking. Leo and Liam spilling embarrassing stories from growing up.

Anitah and Alicia crying from laughing so hard. Leo had told them a story from when Liam had just turned 7 Leo had just turned 13 and they were in hawaii for his birthday. There was a chocolate bar in the hotel and Both boys snuck over sneaking treats. Leo found a lizard on a windowsill, he picked it up and put it on Liam's back. Liam freaked out and crashed into the table, sending a whole vat of chocolate across the room landing right on Constantine.

“I will forget the look on his face.” Leo sighed as he wiped a stray tear from his eye from laughing so hard.

“How pissed was your dad?” Anitah said through laughter.

“Very, he grounded us for a month.”

“Yeah, that was around the time I started sneaking out with Damien.” Leo leaned forward forking a chunk of chocolate cake he began lifting it as Alicia leaned down, taking it off the spoon. His jaw hung open on shock. “Gotta be quicker than that Rhys.” She winked and smirked. “She just. She just ate my cake, of my fork.”

“You can't leave chocolate cake around her Leo.” Anitah laughed.

Alicia scooped a spoonful of her chocolate mousse lifting it to her mouth, just before she reached her lips Leo leaned in his mouth inches from hers as he ate it off the spoon. He leaned back. “Two can play that game.” He gave her his signature smirk and sat back in his chair.

“Ok, ok. It's your turn the two of you.” Leo pointed at the two.

“Us?” they said simultaneously.

“Yes, you two. Time to spill some embarrassing situations. We've been doing it all night, it's only fair.”

Liam looked to Leo, and the two women. “He has a point love, it's only fair. However we don't have time here.”

“So we go back to my quarters, have a few drinks and continue this party.” the 3 nodded in agreement and they headed towards the exit.

They walked out Liam with his arm around Anitahs waist. Leo walking next to Alicia. a huge grin on his face just as they were bombarded by flashes. The security detail held them off as Bastien hurried them to the waiting car. They slid and and speed away. Leo turned to Alicia. “pull out your phone and delete all of your social media, now!”

“What? Why?” Alicia looked at him confused.

“Alicia, he's serious do it now.”

“those photos they took, will be in all the tabloids and papers tomorrow morning. Their websites by midnight. They will find out who you are and your entire personal life will be at the fingertips of any person in this country.”

“He's not lying, when Anitah came here she had to do the same, until we were able to go in and make all of her accounts private.” Liam spoke sympathetically.

“Ok, fine. You mean everything?”

“Yes.” all 3 said at the same time.

Alicia went through deactivating all of her social media accounts. They pulled up to the palace Anitah and Alicia going to change, Liam and Leo heading to Leos quarters waiting on the girls.

“So, what do you think the headlines are going to be?” Leo leaned against the table, taking a swig of his scotch.

Liam let out a sigh “Oh probably something about a double date. They don't often catch you out with a woman. And you were with Anitah and I.”

“You're probably right. They are going to have a field day with this.”

“She's Anita's best friend, and here for two months. It was only a matter of time before they got to her. Anitah was warned about this, we should have debriefed Alicia.”

Leo snorted “Well, its done. They should be back any minute, lets not let this ruin our night.”

As if on cue Anitah and Alicia walked in. Anitah holding a bottle of jagermeister, Alicia a few cans of redbull. “We thought we could spice up this party a little bit.” Anitah grinned.

“Where did you get that? Liam tilted his head.

“The bar in the ballroom.”

She sat the bottle down on the kitchen counter and went over to Liam wrapping her arms around him.

“where's your shot glasses?” Alicia called over to Leo. He walked over to the dry bar pulling 4 out.

He watched as Alicia poured the dark liquor into the shot glasses. Filling each cup with redbull. “You ever have one of these?” he nodded his head. “Yup. Liam on the other hand, I don't think so.”

“well, this ought to be good then.” She giggled as she called Liam and anitah over.

“What do we do with this?” Liam questioned.

“Lets show him Nitah.” Alicia winked as the two dropped their shots into the cup of redbull and drank it down quickly.

“Fuck that's good.” Alicia whooped.

“Hell yeah, let's do another one.” Anitah high fived her. Leo and liam both shared a look and drank theirs down. A few drinks and shots later they were all laughing hysterically.

“Ok ok. What about the time I got pulled over going the wrong way, down a one way street.” Anitah giggled. “Oh my god, yes when we left that party. Dude we were so wasted. I don't even know how you drove.”

“Anitah, seriously?” she waived him off.

“So did you get out of it?” Leo grinned.

“mmhmm, the cop that pulled us over took my license and seen my address. He asked us what highschool we went to. Turns out his niece went there too and we were actually friends with her. He let us go.”

“Yeah after he told you to let someone else drive.” Alicia snorted, Anitah slapped her leg.

“oooh what about the time we snuck out to see nsync at the beach?”

Anita's face blushed bright red. “NO. Alicia.”

“Nope, spill Alicia. I want to know what kind of trouble my soon to be Queen was.” liam grinned, feeling tipsy.

“Well, we were in Atlantic city during summer vacation. Nsync was performing. My parents wouldn't let us go, but we scored tickets.”

Anitah looked at Alicia. “I hate you so much right now.” She buried her head.

“Oh you act like you're the only one who was embarrassed. Anyway. So we snuck out and met up with a few guys we had met on the beach earlier in the week.” Alicia continued.

“kyle and Chris. They had a car and were hot.” Anitah added in.

" Anita!” Liam shouted giving her a stern look.

“Ok. So the four of us went to the concert. They had a convertible and some mad dog. We got drunk and ended up taking our shirts off down the highway. We pulled into a parking spot and we had a makeout session with the guys. Only, we were in a parking lot of a casino.”

“Anitah! Seriously?” Liam shook his head, face reddening.

“oh god. Anitah buried her face even deeper.

“so. Clothing was coming off, things were heating up when we heard someone shout our names. Turns out my parents date night was at that casino and they were parked right in front of us.”

“Oh shit. How much trouble did you get into?” Leo grinned. “Leo!” Liam turned glaring at his brother who was clearly enjoying it.

“Oh that's not even the best part. they forced us out of the car, I tripped over the seatbelt and fell out on the ground, boobs popping out of my bra. Anitah here, climbed out crying because she was so drunk and puked, all over my dad.”

“Anitah Elizabeth Brooks! That was horrible, irresponsible, reckless behavior.” Liam shook his head “Thank god you've outgrown that.”

Alicia busted out laughing, Anitah shooting her a warning look.

“So what did your parents do?” Leo said grabbing her attention.

“Oh. Well they didn't want to ground us because that would mean someone had to watch us. So, they made us wear full piece kiddie bathing suits the rest of the vacation, and my mom brought us long shorts and baggy tank tops. It was torture.” Alicia snorted.

Anitah placed her hand on Liam's thigh sliding it higher. “Anitah.” He groaned as her hand slid up his leg. “What my king?” she cooed as he leaned in kissing her.

“Im gonna get another drink.” Alicia stood up walking to the kitchen area. “I'll join you.” Leo stood following her. “scotch is gone, so is the jager and vodka.” she assessed the bottles on the counter. “Got anything else?” Leo walked over to the bar pulling out a bottle of gin.

“I can work with this, got any 7up?”

He shook his head “No, but i have a couple cans of lemon lime soda over here. She grabbed the cans tossing a few ice cubes in the glass, adding a few shots of gin, topping it off with some soda. She took a sip as Anita's shirt hit her feet. She looked over to see Anitah straddling Liam on the couch, his hands in her hair. She rolled her eyes. “How about some air?” Leo motioned to the balcony. “Get a room you two.” Leo shouted as he walked Alicia out onto the balcony.

He leaned up against the door frame, watching her as she leaned over the railing, loose strands of hair that fell out of her messy bun blowing in the nights breeze. She wore a pair of loose fitting sweat pants and a tank top, he had only known her for two days but he couldn't help but think how sexy she looked like that. “It's really beautiful, this view.” She broke the silence, looking straight forward. “Yeah, it is.” was he talking about the scenery or her? He walked up joining her. “I spent most of my time running from here, from what was expected of me. But now.” He paused, looking out into the nights sky.

“Now what?” She turned her head to face him. “I don't know? It's like, everything feels different. Better almost.”

“Did you really mean it when you said you'd take me out sightseeing tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I figure we get an early start.” She gave him a look. “ Ok semi early start.” he chuckled. “Maybe grab some breakfast.”

“Sounds good. Maybe we should go check on the two horn dogs.” she giggled.

They walked in, no sign of Anitah and Liam except her shirt. “Looks like they got a room.” she nudged him. “wanna watch some Tv?” He asked, not ready for her to leave yet. “Sure, as long as I get to pick.” she giggled running over grabbing the remote as she plopped down on the couch. She flipped through the channels until she found friends. “Ever watch this?” she asked. “a time or two.” He tossed himself down next to her. After a while she had leaned against him, making herself comfortable. Before he knew it she had fallen asleep. He laid her down, careful not to wake her. He grabbed a blanket and pillow for her, shutting off the tv and went into his room, pulling off his shirt, and putting on a pair of pajama bottoms. He climbed into bed falling instantly asleep.

The next morning he woke up, He opened his eyes to a frock of brown hair in his face, his arm draped around her waist. Stunned as to how, or when she got there. He had left her on the couch, what was she doing in bed, with him. He carefully slid his arm off of her, she started to stir and then she rolled over. Her big Brown eyes locked on his bright blues. “Ah, good morning.” He cautiously said, not sure how she would react. She blinked a few times “Morning. How did, um what am I doing in your bed?”

“Good question.” He chuckled. “You fell asleep on the couch, I put a blanket over you and came in here. And I woke up, there you were.” they got out of the bed, and made their way to the kitchen Leo brewed a some coffee.

“I really don't know how I Ended up in your bed. I remember getting up to use the bathroom, and.” Her hand flew up over her face. “Oh god, I thought I was home, so I climbed into your bed. I am so sorry.”

“No, its ok I don't mind.” she gave him a questioning look. “not that I wanted to sleep with you. No, that came out wrong. I um, it was ok that you did, I just didn't want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you, that's all.” He stumbled over his words smooth, real smooth Leo, now she's going to think you're a creep. “I don't think you'd take advantage of me. I climbed into your bed on my own." She gave him a look.

What was that look for? What did she mean by that? Did she want him to make a move, he was good at reading people, but when it came to her, his mind was cloudy.

A knock came at the door, Liam walked in. “papers are here, they think you're dating.”

Liam stopped dead in his tracks seeing Alicia sitting at the kitchen table. His head snapped over to Leo, anger written all over his face. “I didn't know you were still here Alicia. I wasn't interrupting anything was I?”

“Nope. I passed out on the couch.” liam took notice of the blanket and pillow. “I'm going to go shower and change, see you in about an hour?”

Leo nodded his head as she walked out.

“You're playing with fire here Leo. And she's the one whos going to get burned.” He tossed the papers on the table and left.

Tag: @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @zaffrenotes @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @jlouise88 @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lynne1993 @coldcollectornight08 @be-still-my-aching-heart @dcbbw

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject

#born to love you cgw fic #cgw squad #cgw trr #cgw trr au #cgw #cordoniansgonewild #cordonians gone wild #leo x alicia #prince leo #liam x anitah #king liam #leo rhys #liam rhys

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madelainesvixens · 5 years

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CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT: CHAPTER FIVE | AN EVENTFUL NIGHT

Tuesday, October 6th

12:09

At lunch, Fred sat in front of FP and opened his lunch bag, pulling out two perfectly wrapped sandwich and a juice box. ''I got you a sandwich.'' He slide one in his friend's direction, earning a thankful smile from FP.

Losing no time, FP unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite. He was so hungry. After the small altercation between him and his dad last night, the teenager didn't dare going downstairs for dinner. He stayed in his room and ignored his screaming stomach.

''Did you forget we were supposed to hang out on Saturday? I called you and your father said you didn't come home after work,'' Fred said, opening his sandwich.

''I had to work until closure,'' FP explained.

Fred's eyebrows shot up. ''You worked from eight to closure? Dude, that's more than twelve hours! That's crazy.''

''I have to do what I have to do if I want to afford college.''

College was a part of the reason why FP picked up a job at Pop's. Although scholarships were a possibilities, you can't rely on that. He knew his father wouldn't be on his side about college and wouldn't give his son a single penny for his superior education. When FP talked to his dad about getting a job, he tricked him into thinking it was to help with the bills so he took advantage of the situation. He got lucky when Pop placed a flyer on the door of the diner, saying they were low on staff. FP applied and got the job immediately. Every week, he would give half of his pay to his dad for the bills and put the rest aside for college.

''Still. You're gonna exhaust yourself.''

FP rolled his eyes. ''I'm fine, Fred. I can manage a double shift.''

''Talking about college, I finished filling all my college applications last night. My dad and I are going to the post office to mail everything tonight. Wanna come with?'' Fred offered.

''Erm, about that... Do you know where I can get extras? I accidently spilled juice on my college applications.''

''All?'' FP nodded. ''I think Mrs. Mars still has some. We can go to the counsellor's office together after lunch. We could go to mine to fill them and then send everything tomorrow? I don't think my dad would mind.''

''Thanks, man.''

Thursday, October 8th

20:32

Much like the first time Alice came over, the night wasn't a success in therm of getting work done. It didn't take long for them to get bored of their assignment and soon enough Alice was sitting in FP's lap, straddling him, and he was running his hands all over her. No one could blame them though, it was much more entertaining that their science assignment.

Nails scratching at FP's back, Alice moaned loudly as he thrusted into her, hitting the right spot every time - or so.

Believe it or not, it wasn't FP's habit to have a regular hookup. He was the BMOC of Riverdale High, the all american athlete, a studmuffin; he didn't have difficulty finding girls to hookup. On the contrary, he had them at his feet, begging to be pulled in a bedroom.

They reached their orgasms and FP pulled out, rolling on his side to drop the used condom in the trash. He ran a hand through his raven hair, pushing back the fallen strands and sat next to Alice, drawing the blanket over them.

''There's a game tomorrow night. Would you like to come?'' FP asked casually, catching his breath from their previous activity.

''A football game?'' Alice wrinkled her nose. ''That's not really my scene.''

She stood up and FP watched as her long legs carried her to the foot of the bed.

''We're playing against Greendale's Ravens. It's our biggest rivals. It's going to be an epic game.''

He heard a zipper sound and then some scattering. ''Oh. I don't know. I'd rather spend my Friday night picking gums under tables at the Wyrm than seeing two legged testosterone running around a field with a ball.''

FP laughed. ''Two legged testosterone? Is that what I am to you, uh?'' he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Alice ignored the question and jumped back on the bed, pack of cigarette and lighter between her hand. It was a routine for her, cigarette after sex. Sometimes, FP would take a few hits but he wouldn't call himself a smoker. She slid back under the fuzzy blanket, feeling some goosebumps form from the chilly air. She rubbed her long legs against the soft fabric and FP wondered if she was cold.

She lit her cigarette and took a touch, inhaling, and exhaled grey smoke. A smile curved on her full lips, her long blond hair grazing the top of her breasts without covering her nipples.

God, she's gorgeous to him.

''So? Will you come?'' FP asked again, a minute later.

''I'll think about it.''

Friday, October 9th

18:00

looking around the bleachers, hoping to find a familiar face with beautiful blue eyes and a leather jacket over her shoulder but, he saw nothing. FP sighed, looking at the grass, and shook his head.

Little did he know, she was there...right under the bleachers.

It was a cliché place to hide and dirtier than up the bleachers but, no one could see here there. Although FP had invited her to the game, she didn't want him to know she was present. In football language, boys who invited girls to their game was a secret code to ask them out and she was afraid it'll give him ideas if she showed up. They had a great complicity and Alice didn't want feelings to get in the way and ruin anything.

So, she stayed hidden there until the end of the game, a smile forming on her lips every time she witnessed FP score.

21:00

Drink in hand, Hermione walked into the kitchen,

''Well, well. Isn't that tonight's hero,'' the Catholic school-girl said, walking in the kitchen.

''Drinking beer at a high school party? What lies did you tell Mama Gomez tonight? That you had a sleepover with your girl friends?''

''Oh, Forsythe, you know me too well. I love a good night in with frozen bras and face masks.''

FP shook his head in amusement.

''Have you seen Fred?'' she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

FP arched an eyebrow. ''You're back to Fred now? Moving quick from a Casanova to another, I see.'' The raven haired girl frowned. ''Hiram Lodge.''

The raven haired girl frowned. ''Who told you about Hiram?''

''Everyone knows, Hermione. Next time you let someone slip their hand under your skirt, try somewhere where there's a door, not in a fancy ass convertible at the drive-in.''

She gasped and before their argument could evolve, a brunette with her cheerleading uniform still on walked in the kitchen. A smug look formed on FP's face, memories of a certain night coming up. That girl was a wild one.

''Is that why you never called me back? You're screwing Hermione, now?''

''I beg your pardon?'' Hermione demanded.

''I was working, Gladys,'' FP explained calmly. ''Sorry can't always squeeze you in for a dick appointment.''

Hermione stifled a laugh behind her red cup and exited the kitchen.

''You're not working tonight, are you?'' she asked, grabbing his forearm and pushing herself close to him, fluttering her thick coated lashes at the Bulldog.

''It depends what you have in mind,'' FP replied, flirting back.

Gladys leaned forward to kiss him but, just as their lips were about to touch, Fred came up behind him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a bit. ''There's a hot blonde, looking for you,'' Fred informed his best friend.

A frown of confusion appeared on FP's forehead. A hot blonde? Could it be- No. She wasn't at the game, the chances she came all the way from Southside to attend an after-match party on the Northside were slim. Very slim.

''Who?''

Fred didn't know her name so he nodded in direction of the living room and FP followed him, leaving Gladys stranded in the middle of the kitchen. Music blasted from the speakers of Marty's radio-cassette, TLC's latest hit filling the house, getting louder as they reached the living area. FP grimaced. He'd rather listen to Nirvana, Radiohead or other alternative/grunge bands than these annoying radio hits.

As they snaked their way through the crowd of bodies, ducking elbows to not spill anything on the carpet, they caught sight of Sierra Samuels exchanging saliva with Tom Keller, two Vixens rubbing against Marty and a couple drunk girls dancing drunkenly.

''Andrews!'' someone called out just as they entered the living area, waving at the Bulldog. Fred waved back at James, a guy from the water-polo team, and made his way over to him, leaving FP to himself.

How will he find the hot blonde, now?

FP opened his mouth to yell at Fred but decided against it. Fuck it. He'll find someone else to hookup with.

Or...he could find Gladys. She was pissed at him but FP could charm his way into her panties by snapping his fingers. So easy with this one.

FP moved through the mass of bodies, eyes scanning the room as he drank his beer. Near the sliding doors, he saw Taylor McKenzie in a pink mini dress chatting up with none other than Darryl Doiley. FP wanted to laugh. Did he really think he had a chance with Taylor? She was the head of the River Vixens, unless she had a couple drinks in her body, FP doubted she would be interesting in Darryl. With his high waisted pants, printed shirts tucked in and massive glasses, he wasn't her type. He should start looking for girls of his league like Penelope Blossom or Mary Maiden.

The music changed to a sexier song - Samantha Fox's Touch Me - and that's when FP noticed the two headed snake embroidery on the back of a jacket by the stairs. Although her back was to him, he recognize those blonde curls. And those legs.

''I thought football wasn't your scene?'' FP said, leaning against the staircase, right behind her.

Alice turned, an amused smile on her lips. ''Jones,'' she acknowledged.

''I wasn't expecting to see you here.''

She raised her drink to her lips, bottoming it. ''Hope you don't mind me crashing your party.''

FP glanced at her, shaking his head. Fucking not. ''Fred said a blonde was looking for me, were you-''

Alice searched for his brown eyes, holding his gaze. ''You fucking wish,'' she purred. ''But, no. It wasn't me.''

She put her empty cup on the small table and started moving her body to the beat of the song like she had done at the diner on Saturday. Lips curving into a smirk, FP followed her movements and danced with her. Unlike his fellow Bulldogs, FP wasn't a stick, he actually had some moves in his sleeve. He was no Travolta or Swayze but, it was impressive enough to take girls home.

Exaggerating her motions, Alice moved her hips from side to side, looping her arms around FP's neck, pulling him closer. Her full breasts were brushing against his chest, feeling the soft plumpness. The Bulldog had to refrain from cupping her breasts, very aware they were in the middle of a party. Instead, FP put his hands on her waist and she turned around, rubbing her round butt against the front of his jeans and the teenager could feel the denim becoming tighter.

Ugh, the effects this girl had one him.

A soft giggle left Alice's lips, knowing very well what she was doing.

They danced together for a song or two before she stopped, beckoning him to follow her upstairs where she assumed bedrooms were. FP let her lead the way, admiring the view. She wore the same leather skirt from Saturday and had paired it with fishnet tights. She was a fucking smokeshow.

As they were climbing up, a drunk guy unsteadily walked down, stumbling a bit and bumping into Alice.

''Look where you're fucking going,'' FP snapped, shoving the guy.

His back his the railing and he apologized to Alice, having trouble finding his words because of the alcohol in his blood. ''Chill out, man,'' drunk guy slurred to FP.

Alice looked at FP. ''Yeah, chill out,'' she chastised, mocking the guy.

Despite the size of the Mantle's house, all bedrooms were occupied. FP let out a frustrated groan. What were they gonna do now? He could always go home and fuck there but it was a longer walk than he could handle with his hard on.

A devilish smile spread on the biker girl, glancing behind them. Curious, FP followed her blue eyes and saw the glass door of the Mantle's backyard balcony.

''The balcony?''

Alice shrugged. ''It's dark outside. No one will see.''

Was she saying what he thought she was because, as much of a turn on having sex outside could be, it was risky. Anyone could walk out to smoke a joint or just taking some air and catch them.

FP flashed her a wicked grin and looked around, checking if there was anyone in sight and slide open the door, slipping outside with Alice hot on his heels.

The balcony was thankfully empty. FP didn't lose time, pressing his lips to Alice's, fingertips digging in the small of her back as his other hand kept her jaw in place. Alice melted into his touch, kissing back with just as much fever.

FP backed Alice until her back hit the brick of the house, shielding them from the glass door and voyeur eyes.

Alice smoothed her hands down FP's front, following them with her eyes until her fingertips were hovering just over the waistband of his jeans. ''You're hard already,'' Alice whispered as she moved her palm over his erection.

His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled deeply through his nose, tilting his head back slightly as he did so. ''Mmh,'' he breathed out, almost as a grunt. ''It's you in this room. You're so fucking hot tonight, Ali.''

She squeezed his ass, fingertips curling against his jeans, and pulled him in close, to which he smiled and laughed. ''Are you trying to seduce me, Jones?'' Her right hand slid an inch or so beneath the hem of his t-shirt and stroked over his skin. Her touch sent sparks flying through FP. That girl did things to him...

22:32

Alice had slipped inside first, warning FP to wait a couple minutes before he followed suit. Although they had some fun on the Mantles's balcony, they didn't need everyone to know.

Fred would be upstairs when he'd get inside.

''Had a good time in there?'' Fred asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

FP frowned, playing the innocent card. ''What? I took some air. It's stuffy in here.'' He pulled at the collar of his tee shirt, showing he was hot.

Fred hummed knowingly. ''Were you hot from down there because your fly is undone.''

Looking down, FP saw that Fred was indeed right. Shit. He quickly tugged his zipper up. ''Thanks, man...''

''Oh, and you might want to wipe that lipstick stain. It's not a good look on you,'' Fred added before disappearing down the hall.

Saturday, October 10th

00:50

It was around one o'clock when FP left the party with Alice. He had enough of mingling with his fellow Bulldogs and wanted to go home and fuck. Believe it or not, a quickie on the balcony didn't leave him satisfied. He was still hungry.

Alice removed her boots, tossing them right by FP's and was about to follow the raven haired boy upstairs when a loud thump resonated in the house followed by a ribbon of gibberish curses.

She looked at FP, puzzled.

''Fuck,'' FP cursed, realizing his dad was still up - and drunk. He was working early tomorrow, FP thought his old man would be sleeping soundly by now. Turned out he wasn't.

''Forsythe,'' a slurred but loud voice said, coming from the kitchen followed by heavy footsteps.

Panic flashed through FP's eyes, realizing his father was coming. Knowing the man had the tendency to get violent when he was drunk, FP knew he needed to put Alice safety. If anything were to happen to her, he would never forgive himself.

''Go to my room, and stay there,'' FP said to Alice, looking deep into her eyes to get his point across but she isn't budging.

''FP-''

''Go.'' His light brown eyes looked at her, almost begging.

This time, she obeyed and hurried upstairs.

Alice closed the door behind her and sat on FP's bed just as voices started to raise downstairs. She tried to listen to what they were saying but it was messy and difficult to comprehend.

Alice jumped, hearing glass shattering followed by a loud thump, and then nothing. She immediately started thinking the worst. Did Forsythe hit him? Did he smash something on FP's head? Was he hurt?

She was about to get up and check on them when the door handle juggled and FP pushed it open. Alice raised from the bed and rushed to him, stopping in her tracks when she saw the blood running down his face. ''Your face,'' she mumbled worriedly, reaching up to touch the cut on FP's forehead but pulled back.

FP brushed it off. ''It's nothing.'' Alice narrowed her eyes but FP ignored her. ''He's sleeping. He won't be a problem for the next hours.'' The boy closed the door behind him and locked it securely, just in case.

He took off his Bulldog jacket, hissing as he slipped it off his right arm. Alice noticed and helped him taking it off, tossing it on the chair.

They went over to the bed and sat down. ''You didn't tell me he was violent.''

''He was drunk. He's not always like that,'' FP defended.

Alice gave him a look. ''Being drunk doesn't excuse his violent behavior. Parents shouldn't hit their child.'' Taking a dark tee shirt from the end of the bed, she wiped the blood off FP's face. She knew they should be using proper and sterile equipment but neither of them felt comfortable going to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. It'll do for now. FP thanked her. ''Let me see your arm,'' she demanded.

As she examined his arm, FP's face contorted into a pained grimace. A nasty bruise had formed, hues of dark purples and yellows contrasting on his pale skin.

''We need to go to the ER,'' she declared.

FP shook his head. ''I can't.'' He cradled his arm to his chest with his good arm, holding a groan. His arm was hurting like a bitch. ''They'll ask questions and I can't tell them what happened.''

''Your dad hit you, FP! He fucking broke your arm!''

''You don't know what happened! You didn't see shit!'' he spat through gritted teeth.

''I heard glass breaking. Obviously, things got out of control and violence was involved.''

FP looked down, knowing she was right. ''He grabbed my arm and twisted it when I reached for the whiskey,'' he explained and hissed again.

''You need to get your arm checked. It's very swollen and bruised.''

''I can't-''

''I know.'' Alice paused. ''I might know someone that could help you without going to the hospital. It's gonna be a long walk though.''

FP sighed. ''Okay. Let's go.''

NEXT CHAPTER (X)

#falice #young falice #fp jones #Alice Cooper #fp jones and alice cooper #fp jones x alice cooper #alice smith #falice fic #call it what you want #call it what you want chapter 5

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slowhandssmut-blog · 6 years

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In Another Life

It had started out simply enough. You had bumped into Niall a few months prior in a dimly lit bar that smelled of old cigarettes and cheap beer. You’d known who he was the minute you laid eyes on him, you didn’t live under a rock after all. You’d pretended not to though, figuring he’d come to such a slum because he was searching for privacy that the flashy nightclubs downtown didn’t offer. So you had remained perched on your stool at the bar, sipping on a Jack and coke until you felt someone slide up next to you.

“What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” He’d quipped, setting his own drink down on the counter next to yours.

“Same as you I’d suppose.” You didn’t look over at him, though you could feel his eyes raking you up and down. You knew that his vantage point was giving him a great view in-between your breasts but you didn’t particularly mind. After a string of poor relationship choices, you were due for a night out where you made guys look at you just because you could get them to.

“Looking for something?” You raised an brow as you turned in your seat, catching his gaze still focused on your chest.

“Just admiring.” He didn’t looked ashamed to have been caught staring. Now that he was close up you realized he was quite attractive. Stubble framed his jaw and ice blue eyes continued to appraise you. You felt warm under his gaze.

“Haven’t seen someone as pretty as you in a while.” He raised his drink to his lips, flicking his tongue out to catch a droplet on the side of the glass.

“Probably a combination of the dim lighting and the liquor.” You snorted. You heard him let out a short chuckle.

“I doubt that.”

You both finished your drinks in silence, though you could feel the tension building between you. You reached for your wallet to close out your tab but Niall dropped a few large bills onto the counter. You stared at the pile of money for a second, the amount more than enough to cover both of your drinks and give the bartender a hell of a tip. You spotted Niall watching you out of the corner of your eye and you realized his game.

You rolled your eyes at the show off and dropped enough money to cover your drink onto the bar. Niall let out a bark of laughter as you turned to exit and you heard his bar stool scrape across the floor. He easily caught up with you as you walked through the door, hands jammed into his pockets as he walked next to you.

“I’m only in town for the night.” He said nonchalantly. You knew what he was suggesting and debated playing dumb, but from the little you’d gathered about him in the bar you knew he’d see through that act quickly.

“You don’t even know me.” You kept walking.

“That’s kind of the point.” You stopped in your tracks, causing him to bump into the back of you. You pondered the idea. Maybe something casual and fun was what you needed. Maybe it would lift your spirits.

It wouldn’t mean anything anyway.

You turned to face him, your eyebrow taking up its characteristic arch. A smirk danced on the boy’s lips and you realized that you’d like to see how soft they were.

“Fine but it’s a one time thing and we’re going to your place.” You poked a finger into his chest. He wrapped his hand around it, grinning with amusement.

“Let’s go then.”

********************************************

That had been nearly two years ago. Despite your self imposed rules, you had left him your number that night and told him to hit you up whenever he rolled back through town. You had met up with him a few times over the years, though you communicated more when one of you drunk called or texted the other. Your friends often asked why the two of you hadn’t tried dating but you told them that you weren’t suited for someone like him. You weren’t made for the spotlight and he was very much in it.

It all would have been fine if he hadn’t called you up unexpectedly. You usually had at least a few days to prepare yourself to see him, but this time he was going to be in town within a few hours. He texted you the name of the hotel he’d be at, along with the pass code to get the elevator to take you up to his room. You had never denied him before and this time was no different.

You smoothed your shirt out as you waited for the elevator doors to open. They slid open and you stepped into the hallway, making your way down to the room he had indicated. You hesitated, your hand curled into a fist to knock. Something inside of you was telling you just to go home.

Something much louder, an originating from much farther south, was telling you to kick the door down.

You settled for rapping lightly on the door, smiling when it flung open almost immediately. Niall had gained muscle and grown another inch since you’d met him in the bar that night, but the cheeky smirk on his lips was exactly the same. He smashed his lips onto yours before you could speak, and pulled you into the room. The door latched automatically behind you, which was lucky since it didn’t seem like Niall would have thought to lock it otherwise. He was too busy pulling your freshly smoothed shirt over your head.

“Most people start with hello” you chuckled against his lips.

“Hello.” he growled, hands already tugging your bra down so that the cups pushed your breasts up. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips latched onto your nipple. He grazed his teeth over it, causing it to harden almost immediately. While his mouth repeated the actions with your other nipple, his hands traveled down to unbutton your jeans.

He moved so that he was in-between you and the door, pushing you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed. You slipped down onto the bed, gazing at him with lidded eyes as he gripped the material of your pants. He quickly pulled them off and then lowered himself until his mouth hovered over your covered core. Your breath hitched as you felt the warm air from his lips blow over you. Blue eyes flicked up to meet yours as he gripped the edge of your panties with his teeth. He slipped them off of you, stopping to tuck them into his back pocket. He nudged in-between your legs, hands going behind your knees to jerk you to the edge of the bed. You gasped loudly as he kissed the inside of your thigh, his fingers massaging the skin across your hips. His tongue traced up your thigh, stopping at your apex and moving across to repeat the path across your other leg. You groaned loudly as he stopped once again.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, you’re being an ass.”

“You know you only have to ask pet.” He knew you hated having to beg and you knew he loved nothing more than hearing you do it. He loved being able to break down your ego with just a few placements of his lips.

“Please stop teasing me.” He grinned up at you before obliging. His lips wrapped around your clit as he eased a single finger into you. The sudden contact has you arching into him and fisting the sheets beneath you. He pumped into you a few times before adding a second and third finger. They curled up into you, rubbing across something that had you moaning loudly. His tongue flicked across your bundle and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. It had been way too long since the last time you’d done this.

You groaned as he let go of your clit and twisted his fingers out of you He laughed and you resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. He began to strip out of his clothes and you flipped yourself over to crawl towards him. As soon as his cock was freed you grabbed it, slowly stroking your hand along his length. Air hissed out from between his teeth as you ran your thumb across is head, smearing the drop of pre-cum. Deciding he needed a taste of his own medicine, you flicked your tongue lightly over the head and looked up at him. He groaned at the light touches, hips minutely thrusting as he attempted to get more of him into your mouth.

“Problem?” You smirked as you pulled back.

“It’s been weeks and all I want is for you to suck me off.” He growled down at you, one hand gripping the hair at the back of your head.

“All you had to do was ask pet.” You giggled and opened your mouth to take him in. One of your hands moved down to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly as you grazed your teeth over his cock. He moaned your name and you rewarded him by pressing his cock to the back of your throat. You hummed quietly, knowing the vibrations would drive him wild.

“Fuck.” He groaned and you knew it was your cue. You pulled back, your mouth pulling off with a pop. He sighed loudly and glared down at you.

“You can’t think I’d let you cum when you so rudely denied me?” He didn’t answer, but he pushed you onto your back before taking your legs into his hands. He spread you wide and with a single thrust he was inside of you.

He thrusted fast and deep, knowing you didn’t need to adjust to him anymore. He shifted you up, pulling your ass closer to his hips. The new position had him brushing against something delicious inside of you, making you keen his name. His hand reached between you to press his thumb into you clit and you bit your lip to keep from yelling.

“Cum for me baby.” He growled and, as usual, you listened. You felt yourself come undone around him, clamping down onto his cock as he continued to move inside of you. You could tell from his heavy breathing he wasn’t too far behind you. It only took a few more thrusts before he was spilling into you, filling your belly with warmth.

He collapsed next to you, breathing heavily. You both laid there quietly, Niall shifting to spoon you. You two had often had cuddling session after your romps so it wasn’t anything new. You were just starting to drift off, eyes firmly shut, when you felt him lean over you and then lay back. A quiet sigh left his lips and for some reason you pretended to be asleep.

“I think I’m falling for you.” He whispered quietly. Your heart clenched in your chest and you had to work hard to keep your breathing even.

No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He couldn’t have feelings for you, this was supposed to just be something fun. No pressure, no stress, nothing. You waited until his breathing evened out and his hand around your abdomen relaxed before you untangled yourself. You thanked God that he was such a sound sleeper. You collected your clothes from where they had been strewn around the room, but some part of you (the part that still somehow had a sense of humor during a time like this) left your panties in his jean pocket.

You found his phone and entered the pass code. He’d given it to you a while back and you’d never forgotten it. You pulled your contact up and took a deep breath before deleting it from his phone. You were doing what you should have done the very first night you’d found your way into his bed.

You were stopping it.

You couldn’t let him have feelings for you. You couldn’t handle his lifestyle even... even if you were falling for him too. Even if you had known you were falling for him for months now.

But as cliche and dramatic as it might sound, you knew you weren’t good enough for him. He deserved someone who could bring as much to the table as he did and you just didn’t have that.

So you deleted your information from his phone. You debated leaving a note but what could you even say?

You walked to the door, begging yourself not to turn around as you swung it open. But you were a selfish being and you granted yourself one last look.

The sheets were wrapped around his waist and the moonlight from the window shone on his bare chest. He looked like a Renaissance painting and you knew you had no place in such a thing.

You steeled yourself and left the door click closed behind you.

#niall horan #niall #niall horan one shot #niall horan smut #niall smut #niall one shot #niall imagine #niall horan imagine

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hornsbeforehalos · 7 years

Text

The Conquests of Norman Reedus: Kylin [Finale]

Paring: Norman Reedus x OFC, Past JDM x OFC Warnings: Language, Strip Club references, Younger woman/older man, SMUT (18+ ONLY PLEASE) A/N: Set in the same AU as Anytime, Sweetheart okay? Okay. It’s not detrimental but keep it in mind for the future.

TCoNR Masterlist

tags: @srj1990@aquivercactus@reigningqueenofwords@reedusteinrambles@youandyourstupidrope@addiction-survivor25@daddy-kink-confirmed@dragongirl420 @make-everything-beautiful2

throwing in my A-S tags too because it’s kinda important to that series: @jml509 @jesbakescookies @daddy-kink-confirmed@aquivercactus @xagateophobiax @sorenmarie87@missghoul18@jdmfanfiction @jeffreydeanneganstrash @through-thesilver-lining@beffyblueeyes @docharleythegeekqueen

"Uh, where the fuck are you?" I huffed over the phone as I stared at his best friend's face standing in the middle of the airport. "Uh, did you not check your texts yesterday, woman?" My boyfriend huffed back, obviously exhausted and irritated. "No, I didn't, because I was on a fuckin' plane for 12 hours flying across the fucking country, Jeffrey." "The producer called me into an emergency meeting, girl, I missed my fuckin' flight. And now they want me to-" He started to explain, but I quickly cut him off. "So what you're fucking telling me is your missing my fucking birthday." I gritted, tears flooding my eyes as rage and heart break filled my chest.

"Look, Ky, I'm-" he attempted again, "No, you know something, Jeff?" I began as I grabbed Norman's hand and pulled him towards the exit as I spotted a group of fans with their cell phone cameras at the ready headed for us, "That con got rescheduled. You missed Halloween, and now, my fuckin' birthday? You wanna push me away after what happened then you know what? Fuck you, I'll throw your ass away." "I bought you a God-damned Camer-" "I don't give a flying fuck about the fucking car, Jeff! I wanted you here, I wanted to be with my entire family, but you're too fuckin' busy for me, so now I'm going to be too busy for you. Forever." I threw my phone back into my purse as the tears spilled freely down my face, Norman wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side before kissing the crown of my head, "Come on, girl." "What the fuck is wrong with him?" I wept as I crawled into the driver's side my rental, Norman pushing himself into the passenger after stowing his bags in the trunk. "You know he would be here if he could, Ky. Shit happens." "All the fucking time? I haven't seen him since Vegas, a god damned month ago, and he couldn't figure out a way to make it to his girlfriend's fucking birthday? Sorry, Norm, not buying it." "So you're just gonna be done, like that, after everything?"He questioned, turning in his seat to look at me with raised eyebrows. "Not unless he shows up to my fucking party in a God damn tuxedo and kisses my feet like the ass hole he is, then no. I'm tired of fighting with his ass and then him doing this shit. Wants to be jealous of every little fucking thing but can't make the time to come see me? Cancels on me last second? Through text, no less? I don't fucking think so." Norman turned back around in his seat as we exited DFW airport and got onto the main highway. We drove in silence towards my parents' house for a little bit before I finally calmed down enough to reach over and plug in my phone to the aux cord. While handing Norman my phone with my playlist open I took one hand off the wheel and leaned over the middle console to open the glove compartment, unintentionally putting my head in the general area of his groin. Norman held his hands up to the roof of the car in surprise, coughing out a laugh of nervousness at my sudden closeness. Sure, we'd hugged and stuff, but my face had never been that close to his cock before.

"Calm yer dick, Norm. Just getting this." I smirked as I held up the pre-rolled joint that I'd retrieved from the compartment and righted myself, changing lanes just in time to avoid hitting a Mazda that decided last second to merge into the construction that was this stupid fucking highway.

"Isn't that illegal here?" He questioned, lifting a sarcastic eyebrow at me. "It's illegal in Georgia too, Norman." I side-eyed him, holding the lighter to the end to spark it, "Not like it's the worst illegal thing either of us has done." "Shut the fuck up," He chuckled with a smile as he shook his head and took the joint from my fingers, inhaling the thick smoke and immediately choking as he scrolled through the list of music, cocking an eyebrow, "You gone gangster on us or something?" "Shut the fuck up and hit play." I snarked, snatching the spliff out of his fingers. "Welcome to Dallas, I guess, at least I know the words to this one," he laughed as he hit the button and the song started. I expelled a chuckle of my own and a raised brow at his choice, Norman shrugging and beginning to bounce in his seat, throwing his hands around dramatically as he rapped the words, I'm gettin' money, Wassup nigga? You still broke, You's a fuck nigga I continued to laugh at him as he took the joint from me, watching him out of the corner of my eye with amusement at his wildness. I'm in a wide body, top off, With a white girl, Gettin' topped off,

I rolled my eyes at him as he motioned with his thumb in my direction before he lifted his hips off the seat and gestured with his hand that he was getting blown, "I can't stand your ass sometimes," I mumbled. call me Uncle Tom Tom Brokeoff, like Uncle Sam, I'm trying to get broke off Her, her name Lindsey, no Lohan Shout out to Waka Flocka song,no hands The both of us held up our hands, mine off the steering wheel, and shifted back and forth in sync. Twenty racks, racks, no bands Blowing money, no fans I don't ride with high points, those jam And this seat peanut butter, no jam Soft white, no tan Grab a fork, and go ham "Ayeee" He shouted before continuing the lyrics, us passing back the roach back and forth until it was spent and him picking another song. "You literally listen to every single thing I do, girl. This is amazing." He smirked with pleased nod as he scrolled through, picking a Murderdolls song I'd forgotten was even on my phone. "Glad you feel that way, Jeff hates my choice of music." I shrugged, frowning slightly as my mind flicked back to him, "he's such a fuckin' dick, dude." "Yeah, well, you know you two will work it out."

"Not this time, Norman. I'm fuckin' done." I confirmed, nodding my head with affirmation as I took the exit towards the Dallas North Tollway, "I'm tired of fighting for someone who obviously doesn't give a fuck anymore." Norman stayed silent for the rest of the drive, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts as he scrolled through his social media. We pulled up to my parents house to see Jensen and Jared sitting outside on the front porch, sunglasses on and beers in hand. "Well don't you two look cozy?" I quirked as I got out of the car, Norman following suit as we approached the boys. "You look like you've been crying," Jensen observed, studying my puffy eyes and red nose. "Sure have, brother." I replied, Norman wrapping his arm around me as I headed for the front door.

Norman had apparently figure out a way to talk to Jared, Jensen, and the rest of my family and fill them in on the current separation between me and Jeff. They kept all conversation about him to a minimal, which I was thankful for, because I wasn't even trying to let myself think about him and ruin everything that my family had put together for me for my birthday. Jensen had some-how rented out the entire Cowboys Red River dance-hall, and here I was, six shots deep into a drinking competition with my mother. "Jesus Christ, woman, can you fucking not?" Makenzie scolded, per usual, when she walked up on the massacre of shot glasses. "Oh come on, Kenz, it's just a little bit of Whiskey." I giggled in my drunken state, almost falling over at the sight of my mom hiccuping her way through her coke back, "Go find someone to play with." "Only man I'm even half ass interested in keeps staring at you like you're gonna explode at any second." My sister replied, tilting her head to the end of the bar we'd been sitting at, where my eyes met with Norman's, him smiling at me and raising his glass in salutation. "What's that supposed to mean?" I mumbled to her, frowning slightly as my eyes never left his. "Oh come on, honey, that boy's got it bad for you." My mom teased, shaking her head as she turned her body to motion for Norman to join us, "Just watch and see, baby." "That's Jeff's best friend, Mama." I argued as I watched Norman chuckle and shake his own head at my mother's wild arms flailing at him but stand up to make his way over. "So? You think that stopped your father from winning me?" She retorted with a snort, rolling her eyes as she stepped forward to embrace Norman as he joined us. "How're you doing, Mrs. Ackles?" Norman giggled, hand on my mom's back as he lead her back to her seat. "Fine, Mr. Reedus. Have a shot with us." She replied, motioning for the bartender again. "Haven't you had enough, Mom?" Kenz stated, hands on her hips as she huffed. "Kenzie, dear, I brought you into this world, I can take you out. Leave me alone. It's my daughter's birthday, and she wants to get drunk with her mama. Don't happen very often." My mother retorted, shooing my sister away. Norman laughed and stepped around her to take the empty seat beside me, smiling at me with kind eyes as he at down, "You look gorgeous tonight, Ky." "Thanks, Norm," I smiled back, suddenly aware of my mother faux coughing on the other side of me, redness rising in my face as I rolled my eyes. "Isn't my daughter just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen Normie?" My mother beamed, drunken hand twiddling with a loose curl of my hair before she set it neatly back in place, "Too bad she's got such horrible taste in me, huh?" Norman choked back a laugh as he raised his glass to his lips with a nod, his own cheeks heating up as his eyes trickled over my face. "Stop, mom." I demanded, the bartender finally bringing over three more shots. "Never." She snorted back, raising her glass at the same time as Norman and I and clanking them together.

We were 14 shots deep when Norman through his arm around me and pulled me into his side. It was almost closing time, and him, my mom, and I were the only ones even still there. "You're stayin' at our house, right Normskie?" My mother slurred as she collected her purse from the door girl before we schlepped her outside to wait for the cabs Norman had called. "No, mam, I got myself a hotel room at the Hyatt." He answered curtly, holding his phone up to show the page pulled up with his reservation information. "Ooooh, that's a nice one. You should make sure he gets there safe, Kylin, you know how those Dallas drivers are." My mother hiccuped, wiggling her eyebrows slightly to where she knew only I'd pick up on it. "I can't stand your ass sometimes, mother." I mumbled drunkenly to her before hugging her neck and kissing her cheek and helping her climb into the taxi van. Norman chuckled at my mother's drunkenness before throwing his arm back around me and kissing the top of my head as we waited for our ride, "You doin' alright, sweetheart?" "As good as I can be as long as I don't think about it," I answered truthfully, nuzzling into his side a little more against the chilly November air. I could feel him nod his head against mine as he sighed, wrapping his other arm around me and pulling me into a very much needed hug. "I can't believe he missed this." He mumbled against my hair, and I could feel his heart beat pick up as he squeezed me closer to him, "I'm glad I could be here, though." "Me too, Norm. Me too." I sighed back, relaxing into his arms more.

Norman made the point when we arrived at the swanky Dallas hotel that it probably wasn't a good idea for little ol' me to ride by herself with a skeevy looking cab driver at 3 am in downtown Dallas for an hour to get back to my parents house, informing me that he had 2 beds and that I could stay with him. I agreed easily due to the immediate creepy vibe I'd gotten off the guy the moment we stepped into the disco-ball clad van with the flashing lights. Norman and I giggled drunkenly back and forth, making fun of the sight of my brother and sister two-stepping and my brother falling all over her in his own intoxicated state. "If Gen had seen that girl trying to grind her way into Jared's pants she'd have whooped her ass." I laughed as the hotel elevator we were standing in climbed its way up the levels, "Jared looked so fuckin' scared."

"And then here's your little ass lookin' like you're about to take one of those shoes off and stab her with it!" He joked as he motioned towards your feet. "She gave me a dirty look, what do you expect?" I shrugged as the doors opened and we spilled out into he hallway. "You ready for another drink, princess?" Norman asked as he let us into his room. It was pretty and clean and had an amazing view of the other sky scrapers. "Whatcha got, babe?" I asked, looking out the window. "We got whiskey," he stated, holding up a bottle of Gentlemen Jack, "and we got Whiskey, Sweetheart," He finished, holding up a bottle of Crown. "Well I guess I'm sticking with the Whiskey." I snorted.

"Okay, okay, truth or dare." I snorted, taking a heavy swig of the bottle after my failed attempt to beat Norman at Quarters. "What?" He gasped, almost choking as he took his own swig. "I don't know, I'm drunk, it's 5 Am, and It's officially my birthday, and I'm heartbroken and bored. Humor me." I replied with a shrug. "Alright, truth." He replied with a narrowed gaze. "Hmmm...." I started, index finger going to my chin in thought, "Is it true you've always wanted to kiss me?" Norman gulped, his eyes widening for a second before he let out a nervous bark of a laugh, "Who told you that?" "No one, actually," I replied, raising an eyebrow in suspicion, watching him visibly relax, "Just wondered what you'd say." Norman took another swig of liquor before fumbling in his nightstand and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering me one before confessing, "I've thought about it." Both my eyebrows shifted to my forehead as I watched him light the cancer stick, and I raised the bottle to my lips again, "You know it's illegal to smoke in here, right?" "Not like it's the worst illegal thing we've done." He mimicked my earlier words with a smirk, taking a deep drag off the smoke before tossing me a lighter so I could do the same. "I consider that a public service," I retorted after my own drawl of smoke. "Me too." He agreed. "So, Why haven't you ever kissed me?" I asked, crossing my legs in front of me on the bed where we were sitting. "Uh, maybe because you're with my best friend?" He replied obviously. "Well, I'm not anymore." I shrugged, looking at him in the eyes. "That you're not." He sighed, looking away from me as he took another deep drink. "Then why don't you?" I asked bluntly.

He sighed, looking back to me for a second before flicking his eyes back out towards the window, "Because, I can't." "Why not? You and Keagan finally make it official?" I asked, the sudden image of her crossing my mind. What the fuck are you doing, Ky. "Nah, not us. She does her own thing." "Then why not?" "Because..." he trailed off. "Because...?" I urged, moving my feet underneath me again. "Because, Kylin," He huffed, shifting his knees up towards his chest to rest his forearms on them, "If I kissed you, I don't know if I'd be able to stop." The wind was knocked out of me with his confession, me seeing him again for the first time as his blue eyes burned into mine with an intensity that would rival any fire. If I was being honest with myself I'd always harbored a crush on the man, I mean, who wouldn't, and his protectiveness of me and the things we experienced together only made me love him more. I didn't think of it as a romantic love, though, not even now, with me wilting under his gaze and my body slowly turning into a puddle. I loved Jeffrey, he was the person I was supposed to be with, but his distance and arguments and unwillingness to make me a priority pushed its way to the forefront of my mind as I took another hearty gulp of liquid courage before I returned my eyes to his. "Hey Norm?" "Hmm?" "I dare you to kiss me."

The feeling of his arms pulling me towards him as his lips ravished mine was nothing I'd ever experienced before. His mouth was soft, a deep contrast to the wiry stubble on his chin that mixed deliciously with the taste of whiskey on his tongue. He instantly growled at the scent of my own breath on his face as he tugged me on top of him, my thighs instinctively straddling his hips. The short, thin dress I was wearing eagerly rose up my legs as his hands found my ass, pulling the fabric up further before discarding it on the floor, leaving me in just my black panties and bra. "Fucking Christ," I gasped as his hands squeezed into my flesh, kneading the muscle as his lips left mine to trail down my neck and bite at the silicone in my earlobe. My own fingers dug into his biceps his hips bucked upward, the metal button of his jeans digging into the wetness that was my panties. "You're so fucking beautiful." he rasped against my throat, one hand coming to cup my breast through my bra to squeeze gently at the mound. "Norman," I breathed, my own thighs clenching around him as he ravished my goose-bumped skin with his mouth. "Yeah?" He replied, hips grinding into me again before he bit down on my neck. "Fuck, what are we doing?" "Each other, I hope," He chuckled darkly, rolling over to be on top of me and pulling away to remove his shirt before kissing up my bare stomach to the valley between my breasts. My hands tangled themselves int his hair at the sensation, a whimper escaping from my lips as he pulled the cup of my bra down and nipped at my nipple. Without anymore thoughts, I quickly worked my hand down to his button and popped it open, pushing his pants down his hips at the same time he removed my bra. Once free of the clothing we rutted against each other, tangling ourselves in each other's bodies as his hard erection pushed against my clit and we both groaned in pleasure. "Fucking fuck, Kylin," He grunted as he almost tore the thin lace from between my legs, his eyes heavy lidded as he saw my glistening wetness for the first time. "Fuck, lick me, Norman," I whined as his thumb trailed over my slit, a needy moan falling out of me as I watched as he stroked himself with his other hands through his boxers. His tongue was on my pearl in an instant, licking and sucking through my folds like Judas at the last supper, taking everything he could get. I was a blubbering mess as he worked me over, his teeth and goatee scraping against me deliciously. He held my hips down as they rocked up into his face, moaning at the taste of me as his tongue fucked its way inside. Breathy profanities and whimpers exhaled out of me as he gripped my hips, my core tightening closer and closer together as my muscles strained until the damn broke. "Normannnn!" I cried as the orgasm washed over me in waves of sensitivity and spots appeared before my clenched eyelids. He pushed two fingers into me and pumped, grunting at the sensation of me quivering around his hand. "Yeah, sweetheart. That's it." He encouraged as he continued his ministrations, pulling his boxers over his waist with his free hand before crawling up me, dragging his wet face across my stomach and breasts with the motion, to give me a hot, opened mouth kiss. His tongue danced with mine as he withdrew his fingers, pulling away for a moment to lick the release they'd gathered off. He backed off for a second to dig around in his jeans' pocket, extracting a condom from his wallet that he very quickly rolled on. He threw himself back between my thighs again and rutted around, pressing his thickness into my slick that I quickly bucked up into with a whine. "You wannet, sweetheart?" He questioned as he lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock on my clit as his eyes bore into mine dangerously. "Yes!" I confirmed, pulling him back down to his forearms, kissing him deep as he plunged into me with one stroke. The loud growl that pushed it's way out of Norman's chest was down right primal, his fists tightening around the sheets on either side of my head as my back instantly arched to meet his hips with mine. He pulled back slowly, inch by inch as he breathed in a sharp inhale of air before stroking back into me as deep as he could go on exhale. I cried out again, my nails digging into his back and shoulders as I splayed my fingers out across his skin and gasped out as he began pumping in and out of me. "Oh, God," He grunted after a few dozen strokes, my insides beginning to coil again as we rocked back and forth. "Fuck, Norman, I'm gonna come." I panted, He quickly lifted himself off of me and pulled out, flipping me over onto my stomach and collapsing back on top of me, biting at my shoulder blades as he re-positioned himself and slid back home. "Raaaaaaaaaah!" I screamed at the new angle and deepness, the blunt head of his cock hitting my cervix and sending a delicious twang of pain through me. He lifted himself up to hold himself with his arms, fucking himself into me over and over as deep as my body could let him go. "So...fucking...tight." he panted, sweat dripping from his hair and onto my shoulder blades. "So...fucking big." I panted right back, my eyes squeezing shut as the string was cut again and my body soared with orgasmic bliss. The sheets rubbing against my sensitivity heightened the sensation, my cunt squeezing his throbbing cock and forcing another growl out of him. "Fuck, I'm gonna nut." He grunted as he harshly sped his movements up, slamming into me and grabbing a fist full of my hair. He pulled my head back to arch my back more, covering my lips with his open mouth as he worked his way towards completion. My mind was spinning and spiraling and I figured I was gonna pass out when he finally came, spilling himself into the condom with a loud roar as his hips bruised mine one last time. He collapsed on top of me for a moment before rolling off to relieve himself of the condom and use the bathroom, my weakened body staying planted firmly where it remained. "You okay?" He asked as he flicked the light off in the bathroom when he was done, and I turned my head to face him to see he'd acquired new boxers in the time I'd had my eyes closed. "M' fine." I mumbled, closing my eyes again as the alcohol leaving my system left a migraine in its wake. He crawled into bed next to me, pulling the covers up over my naked body as he tucked us in, me nuzzling into his side as he wrapped his arm around me. "So what's this mean?" He asked gently, his fingertips dancing lightly over my upper arm, fishing goosebumps to the surface. "What do you mean, 'what's this mean?'?" I asked back, brows furrowing with question. "Well, for starters, uh, are you gonna tell Jeff?" "Why would I?" I mumbled, turning my head to look up at him as I wrapped my arm further around his waist. "Because...." he trailed off with a sigh "Because why? It's none of his business, really, and it would just make things awkward between you two." I answered. "Is it gonna happen again?" He asked, lifting his eyebrows at me. I tilted my head at him and gave him an unamused look as I threw my leg over his calf, "I don't know, do you want it to happen again?" He snorted a smile at me, licking his lips as he growled low in his throat, "Can it happen again right now?" I giggled at him as I smacked his chest and he turned over on to his side to spoon me, his wide chest and shoulders engulfing me in his warmth.

Bang-Bang-Bang My brain convulsed against the disgustingly loud noise coming from the other side of the door. I turned to see Norman still very passed out with his hand down his boxer. I snorted at him, wrapping the sheet around myself as I moved slowly and achingly towards the wooden barrier between me and the person who was about to get a earful of hangover wrath. I was not prepared for who was on the other side of that barrier. "Oh, fuck." I breathed, eyes widening at the sight of Jeffrey.

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