#✎.kai writes

[katsukichu]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐔𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 (𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐨) 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Re-upload of an old piece I did for two collabs (chubby chasers collab by @/kyovtani & stay soft collab by @/touyaspeach). [NSFW-18+]. Minors and ageless blogs dni (I will block you)

Mirko sends you a picture of her at the gym & you get a bit self conscious. She reminds you that you'll always be her petty girl. [AO3]

The gym is eerily silent this morning. The usual buzz of people working out is replaced by the clattering of keyboard keys as the receptionist, Akira oversees the administration. She’s grateful for the silence but can't help but wonder why she's having such a slow start today. She stares at the empty studio,furrowing her brows she quickly dismisses her thoughts as she sifts through her emails.

Her tranquillity is soon interrupted by beeping from the revolving doors - indicating someone's just checked in. Akira looks up from her computer to see Japan's 5th hero - Mirko.

"Good morning, Mirko!" she greets excitedly.

"Sorry for the confusion but I thought you'd be in for your regular 3 o'clock session? “ Akira apologises checking her profile on the system.

"Hi hun sorry it must've slipped my mind I meant to call yesterday and reschedule.I have to attend that stupid hero gala today.” Mirko sighs as she tucks her membership card in her bag.

Oh, the hero gala! that explains why anyone isn't here. They’re getting ready, Akira thinks.

"No problem at all, I hope you enjoy the gala!"

"Thank you hun, but it's a big waste of time. I’d rather spend my time working and getting stronger. I mean who wants to be interviewed by people who just want to get under your skin?"

Akira acknowledges Rumi by nodding.

"Sorry you have to deal with the press being so rude. Just know us civilians appreciate you - thank you for your service"

Rumi smiles in response and slips into the studio - she appreciates the comment but truly doesn't care about what the public thinks of her.

Mirko is tough and fierce, especially to the public eye. She has a brash demeanour and laughs in the face of danger. She’s a hero, it’s her job to save people not to impress them.

Rumi is fit, she follows a strict exercise routine every day with no expectations - even a stupid hero gala. Although she enjoys carrots, she tries to have a balanced diet - unlike the cliche she doesn't "eat like a rabbit"

Mirko starts doing some warmup exercises - she switches between the treadmill and spin bike for a while before moving on to the calf and leg machines - these ensure she doesn't get any cramps.

Her favourite and most vigorous part of her routine included bench presses and hip thrusts. She’d even put some men to shame with how easily she does it.

It may look like she isn't breaking a sweat, but her heart is racing. It makes her veins feel like they're on fire and leaves her a little breathless. The only other time she feels like this is with you, her sweet y/n.

Mirko swears she doesn't have a type. Looks are not important to her but she can't help but gravitate towards chubby people. She thinks they're all so unique - just like the stretch marks that adorn their soft skin.

Society is cruel but your weight doesn’t define how "attractive" or how "healthy" you are. Just like the saying: "The bigger the figure, the more I can love.” Rumi thinks knows being chubby just means there's more of you to love.

There's nothing more that Mirko loves than to pick you up, as if you weigh nothing, and look into your eyes. She's constantly teasing you - yet also reassuring you - that she can handle your weight. Her bench presses, hip thrusts and lifts are double or sometimes triple what you weigh. If only you could see yourself from her perspective. Maybe then you'd understand how stunning you are.

Rumi is only satisfied with her workout when she's drenched in sweat and her muscles ache. Before showering she snaps a picture to send to you. Her left hand is up showing off her muscles and her abs are on full display. The sweat is still trickling down her toned body and her gym outfit - that she designed - hugs her in all the right places.

She sends you the picture saying "See something you like, baby bun? 😏😉"

The sunlight streams through your slightly parted curtain and illuminates your shared bedroomp. Rolling over to Rumi's side of the bed you sigh at the empty space. You move the pillows and blankets aside to locate your phone. Ignoring all your other notifications you smile seeing a message from Rumi.

Opening it you try typing a reply but can't form coherent sentences. You wake up, sit at the edge of the bed and stare at the picture of your gorgeous girlfriend and simply reply with a string of emojis 😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵

The longer you stare at the picture you realise it makes you feel a bit anxious and insecure. Rumi has an athletic body and a lot of muscle. You know you shouldn't compare your body type because all bodies are good bodies but you start to feel ashamed about your physique.

You don't have toned abs - instead, you have a plump tummy. Your thighs stick together and are covered in stretch marks and cellulite. Your arms aren't muscular at all; they're a bit flabby. You have back rolls and love handles. You don't have a perfect figure with big boobs or a fat ass - you don't fit the ideal description of being "curvy.” You have body hair, which is something natural, yet society is disgusted by it.

Dating Rumi feels magical and surreal. The only difficult things were dealing with the public and your own insecure thoughts. You try not to let the comments get to you, but some are so harsh.

Things like:

"Oh, so you're a hero huh? I thought the Commission was strict about training?"

"What makes you think you're cut out to be a hero, especially with Mirko? Can you even keep up with her? Didn’t think she'd be into someone bigger than her”

“ I'm pretty sure she said she doesn't need a sidekick especially not someone as useless as you"

"You're not exactly that 'graceful' why don't you pursue something else. Something more suitable for someone of your form?"

People have always doubted you. They’ve always questioned if you were cut out to be a hero. People have made you feel so different and alienated all because of your weight. You feel the hot tears stream down your cheeks. Using the back of your hand you try to wipe them away.

As if on cue Rumi comes home and due to her acute hearing from her quirk, she hears your sobs from the front door.

She drops her bag, slams the door and sprints towards your bedroom hoping you're not in danger. She's ready to pounce on the villain - fists clenched and teeth bared- but instead sees you. She takes a moment to gather herself before calmly making her way to your crying figure.

"Hey baby bun everything is alright" she assures.

She can be so soft and caring - a real 360 from what she was moments ago. Grabbing the tissues and water bottle from the bedside table she hops on the bed and sits next to you

"N-N-No it's not" you stutter, shaking and trying to hold back tears.

Rumi shushes you as she wipes your tears away. She holds the water bottle and helps you drink as well as take deep breaths in sync with hers until you're able to calm down. She holds you against her chest - you can hear her heart racing.

"Who made my baby bun upset?" Rumi asks as her ears and voice drop in pure concern.

"Me... I made myself upset" you admit.

"It's just…" you trail off avoiding eye contact

"Why do you love me? I'm not fit like you, I'm just me I'm fat -"

"HEY that's enough! “Rumi cuts you off.

"I didn't mean to startle you but you're fucking perfect! “ she exclaims

She feels her heart break into a million pieces. How long have you been keeping all this inside? Why haven't you told her - if someone was bothering you, they'd be dead because no one's hurting what's precious to Mirko.

Rumi has an idea, and her ears shoot up.

"Wait a minute I can show you! Come here bun" Rumi gestures for you to sit at the edge of the bed.

You don't know what she's up to but follow her regardless. She opens the closet door and you're met with the full body mirror inside.Immediately you look away and try to hide your dishevelled appearance.

"Come on my pretty girl, don’t hide from me, wanna see your cute face" Rumi says, making you look in the mirror.

"You know what I see when I look into the mirror? The most gorgeous girl in the world. You’re a cutie - a soft and cuddly one too. Being chubby doesn't mean you're greedy, ugly, or out of shape bunny. I love you just the way you are, and I'll always love you for you. I’ll do anything to make you realise that you are perfect just the way you are." Rumi says.

"You really think so" you sniffle looking up at her with teary eyes.

"Of course, baby. I mean every word! But you know what they say, actions speak louder than words. Let me show you what I love about you.“

Rumi tilts your chin up so you're looking at her.

"First off all I love all of you. Every single inch of you. Let's start from up her" Rumi kisses your forehead.

"You are so smart, talented,creative and so strong. I know your brain can be a meanie sometimes but I'm going to Lunar kick all those negative thoughts away" - the two of you giggle.

Rumi cups your face in her hands - her rough palms contrast your soft face.

"You are stunning - mesmerising actually. Your eyes - even though they're a little red now- remind me of the prettiest gemstones. Your lips are soft,sweet and so kissable" Rumi says, placing her chapped lips against yours.

"And of course, who can forget these adorable cheeks" she says while teasingly pinching and squishing them.

There are no bad intentions behind her touches or words purely love and admiration.

"Rumi I -"

"Sweetheart I'm not done yet. I want to praise all of you from head to toe." Rumi cuts you off.

"Your arms are perfect. When you hug me or cuddle me-it makes me feel like I'm at home." Rumi says hugging you.

"You know it'd be better if you're naked." Rumi mumbles pulling away from the hug.

"RUMI DON'T BE SO BLUNT!" you squeal. You feel the blood warm up your cheeks and both of you giggle again.

You hesitated at first but then realised it's just Rumi - the only person you'd leave yourself so open. The only one you will allow you to see you so bare - not only your body but your soul.

She tugs at the hem of your - her- shirt and asks if she can remove it. She does the same to your bottoms. You agreed but only if she takes hers off as well. She does and it makes you clench your thighs together.

Positioning herself on the bed and in front of the mirror she gestures for you to straddle her toned thigh.

"I can't sit there ill -"

"You'll what? Hurt me or something? Think I can't handle it? “She chuckles.

"Come sit. Now. “she instructs.

You know better than to keep her waiting, so you try and hover over her thigh. Only for her to grip the curve of your hips and pull you onto her.

"I said sit not hover bun. I hope you don't try to do that if I ask you to sit on my face.“ Her tone is dangerously low and makes your tummy pool with heat.

"Look how good we look together," Rumi says. You can't focus - not when your soft body is pressed against her strong one. You’re already soaked, and she hasn't even touched you yet. You can't bring yourself to look at the mirror, so you nuzzle your head into her neck.

"You're even cuter when you're squirming. Didn't know that was possible ”she teases.

As you wiggle your hips your clit catches on her muscular thigh, and you stifle back a moan. She flexes her thigh in response.

“Not yet bun”

She holds you in place and turns you so face the mirror once again.

"Your body is perfect.Look at your boobs so what if they're not perky or even? Mine aren't either" Picking your hand up she places it on her boobs.

"And this tummy… where do I even begin. It's not disgusting -it helps keep you nourished. It’s got stretch marks on it and so does mine “she moves your hand down from her chest, along her abs and across her stretch marks.

"Rumi, you're stunning “you whisper. She stretches her fingers over yours and pulls your hand closer so she can hold it.

"So are you, baby. I wanna take care of you.Bun there's so much I have to say. I could go on for hours talking about the reasons I love you - not only your body but your mind ,your soul but right now… I just want to worship your body a little ”

Slipping away from you she kneels on the cool tiled floor and settles between your thighs. You’re flustered by her comments, but your eyes follow the way she moves.

When her fluffy ears tickle you, your sweet laughter fills your shared bedroom. Rumi finally lets go of your hand with a kiss as she massages your thighs.

"So soft, pillowy, absolutely stunning" She traces her fingertips along your stretch marks. She runs her hands along the soft chub of your hips and all the way down to your calves finally settling her hands back on your thighs.You shiver at her soft touches - it makes your body feel electrified.

"Mind if I mark 'em up a little?"

"Mmh" is all you can respond with

"I need words baby. Are you in the mood for this & want me to continue?"

"Y-yes it's okay"

"Good because the only time I want to see you crying again is when it's on my strap. Got it Princess?"

(a/n-the best line I've ever wrote in my whole writing career)

Before you can respond she starts softly kissing along your inner thighs.You place your hands in her hair making sure not to grip too tight or near the base of her ears - which are extra sensitive. Rumi sucks on your soft skin and smirks when the bruises blossom on your skin.

You grind against the edge of the bed and your grip tightens on her hair. Looking down you feel a sense of pride and belonging which fades into concern.

Fuck how am I going to cover them up before the gala? you pondered.

"Eyes on the mirror pretty. Want you to watch how you fall apart for me" Rumi requested.

She smirks, spreading your plush thighs apart. You prop yourself up on a pillow and on your elbows trying to follow Rumi's order to look in the mirror.

You feel overwhelmed - mind hazy with lust and embarrassment. You don't know where to look.

"C-can I look at you instead?"

Rumi gives you a hazy smile before running her fingers along your pretty pussy. She swears she loves all of you equally, but your pussy was something else. She loves the way she has to use all her fingers to spread your folds and mound just so she can see your clit.

She adores the way you flutter and clench around nothing - you're so cute and eager. She doesn't mind whether you shave but secretly finds it hot when you let it grow. She's not letting a little hair stop her from pleasing you.

Rumi knows how to pleasure a woman - she alternates kissing along your thighs and pussy. The anticipation makes you dizzy. As she teases you, you gasp and buck your hips towards her.

She uses the tip of her tongue to swirl around your throbbing clit. She feels it pulsing on her tongue and stops to edge you for a bit before flattening it and running it along your eager slit.

She feels so good it almost hurts - you feel a dull pain almost desperate to feel something. Rumi always makes sure you're dripping before easing a finger into you. She curls her fingers upwards, and it hits your sweet spot every time and uses her other hand to spread you open so she can lap at your clit

Even though your plush thighs are muffling her ears she can still hear you.Your shared bedroom that was recently filled with sobs and giggles is now filled with lewd moans and erratic breathing

"No cumming until you tell me what I want to hear," Mirko says, slowing her movements

"Please… Please Please" you beg feeling a flurry of butterflies in your tummy.

"No not that… I want you to say you're pretty"

"m pretty" you try to say but instead it comes out in a high pitched squeal

"Say it like you mean it or you're not going to cum" Rumi demands, completely stopping her actions.

"Fuck. Mmh sorry. I’m pretty. I’m pretty Mmh so pretty. Mmh Mirko's pretty girl" you blabber, unsure of what you're saying all you can think about is cumming.Arching your back and trying to hump Rumi’s fingers you cry out of desperation.

"That's a good girl. You are my pretty girl, don’t forget that. You can cum for me sweetheart" Rumi praises, lapping at your clit, pumping, and curling her fingers again

You feel your tummy tighten before cumming all over Rumi's fingers. Your eyes are shut, and the most angelic moans leaves your lips.

Your chest heaves and Rumi looms above you cooing about how proud she is of you. She takes a moment to appreciate your stunning body again as she licks her fingers.

"You think you can give one more pretty? “ Rumi asks, massaging your legs

Still trying to catch your breath you nod frantically - wanting to please your girlfriend.

Rumi's pussy is throbbing and drenched in her own arousal. All she can think about is pushing your thick thighs up so she can grind on your pretty pussy.

She holds your legs to your chest - digging her hand into the soft flesh. Feeling her pussy on yours makes both of you whimper. The two of you are so wet and desperate and you know you're not going to last long.

She may be smaller than you but thanks to her training she pins you down easily and humps you like a bunny in heat. Slipping her hand between the two of you and spreading your pussy open so you grind clit to clit with each other.

“Just like that bun.... there’s my good, pretty girl” she grits.

With each harsh thrust of her hips, it makes your tummy rolls and boobs jiggle. Rumi is truly mesmerised by your beauty. She keeps glancing up and down. Your eyes are shut in pure ecstasy and your tongue is lolled out of your mouth.

"S'pretty like this - all for me right Princess?"

"Mmh. M f'you Rumi. I'm y-your pretty girl."

"That's what I wanted to hear"

You continue rocking your bodies back and forth at an even more frantic pace.

"Faster pretty. Fuck just like that. ahh" Rumi curses.

The two of you cum hard and Rumi almost collapses on you. Catching herself she allows herself to gently lie on top of you. Bodies pressed together and drenched in sweat and with racing hearts, the two of you lay like this for a while.

You can't think straight at all - the room feels like it's spinning. You struggle to keep your eyes open and even out you’re breathing.

“One more alright. Just relax, I got it".

Rumi is full of energy - it’s her quirk or being a hero but she's got excellent stamina. Sex always ended up being multiple rounds with the sweetest aftercare.

Rumi goes to the bedside table and grabs her strap on and a bottle of lube - not that she needed it.

"Are you okay with this? “She asks while lubing up her strap.

Still basking in your afterglow and trying to come back to reality you reply with a meek "yes.” You can't see Rumi but hear the jingle of the buckles as she secures the strap on.

"Absolutely sure? Cause I really wanna fuck you against the mirror so you can see how pretty you are taking me "

Taglist [click here to join <3]

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99

[luvrkay]

Shoto loves when you cockwarm him, he's literally addicted to it.

there's something about the feeling of your warm, wet walls engulfing his entire length that has him moaning into your shoulder blade as he tries to stop himself from fucking up into you.

"cmon sho, you were the one who wanted to do this, dont tell me you can't even last ten minutes" it's the way you tease him that has his dick twitching inside your walls.

"i know baby but you just feel s'good" he sucks lightly on the skin below your ear, smirking against your skin when he hears you moan.

"then fuck me"

shoto groans, debating on staying still and having you cockwarm him or fucking you until the sun starts to rise, hmm decisions...it doesnt take long for him to decide, the latter sounding like a much better option.

shoto lifts your leg, pulling out until nothing but the tip remained inside of you before he's slamming up, fucking into you at a quick pace. your hand grips his forearm, nails scratching into the warm skin on his left side. "fuck sho"

he eventually snakes his arm around you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive nub as cum around his dick. shoto doesnt pull out, instead fucking your slick deeper into you until there's a white ring of cream forming around the base of his cock.

AN: I’m bored so I’m taking requests! Please don’t hesitate to send some in!

Masterlist

[happy74827]

He’s Got The Fire

[Johnny Lawrence x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: To your surprise, Johnny shows up at your window unannounced, but it doesn’t take long to realize it’s not for kicks {GIF Creds: pilvimarja}.

WC: 2076

Category: Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff, Introverted(ish)!Reader

Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t started writing this franchise earlier given how it’s about equal with my love for BTTF

『••✎••』

The sun had already gone down a while ago, the air was crisp, and the sky was starry. It was the perfect evening to watch the moon rise. The wind carried a chill, and the trees were almost bare, swaying in the breeze.

With a sigh, you closed the book you had been reading and stretched your legs, looking out the window of your room. By now, everyone had been asleep for a few hours, and you worked on upcoming assignments to pass the time. But when you had gotten to your last one, you just couldn't be bothered anymore, so you set it aside.

The quietness was nice, and the light from the moon cast a blue-ish glow on everything around you. You were so calm, but there was still something that had you feeling off.

Johnny.

He was never around much lately. It wasn't surprising, but it was disheartening. Ever since that championship loss a while back, he had been training even harder, and when he wasn't training, he was out doing god-knows-what.

You understood how important Cobra Kai was to him, but the fact that he was putting everything else on the back burner really had you worried. He had a tendency to go down the wrong path and not think about the consequences until after the fact. You hoped that wasn't what was happening this time.

Pulling your knees up, you rested your head on them and looked out at the night. There was a full moon, and you wondered if Johnny had noticed. He used to love taking walks at night just to see the moon and look up at the stars.

He had changed so much since then. That fire inside of him burned so brightly that sometimes you wondered if it would burn him, too.

Sitting like that for a while, you lost track of time. It was easy to get distracted and drift away from reality when your mind wandered. It was something you were trying to work on, and you were actually doing pretty well.

Until you heard a pang on your window.

Sitting up, you looked around, wondering if a bird had flown into it, but you saw nothing. Your mind immediately went to a branch falling or something like that, and you were ready to dismiss the strange noise and go back to daydreaming.

But the pang came again, and your heart leaped in your throat. You stood and cautiously moved toward the window. At the same time, a face popped up from below, and you shrieked.

He motioned for you to open the window, along with attempts to hush you. It was a very frantic gesture, and you felt your heart rate rise. You quickly opened the window and stuck your head out.

"Johnny?!" You whispered-yelled, and he was pulling himself up. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh!" He held a finger to his lips and looked behind him, and your eyebrows furrowed.

"Johnny-"

"Do you want the whole neighborhood to know I'm here? Let me in!"

You stared at him for a moment longer before helping him through the window. It didn’t go as smoothly as one would expect, like the movies, but he managed to tumble in. You stood there, arms folded, as he dusted himself off.

You haven’t seen him in so long, and the day you choose to miss him, he shows up out of nowhere. You would’ve called yourself psychic if it weren’t for the fact that Johnny always did the unexpected.

He looked… good, to say the least. The red jacket still fit him perfectly; his blonde hair was combed and fluffy, and his eyes were still focused and alert, even if his body language seemed a little sluggish.

To be honest, Johnny was the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. His sharp jawline, his toned muscles, and that cocky smile of his. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and the way he always looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

For a while, you didn’t understand why he chose to pursue you, of all people. He could have anyone he wanted. You weren't exactly a social butterfly, and you always got nervous and shy in the presence of others.

Johnny was the opposite of you. He was outgoing, and his charisma attracted everyone to him. And the way his voice was so smooth and deep. He could be the most annoying person on the planet, but when he said your name, you would melt.

So when he asked you out, you thought it was some sort of joke. I mean, he was the hottest guy in school. And you were just… you.

But then you realized there was more to him than just the bad boy exterior. He had a sensitive side, and his vulnerability was endearing. His family was… well, a lot. His mom was nice, but she had her fair share of issues, and his stepfather was a piece of work.

It only took one date to realize the Johnny you were accustomed to wasn’t the real him. The real him was like you… except he could kick ass and had some pent-up anger issues.

And yet, here you were.

"Johnny-" You began, but he stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stood stiffly, arms at your sides.

"God, I've missed you."

That was the last thing you expected him to say. You felt your face heat up, your chest warm up, and your shoulders slumped. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him.

"I've missed you too."

You could feel him grin against the top of your head, and he squeezed you a little tighter. He was so warm, and it made you forget the fact that he was literally climbing through your window at almost midnight.

After a minute or so, he pulled away and held your face in his hands. You were looking into those piercing blue eyes, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your voice a little above a whisper.

He hesitated, and that was the moment you knew something was wrong. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I, uh… I needed to see you."

You raised an eyebrow, but you didn't say anything. You were waiting for him to elaborate, but when he didn't, you sighed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the bed. You sat on the edge, and he followed.

"Johnny," You said, turning toward him and placing a hand on his knee. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing, I just… wanted to see you."

You didn't say anything. You knew better than that. So you waited.

"Okay, okay," He sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, but I can’t tell you why."

"That's reassuring."

"It's just… things are… well, I just needed to get away. It's nothing, I'm fine, don't worry."

You were silent. You didn't really know what to say. There was so much going on, and it was hard for you to believe him when he told you not to worry.

"Is it… Is it Sid? Your mom?"

"Just…” He shook his head and stood, rubbing the back of his neck. He started pacing, and that was when you knew he was really upset. “Just drop it, alright? Everything's fine."

“You ignored me for the past two weeks, Johnny. Something is wrong."

He stopped and glared at you, and you froze. You were taken aback by the expression on his face. He seemed frustrated and almost angry.

The look… you knew it wasn’t directed at you, but you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He was always so hot-headed and stubborn, and when his mood shifted, you had a hard time knowing what to do.

He seemed to realize his expression and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh.

"Sorry, God, I'm sorry, it's not you. I'm just-" He sighed and plopped back down on the bed next to you, running his hands over his face. "I'm a fucking mess, okay? Just forget I came."

It was weird how, in certain situations, you could completely shift into a different person. You’ve seen it in movies and TV, and it was a cliche. You didn’t think it would ever happen to you.

And yet, the second you heard the words come out of his mouth, you were hit with an overwhelming urge to turn his head towards yours, grab his face in your hands, and kiss him.

So you did.

You couldn’t really tell him why you did it. It just felt like the right thing to do, and it was an impulse. You figured it was the best way to let him know that you were here and he wasn’t alone.

The second your lips met, he was leaning into you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. You could feel the passion and desperation behind the kiss, and it took you a moment to match his energy.

He was rough and intense, and he pulled away after a few moments, moving to your neck. You gasped and gripped the collar of his jacket, feeling the heat of his lips on your skin.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. And it was true. You had missed him more than you had thought. You had almost forgotten how much of a force he was to be reckoned with.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to form words, but failing. Instead, you tugged on his jacket and pulled him towards you, hoping he would get the message.

And he did.

His lips found yours again, and he was pushing you back, holding himself above you with one hand. His other was moving up your shirt, his fingers grazing your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers danced across your ribs. His lips were rough, but they moved with such grace and delicacy it was hard to keep up.

He pulled away for a moment, and you looked up at him, catching your breath. His blonde hair was messy, and his eyes were a little hooded. He looked like a mess, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You reached up and brushed his hair back, giving him a soft smile.

“Is that…” His eyes peered away from you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Do you still have that damn elephant?"

Your eyes followed his, and you spotted the elephant in question. It was a gift Johnny had given you back when things were different. Come to think of it, you weren’t even sure you were together at that point.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked, and he chuckled. “Ozzy's special."

"You named it? What are you, ten?"

You swatted his arm, and he laughed again. His eyes found yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. It felt like old times.

"Don't make fun of him. You gave him to me."

"Yeah, whatever," He rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "Can't believe you kept him."

"I keep a lot of stuff, Johnny. Especially when they're meaningful."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes still focused on you. The moonlight was shining through the window and casting a shadow on his face.

"I keep a lot of things, too."

Before you could say anything, he was leaning down and kissing you again. You could tell this one was different, more meaningful, like he was pouring his heart and soul into the kiss.

And he was.

He wanted you to know how he felt about you without actually saying it. And although you weren’t really sure what was going on, you had a feeling this was what it was.

The fire inside of him was burning again, but finally, after so long, he realized that he needed to take a breather every now and then. Add some water to the flames.

It was a delicate balance. And although he may be bad at showing his feelings, talking about them, or acknowledging them, you were there to make sure he didn't lose himself in the heat.

And maybe, just maybe, the flame was a little more subdued, and the burn a little less harsh.

[hyukascampfire]

VELVET FUZZ ､ა h.k

it’s strange that you find a teary-eyed, pink-nosed man outside your house while coming home on christmas eve. even stranger that he’s got antlers sprouting up from his head. ˒ ´-ྀི

⚞ ᪖ ˒ 𐔌 🪡 ꒱ ･ 5.4k

𝓟airings ˒ reindeer hybrid!hueningkai x reader

𝑔 ; smut ˒ fluff

𝓦arnings ˒ soft dom!reader, hand job, kai cums on his belly, quiet sub!kai, usual hybrid stuff like scenting and all that, pretty sweet all the way through, dry humping, jealous kai a little bit?, he’s clingy, happy trail mention (mmm), i really don’t know if i’m missing anything cause i’m writing this at 5am >.< lmk!

✎୭ ashlynn's note thabk you to the lovely anon that requested this one! OH MY GOSH. this one was not meant to be super long, and i felt awkward writing fluff at first (not my strong suit, but i sorta strengthened that muscle here!) but i grew so attached to this kai by the end!! how do we feel?

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Dazed and sad-eyed, there’s a man on your porch. 

With your keys still jingling against each other, you freeze. Your feet ache in your work heels, and your shirt collar is irritating your neck. It’s already bad enough that you’d worked a full shift Christmas eve, but coming home to this? Today is never going to end. 

Maybe you should be worried that there’s a man hanging around outside your home, but to be quite frank... You’re more concerned with the very odd, very realistic antlers that seem to just... sprout up from his brownish tangle of hair. It looks incredibly heavy, just to be set on a headband. 

“Can I help you with something?” you say, taking measured steps toward your front door. You’d already slipped once on your way out from the office today—crashlanding now, when you’ve made it most of the way, would be a shame. A thick, pristine layer of snow fluff sits pretty over the grass, thicker toward the edges of the concrete path up to your house where you’d shoveled it off. 

He perks up, turning to you with a pink button nose and round eyes. 

The look on his face tugs at your heart. Frantic and fidgety—maybe he’s gotten lost? It’s just neighborhood here, though. No matter how he might’ve gotten lost, it shouldn’t be that hard to find his way around. Not to the degree that he’d be looking at you like you’ve come to save him as he is now. 

Tall and lanky, he opens his mouth to say something a few times, but nothing comes out. Despite his frost-bitten nose and the snow dusting his hair and shoulders, he doesn’t shiver. You’ve only just came from your heater-blasted car, and your bones have already started to chatter. That’s the second strange thing you note about him. 

“Are you okay?” you say, voice going gentler. “Do you need help?” The chill on the surface of your skin begins to seep deeper. You cross your arms and tuck your fingers between the space between them and your body to conserve your own heat. 

When he opens his mouth, the words finally fall out in a surge like blizzard. He was having a hard time getting them out before, but once he gets one out, they all come tumbling out after it. “They left me behind!” he says. His voice is pretty, even as it wavers. “They left—and they can’t... make any stops! I can’t believe they forgot me,” he says. Toward the end, his voice breaks. 

Tugging your scarf up over your nose, you say, “Who? Who left you?” It muffles into the red cashmere. “Slow down. I want to help.” 

Obviously, he’s been left behind by his friends as some sort of mean-spirited prank. It doesn’t seem like they’re good friends, either, if they have him panicked like this. He really believes they’re just going to leave him here. You frown at the funny aching in your chest. For whatever reason, one you decide not to delve into, that irks you. Taking in his wobbling lip and screwed up face, it makes you angry—it makes you want to make sure he’s alright.  

You make split-second decision, looking at the state of him. He doesn’t seem dangerous. Actually, not one ounce of you believes that he could be. Maybe it could be a clever act, tugging on the heart strings of young women to take advantage of them. You’ve heard of plenty of that. But, you’re grown and have your own intuition. “Do you want to come inside? You look frozen.” 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you say, ushering him in with a hand gesture. “Let’s get inside. Warm up.” 

Following you inside, his tall and nervous figure trails. You kick off your heels and peel your work attire off piece by piece by the door, shedding until you’re just in your skirt and blouse. The skin everywhere but your legs, where you have a pair of thick tights pulled on, prickles in the heater’s embrace. Your scalp sighs in tandem with you as you let your hair down. 

Once you’re ten pounds lighter and comfier, you turn to him. He’s watching you with curious, sparkling eyes. 

“What’s your name?” you say. “And why did your friends leave you?” 

Continuing to watch you as you push past him and into your home, he sniffles and says, “They’re not my friends. They don’t like me; they think I’m useless. They did it on purpose—I know it. They left me here on purpose, and I can’t get back until next year!”  

Whatever he means by not being able to get back until next year, you’ve got not even an inkling. “What’s your name?” you repeat. 

“Kai,” he answers, eyes low. 

In his hair, there’s a twitching. You frown. “Here, do you want me to take that? It looks heavy,” you say, offering your hands out in a gesture up at his antler-headpiece-costume-thing. “I can hold on to it for you.” 

Shooting you a strange look, he says, “Take them? They’re my antlers.” 

The two of you blink at each other for a moment, both lost for wildly different reasons, it seems.  

“I mean, yes, I know they’re yours. I’ll give them back; I promise,” you say. “But while you’re here, we can put them on the counter or something. Y’know, just ‘cause it looks heavy.” 

Wiping at a teary cheek, says, “You can’t take them off.” 

Reaching up to his head, Kai tugs at one of those thick antlers. It doesn’t come off. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you don’t know what to say. Laugh? You’ve never seen anybody secure a headpiece so well to their head. He’s really serious about this costume. “Can I touch?” you ask. 

Jutting his lips out in a why not? sort of frown, he nods. 

With an investigative hand, you reach up over his head. The antlers aren’t so tall—maybe a few good inches on his head. Smooth fuzz meets the pads of your fingers. You run them up the grooves and ridges, all solid and made soft with the velvet of genuine antlers. You pause.  

Kai’s eyes linger on you. His voice is light and airy as he says, “You can tug on them, if you want. It doesn’t hurt.” 

You don’t even ask him why it might hurt if you tug. Like this, running your fingers over the unnervingly realistic length of it, a seedling of something unbelievable plants. Wrapping your hand around it to tug, you water that seed. 

It doesn’t budge. In fact, it’s so solid against his head that it can’t be anything but grown from it. 

“See?” he hums, unperturbed with your exploring hands. 

You don’t answer him. Not when, from his fluff of hair, you spot something even harder to explain away. Ears. Your mouth falls open as you take on into a gentle hand, running your thumb over it. It’s soft, warm, and real under your touch. It twitches, moving like attached to a living thing, too. Reeling, you step back. 

“You’re—how did you do that?” you say. “Make it like that?” 

Sweet face twisting into a puzzled frown, he says, “What do you mean? They’re my antlers and my ears. Every reindeer has them.” 

Taking another step back, you shake your head and narrow your eyes down on him. “No... No, I mean make them feel real.” At the edges of your fingertips, the echoes of warmth linger. You think and think, and what you come to believe... 

You begin to believe something absurd.  

“They are real,” he tells you.  

Letting that materialize inside of you for a moment, you say something stupid. “You’re a reindeer. The other reindeer left you.” 

Cheeks a rosy pink, he nods dutifully, despite that being what he was telling you this whole time. “They don’t like me. It... was my first Christmas, and I’m new, and they all...” Making himself sad all over again, his shoulders droop heavy. 

For the defeat and abandoned twist to his glossy eyes, you believe him. Maybe that makes you stupid, or maybe gullible. But you believe him, and so does your heart. It aches at the look on his face. Mending those steps you’d taken away from him for fear, you inch closer to him and take his face in your hands. His cheeks are plush against your skin. Over his nose and cheeks are a spackling of dusty freckles, and his eyes are shiny and hold bare trust for you even as you touch him. Innocent trust, though he’s lost and vulnerable, and you’d only just met. 

You can’t mistreat that trust. You won’t. He’s a stranger in your home, and this is absolutely not where you thought you’d be, coming home on Christmas eve. But your intuition speaks once more to you, and you willingly follow. Or, perhaps it’s not intuition speak to you. Maybe it’s those big, twinkling brown eyes, and the tears brimming in them. 

It’s just you living here, anyway. No roommates, hardly any friends over... You’d told yourself you’ll start putting yourself out there—to get a boyfriend to make the walls of your home a less isolating sight. But it was always later. I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it next week, I’ll do it next year... You never really made good on that aspiration. Instead, you fill those gaps with soul-sucking hours at the office. 

“When will they come back?” you ask. “Would you like to stay here until they come back?” 

Wringing his fingers out, he nods. He stands there all reserved and meek, still so hurt, but his big eyes sparkle like he holds the Christmas sky in them. With emotion. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay. You can stay here.” 

Perhaps you don’t have anything for him. No male clothes, especially none that will fit his frame, no extra bedroom or bed, and hardly enough groceries. But, what you do have, it’ll be enough. Just until they realize they’ve left him behind and come back to retrieve him. 

You could hardly leave him out there the way you found him. 

༄ 

Blinking your eyes open, you focus your bleary eyes on the broad figure in your doorway. 

For the entirety of the night, Kai trails you. His eyes roam over your home, and his nose twitches as he takes in the scent of it. Into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, into the living room to click on the T.V., you hardly were able to get into your room alone to tug off your work clothes. When you stepped out in something comfier, he was hovering around by the door and perked up as you emerged.  

He didn’t talk much as you winded down, either. When you’d first seen him outside, he was a frantic, rambling, fat-teared mess. He’s gotten quieter, just acclimating to the place. You ask him if he’s comfortable a few times and offer him snacks, but... well, the situation is strange. You’re both a little thrown off.  

Eventually, you fluffed up the couch and made it nice with thick pillows and fur blankets for him. Usually, you’d unplug the tree before beg, even on Christmas night. You left it lit up for him. 

Kai, stood in your doorway, tries to muster up what he wants to say. He shifts, antsy. 

Your limbs and brain are still heavy with sleep as you say, “What’s wrong, baby?” It’d only been a good... thirty minutes since you left him to sleep on the couch. Drained to the bone by your day’s work, you knocked out pretty much as soon as your skin hit the sheets. 

“I’m sorry...” he mumbles, silhouette meek in the doorway, where the dim light of the tree illuminates the edges of him. “I... This is the first time I’ve slept anywhere but the North Pole. I’ve never slept alone.” 

If letting him stay in your home was already insane, then letting him sleep in your bed was even more so. Scooting lazily over on the bed, you pat the empty space it frees. Who cares? You know what it is to be lonely. “Wanna sleep in here?” you say, lips slow and lethargic. 

“Can I?” he says. The steps he takes toward you are hesitant.  

You tug the blankets back over your shoulders and hum. “Mhm...” 

The bare side of your mattress dips beneath his weight. He shifts around and tries to get comfortable, shifting around until his antlers don’t scrape the headboard and he’s settled. 

Body heat beside you, or just to sleep beside somebody... you haven’t had that in a long time. Everything feels both thrown for a loop and more familiar. 

“Do you miss it?” you ask. It’s a stupid question; of course he does. 

Drooping lashes fluttering down onto his cheeks while he blinks and looks around, uncertain where to rest his gaze, he nods in answer. His shag of hair brushes over his cheeks, dangling as he lets his head rest on a pillow. “Yeah. It’s so different here.” 

Tracing his features, the curve of his cheek made soft and glowy in the clear, wintry moonlight, the rest of his face in shadow, the strain of an old ex’s shirt you’d given him to change into around his shoulders, and his eyes. They’re not so nervous, now. They digest you and your figure, just as he’d digested the rest of your home. You’re sure it is strange—getting left behind in a place so far from home. If it were, you might be the same. Worse, actually. 

It’s good you found him. People treat the things they don’t understand awfully. None would believe him—they’d slam doors in his face or worse. You’re still not entirely settled on the reality of it, anyway. 

“Maybe I can show you what this part of the world is like,” you mumble, relenting to the heaviness in your eyes. “Before they come and get you.” 

He doesn’t answer. You’re not sure if he reacted at all; all you see is the black of your eyelids and the wispy tendrils of sleep beckoning you. 

You sleep warmer on Christmas night than you have in a long time. Sometimes, you think you wake up to the weight of a hand on the curve of your pajama-clad hip, or maybe the puffs of sleep-ridden breath in your neck. In the center of your chest, your heart glows and flutters when his sleepy fingers skim over the bare skin of your waist where sleep had ridden it up. You don’t say anything—you don’t have the heart to. 

He feels nice up against your back, anyway.  

༄ 

Christmas comes and goes. Nobody comes to collect Kai. Strangely, selfishly, you’re happy for it. 

No different from the first day, he trails you everywhere. The only difference is that he doesn’t look so shaken. He’s gotten used to you and the home. When you get up in the mornings to leave for work, he complains and rambles about, what if they come while you’re gone? and that he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. You think he doesn’t want to leave—you hope he doesn’t, at least. 

Coming home to someone waiting for you, who greets you with a slow smile as you kick off your shoes... You’ve gotten used to it. Things don’t feel so hollow, and your life doesn’t feel like a husk of what a life should be anymore. Rather than returning to a house that echoes your lone sounds back to you, you return to a home. The house has begun to smell like him, musky and coveting  

You really hope they don’t come back to get him. It feels awful to admit to yourself, but to pretend that it’s anything else would be dishonest. If they had any intentions to, they would’ve by now anyway. 

“Which?” you say, holding a glittering skirt and a silvery, ruffled one in front of you. “I think the silver one makes more sense for New Year’s.” 

Kai sits on your bed. For some reason, his shoulders sag. “I don’t understand,” he says, toying with the fabric of the sweats you’d bought him. “Why can’t you have fun here? With me?” 

You place the red one over yourself again, and then the silver one, and furrow your brows. Preoccupied by images of your outfit with either, you throw your words over your shoulder. “Just wanna see some friends, Kai. I won’t be out for too long. I’d bring you, but... I don’t think you’d like it.” 

The silver one it is. It’ll go nice with the baby tee. Discarding the other in a pool on the floor, you collect the pieces of your outfit into your arm to change. 

When you turn to head into the bathroom, Kai looks utterly dejected. He watches you, brows furrowed and he’s worrying his lip. 

“Kai, baby,” you say. “It’s okay. I’ll go just until midnight, and then I’ll be back here with you.” 

Staring at you for a few minutes more, his face sours. His hair, a gentle fall of loose curls, moves with a shaking of his head. “It’s not...” he starts, but some thought he has deters him. “Never mind. I’ll just take a nap.” 

Before heading into the bathroom, you run your fingers through his hair and scratch a bit just behind his ear. He leans into it, pushing his head into your hand with utmost care to not snag you with a branchy antler. “Sounds good,” you say. “I promise it won’t be that long. I pinky swear it.” 

Nose crinkling, he asks you, “Pinky swear?” 

You offer him your pinky. “Give me your pinky. I’ll show you.” 

When he does, you intertwine them to solidify your promise. “I pinky promise that I’ll be home soon, and celebrate the rest of New Years with you.” You press your thumbs together. “Now it’s a real promise. Okay?” 

He nods and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Truthfully, it’s not that you want to go out that bad. You’d honestly rather be back here when it strikes twelve. But your friends insist that you go out. It’s been half a year since you’ve put yourself out there like this—you understand why they do. 

Clicking the door closed behind you, you begin to drop your home clothes off to exchange them for a new, glittering skin. You reemerge from the bathroom a creature of the night. Your eyes glitter as you blink, and your skirt is a true, daring New Year's length, and you wear the print of your nipples against your little shirt like an accessory, and you smooth your hands down the slip of soft belly between the waist band of your skirt and the hem of your tee. His eyes find each and every one of those things. 

“There’s snacks for you, and I’ll bring you home something to eat. You’ll be good here for a bit?” you say, wobbling on one kitten heel as you tug the other on. 

“Yeah,” he says, falling flat. “I’ll be good.” 

Fluffing your hair, you try and let his grumpiness roll off your shoulders. He gets like this when you leave. In just a few days, he’d grown so utterly attached to you that only the few hours away have him ruffled. You know he depends on you because you’re the only person and thing that he knows here, but... you don’t think they’re coming back to get him. Not this year, at least. And you can’t be home all day, so you need him to get used to functioning at home by himself. 

Letting your voice into something both reprimanding and playful, you look at him through your lashes and say, “See you later, Kai.” 

His eyes burn holes through you as you go. 

༄ 

Pink-cheeked with liquid bliss heavy in your veins, you step from the nippy air and into the embrace of home. You’re not drunk enough to stumble or slur; you’d left that back at the bar. Still, you feel the buzzing like static between your thoughts. 

Your heels and toes riot as you slip your feet from your heels. Should’ve brought a backup option... Kitten heels usually would’ve been enough to save your feet, but you were standing all night. You’re worn down to the bone.  

Tucking your hair back out of your face, you blink heavily through a scan of the living room and kitchen. Usually, Kai’s right here at the door waiting for you. Today, he does not. 

You frown. “Kai?” you say, projecting your voice. 

He’s not on the couch, nor in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom as you investigate. You begin to be worried, until you find him in the same place you’d left him. 

Except, now, he’s a tangle of blankets. You can’t see him. With your blanket wrapped up so tight over him, he’s just a mound on the bed. Strewn across the floor and over the bed and around him, there are a number of your clothes. Clothes that hadn’t been there when you’d left earlier. 

He shifts. Before you even say anything, he knows you’re here. He’s got some good hearing, you’ve found. And smell. 

“I’m home,” you announce, pulling the blankets off him. “You sleeping?” 

As you peel back the covers, he sits up. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are drowsy. Rather than scooting over to let you slip into bed with him, or smiling to see that you’ve gotten home, his nose twitches and he tugs his lips back in a smear of disgust. 

“What’s wrong?” you say. “Sorry for waking you up...” Gesturing around at the mess, you add, “What’s all this? My clothes are everywhere...” 

“Why do you smell like that?” he says. 

You flounder. It’s the snappiest you’ve ever heard him. “Oh...” you say, smoothing the tangles in your hair. “I... was dancing a bunch.” 

Eyes sharp and negative, he says, “No. You smell weird. I don’t like it. Like other people. You don’t smell... Like you.” 

“I don’t know...” You shrug a dismissive shoulder. “Maybe you’re smelling my friends. Does it bother you? I’ll go take a quick shower.” 

“You promised that you’d be here soon,” Kai says. When you reach an arm up to soothe his sleep-tangled hair, he avoids it with a dip. “You smell awful. Like... you don’t smell sweet, you smell like a man.” 

Still stung, you let your arm drop. It’s well past twelve. You’d broken your promise. Wincing, you sift through the memories of the night. You think maybe the closest you got to a man was a playful kiss with a friend to welcome the new year. You supposed you’d also hung around him the whole night... 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say. It’s a bare apology; you offer him no excuses.  

Kai, shoulders stiff, does not loosen up. Emotion brims in his eyes like liquid frost. “Why am I not good enough? Why do you like him more than me?” 

You go to answer him, but you’re not sure how to. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you’d slipped up your times, but breaking his trust was. He’d been left behind by the only thing he’s ever known, and now that he’s settled here, he thinks you’ll do just the same to him. The twitching of his lips does a terrible number on your chest.  

“Kai.” You whittle your voice into something breathy and gentle. “I’m not gonna leave you. You can stay here forever, even if they don’t come back.” You know he’s begun to realize that maybe they won’t be bringing him back home, as you have. Still in your itching skirt and smeared in a thick, going-out layer of makeup, you dip your knees into your side of the bed. “Forever. Maybe I break small promises, and I’m sorry, but I won’t break that one.” 

How had he carved the shape of himself into your heart so fast? So well? 

“I don’t want to go back there,” he says, colored thick with conviction and sullied memories. “I never want to go back there.” 

Like the weight of the world on your shoulders, your body longs to crumple under it. You lay your hair on the pillow and beckon him down, too. “Then, don’t...” you mumble. “Stay here. Forever.” You repeat the word like mantra, so that maybe he’ll let it seep into his bones and patch up the wounds left there. 

He curls up over your back, pressing his mouth into your shoulder. You’d thought the first night would be the only that he joined you in your bed, but you’ve got a tender heart. He runs warm-blooded as a creature of the snow, and you run cold. He’s a good heat source. 

That’s your excuse, anyway.  

Like all the other nights of the week he’d been here, he takes your hip in a hand and slips the other under your neck like a pillow.  

This night is the same; until his breaths quicken behind you. His frame goes rigid once more, a solid wall at your back and a big hand pinning your hip to the bed. He presses his nose to the exposed length of your neck, puffs of hot and angry breaths fanning out here and there. Like he’s caught a scent. 

“Kai?” you say into the dark of your room. It’s half a laugh, half real question. 

Your lungs stutter when the drags of his nose turn to drags of his cheek, and he’s pressing himself harder into you. That’s when you feel it: the rock-solid hardness of his cock against your ass. 

“I don’t like it,” he whines, wrapping you in him. His scent. “I don’t like that smell. Can’t sleep...” 

You have a decision to make: to go brush him off and sleep as though it were nothing, or to address the barely-there grind of his hardness against you. 

Like all of your other decisions, the one you land on is the absurd one. You push your ass back into him. He gasps, a sucking in of air, against your neck, and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He brings you back into his hips as they grow more daring. 

“Missed you so bad...” he says, sliding that one hand on your hip down so that his forearm presses into your belly. He uses that as leverage to grind against you, instead. “Missed your smell... None of your clothes smelled like you... N’ your blankets started smelling like me, too. Why did you stay away for so long? You promised. Promised...” A shuddered breath prickles the hair on your neck. “Promised, and now you smell like someone else. I hate it.” 

“Baby,” you say, reaching a hand up over your shoulder to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry. Wanna make it better? Want me to help you?” 

He whines from the chest, sitting up quick to look at you. His pupils are wide, and you know just by the look of him how much it’s been bothering him. 

“Scoot back,” you say. Your belly does a wild crash. If you were to tell yourself two weeks ago where you are now... You would’ve laughed in your face. 

Eyes glazed over and his cheeks a dusty sort of pink, he does so until his back is at the headboard. He moves with a clumsy excitement. 

You tug your skirt down your legs, kicking it off your ankles so that you can crawl over to him better. In your neck, your pulse flutters wildly. He watches you approach, and then tug his sweats down. His cock pops right out, long and pretty pink at the tip and weeping glistening tears. He hadn’t even been wearing boxers. Kai’s squeak when you brush your fingers just up the underside of it and then take it in your fist is sweet. 

“Poor baby,” you say, knitting your brows together and looking up at him through your lashes. “You waited all day for me, just for me to come home smelling like somebody else... You did so good, I think you deserve to feel good.” 

His lips glisten with his wet tongue. When he fully takes in the sight of you, face-to-face with his cock, a shudder shakes him. “I wanna...” 

Pushing his shirt up to reveal the softness of his belly, you say, “Wanna what, Kai?” You press sweet open-mouthed kisses up the dainty trail of hair just under his belly button, and then you scatter a few extra like glistening presents over his hip bones and abdomen. His chest jumps and falls with each. 

“Feel good,” he says. His length does a twitch, as if just the thought of you helping him like that was just like touch.  

You press the final kisses up his length, from the base of his cock up until your lips meld against his cockhead, right over the wet tip. Savoring the salty musk of his precum, you say, “You’re such a sweet boy. M’ sorry I made you feel bad. Want me to smell like you? Would that make you feel better?” 

He opens his mouth to say yes; you see it in his eyes. Your lips wrapping around the hot pink of his tip ruins his plans. The way he twitches his lips and shifts goes right to the hotness between your own thighs. Encouraged, and truly wanting to make up for how you’d treated him today, you release his tip and smear the mess down his length with a few pumps. As soon as each slide is slick and obscene, you turn from languid pumps to purposeful flicks of your wrist. 

Kai bucks his hips up into your fist and lolls his head back, eyes screwed shut. The digging of his teeth into his plush bottom lip is what draws your eye most, though.  

“It’s okay to make sounds if you feel good, baby,” you coo, kissing over his chest and neck. “You don’t have to be quiet around me.” You adjust your grip and change the angle of your slick jerks until one has a sound catching in his throat and a hand of his flying up to curl around your wrist. “Like that?” you ask. It’s not taunting—it’s a genuine wonder. 

It takes him a few moments, adam’s apple bobbing, but he pants a little for you finally. He nods frantically. “The....There,” he grits out. 

So, you continue to fuck him on your fist. Sometimes you stop just to collect the slow, oozing white droplets that he can’t help but produce, and sometimes you reach your fingers up to brush the hair out of his eyes to better see his glassy eyes and red cheeks. The sounds really are obscene; your ears burn red just hearing them. Your cunt throbs at it, too. 

“Feels... please—” he gets out, rustling against the headboard harder and bringing his hips up to meet your fist half way. “M’ so—happy to be here. Love you—love you! Gonna cum, can I cum? Please?” 

Stomach doing wild flips at the cracking in his voice and the tightening of his soft belly, you loosen up your strokes and try to help him toward it. “Of course. Cum, baby. Go ahead. Feels good?” 

Your wrist aches once his jaw goes tight, the muscles there twitching in the moonlight, and he spills his seed in white, sticky spurts all over his belly. His fingers go tight around your wrist when you continue to jerk his cock even as he cums, working him well through it and urging him to spurt a few more stray shots on himself with wild jerks of his hips. He heaves whines and his cock throbs beneath your fist, pretty face screwed up tight. 

“There we go,” you coo, admiring the scene of him, covered in his own seed and his bangs damp. You’re sure you smell entirely of him, now, with his mess wet and nasty over your palm.  

A parade of sweet thank you’s spill from his lips once he finds his mind again, breathy and full. You just press your cheek into his chest, feeling every frantic thump of his heart against you. Perhaps it’s a bit sappy, but all you can think to say is:  

“I’m happy you’re here, too, Kai.” 

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note TJIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SUB IDOL AHHH. kinda nervous. can you tell? i’m not sure why, i love that shit. it’s just how the dice have rolled hehe.

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[cheriden]

˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 HOW TO FIND OUT IF YOUR ROOMMATE IS A VAMPIRE 」 ꜝꜝ

── your new roommate has been acting weird, and you've taken it upon yourself to get to the bottom of it

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 。。。

pairings 。best friend!yeonjun x reader x friend!soobin

.ᐟ genre 。suggestive at most? crack & fluff

.ᐟ tags 。vampire au, blood sucking?? feeding?? idk, they're both kind of dumb but not really just kind of, erm nothing else i think

.ᐟ status 。oneshot | masterlist

✎ ๋࣭ ⭑ kind of corny and cheesy but idgaf it’s my blog!!! i totally forgot about this but it was at a point where i said yeah sure what the hell and decided to post it. another roommate hyuka au bc my schedules never go as planned so i just cut it short...i'll post an nsfw addition if people want it though

You tap your pen against the counter as you watch your roommate do his “work,” typing away at his remote job on his laptop. You narrow your eyes at him with a pout, drumming the writing material faster on the surface. Kai sighs and looks up at you, mirroring your investigative expression. “Are you alright?”

You narrow your eyes further, nodding slowly. “Yeah, just finishing the points for my project.” He turns back to the screen, humming absentmindedly. “What’s it about?” You freeze, stuttering over yourself. “It’s—uh, about…Global warming.” He doesn’t seem convinced, raising an arched brow at you, but he lets it pass anyway. “Well, good luck on that.” 

It’s been a few months since the boy had moved in with you, and fewer when you began to realize his strange patterns.

You look down at your notes—and in bold, underlined writing are the words “HUENING KAI IS A VAMPIRE (proof).” If anyone were to ever see this pad, they’d call you comically insane. However as previously mentioned, you have proof. First, he never goes out during the day. Granted, he has a job and takes night classes—but other than that, he’s never gone on a grocery run with you or exited his room on the weekends unless the sun sets. Second, he always drinks from an insulated tumbler. It even stays by his side at the dinner table, opting for it rather than the rest of the glasses. Third, he never cooks with garlic. He’s pretty much the cook out of the two of you, recalling the incident of you somehow setting fire on the stove. Who cooks without garlic? A vampire, that’s who. Third, he always disappears at dawn. You’re not insane enough (yet) to follow him, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open after midnight. Sometimes you hear the front door and peek at his silhouette, a large duffel bag in his grasp—but your conscience (your laziness) forbids you from leaving the place unattended for the sole purpose of following him. Lastly, he’s unbelievably pretty. This point has a really large question mark on it in red ink, but you’ve never seen someone look so angelic, as if he would glimmer in the sunlight. Not that you would know, he mostly wears baggy clothes that are long in sleeves and pants. Like what? A vampire!

What would you even get out of this? He would’ve sucked your blood to death by now—but maybe splitting rent was just easier for him. If he was a vampire and he had no intention to murder you in cold blood, then you suppose you would let him stay.

What? He’s a great roommate, great cook, tidy, and fun to be around. Every time you think about it, it comes to a point where you realize he would make a great significant other. But that’s ridiculous, he's a vampire after all, so you conclude that you were just curious about him and his weird habits.

──

For step one, you decide to check for his reflection. Throughout your five second internet search along with your film viewing, you know for a fact that vampires do not have reflections. “Kai! Grab me a towel please!” You plead, voice shrill and loud as you patiently wait in the shower. Truthfully, you forgot your towel. But why not take this opportunity to test your hypothesis? Kai fumbles with the door knob as you peek through the corner of the curtain. “A-are you naked? My eyes are closed!” You turn to the mirror, fogged up by the steam. You tut in disapproval, wiping it away to reveal Kai’s apprehensive form. You pout, snatching the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself. “You can look now.” He peeks through his fingers and gasps at your still half-naked self as you sulk out of the bathroom. 

Admittedly, you almost quit after that encounter altogether. But one evening, Kai worked an odd shift, rendering him unable to cook dinner and leaving the meal up to you. He walks out of his room to a suspiciously clean and hazard free area, with food set on the table. “This looks… Edible.” He says shocked, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you not trust me to make dinner?” The other looks down, scratching his head. “Well, the last time you cooked I had to replace my nonstick pan. That thing’s been with me since elementary.” You huff, taking your seat across from him. “Whatever. I ordered it and put it on one of our plates. Happy?” He sits down as well, taking a serving for himself. “I'd be happier if you learned how to cook without burning the apartment down. It’s a very important life skill, you know.” You make a sound of annoyance, picking at your food. “I do other things—like cleaning. Besides, if I had skill, we wouldn’t be having garlic soy chicken.” The other freezes for a while and slowly looks up at you from his plate. “Does this have garlic?” You nod, pointing at the box over by the trash can. “Yup, it’s their most popular flavor. Honestly I like their other ones better—”

Kai spits the foot out and wraps his hands around his neck, dropping to the ground. “Holy shit!” You chant over and over, flailing around in circles as he lays on the floor. “In my room—desk drawer!” He hisses, and you frantically run across the place. You aren't even sure what you’re getting, but once you see a stack of epinephrine injections, you grab one and stab him with it. 

You kind of feel guilty for a moment, because you thought he was actually a vampire who couldn’t eat garlic. Turns out he just had an allergic reaction to garlic, which was rare but apparently not impossible.

──

The following morning, you meekly knock at the door to his room. Today is his free day, and you wanted to make it up to him. You bring him flowers and a new EpiPen injection, smiling at him when he opens the door. “I’m sorry for poisoning you yesterday.” And for trying to prove you were a bloodsucking supernatural immortal. “We can go out today if you want? My treat.” His smile forms the shape of a box with his eyebrows upturned, and you know he’s about to reject you. “That’s fine, but I’m really not in the mood for—” — “Come on, Kai! We can do anything you want, please?” You plead, leaning over and pouting at him. He sighs in defeat, straightening his posture once he realizes your words. “Anything?” You nod fervently. “Anything.”

“Then,” he starts, fidgeting with the ends of his hoodie, “it’s a date.” You blink up at him, thinking for a moment. Oh like a friendly date, bonding together! You nod again, grin wide and bright. “Okay!”

It was after the park walk and arcade that you realized it may be more than a friendly date. You’re shifting uncomfortably in your seat, watching Kai order something in French you won’t even try to pronounce. “Kai, I don’t think I can afford any of these.” You whisper, to which he shakes his head. “It’s alright, I got it. You must be sick of my home cooking by now.” — “That’s not true!” You exclaim rather loudly, “I love your cooking.” He giggles at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm lighting against the other’s complexion or seeing him in something other than sweats that makes you anxious all of a sudden. “I’ll pay you for this, I swear.” Kai pushes his hair back and rests his face in his palm. “You can pay me back with another date.” Another date?! 

Your thoughts are cut by the smell of the food set in front of you, and you spare no time in stuffing as much as you can into your mouth as the other watches you in endearment. 

──

When you get home, he stops at the front door and stops you from pulling out your keys. You raise an eyebrow in question, while he laughs awkwardly to himself. “Today was really fun. I’m almost entirely glad that you decided to almost kill me yesterday.” You grin sheepishly at his words, “Again, I’m so sorry.” You’re about to continue rambling, but the other is staring at you so intensely you quiet down. “...What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you answer yes, and you cup your cheeks in your palms in an attempt to hide the blush forming underneath—but it’s no use. He grabs the end of your fingers and replaces your hands with his, inching his face closer to yours. His lips move slow and calculated, rhythm steady as you let him work his way through your mouth. Just as you reciprocate his movements, your tongue is nicked by something sharp, making you jolt upright. But Kai doesn’t let you go, instead he crashes himself deeper into you, sucking at the surface of your tongue and separating with a resounding pop. The both of you take heavy breaths for a while, your hair disheveled and his bottom lip coated in crimson sheen. “I knew it!” You exclaim, before shrinking within yourself. “You’re—uh, you’re a…” You trail off, body pressed against the wooden panel. “I’m a vampire.” He breathes out, “Wait, you knew?” 

You’re trembling, panic-stricken as you nudge the doorknob over and over. “That’s not gonna turn without the key.” He mumbles, and you point your key at him in an ill attempt at self-defense. “Are you gonna eat me?!” 

“Eat—what? No.” He says, using his own key to unlock the place. You squeak as he maneuvers you into the apartment, and he settles you down on the couch across from him. “But how?” You start, “I can see your reflection?” — “Uh, yeah? I’m a vampire, not a figment of your imagination.” You deflate at his words, leaning forward. “But all the novels say—” He cuts you off with laughter. “All the novels? Do you read supernatural romance?” Defensive, you raise your arms. “It’s more drama than romance! They say vampires can’t see their reflection because they have no souls.” The other raises a brow, “Ouch. What does that even mean?” You shrug, completely lost. 

“So what’s true? About like, myths about you?” Pursing his lips in thought, Kai settles against the cushions. “The mirror thing is just stupid. I guess the garlic thing is true.” You blink, dumbfounded. “That’s real?” The other nods. “If convulsing on the floor was any indicator, then yeah.” You furrow your brows, “What kind of old vampire ailment gets cured via EpiPen?” — “I mean—it kind of works like an allergy anyway. Contact dermatitis and whatnot.” You scoff. “And whatnot,” you mock, “what about going out at night and wearing baggy clothes outside? What about sneaking off at dawn?” Tilting his head, he replies calmly. “I told you, I have work during the day and I work out at night—what are you doing?” You reach for the notepad stored in one of the drawers, twirling your pen as you go through every item on your list. “What about the tumbler?” Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “The tumbler?”

“What’s in your tumbler? You have it with you at all times, hell you even took it out today! Is it blood?” You ask as if it were scandalous, voice low and in a whisper. “It’s really just water.” He replies, “I feed through a network of fully consenting humans.” 

You put the pad down, crossing your arms at him with a glare. “You’ve never asked me to help you. Is my blood not good enough for your bourgeois taste buds?” Confusion paints his face, quick to dispute your statement. “No, and believe me, your blood has been really tempting. It’s just that, well, I like you—and I thought maybe you would hate me or something.” 

“Oh.” Your palms turn clammy as you shut them on each other, thinking of more questions. “So how long were you—like were you always a vampire?” He shakes his head in disagreement, answering, “I turned a few years back actually.” You gaze at him empathetically. “I’m sorry.” He laughs, indifferent. “Sorry for what?” You return the laugh nervously, “I… Don’t know.” A few beats of silence pass before you speak up again. “Well! At least now your skin is glowing and—” “Oh that’s not a myth…” He admits, “I’ve always looked like this.” Clearing your throat, you reply: “Well, you’re very pretty.” This coaxes a genuine smile from him. “Thanks, you’re very pretty too.” The both of you stay completely still again, though this time Kai breaks the silence. “Was all this an attempt to find out if I was a vampire?” You chuckle lightly, half humiliated. “No… I kind of gave up when I saw your reflection. I promise I didn’t mean to give you an allergic reaction.” He disregards your apologies lightly with a raised hand, still in thought. “About the date…” You’re quick to explain, “Honestly I didn’t think it was going to be a date date.” His frown and the dent between his brows deepen. “So you don’t like me?” Picking at the fabric of the couch, you stammer through your words.“I don’t—not like you? I just haven’t thought about you like that until recently, I guess.”

“So what do you think now?” You gaze up to see him staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “As long as you don’t kill me I’m fine—I think.” He follows up immediately, “Does that mean you’ll feed me? I’ll just take a little, I swear.” You wince at his eagerness, rubbing the skin of your nape. “Does it hurt?” Kai draws back at your reluctance, feigning nonchalance with a dismissive wave of hand. “A bit, yeah. But! I heard it makes some people feel good.” — “Good how?” The other shrugs, lips forming into a line. “Not sure.” Your curiosity has always led you to uncomfortable positions, this being the most life threatening one so far. Honestly, you should just drop this whole thing altogether.

“You’ll stop when I tell you to, right?” His face lights up again, jumping over to your side of the sofa. “Of course.”

Hesitant, you move away the hair behind your neck and Kai takes it as a sign to move even closer. He grabs your waist and hoists you up to straddle him, cheeks flushed when he looks into your eyes and realizes he’s gotten ahead of himself. After you reassure him with a peck on the lips, he dips his head over to the junction between your shoulder and face, looking up at you for a signal. Milliseconds after you nod, he sinks his teeth in slowly, rupturing the barrier of flesh. He halts for a minute before taking, as if the slightest movement would set you off. He can feel a squeak vibrate through your throat and your thighs tense against his hips, slightly trembling.

True to his word, he lets you go once he feels your grip tighten at his arms. He licks over the wound he created and kisses it, meeting your eyes again. You’re stunned in place, the only movement coming from rapid blinking and taking in breaths.

“Woah.”

He cups the sides of your face, searching your expression for discontent. “Woah? Woah bad or woah good?” You lean your head back and stare into the ceiling, lightly gripping the collar of his shirt. “As in I feel lightheaded—and weird. Feels super weird. Like I’m tipsy.” Gasping, the other fidgets in place, your weight keeping him down. “Oh no.” He starts to panic, but you shut it down by smiling at him, albeit loopy. “Don’t worry, I’m fine—great even.” You assure him, covering his face in short kisses before resting your cheek against his chest. Sighing in relief, Kai plays with the top of your head for a moment, before you grab both his wrists and look at him with sparkles in your eyes. “Can we do that again?”

halloooo i took a long break and this is kind of a warm-up back hehe i have like 3 fics in active development (plus one of the two/three part-ers i started last year, but it iz what it iz!

tag .ᐟ @hyunj00

[yawnzune]

disclaimer: these are all fiction and do not reflect the members personally. please don’t repost them nor copy any of my ideas.

important note: not all of my wips are here (for a lot of reasons) and these are subject to change depending on inspo :)

⇠ back to navigation 

STATUS KEY ⇣

☆ — planning | ✎ — writing | ⟳ — editing 

legend: s - smut, f - fluff, a - angst

・❥・ 최연준 ; CHOI YEONJUN

⟶ ✎ hard..copy (a, s, f?)

     ⇥ [enemies to lovers, college!au]

↳  « you know the possibility of your mortal enemy catching you trying to print for free at the student center since he works there but you had no other choice when your printer broke the one time when he had to be on duty »

・❥・ 최수빈 ; CHOI SOOBIN

⟶ ☆ twirl for me (s, f)

     ⇥ [established relationship, vacation!au]

↳  « a couple's trip which finally pulled your boyfriend from his slumber and possibly revealed another side of him that you’d love to discover »

・❥・ 최범규 ; CHOI BEOMGYU

⟶ morning serenade (s)

     ⇥ [frenemies!au, college punk band!au]

↳  « who would’ve thought that you’d wake up to the sight of your school’s punk band lead guitarist sleeping between your legs »

・❥・ 강태현 ; KANG TAEHYUN

⟶ ✎ purely satiated (s, a, f?)

     ⇥ [dark fantasy, boarding school!au]

↳  « you entered the academy as a transfer student during the new cycle in time for the festivity of Lupercalia that you heard so much about. you expected to be welcomed, just not this warmly by the academy’s prospective top boy who took you by surprise »

・❥・ 휴닝카이 ; HUENING KAI

⟶ ☆ beautiful stranger (a, f)

     ⇥ [strangers to lovers, antique shop!au]

↳  « perhaps taking a night shift at your local antique shop wasn’t so bad after all. it’s not everyday that you meet a beautiful stranger who became your company no matter how unbearable he is »

'*•.¸♡ OT5 TEXTS ♡¸.•*' (REQUESTS OPEN!)

⇢ bf!txt on your anniversary

© yawnzune 2024. all rights reserved.

[theswanqu22n]

characters that I am willing to write about:

Colin Zabel, Stan Bowes, Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Mr. Gallant, Jeff Pfister, Austin Sommers, Jay Bahadur, Warren Lipka, Max Cooperman, Quicksilver, Oliver McDaniel, and ofc Evan Peters (hes not a character).

note: some characters of Evan Peters that I didn't mention is because I have not seen the tv show or movie yet. I will not write fics, smuts or create bots about Jeffrey Dahmer.

MASTERLIST.

(✎)fic, smut, (➶) ai bot.

Colin Zabel (smut, fic, ai bot).

✎ Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer.

✎ Possibly Maybe.

✎ thinking you could live without me.

➶ Taking care of his little baby.

➶ Colin being a babysitter.

➶ Colin Zabel in silent hill.

➶ You're in love with Colin/he misses his ex.

Kai Anderson (smut, fic, ai bot).

➶ Kai is your weird brother.

➶ i wanna fuck, government hooker.

➶ shes a myth that i have to believe in.

➶ misogynistic boyfriend.

✎ gym crush.

✎ hands on your knees, im angelina jolie.

Stan Bowes (smut, fic, ai bot).

➶ being his kids nanny.

➶ patrick bateman AU.

➶ dating secretly.

James Patrick March (smut, fic, ai bot).

➶ Hotel Ball.

✎ i want you all over me.

Tate Langdon (smut, fic, ai bot).

➶ Are you falling in love?

➶ sk8er boi

✎ Tate is jealous?

Kit Walker (smut, fic, ai bot).

✎ You caught him with grace, and he asks for forgiveness.

Kyle Spencer (fic, ai bot).

➶ your brother is back to life!

I don't write smut with zombie kyle unless it's consensual and doesn't go over the limits of weird, let's remember his past and that he currently has a confused mind, just like kyle before death, just if it's consensual.

Warren Lipka (smut, fic, ai bot).

➶ your cousin's friend.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ do you want to request a bot or fic/smut? go to the "requests" tray at the start.

[sabspoetic]

𐬺.*[𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍] 𐬺.*

ʚ♡ɞ ☁︰ʚʚ call me kay ɞɞ♡ ﹆﹕₊ ୨୧ ⸝⸝ not a minor. ˚

✎ ᝰ . ⊹ ₊ ⋆ ⋆ ｡ 𖦹 ° ‧ .

๋࣭ ⭑ ⚝ 𐙚 ˙ ⋆ . ˚ ᡣ𐭩 . 𖥔 ˚

she/her ⋆.˚ writer ⋆.˚ aquarius ⋆.˚ slytherin ⋆.˚ stan

⊹˚˖ ︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶꒷ 🦉 ︶꒦꒷︶꒦︶꒷︶ ˖˚⊹

about me || about my blog || current aesthetic

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

𝕊𝕀𝔻𝔼 𝔹𝕃𝕆𝔾: @lokilaufeysonslove (I mainly write there)

˚˳♡ ୨🍮୧ ・writing :・‧₊

✧┊๑ ₊ ꒷ 🍡 ៸៸ ෆ requests are CLOSED >3< . . .੭ .˚

masterlist || request rules

,, 🧸! please read rules before requesting !⌇·˚ ༘

ʚ🌷꒱ disclaimer₊୧‧˚₊๑

dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics @taroism & @adornedwithlight / sabrina headers by the great @sbrinapacks / symbol combos + dividers by the lovely @cheriblos & @nicodefresas / icons by the great @lovereist

₊˚⊹ ପ🌸ᨳ₊˚ฅ ribs are a cage of a wild heart₊˚꒱꒱

୧ my ‘give a fucks’ are on vacation 🌸🍓 ༉‧₊˚

₊˚ʚ🌸︰♡ didn’t mean to be charming ♡︰↷ 🥛꒷

༉‧₊˚ ︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵༉‧₊˚

,, 🧸 marauders⌇·˚ ༘

୧ you can’t spell aswoME without me ☕️ ༉‧₊˚

ʚ🦉꒱ and just might be the next best thing, but not quite me ₊୧‧˚₊๑

this blog is not entirely sfw! there are few nsfw posts, which are only fics and writings.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Pedos and NSFW / NSFW RP blogs do NOT interact. (I'm going to block you)

𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭! 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ my previous user was dracoswhorexx and now it’s sabspoetic, so don’t get confused

[luvlloyd]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 @luvlloyd ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

PJ〘 SHE/HER 〙

18

˗ˏˋ〘 ✎ 𝐀𝐁𝐓 𝐌𝐄!! 〙ˎˊ˗

— hiya! you can call me PJ or yours ;) i occasionally write but that depends on motivation, uhh im currently studying to be a patent attorney which is cool (as you can tell I cannot talk for the life of me), currently in my ninjago phase so here we are!! some of my free-time hobbies including writing & reading, procrastinating, playing video games, tennis and listening to the weekend whip and lana del rey religiously. If it interests you im alsoi’m an istp, a scorpio and a desi kudi here <3 if you have any criticisms, concerns or comments please feel free to message me any time!

˗ˏˋ〘 ✎ 𝐃𝐍𝐈 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 〙ˎˊ˗

i welcome anyone of any age to my blog but just be keep in mind of what i reblog (read below for more) and please read the warnings of my posts :) if by any means i make you uncomfortable please feel free to block me anytime! i understand and i hope you have a good one!

— any one who brings hate and negativity in other people’s lives will be not tolerated on this blog (zionists, homophobics, etc.) just seriously keep things that dont need to be said to yourself this blog is meant to be a comfort space for anyone

— DNI: nya x jay shippers (JKJK I LOVE JAYA LMAO, but genuinely I respect ur opinions pookies no matter what)

Thank you and I hope you consider staying :)

• 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘: various

• 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒: cole, jay, kai, lloyd

TAGGING SYSTEM

🍏 | #luvs talking! : chit chat / shit posts

🥝 | #luvs reblogging : any thing I reblog/recommends

©LUVLLOYD

please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work anywhere without my consent.

also known as @/PR0D13Y on WATTPAD and @/PRODIGIES on QUOTEV :)

[stvphenwrites]

Introduction

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏Info﹏﹏﹏﹏

Story Prompts: OPEN📨

MoodBoard Prompts: OPEN📨

Moodboards I will make: Ironstrange Omegaverse (strictly omega Tony) female Tony

Secondary blog if you're interested in yellowstone + cobra kai fics I'll make -- Second Blog

Ironstrange series

Ironstrange stories Ficlets of Stephen/Tony ABO smut one-shots Protective Dragon Stephen/Dragon and Princess AU Dash Of Disney Lion Strange Family abo fluff one-shots Sinister + Tony fics

Will: A/B/O, (alpha Stephen only), pregnancy/lactation kink, daddy kink, fem Tony, dragon Stephen, animal forms (both or only one) fluff, angst, angst with a happy ending, feminization kink, movie adaptations (mostly from 2000s/1980-1999), fics with angst (it’ll be iffy on suicide)

Will not: Top Tony -makes me uncomfortable, scat, vomit, piss kink

━━━━━���❘༻༺❘✦━━━━━━

Emojis to figure out which fic has what in it/What fandom

Fluff — 🩷 Angst — 💔 NSFW — 🔞 Doctor Strange/Iron Man (Ironstrange) —🧙‍♂️🤖

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ship(s) I write for

Ironstrange

· · ──── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──── · ·

Fandoms I write for:

Doctor Strange/Iron Man/Marvel

· · ──── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

Characters I write for:

Stephen Strange

Tony Stark

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[katsukichu]

Home - Nanami Kento x gn reader

My first time writing for jjk 🥺. I wrote this since it's been one year since I've moved! Also Nanami has been on my brain a lot I love him so much🥺

Home - A building. The place where one lives permanently. A place of residence.

Kento Nanami had always lived a life ruled by precision.Before becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, he was a salaryman, whose world was ruled by the ticking of the clock and the endless grind of work that seemed to stretch far beyond the typical nine-to-five. The demands of office life had been unrelenting, and overtime became a bitter companion—a curse, really—one that clung to him like a shadow, draining the life out of each day. To him, home was nothing more than a structure—a place to sleep, to eat, to exist until the next day of work demanded him.

The shift from salaryman to sorcerer didn’t change his hatred for overtime. The battles with curses were different yet still demanded long hours.His new life as a sorcerer involved the same exhaustion, accompanied with a heightened sense of danger and responsibility. The only difference was that now, his office was the world of curses, and his battles were far more dangerous than a jammed printer and unsent emails.

Each evening, after a gruelling day of sorcery, Nanami would leave his mission - uniform dishevelled and his expression weary. The streets of Tokyo were a blur as he made his way to his apartment—a small space that offered little comfort beyond its four walls. He would enter, set down his gear, and let out a sigh that echoed through the empty rooms - a familiar silence that he treasured (after dealing with Gojo’s constant yapping the whole day)

Nanami would usually eat a simple dinner that he prepared in advance despite his advanced palette, sometimes instant noodles were the only thing he could muster up the energy to prepare.He would then collapse onto his bed- his sleep was a brief escape from the endless cycle of battles and overtime. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t escape the looming responsibilities that awaited him. The next morning, the alarm would blare, and the cycle would begin again.

As the gloomy months passed something began to change - a faint light, that was almost unnoticeable at first, began to flicker in the Nanami’s life. It wasn’t the glaring glow of his computer screen or the cold fluorescence of the office; it was something softer, warmer - something comforting. At first, he didn’t understand what was happening -he continued his routine mechanically,precisely as always.

His once silent apartment began to fill with the sound of quiet laughter, the scent of home-cooked meals, and the warmth of another presence. You had entered his life by chance—a friend of a friend who had become something much more unlike anyone Nanami had ever known. You were patient, understanding, with kindness that seeped into the very walls of his apartment, transforming it from a mere building into a place of comfort, of belonging.

Nanami found himself longing to leave missions earlier each day. The weight of overtime, which had once been so suffocating, seemed to lift as thoughts of you filled his mind. The days that once stretched endlessly now had a purpose beyond the grind of work. For the first time in years, Nanami felt the pull of something more significant than his job—he felt the pull of home. When Nanami would finally step through the door each evening, he was greeted not by the cold emptiness that had once awaited him but by the warmth of your smile. You would have dinner ready, and sit together and talk as the outside world faded into insignificance. Your presence filled the apartment with life, with a joy that Nanami had never known he was missing.

One evening, as Nanami sat on the couch with you nestled beside him, he realised something that brought a rare smile to his face. He had always thought of home as just a place—a structure to retreat to after the weariness of work but you had changed that and made him understand what home truly was.

Home was no longer just four walls and a roof; it was where his heart found rest, where the burdens of the day melted away in the warmth of your embrace. Home was where he found peace, where he was reminded that life was more than just the hours spent fighting curses.Nanami looked at you, your head resting on his shoulder, and felt a deep sense of gratitude. He had spent so long believing that his life was defined by the endless cycle of work and overtime, but you had shown him that there was something more you had become his new “home”—a place of comfort, love, and peace.

From that day on, Nanami no longer dreaded the end of his workday. He knew that no matter how difficult his battles became, no matter how many hours he spent working, there was something waiting for him at the end of each day that made it all worthwhile. There was a light in his life that no amount of overtime could extinguish—a light that guided him home, where you would be waiting, ready to welcome him with open arms.

Taglist [click here to join <3]

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99

[luvrkay]

gojo can be so impatient sometimes. that's why you're leaning against the wall barely a few feet away from your front door, one leg thrown over satoru's shoulder, the other keeping you standing upright. your skirt is bunched up at your waist, panties pulled to the side as gojo's tongue swipes through your puffy folds.

"toru!" you cry out, fingers tangling in his white strands and tugging roughly at the roots. he has one arm wrapped around your waist, fingers rubbing circles on your clit as his tongue prods at your entrance.

he fucks his tongue in and out of you quickly. satoru pulls away for air, peppering opened mouth kisses along your thighs. "wanna see your tits" he murmurs quietly before he's sucking your clit into his mouth, pushing two of his fingers into your tight, wet walls.

you pull your shirt and bra down with one swift motion, exposing your breasts, your free hand coming up to pinch and tug at your hard nipples as you grind yourself down on gojo's face.

"'m'cummin" you moan out, hand pushing gojo deeper into your pussy as you gush on his face and fingers. gojo drinks down your slick, licking through your folds and making sure not to waste a single drop of your sweet slick.

Masterlist

[youhypemeup]

cobra kai masterlist

please do not steal any of my work and claim as your own. please do not copy / repost without my permission. and please do not translate my work without permission.

— 𝐄𝐋𝐈 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐊𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐙

✎ congrats on the one year...if only you told us sooner | fake texts      ⤷ everyone knew you and robby were dating. everyone knew moon and eli were dating. what they didn't know was that all four of you were actually dating each other. additional tags: polyamory, misunderstandings, talks about cheating and sneaking around, talks about (semi) public sex, swearing, mentions of lying.

✎ the story of us | social media au ⤷ instagram posts of your relationship with eli through the years. additional tags: fluff, my failed attempt at trying to not let my awkwardness show through the characters

— 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐙

nothing yet

— 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄

✎ congrats on the one year...if only you told us sooner | fake texts     ⤷ everyone knew you and robby were dating. everyone knew moon and eli were dating. what they didn't know was that all four of you were actually dating each other. additional tags: polyamory, misunderstandings, talks about cheating and sneaking around, talks about (semi) public sex, swearing, mentions of lying.

— 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂.

✎ you, me, us | kwon jaesung x reader | social media au ⤷ cute instagram moments of your relationship with jaesung. additional tags: fluff, possibly ooc jaesung

not sure if / how often i'm going to be writing for the other characters at the moment so they'll be under misc. if i write for them a lot then i'll add a separate category for them!

✗ navigation

[hyukascampfire]

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, creampie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  

Can’t things just stay like this? 

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 

“I just... don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  

⚝⭒ 

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  

⚝⭒ 

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  

⚝⭒ 

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms. Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face, though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 

⚝⭒ 

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  

⚝⭒ 

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could he ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  

⚝⭒ 

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 

⚝⭒ 

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  

⚝⭒ 

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 

So you do. 

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once.��

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 

⚝⭒ 

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlights pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten around him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 

Home. You are home. 

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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About me xxx

Hey babes this is my first Tumblr post here are some cheeky things about me xxx

This page will be safe for everyone hens xxx

୨୧┇Name: Michaelmyerssectretgf (or Mikey lol)

୨୧┇Birthday: 17th October

୨୧┇Nationality: Scottish-French oui oui

୨୧┇Gender: Girl (She/her)

୨୧┇Hobbies: Making edits, Editing YT videos, Listening to music

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

╰─ - ̗̀✎ My Favorite...

୨୧┇Food: Garlic bread

୨୧┇Color: Black, red, purple

୨୧┇Musicians:

Lana Del Rey

The Weeknd

Freddie Dredd

Deftones

Kali Uchis

BONES

$uicideboy$

Future

Ethel Cain

Slayyyter

Grimes

Sky Ferreria

(G)I-DLE

Chase Icon

KARD

+ Way More

୨୧┇Movies: I love horror <3

Sinister

Saw

The Black Phone

Pearl

John Wick

The Dark Knight

Terrifier 1 and 2

Shrek :)

Barbie

୨୧┇TV Shows:

Cobra Kai

Hannibal

Superstore

American Horror Story

Good Omens

A Series of unfortunate events

(I need to watch more TV Shows ngl)

୨୧┇Animal: Cats! I am a huge cat person

୨୧┇Fictional Characters:

Pearl - Pearl

Art The Clown - Terrifier

Mark Hoffman - Saw

Roman Bridger - Scream 3

Jason Carvey - Scream 6 (Deserved more screentime)

Quinn Bailey - Scream 6

Tiffany Valentine - Chucky movies

Firefly Fam - Firefly Trilogy

Aemond Targryen - House of the Dragon

Michael Myers - Halloween

Fleabag - Fleabag

Elaine Parks - The Love Witch

୨୧┇My Celebrity Crushes

Dev Patel

Tom Wlaschiha

Ethan Hawke

Mads Mikkelsen

David Howard Thornton

Pedro Pascal

Oscar Isaac

Richard Brake

Rory Culkin

Tony Revolori

+ Way more lol

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

╰─ - ̗̀✎ Interests

୨୧┇Likes: Music, Cardi B doing ASMR, Writing, Cats. blocking people on Twitter, drinking lots of coffee, Nice people :), creepy things, Night time drives, Orange juice, Jeremy Fragrence, Gothic things, dollcore too, Trisha Paytas, Lidl bakery, Older men ehehheh

୨୧┇Dislikes: mean people (Aka half the ppl in my school), rain, Chocolate and fruit mixed together, Loud noises (I start crying haha), Feeling left out/Being a thirdwheel, having dry skin

୨୧┇Extra stuff: I love Hamilton :), I am a very sensitive person, I want to become an actress when I leave school, I am guilty of using Character ai 0_0, I have an obsession with orange juice, I am excited for Terrifier 3 to come out, I have never met a celebrity before :(, I am quite quiet irl, I have asthma and eczema it sucks, I collect cat figures, horror DVDs, can tabs and CDs

୨୧┇My Socials: Tiktok: Wh0reforhoffman YT: Michaelmyerssecretgf

Take care hens :)

Michaelmyerssectretgf

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚

[mrcurystar]

⋆ masterlist

╰┈➤ in which i give you the shows write for

➔ outer banks

➔ cobra kai

➔ euphoria

➔ disney

➔ teen wolf

➔ shameless

➔ tvdu

➔ celebrities/influencers

➔ others

✎ these might change and i will not do every character in each show! feel free to leave requests (imagines, story, fluff, smut, angst, etc.) !!