#His mannerism and the way he talks makes me all fruity all over the damn place

[shinmiyovvi]

I am in need for more Felix Neumann content you don't understand how much of a baby boi he is to me 🥺

[clanoffetts]

Tales From Bespin, vol. I: The First Time

Lando Calrissian x fem!Reader

summary: the first in a collection of stories about Reader and Lando’s adventures in sex in Cloud City, starting with their first time together.

warnings/tags: 18+; not proof-read lol; piv; unprotected sex; tooth rotting sweet sex; lando is a fuckboy but, like, a nice one; puthy eating bc Lando is a man of taste; porn with like some plot but it’s, like, stupid plot. no seriously i don’t really remember much of the plot

word count: 3.5k

“Do your rooms still suit you?” Lando asks as you eat breakfast together. He’s asked this every morning since you arrived a week ago. In that week, you’d learned that Cloud City was gorgeous in the morning and that Lando Calrissian was very concerned with your happiness. You were glad, of course, as you’d come to Bespin on his request, the both of you hoping that something more would develop.

You nod. “Of course,” you say. “I feel like a princess.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “It’s what you deserve.” Something had begun to develop, you ate meals together, walked the city together, watched holos together. But at the end of the evening, you’d leave his rooms, and you’d assumed you were replaced with someone who would, frankly, fuck him. You knew Lando was a bit of a playboy, talk of Cloud City orgies was common legend amongst teenagers in the Outer Rim, and you usually didn’t go for playboys. But he was charming. Yeah, all playboys are, they have to be, but Lando was different. You could tell he was sincere. 

So, when his two week stay on Naboo was coming to a close, he’d invited you to Cloud City to live with him, and that you could continue your clothing designer dreams on Bespin with high fashion.

“They love your dresses,” Lando says, taking a drink of some kind of juice. 

You smile. They didn’t have much high fashion on Bespin, most of the population weren’t concerned with expensive clothes and the rest were rich with nothing to buy. “I’m glad. Thank you for helping me sell them, helping me build my reputation.”

“I told you that you need to stop thanking me, beautiful,” he says, voice smooth as always. “A new episode of that holoseries we binged comes out tonight.”

“Yeah I saw,” you say. “We’re watching it together, right?”

He smiles as he cuts up some of the meat on his plate. “Always, sweetheart.”

-

Lando had a busy day. Usually, you’d walk the halls, Lando telling you stories of the art on the walls and how they came to be in his possession or attend a water opera, but today there was none of that. So you sat in your rooms, a little cozier now than when you arrived. You’d decorated the walls with tapestries and art, adding some color to the tradition Bespin sleek white walls. Your furniture was all white and so were the blankets and pillows. You’d have to sew and embroider some new ones at some point, the plainness of it all was boring. Especially to someone from Naboo, where everything was vibrant and richly embroidered. 

You lay on your bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling, thinking about Lando. There were many women about the place, scantily clad Twi’leks, humans, and Togrutas, and you knew why they were here. You didn’t feel jealous, per se, because you knew your thing with Lando, whatever it was, was not an exclusive relationship. But you did feel a bit surprised that he’d invite you here on the hope of something more, and continue with his habits. 

Did you actually know Lando was sleeping with these women? Well, no, but one could safely assume, right? Especially if you weren’t putting out like women were expected to, though Lando never gave any indication that he was upset by the lack of sex. Maybe you were upset with the lack of sex, pent up and yearning for this man since he arrived on Naboo a month ago. Maybe you were going to change that.

-

“Ready, sweetheart?” Lando says, sitting down on one of the lush couches of the front room of his chambers. The furniture in here had dark wood from Kashyyk, a gift from one of Lando’s Wookie friends, he’d said. There were pillows in styles from all over the galaxy. The room was eclectically Lando: rich in more than one sense. 

He’d brought snacks with him, sitting them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Born ready,” you tell him. Under your clothes were the sexiest things you owned. Maybe it was a bit sad that the sexiest thing you owned was just a matching black bra and panties, but you didn’t really have a need for lingerie. Matching was the best you could do. 

The holodrama premier episode is one and a half hours, and over that course of time you’d eaten more types of candy than you can count, and inched closer to Lando until you were almost on top of him. He had an arm around you, your head resting on his chest. When the commercials for new bacta patches or some kind of Imperial propaganda interrupted the show, you’d tilt your head up to look at him, he’d tilt his down, and you’d kiss. Each kiss tasting a little different than the one before as fruity candies passed between both of your lips. 

“You like the blue ones,” you say as you break the kiss before the commercials are over. 

“And why do you say that?”

“Your lips have tasted like the blue ones more than any other,” you say, your tone very matter-of-fact. 

He chuckles. “Very astute observation, sweetheart. Though I can’t say I was too focused on your taste,” he says. “I paid more attention to the feel.”

You sit up a little more now, pressing your lips to his again, not giving a damn that the show was back on. 

“Very eager, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs, his lips traveling from your lips, down your jaw, to your neck. 

“I could say the same,” you whisper as he presses kisses to your neck, trying to find your sweet spot. This has been a long time coming. You feel his soft hair against you, lost in the feel and the scent that when his lips finally find that spot that makes you gasp, it catches you off guard. 

Lando notices, and says, “Can I mark you up, beautiful?”

“Please,” you’re breathless, at his politeness, at his pet name, at everything he is. 

He sucks a mark onto your skin, teeth coming after to give light bites to the forming bruise. “So polite,” he says. “I like manners.” You giggle a little, but are quickly cut off by his lips back on yours. Lando kisses sweetly, just how you expected him to. He’s not rough, he’s not hard, but he’s soft and sweet and passionate. That man oozes passion, especially right now. 

Your body is hyper aware of everything, his mustache brushing against your upper lip, the feel of the cape lined in shimmersilk brushing your arms as his arms wrap around you. You moaned into his mouth, and you felt him smile into the kiss. Lando was always a smug motherfucker. 

He pulls away from the kiss, hands wandering to the straps of the loose sundress you wore. “Can I?” You nod, and he pulls the straps down, freeing your breasts. “So gorgeous, sweetheart.” His head lowers onto your nipple, gently sucking and swirling, taking note of everything that made you writhe. His hand cups the other breast, kneading gently, thumb occasionally swiping over your nipple. Everything was so slow, he was such a tease, and it was obvious that Lando Calrissian knew what he was doing.

“We’ve never done this before,” he says, pulling off of your breast. “Do you want this?”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods. You’re nervous, but you ask, “I know this might not be the right time to ask, but have you been sleeping with other people while I’m here?” You cursed yourself as soon as you said it. You weren’t his girlfriend, you had no right to know this, and yet you needed to know. To know that he was in this, for real.

“No, darling,” he says. “I’m pursuing something serious, if that’s what you want.”

Your body relaxed, and you’re positive that Lando could tell. “Yeah, yeah I do want that,” you say. “Now fuck me, please.”

“So very polite,” he comments, bringing his mouth to your other nipple. This time there’s a little teeth, but he’s still painstakingly slow. “You want to go to the bed?”

You nod, and he’s already up, taking your hand in his and leading you further into his rooms. You notice the bulge straining against his expertly tailored pants, and he notices you staring. “Manners starting to slip, sweetheart? It’s not polite to stare.”

You shake your head, face beginning to heat up as it dons on you that not only are you staring at his bulge, you’re also walking around with your tits out. “Don’t get shy, now, sweetheart,” he commands with a gentle tone as he leads you to the bed. 

The bed is massive, with large fluffy pillows and nice fuzzy blankets strewn over it. “Maker, Lando, this is huge.”

“The size of this bed is where the Bespin orgy stories come from, my dear,” he winks. “Though this isn’t where they happen.” He drops your hand so you can hoist yourself up onto the large bed, and he follows suit, though he’s a lot more graceful. 

“Now,” he says, gently pushing you to recline against the pillows. “Where were we?” He lays down next to you, attaching his mouth to the side of your breast, sucking harshly. Another bruise would form there, and your core ached at the thought of getting to admire them the next morning in the ‘fresher mirror. 

Your whimpers seem to echo in the big room, and Lando loves it. “Let me hear you,” he murmurs against your stomach before sucking another bruise. “Love to hear you.”

And, boy, do you let him hear it. So used to muffling your own noises in places with thin walls, it was a strange freedom to be as loud as you want. “Can I take this off, sweetheart?”

His hands are balled up on the dress. “Fuck, yes, please,” you tell him, eager for him to get closer to your cunt, to give you the direct stimulation he’s made you crave. He pulls the dress down your body and off your legs, tossing it to the other side of the bed. He unclasps the cape and removes his shirt, tossing them as well. And, kriff, he’s gorgeous. He’s toned, but not overly muscular in the way you find scary. His skin looks smooth, though covered in hair, and you reach a hand out to drag across his stomach. 

You expect him to ask to take your panties off next, but he doesn’t. “I bet your pussy is pretty, sweetheart. Everything about you is pretty,” he says, one hand cupping your cunt, the warmth burning through the thin fabric, and the other stilling your hand on his abdomen. All you can do is whine a little, the light pressure on your pussy making you ache even more. 

Lando leans down to kiss you, pressing his blue-flavored candy lips against yours and returning your hand to the mattress. When he pulls away, he lowers himself down between your legs, eye-level with your cunt. “Open these up more,” he coos, pushing your legs open and up towards your chest. 

He places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt, giving a deep chuckle when you gasp. “She’s already swollen, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ve not even done much. Just sucked your tits.”

“Yeah, but you did that for, like, ever,” you breath out, and he laughs. 

“I like to tease my girl,” he says before bringing his lips down over the fabric again. But you can’t focus completely on that right now, not when your mind is repeating his voice calling you his girl. But eventually you snap out of it when his mouth is replaced with his fingers, running over the fabric of your panties, there’s enough friction to tease you but not enough to truly please you.

“I think it’s time I see this pussy,” he says, placing some kisses on your thighs. “Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”

You whine out a yes, and he makes quick work of removing your underwear. The cool air of the room hits your slick as Lando returns your legs to their open position. “Just like I thought- gorgeous pussy” he says, using a finger to collect your arousal, bringing it to his mouth and closing his eyes as he cleans his finger. “Taste better than the blue candy, sweetheart. I think I need another taste, don’t you?”

You nod, and before you can even utter a ‘please’, his mouth is on you. “Stars, Lando,” you whimper as he sucks on your clit. His tongue is swirling around in patterns that made your whole body shiver, his hands are on your tits and stomach, groping at any soft flesh he could grasp. Everytime you whine out a word, he hums around your clit, sending a wave of vibration straight to your core. 

“And to think I’ve traveled to a hundred confectionery shops when the sweetest candy in the galaxy is right here,” he says, pulling your lips further apart so he could admire his candy. With a growl, he dives back in, this time at your hole, letting his nose take care of your clit for now. His tongue pushes inside you with force, Lando eagerly lapping up your juices, your moans escaping in unison with his. 

When he decides his nose occasionally bumping your clit isn’t enough and replaces it with his fingers, rubbing small circles, you feel the wave of your orgasm start to roll in. “Gonna come, Lando, fuck-”

He hums, low and gravely against your cunt, and it pushes you over the edge. You’re loud, moaning and writhing under him, but his mouth stays attached to your slit with determination, following your hips wherever they go. Lando does this until your body stops shivering and you’re left with labored breathing on the bed in a mess of pillows. 

“Stars, Lando, you’re good at that,” you giggle as he climbs up your body to press a kiss to your forehead, nose, lips. You taste yourself on him, not something you’d describe as the best candy in the galaxy, but you could see where he was coming from. 

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart,” he replies. “I’m a people pleaser at heart.” Your hands wander down to the buckle of his belt, trying to undo it but the clasp is foreign and your mind is cloudy. Lando sits back on his haunches between your legs, undoing the clasp and freeing his cock from his pants. Lando Calrissian didn’t wear underwear, apparently. “Is this what you wanted, beautiful?” 

You nod frantically, the voice in the back of your head telling you you looked pathetically horny, but you couldn’t care. “Please, Lando,” you whine. “Want you inside me.”

“Stars, sweetheart, I’ve wanted this since back on Naboo,” he says, shedding his pants and adding them to the stack of clothes accumulating on the side of the bed. 

“Been so enamored by you for so long,” he sighs, lining his cock up with your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you beg, “Please.”

“There’s my girl, with her manners,” he groans as he pushes his cock inside you, ever so slowly. “Gotta savor your pussy, sweetheart. Been wanting it for so long.”

You moan as he bottoms out, “Wait, my implant expired, I’m sor-” 

He cuts you off, “I have one. Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” His voice is strained with pleasure as he drags his cock in and out of your aching core, you swear you can feel each vein against your walls. 

“Fuck, Lando, please,” you whine, wishing he’d give you a little more, even if it was just enough to come. 

He gives you that smug smile, “Please what?”

“Faster, Lando,” you whimper, bringing your legs around his waist in an effort to push him into you quicker.

He tuts. “Where’s your manners, sweet thing?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please, please, please.”

He kisses your nose. “Since you’re so polite, I think I might just have to oblige.” And he does. His hips don’t snap hard against you like the other guys you’d fucked, though they hadn’t been very good, maybe that was why. He wasn’t so hard like the holoporn videos or the stories you’d read on the ‘Net. But it’s so good. 

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” His voice is breathy now, though still deep. 

“Full,” you whine, and his fingers come to your clit, causing you to gasp and clench around him. “And stretched.”

His lips are painted with that smug smile again, “Just like you want, sweetheart. Just like you deserve.”

His voice deep in your ear, his cock deep in your cunt, and his fingers moving with grace across your clit just about send you to the edge again. “I think I’m gonna come Lando,” you moan, “Fuck I want to come, please!”

“Come, then, sweetheart,” He grunts. “I’ll always give you anything you want.” That was it, the final straw, and your body began to shiver and shake. Your arms clasped around him and your legs pushing him deep inside you, you come with such force that you can hardly make any noise. Your mouth is open, your eyes are wide, but there’s no sounds, just complete and utter bliss. “I’ll always give you what you want,” he pants again as you come down from your high, still relishing in his cock fucking you open.

“Then give me your cum,” you demand. 

There’s a twinkle in his eye now, “Your wish is my command,” he says. His thrusts are a little quicker now, though more shallow and sloppy, and you continue to moan his name and clench your walls around him until he’s grunting in your ear that, “I’m going to fill you up, sweetheart, just like you asked.” 

And he comes, also with force, losing control of his thrusts and your heels dig into his ass, holding him inside you as he paints your walls white. “Fuck, just what I wanted, Lando,” you coo, running a hand over his back as he lay on top of you trying to collect himself. “Treat me so well, like a princess.”

He gently pulls out, both of you wincing, and he rolls onto your side. You shift to face him, trying not to move too much so you don’t spill cum over what you assume are expensive blankets and bedding. 

“Spread your legs a little, sweetheart,” he says softly. You do as you're told, and he slips a finger between your legs, just outside your slit where he collects your mixed cum. He licks some, though not all, off his finger and hums. “Second sweetest candy in the galaxy. You want a taste?”

You nod, sticking your tongue out with an eagerness that should’ve been embarrassing. He holds his finger out and you lick it clean. “I think that’s the sweetest,” you say, savoring the strange yet satisfying taste. “But to each their own I guess.”

-

“Did you enjoy that?” Lando has you lying against his chest, now clad in one of his silk sleep shirts and he wears the matching pants. He’d cleaned you up nicely, brought some sweet Alderaanian toniray- a rare commodity these days- for you to sip on. 

You nod. “It was amazing. I’ve never come twice with someone before.”

He looks almost offended at your statement, “You’ve only been with guys that make you come once?”

“Sometimes not even once,” you admit. “That’s not normal?”

He shakes his head. “Kriff, no, sweetheart, you’re supposed to come. And the bare minimum is once in my book. In fact, I regret only making you come twice tonight. Got too caught up in my own pleasure.”

“Well, you’re supposed to feel good, too,” you point out. 

He nods. “Yes, but I should also make you feel good. I get off on making you feel good.” He’s shaking his head again. “Only come once,” he mutters. “Atrocious, dear, absolutely atrocious.”

You let out a sleepy giggle, drawing patterns with your nail on his chest. “Well you can make up for all those missed orgasms another time,” you say, finishing with a yawn. “You’ve worn me out, Calrissian.”

“As you should be, sweetheart,” he says. “Get some rest, yeah?”

You nod against his chest, the quiet darkness of the room and the beat of his heart already lulling you to sleep.

-

tagging those who showed some interest (i promise boba threesome is coming in the next few days, i’ve already written over half of it lol)! @delusionsxfgrandeur @fuckyeahbeskar @sleepwithacommunist @tibbietibbs @hansonveggieclub

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

my storybook ღ join my taglist

BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

[tisfan]

Lucky Buck’s Magical Coffee Shop

For Fantasy Bingo Fill: Technomage

cowritten by @27dragons​ Art by @monobuu​ 

“What even did you do to it?” Bucky demanded, peering in his cup. It was supposed to be a triple shot espresso with a custom blend lucky in love potion. One of his most popular drinks, and what practically kept him in business. Being a potioneer in the modern world was tricky business. 

Back in his mother’s day, love potions were all the rage. But through legal pressure and the consent issues, that business was illegal. You could still get one if you knew where to look, but both the potion giver and the maker could be held accountable for overpowering someone’s will.

Bucky had learned to gently massage his skill, to influence the drinker in a positive manner, instead of having the potion get slipped in someone’s cocktail while they weren’t looking.

Lucky Buck’s was his shop. Potion-making was his game.

Also, he was a killer barista, and the caffeine base did a wonderful job of keeping the potions perky.

But what he was looking at right now was not Lucky in Love, but something that was a truly revolting shade of green.

Lucky, maybe. Green was still a lucky color. But, “I’m not sure what this would do to someone who drank it, Clint.”

“I didn’t do anything, it just came out that way,” Clint complained.

“Right. Okay,” Bucky said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Put out the temporary closed sign and I’ll call the repair guy.”

Not his favorite wizard in the world, either. Howard Stark was a good technomage, but he was a terrible person. The sort of guy who probably went looking for blackmarket love potions. 

He dialed the number. It’d been years since he’d had to call Stark’s.

“Stark’s Wizardry; how may I direct your call?” The posh-sounding British receptionist sounded exactly the same as always.

“Emergency repairs, please, yes, I’ll hold,” Bucky said. He looked back at the green goop. “Here, put this next to my kit, I want to figure out what it does do.” Which could be important for disposal. He didn’t want to put, say, a sex pollen potion in the fire and spread it across half a city block.

“--fine, can I just--? Thank you! Stark here, what’s your emergency?” It had been a long time, but Bucky didn’t remember Howard sounding quite so... young.

“My potion dispenser is… churning out something dangerously not like what I asked for. It was cleaned two weeks ago, and my casting hasn’t been off, so I need someone to come take a look at it before I poison someone. Or lose all my income for the day.”

Bucky was watching outside the window as people leaned in to squint at the sign and then walked away. Each one, a customer who might not be back. God damn it.

“Yeah, those can be tricky, is it-- Tell you what, I’ll just pop over directly. Hang up the phone and step back a couple of paces. JARVIS, pull the return--” Stark hung up, mid-sentence.

Huh. Speedy service. That was better than Stark usually did. Most of the time, Bucky had to make an appointment. 

But Bucky did as he was told. That was a new travel method, but he’d seen people do close-up teleporting before. Usually, however, it was to a designated travel pad. Bucky did a quick sweep of the area to make sure the guy wasn’t going to appear blended in with one of the chairs.

Only a few seconds later, there was an audible bamph of displaced air as a man appeared at the counter, only a few inches from where Bucky had just been standing, his hand resting on the top of the phone. “Great, okay, now where am I?” He turned around, stopping when he spotted Bucky. “Well, hello there, hot stuff. You call for a techno-wizard?”

That definitely wasn’t Howard Stark. Not unless Howard had mixed himself up some extremely dubious de-aging potions-- but no; Howard had blue eyes, and this man had wide eyes the color of really good whisky. Or dark honey.

“You’re not Stark,” Bucky said, instinctively. “Did he send you--”  The espresso potion-maker started making weird hiccuping noises from the counter. “I did call. My potion dispenser made-- that.” He pointed at the cup full of green slime that was now bubbling over the sides of the cup. Yuck.

“Oh, wow, I haven’t seen that before,” the mage said. Before Bucky could stop him, he reached out and swiped a finger through the goo. He sniffed at it cautiously, then -- oh, yuck -- licked it off. “Coffee base? Yeah, okay, I can see it; the caffeine  would interact with most of the common potion solvents to--” He kept talking as he edged sideways toward the espresso machine, almost as if it were accidental.

“...Of course, if you’re using chlorophyll, you’ve got to be careful to avoid Kenyan beans, especially a dark roast, because the particular quality of the oils those beans produce will--” He spun around and opened both hands, pointing them toward the sullenly-grumbling machine. He had sigils tattooed on his palms, Bucky saw, that were glowing a bright, eerie blue.

The light burst from the wizard’s hands and engulfed the espresso machine, which seemed to slump in dejection. “Yeah,” the mage said, leaning forward to peer through the light at the dispenser. “You’ve got a minor possession going on, here. When was the last time you had your wards updated?”

“Uh, the building doesn’t belong to me,” Bucky said. “I rent it. Hydra’s supposed to take care of all the warding, it’s in my rental contract. Every six months, I’m told.” Although come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Sitwell in almost a year now. “I can check my records -- usually the guy comes in for a lunch on the house, which I’m allowed to back bill against my rent.”

“Oh, Hydra,” the mage said knowingly. “Yeah, they’re pretty notorious for skimping on their wards, I’m afraid. I’m surprised you haven’t called me before this.” He puttered around the espresso machine while he talked, etching colored lines in the glowing globe around it.

Bucky watched, almost spellbound, as the man worked. He had long, quick, clever fingers and a way of talking to the espresso machine like he believed it was alive. Also, he kept bending over to check things, and the rearview was to die for.

“So, you’re Howard’s-- what, protege? I’ve never worked with anyone else.”

“What?” He glanced up, startled, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no, Dad never wanted to admit I existed, half the time. He didn’t like that I’m not very traditional about my spellwork, nevermind that it’s twice as effective.” He put his hands on either side of the espresso machine and his palms glowed bright blue again. It looked almost like it was pushing the magic and light through the lines he’d laid down, until the whole thing was nearly too bright to look at--

And then the lines of light broke away, tumbling off the espresso machine and reforming into an imp, no taller than Bucky’s knee. “Go on,” the wizard told it. “Off with you.”

The imp hissed at him, which didn’t seem to phase him at all, and then disappeared with a soft pop. “Right,” the mage said as the last of the glow faded. “Give it a try now.”

“Right,” Bucky said, staring at the spot where the imp had been. You always heard about those sorts of things, but he’d never actually seen one. “Uh, yeah, let me get a new cup.” He grabbed a mug, ground beans from his house blend and tamped them. Two drops from the Essence of Luck and one from Hearts into the bottom of the cup. 

Steam hissed over the beans, and Bucky counted in his head. Twenty-six seconds. Pretty good. The espresso had a nice crema on it, and when Bucky added the steamed milk, he drew a little heart and arrow through it.

“Looks much better,” Bucky said. 

“Smells fantastic,” the mage agreed. “Just a little fruity. Almost like... blueberries? No, plums.”

“It’s a lucky in love spell,” Bucky said. Obviously, he could drink it, but potions never worked on their makers. It was some sort of rule of three; Bucky had to give out in the world to get back. “Not a big one, of course. Just increases the possibility of meeting someone, or having it work out, or having a good date. It’s my second best seller.”

“Oh? What’s the best, then?”

Bucky rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Money for Nothing,” he said. 

The wizard laughed. It was a gorgeous laugh, rich and full, and made his eyes crinkle at the corners delightfully. “Yeah, I probably should have guessed that.” He reached out and picked up the espresso cup. “I’d rather have love, myself.” He turned the cup around in his hand carefully, then poured the coffee into his mouth, the foamy point of the arrow first, like it was leading the way down into his stomach. “The name’s Tony, by the way.”

“Bucky,” Bucky said, offering his hand. “Natural Potions master, and barista.” Natural was a title that was rapidly giving way; magic was diluted enough in the blood that most people were degreed. Not that, magically speaking, it mattered all that much. The only time a client really needed to have a Natural was for something custom, or complicated. Anyone with enough study and a few drops of magical blood could brew basic potions.

Tony took Bucky’s hand; his grip was firm without being obnoxious, and the tattoo on his palm was just a tiny bit warmer than the skin around it. “Glad to meet you, Bucky.” He glanced down at the espresso cup he still held in his other hand, then set it down with a faint smile. “I’d be even gladder if you agreed to go to dinner with me.”

Bucky knew his own magic. He couldn’t be affected by it, but he could be… well, he could be someone else’s match. Huh. That had never happened before. 

“Uh, yeah. I… I think I’d like that.”

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Fruit. (Part 2.)

Tony Stark (Sugar Daddy) x Reader Insert.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: Sugar daddy relationship, alcoholism, drunk driving, language, slight foot fetish?, public displays of affection, reader is a little brat. 

(Chapter 2 of the Guns n’ Glitter series.)

A fluttering of lips against your face, you turn away and bury yourself under your covers, desperately trying to cling to sleep for as long as you can. But Tony is persistent, hands on your hips tugging you against him.

His voice is low and hoarse in your ear, "Wake up." A chill ghosts up your spine as he squeezes your hip. "We're going out today, remember?"

Yes, you remember, his fingers laced with yours as you drove his car, he told you everything he wanted to do today, each statement followed with a kiss to your knuckles in promise. But you feel exhausted. Well not really, just too comfortable to get up, and his hands on you aren't helping. He kisses the back of your neck, baby hairs standing to attention at the sensation. "No," is all you can say, pushing your face further into the pillow.

What time is it? It's a Saturday, why is he rushing?

"Come on baby," He says, a strain in his voice as he tries to be patient. "The longer we lay here, the more time we waste."

That's right, you only have two days, you're only staying for the weekend, and that has you letting out a deep sigh through your nostrils, turning to look at him.

"Five more minutes?"

He smiles, "Only if you kiss me."

Yesterday you wanted nothing more than to stay up with him, but now, Saturday morning washing over you, you just want to sleep in.

So you do kiss him, a hand in his hair as you pull his face closer to yours. It's disgusting, too sloppy and too wet this early in the morning, a mix of morning breath and an occasional mash of teeth, but he's set on devouring you, his tongue in your mouth ever so slowly pushing you to lay on your back. But you've done worse.

He slots himself between your legs, hands on your hips pressing you firmly against the mattress, and when he bites your lip, the moan that comes from your throat sounds painful, scratching it's way up and out. He swallows it, humming in approval, lips pressing to yours gently to sooth his previous action.

"You know," A huff of breath against your lips. "Believe it or not, this was supposed to be innocent."

You scoff, nails scratching his scalp, his eyes slip closed. "You're the one who climbed on top of me." You press a kiss to his chin, the hairs of his beard tickling your face.

"I can't help it, you're just so," He catches himself, thumbs rubbing little circles against your hips. "You're perfect, and you're stalling." His eyes snap open, glaring at you. "You little devil. Get up."

He's off of you before you can protest, grabbing you by your wrists and pulling you with him. Cool air bites your bare skin, the warmth of the covers was all that was protecting you from the insanely low temperature of AC in your room. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair.

"Put on something pretty? Be ready in twenty. I'm not kidding."

You do put on something pretty, something that makes him want to say fuck it and take you back to bed like you wanted all along. But first, you freshen up in the bathroom. You brush your teeth, then walk through a delicate skin care routine, products applies with the light tap of your ring finger. You apply a light layer of makeup, slick your hair into a pony tail with some gel, then you get dressed.

You put on a little pink dress with thin straps, shoulders bare and thighs proudly on display. You dress it up with a pair of heels and a mini bag, a cuban link chain on your neck, matching diamond earrings, and bracelets that jingle every time you take a step.

"Tight," His pinky finger is caught between his teeth when he sees you, because, "My god, you don't disappoint, do you?"

"I live to please, Mr. Stark." A bat of your eyelashes, and an air kiss against his cheek, you know you'll be in trouble later.

But for now, he lets you play your part, teasing him and winding him up, because he lives for reminding you of who wears the pants in the relationship.

He pick a different car this time, the Roadster, and for a moment you think he's going to let you drive again. Reading your mind, he kisses your cheek, not on your life, and holds your hand to help you inside.

The first stop is breakfast, the sun barely risen as you leave the garage, and you're squinting against the bright light to take a few pictures. Because daddy's rich, and he's taking you out today, and you can't help but feel entitled. You work hard for the things he gives you, so damn right you're going to brag about it. Because who else can say they have Tony Stark wrapped around their finger? He drives with the top down, giving you the perfect view of the State of California.

Breakfast is more like brunch, he drives you across the state to take you to a restaurant in L.A. It's nice, on the water and not too crowded since it's so early. The sun feels warm on your skin, a mimosa in your hand, Tony takes pictures on your phone for you. Your outfit is adorable, you get many complements, the kind that makes Tony's left eye twitch if someone stares at you for too long.

"You look like you're going to have a stroke." You say, nodding to his water. "Are you hot? Drink something."

He shakes his head, plucking the lemon from his ice water. "Keep it up." Is all he says, taking a sip.

You smile, faking innocent. "What?"

He has the nerve to smile back, mocking you. "You know exactly what." He says, looking up as the waiter brings your food.

You ordered an omelette with hash browns, and Tony ordered a stack of blueberry waffles. He pours the syrup for you both, and per his request you feed him a piece. You also order a fruit bowl, sharing it between you. Your fingertips and lips stain red from the strawberries, which earns you a sweet kiss from across the table.

"Blueberries or strawberries?" You ask him suddenly, his eyes floating up from his food to your face.

"Do I get to weigh my options?" He raises an eyebrow.

"You can walk me through it." You trace the rim of your glass with a single finger, and his eyes catch it for a moment before putting his knife and fork down.

"Well, they both stain." He says it with a deviant little smirk that turns your face the color of your lips. "But strawberries taste sweeter."

"Then why do you like blueberries so much?"

"I don't necessarily like them," He says. "But I don't mind them."

"You prefer strawberries but choose blueberry pancakes?" You ask.

He lets out a huff, reaching over for your mimosa. "Must you question everything I say and do?" He counters. "Is this boring you?" He's teasing you, so you don't respond. "There wasn't a strawberry pancake option on the menu, sweetie."

You are a bit bored, your pestering is a bad habit, find anything to pick apart simply because there is nothing else to do. So you decide to occupy yourself with another task, the man sitting across from you more than willing to receive your antics.

"Is this strong enough for you?" He asks, pulling a face, placing your drink back down in front of you. "Want some wine?"

Under the table, you slip your feet out of your heels. "It's not even lunch time." You point out. "Will they serve it?"

"Did you forget who you're talking to?" He waves down the waiter, and sure enough a bottle of their most expensive wine is brought out to you.

He pours you a glass, then another, matching your one with two for himself. Your cheeks are flushed with color before you can even finish your food, and of course Tony notices, eyes dark as he watches you tap your nails against your wine glass.

Thoughts cloud his mind, The smooth look of your skin in the sunlight, face glowing and kissed by the sun. The pout of your lips, tinted red in color from fruit juice and wine. Your cheeks are flushed, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek bones each time you blink. You're comfortable, relaxed, and that's all he wanted for you today.

But then his eyes wander, down your face and to the jewelry sitting on your collar bones, jewelry he bought for you. The dress you wear is tiny, he imagines that if he looks under the table he'll see your bare panties between your legs, it hugs you like a glove, reflecting the sunlight, and there's something seductive about the way your curves move fluidly each time you shift in your seat. And then, that ghost of your touch traveling up his leg, he thinks he's imagining it at first, but then you bite your lip, resting an elbow against the table to lean forward.

He reaches a hand down, catching your foot just as it reaches the top of his thigh, and you fail at concealing a gasp.

"Forgotten our table manners, have we?" He raises an eyebrow at you, making you sit up straighter, clearing your throat.

"Of course Mr. Stark. My apologies." You decide to play coy, holding your head high, reaching a hand up to fluff your pony tail. "How do you like the wine?"

To your surprise, he doesn't let you go, fingers inching up to your ankle. "It's sweet, strong." He says, "Fruity."

"I like it too." You say, bracelets jingling as you reach for another piece of fruit. "But I think I've had more than enough."

His finger slips, over your ankle and down the arch of your foot, and you flinch in response, knee knocking the table. Your eyes widen, and you're quick to save your wine glass from tipping over.

He laughs, dropping your foot. "I agree."

He holds his hand out suddenly, eyes glistening with a sense of mischief, and you're hesitant to place your hand in his. Slowly, he guides your hand to his mouth, sucking your fingers clean of syrup and fruit juice. His tongue slides across your skin, dipping between your fingers and trailing up to the pads of your finger tips. His tongue is hot, warm, his eyes never leaving yours as he licks you clean, as he tastes you. Then as if nothing happened at all, he reaches over to dab your lips with a napkin, kissing the underside of your wrist before letting you go.

He waves down the waiter for what feels like the tenth time, leaving you flustered, wanting something much sweeter than fruit. But Tony has the day planned for you already, so you bite your tongue and let him drag you around the city, stealing one last sip of wine before you leave.

Your nail appointment is booked for noon, and it takes over two hours to get done. But being tipsy helps the process, bursting into a fit of giggles each time you look over at Tony. He sits beside you with his phone in hand, playing a game, which he lets you watch occasionally. He looks like a bored child, dragged out for a day of shopping with their mother.

When asked what color you want, Tony's hand on your thigh, you decide to let him pick.

"Red," he says, lips lingering at the corner of your mouth.

Red like those strawberries, like the juice he licked from your fingers, like the wine that's clouding your judgement. Red like the car he let your drive yesterday, red like your cheeks, because you know what he's implying. Red is his color, and now he's making you wear it.

But you continue to tease him, crossing and uncrossing your legs, arching your back to stretch your spine, shifting back and forth to pull your dress down. His eyes hardly ever leave you, looking up only when you turn to smile at him. He tells you to behave, which you blatantly ignore, shifting in your seat to face him. He doesn't complain though, taking in the sight of you, watching you relish in the feeling of being pampered.

On a couple accent nails, you get crystals and rhinestones, fingers catching the light as you hold your hand out for his credit card to pay.

Keep it up, his eyes are screaming consequences at you for your bratty behavior. But you can't help it. He's torturing you with a good time, so you're returning the favor. You thank him with a wet one right on his lips, his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the salon and back into the warm California air.

Your heels click against the pavement, hair swaying in tune with the switch of your hips, and you can't stop staring at your new nails, hands spread out in front of you as you examine them in the sunlight. Tony has good taste, the red really does suit you after all.

"Are you hungry?" You just ate a couple hours ago, but you can go for a snack. So you nod, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers. "Want some ice cream?"

Ice cream. Tony Stark has a wicked sweet tooth, or maybe he just wants to see your lips wrapped around an ice cream cone. Either way, he buys you one, strawberry for you, cookie dough for him. You let him have a lick, and you're half tempted to smear it across his face.

You're surprised that you don't get any on your clothes, especially with the rate your ice cream is melting under the sun. It takes several wet napkins to clean your hand free of that sticky feeling, because you don't think you can handle Tony licking your fingers a second time.

There's something cute about watching Tony eat ice cream, something that makes you take a picture of him, which earns you a scolding about being addicted to your cell phone. You remind him of your age difference, which has him grabbing your hip and rolling his eyes. You're just trying to get a rise out of him, and it's working, the remnants of his ice cream gone, both of his hands on you now.

"You like my age." He says, voice low and eyes squinting against the sun. "In fact, if I were closer to your age you wouldn't like me at all."

It's true, you don't like men your own age. You're too mature for that, you're chasing a career, and boys your age just want to get drunk and party all the time. Tony is a business man, an established business man, someone who encourages you to work hard and chase your dreams. Boys your age could never.

So you seal his affirmations with a kiss, "Just don't let it get to your head."

It's far too late for that already, his hand in yours as you drag him down the street.

You decide to stop in the shopping mall, Tony tucks a wad of cash in your purse and tells you to go crazy. So you do. Gucci, Chanel, Fendi, you're reaching for cash more than you can keep track of, burning through it far too quickly. When you ask for his credit card instead, he appears unphased as you run up his bill, handing him receipts to sign and bags to carry. You spend hours shopping, trying things on for him, dragging on the occasion as long as you can.

He hardly ever lets you go shopping. He much rather prefers to gift you things, let you order online instead of getting up and going to an actual store. He prefers the privacy and convenience, but today he's in a spoiling mood, tolerating all of your antics so that you can treat yourself.

You don't mean to act like a brat, he just makes it fun. You truly do appreciate all he does for you, and you decide to remind him of that when you're ready to go, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"All shopped out?" He asks, lips pressed to your ear.

"My feet hurt, and I'm hungry again."

He can hear the pout in your voice, which makes him laugh, an arm tucking around your waist. "I bet. You might as well have run a marathon in those shoes today."

You pull back, looking down at them. "They're cute."

"Very cute." He kisses your nose. "Let's go."

He loads your millions of shopping bags into the trunk, and you take your heels off while you wait, letting your hair down just for a moment to massage your scalp. You reapply a bit of lip gloss and blot your forehead using your phone camera as a mirror, refreshed by the time he's finished stacking everything in the trunk.

He takes you to an authentic Italian restaurant for dinner, the menu's written in actual Italian, which Tony has no trouble translating for you. You knew he was Italian, but hearing him speak it is another story.

You order pasta and a salad, trying to be good after eating an entire basket of bread sticks. But good never lasts too long when in Tony's company, a glass of champagne is set in front of you and all morals are out of the window. You drink until you can no longer feel the pain in your feet, twirling your fork full of pasta to feed to him across the table. You're not a light weight, but he makes sure you're responsible, encouraging you to drink water and eat more bread.

He lets you sample off of his plate as well, speaking in hushed tones as he fusses over you. Are you sure you're okay? Take a break and drink some water. No more. Okay fine, this is the last one. Yes, drinking out of my glass still counts. Watch your arm, don't set it on your food. It's cute, and it keeps you smiling all night.

Tony made good on his promise to treat you today, good food, a fresh set of acrylics, and cute clothes. You felt thoroughly spoiled, shopped out and ready to go back to the house.

But he isn't finished yet.

"You got to do everything you wanted," He says, wiping his mouth clean on a napkin. "Now it's my turn."

You groan, thinking that he's going to do some shopping for himself. If that were the case, he could have been doing it with you the entire time. But that isn't what he meant at all, your eyes wide as he walks you to a jewelry store, hand firm on your back just in case. You're tired, and drunk, but nothing beats the sight of diamonds.

"I have something special in mind." He pulls his shades from his face and tucks them onto the collar of his shirt, like the true asshole that he is. Too cool to even make eye contact with the poor guy behind the register. "Something custom."

It's not everyday that a store owner sees Tony Stark walk in, so Tony cuts him some slack, flashing him a smile.

"Of course. What do you have in mind?"

It's whispered behind his hand, out of earshot and out of your line of vision. You're instantly annoyed, stepping away from him to look at the display case behind you.

He's back on you in an instant, hands next to yours on the glass, his chest against your back. He kisses your cheek, sensing your change in mood. "It will only take about an hour. Until then, let's take a look around?"

With all the spending he's already done on you, you figured he would be done. Apparently not. "Sure," You say, turning your face against his lips, stealing a quick kiss. "Thank you for today."

"That's the whole point of this, isn't it?" It's his own weird way of saying you're welcome, but it makes you roll your eyes anyway, stealing another kiss.

You're undeniably handsy, clinging to his arm as he walks you around the jewelry store. You're a bit bored though, your collection is already large enough to be over the initial excitement of basic diamonds and gold. But something does catch your eye eventually, nail between your teeth as you stop dead in your tracks.

"See something you like?"

Nail tapping against the glass, "That one." It's a cuban link chain, encrusted with pink diamonds, "I don't have a pink one."

He realizes that you don't, so it's added to his tab. So is a pair of earrings, an anklet, another necklace, by the time his custom piece is done, you've run up the total three times what it would have been originally. Oops, he doesn't seem to mind though, once again swiping his card, not blinking twice at the price. You consider this payment for making you stay out so late.

He's silent as you walk back to the car, arm tight around your shoulders, he holds the bag just out of your reach, and you feel like a child being restricted from having too much candy. You just want to hold your spoils.

"Are you still not going to let me drive?" You ask, and the laugh he lets out actually shocks you.

"God, no. You can barely keep your eyes open. Yesterday was different." Yesterday wasn't different, but you don't complain as he leans you against the car, walking off to place the jewelry bag in the trunk with the others.

You take it upon yourself to climb in, landing hard against the passenger seat. You pull your hair free form it's pony tail and kick off your shoes, placing them up on the dashboard. You can tell that he's tired too, letting out a little huff as he gets in the car finally. You smile, raking your nails across his scalp, and he enjoys your touch for a moment.

"I was going to fuck the shit out of you," He says, eyes barely open, "But I think we're both a bit too tired for that now."

You visibly deflate, pouting as you lean over the console, kissing his forehead. "Can't hang old man?"

He laughs, pointing a finger at you. "You're drunk, and we have a long ride home."

He does have a point though, by the time you do actually get home you doubt you'll be able to do anything.

"I got something for you." He says, breaking your silence.

You laugh, "You got me a lot of somethings."

"No," He shakes his head. "A special something."

"I want to see."

"Tomorrow. I promise." The smile he gives you is dazzling, washing away your annoyance almost instantly. "We need to sleep."

He looks a little guilty, but you don't hold it against him, enjoying the warmth of his hand on your thigh as he drives.

The radio down low, wind blowing your hair, you can barely hear him when he asks, "Did you have fun today?"

You nod, doing your best to look over at him. "Thank you."

He pats your thigh reassuringly, the touch comforting. "You're welcome, baby. Anything for you."

-------------------------------------------------------

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[dearlazerbunny]

If/When/Then

Pairings: Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Genre/Ratings: Five Times trope; G, mentions of severe anxiety

Words: 4200

Summary: Or, five times Kyoya didn’t kiss you (and the one time he did)

WARNING: the last bit gets a little angsty

One

“Kyoya. I swear to god. Can we please just-” you rub your eyes exhaustedly, trying to get the harsh blue glow of your laptop out from under your eyelids- “take a break? Or better yet, call it a night?”

The boy sitting across from you on the sofa glances up, his work reflected in his glasses. “How many words do you have?”

“Kyoyaaaaaaaa-”

“Y/N. How many words?” His tone is partially amused but mostly paternal, like he’s asking a small child how many candies they snuck before dinner. If you weren’t so brain dead it’d piss you off, but as it is you’re mostly just petulant.

“Um… three thousand and… something?”

A slender finger pushes his glasses further up his nose. “And the minimum word count is…?”

“You damn well know,” you mumble, before letting your head drop into your hands. One of your elbows is resting on your keyboard, leaving a long trail of jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs across your half-finished essay.

“What was that?” A socked foot aims a kick at his shin, but your aim goes wide and he dodges it easily. “I believe the answer is six thousand.”

You give a long, heartfelt groan.

Kyoya sighs. He can easily knock out an essay in under an hour, while you require a little more effort- and a lot more bribery. Even if English is one of your best subjects, he knows sitting here for the past few hours laboring over a boring political comparison has to be dragging on you. And he’s been too caught up in his own work to even try to keep your spirits up- something he’s now regretting, seeing the usual sparkle in your eye dull to something uncharacteristically quiet.

“Here.” He reaches over the edge of his perch and feels for the basket of blankets he knows will be sitting there- his sister has a fondness for being wrapped in a minimum of three layers at all times. Carefully, as so not to disturb his own precious computer, he reaches over and drapes a loose-knit woolen beauty over your lap. He even takes a second to tuck the ends over your toes. You watch, fascinated, so used to his fingers tapping out mile-a-minute documents in a harsh staccato that this moment of softness seems unreal. Maybe you’ve already fallen asleep and are dreaming, or it’s a particularly nice sort of 2AM hallucination. Kyoya notices you staring- of course he does, he notices far too much about you nowadays to try and convince himself he only values you as a friend- and very pointedly looks anywhere but your gaze. He’s not sure he could look away if he caught your eye now, hazy with sleep and reflecting starlight from the nearby open window. “Better?”

“Um- yeah.” You settle a little further into the cushions. “Thanks.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Of course, when he glances over at you not ten minutes later, you’re fast asleep, laptop precariously close to toppling to the floor. He rescues it and saves your work before shutting it down. There’s a slight smile on your face as you dream, and the overwhelming urge to lean over and press a kiss to your forehead makes Kyoya stop still.

His fixation on you has grown over the past few months, that much is clear, but he hadn’t predicted them to progress this quickly this fast. He has his grades to maintain, a club to run, and a company to prepare for. He shouldn’t have time for silly distractions, like categorizing exactly how peaceful you look curled up next to him, or reaching out and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.

He shouldn’t. And yet, he does- he always will, for you.

Two

“Remind me again who said this was a good idea?” You squint your eyes as you turn your face towards the sky, which is lit by a brilliant sun. The Host Club is hosting on location this time- a beautiful stretch of beach peppered by towels, umbrellas, waiters offering fruity drinks, and a couple hundred squealing girls. You know. Relaxing. “I think I might like to punch them.”

“You might talk to Mori about a healthy and productive way to manage your rampant anger issues.” You snort and roll your eyes, which in turn makes the corner of Kyoya’s mouth tick up. He’s under an umbrella nearby, neatly marking down figures on his notepad. “Besides, I thought you liked the water.”

“I do, when it’s not so…” you gesture to the gaggle of twenty or so girls nearby, all primping and twisting in their bikinis to hopefully catch the eye of their favorite host- “crowded.”

“Ah.” He can sympathize with that. The smell of salt and brine takes him back to childhood, with the two of you making castles in the sand and pestering the other with seashell-finding competitions. Beach days were lazy days when your parents couldn’t be bothered to have either of you in the house, but to the two of you they were worth their weight in gold. Today, as he watches you stretch into the heat, his childhood friend is overshone by the you of here and now. You’re gorgeous in a simple one piece more stunning than any of the frills the other guests are wearing and hair in a sea-woven braid dangling down your back. Likewise, the Kyoya of here and now is having some thoughts that his five-year-old self have would never even dreamt of.

“I’m going swimming. If I don’t come back in an hour, tell Tamaki it’s his fault for dragging us all out here.”

“Hm? Oh,” Kyoya clears his throat. “Yes, of course.”

You throw him a glance- is he acting strangely? You can’t quite tell; it might just be the heat- before jogging off towards the waves, well away from the party as a whole.

He watches you go, and thinks about going with you, before a guest trills his name and his attention is dragged back to where he doesn’t want it to be.

At the end of the day, the crowd has left, and the club gets a precious hour or so of pink sky and calm surf to themselves. Hikaru, Kaoru, and Haruhi are searching the shoreline for shells and sand dollars; Mori is hauling damp sand for Honey’s massive sand castle; and Tamaki surveys all of them like a proud father. You and Kyoya are sitting a little away, just close enough to the water to let it kiss your toes. “This is more what I remember,” you murmur, a smile on your face, and Kyoya digs his fingers into the sand so they don’t accidentally wind their way around yours like they want to.

“Oh, here.” You pluck your friend’s glasses from his face and use the towel draped loosely over your shoulders to wipe the lenses. When you hand them back, Kyoya has a bit of a stunned expression on his face, making you giggle. “Sorry. They had salt on them. Seemed like it would annoy you.”

“Indeed,” is what he says, willing his tone to be nonchalant or at least neutral. What he wants to say is, do you remember when we were eleven, and you tried the same thing? You ended up getting knocked over by a wave and lost them in the ocean. I was so mad at you, but I still had to hold your hand on the way home so I wouldn’t fall. You didn’t let me trip. Not once.

If he were a braver, bolder, better person, he’d kiss you right now, and see how you taste like salt and sunshine and memories. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t- he lets the Hitachiin twins, who are sneaking up behind you, douse you in water instead. He lets you shriek at them and take chase, threatening to drown them both, breaking the moment and leaving him sitting by the sea alone to remember what was and what might be.

Three

It’s safe to assume that Valentine’s Day is never a dull affair in Music Room 3.  

Everything is decorated with lace and delicate crystal trimmings; the roses are even more bountiful and in every color the human eye can see. The attire is more formal than usual, the cheeks rosier and the lips pinker, and it tends to be the one day when the hosts receive more than give.

Each of their tables is piled high with gifts, cards, baked goods swirled with elaborate frostings. Even though Tamaki keeps insisting that the girls should be the ones receiving sweet nothings, not the hosts, you can tell he’s more than pleased by the growing mound of sentiments slowly dwarfing the other boys’. As it should be, Kyoya supposes.

Honey’s haul is mostly sweets, naturally, and this year Mori also has a surprising armload- apparently one of the only times his admirers hear him speak is when he says ‘thank you’, leading to multiple gifts just so they can hear his voice more than once. Hikaru and Kaoru’s combined mountain looks more like a dragon’s treasure horde than a pile of presents. Haruhi adamantly refused everything until one guest brought her a particularly excellent platter of fish, based on the way she’s been sitting in the corner with her cheeks stuffed for the last twenty minutes.

Kyoya notes all of this with a vague smile, adjusting his calculations and trajectories for the next few months to match the turnout. Valentine’s Day is one holiday he can generally sit out. Sure, there’s a small stack of cards and remember-me’s on the sofa next to him, but his persona as the analytical and aloof host tends to leave him further down in the ranks than the other boys. Which is just fine with him, if he’s being honest- he has manners, but being constantly charming is tiring at best and egregiously aggravating at worst.

“Mother Dearest, it appears you have another card to add to your beautiful collection!” Tamaki flounces over in his wine-colored suit, at least thirty guests in pursuit. “It doesn’t come with a giver, unfortunately- oh! Perhaps you have a secret admireeeeeer!” He wiggles his fingers excitedly and hands over the card with a flourish. “How exciting! A mystery for Valentine’s Day!” His groupies sigh and fan their faces, overcome with the romance and intrigue of it all.

“Thank you, Tamaki,” Kyoya says drily, nimbly plucking the proffered gift from the boy’s fingers. “Please, don’t ignore your guests on my account.”

“I would never! Each and every one of my princesses mean the world to me!” As he and his followers fade back to the other side of the room, Kyoya props his glasses back up on his nose and curiously slides his thumb under the flap of the envelope. It’s a plain white paper, not embellished with hearts or gemstones or ribbon or any of the other garish decorations usually attached to such a thing. The card is similarly simplistic, with only a pencil-sketched heart on the outside and a greeting that reads, “To My Favorite Host.”

Interesting. Perhaps there’s a mystery here after all. He flips it open, not sure what to expect- and immediately has to keep himself from laughing outright. Inside is a crude sketch of two stick figures- one has comically large glasses drawn on its blank face to helpfully distinguish itself as the Kyoya of the pair- and note in chicken scratch: You’re such an asshole, but I guess I love you anyways.

Only one person could be responsible for such a thing. After all, you were never renowned for your artistic talents.  

…

“I got your… note.”

You don’t look up from the book you’re paging through out in the courtyard underneath a spectacular old tree. The leaves frame you beautifully against the afternoon sky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm. I found the art particularly museum worthy.”

Now you smile a bit. “Well, you’re a museum worthy sorta guy.”

“Favorite host is quite the compliment.” He’s getting dangerously close to… something; toeing a line he hasn’t touched before, and it’s making his heart race.

“Don’t get too cocky. Mori’s still got like, an eight-pack.”

Kyoya sits beside you, careful to leave several tree roots between you and him. “Why a valentine? I see you every day; you could have just told me yourself.”

“I dunno.” He fixes you with a look, one that says sure, I believe you. You give a halfhearted shrug, shoulder almost brushing Kyoya’s. “I went by the music room. Everyone else had, like, mountains of stuff and I just… felt like you were under-appreciated, that’s all.”

“I see.” A beat passes with nothing but the wind ruffling your hair. “That’s… kind of you.”

Now you do close the gap between the two of you, nudging your knee against his. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Four

Your laugh, Kyoya thinks, is the best thing he’s ever heard.

You’re draped over the edge of his bed, head towards the floor, giggling wildly to yourself as you mutter an inside joke that only make sense to you. Your cheeks are flushed, and the bottle of alcohol you snuck into Kyoya’s room is sitting a few feet away, half full. He’s had a few sips, but he isn’t much for relinquishing his mental faculties so easily. It’s tempting, though, what with you so lazily tapping his shoulder or nudging his side to get his attention- it’d be so easy to demolish all his carefully crafted walls and drown in you.

But someone has to be the responsible one- and if he’s honest with himself, the thought of you or he regretting what happened in the dead of night come light of day makes him sick to his stomach. So he sits primly against his headboard, the computer on his lap a boulder pinning him to his spot, only glancing at you every so often to make sure you haven’t tumbled off the bed completely, despite your absolutely intoxicating mood coaxing him closer and closer to throwing caution to the wind.

“-and you’re just… you’re just a good person,” you continue, meandering through your thoughts. “Like, seriously. Why do you have to be so amazing. It’s so goddamn annoying.”

He desperately hopes you’re too out of it to notice the reddening of his own cheeks. “I am hardly what anyone would call ‘good.’”

“Lies! Lies. And. Slander.” You emphasize every word with a poke to various parts of his body- his big toe, his elbow, his knee. “Like- okay. What are you working on right now?”

In actuality he’s browsing through the Ootori Group’s latest research and development journals, evaluating their recent findings and sifting the unimportant from the extraordinary. But you’re most likely far too gone to actually understand any of that, so instead he just generalizes: “refining new data from the company.”

“Yeah! You wanna be a fucking doctor, that’s like- that’s amazing!”

Kyoya quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize my entire family is in the medical profession.”

“No, your entire family throws their money at the medical profession.” You wave a finger in the air like a drunk scientist hypothesizing their theories. “There’s a difference.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No, listen you jerk!” You haul yourself up and place yourself face-to-face with your best friend, close enough that Kyoya can see the intensity in your eyes. “It’s one thing to pay for shit, it’s another to actually be in the room when someone is having a heart attack and wanting to save their life. You care. More than anyone I know. And that makes you amazing.” You let out a rush of air, the sudden verve in your words having worn you out. “I dunno. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense. Whatever. I’m gonna lay down.” You curl up next to his knee and half heartedly arrange a blanket around your legs before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, Kyoya’s gaze has never left your face. The words may have been spoken by a loose tongue, but anyone could hear the honesty in your voice and see the passion in your eyes. You really think that much of him? Or rather, could you possibly think as much of him as he does of you?

He wishes he could shake you awake and ask you to elaborate. He wishes he could tell you that if he’s amazing, you’re a supernova. He wishes he could get drunk and fall asleep next to you while pressing lazy kisses anywhere he can reach.

His reaches for the bottle, but his fingers barely brush the glass before changing course and clicking off the lamp instead.

Five

God, I hate these things, you think to yourself as you tug on the straps of your dress. You’re not quite sure if you’re referring to the pins sticking your scalp, the uncomfortable formal gown you’re squeezed into, or the entire event in general- actually, it’s most likely all of the above. As much as you love Kyoya and the rest of the boys, you adamantly refuse to attend any of their grand balls. You’re not a fussy person, so the general pompous air of the things always gives you a headache, and you hate wearing dresses anyways. But today you zipped yourself into a slinky black sheath number that’s long enough to hide tennis shoes under the hem, forced your hair into something presentable, and even threw on a little mascara.

Because of Kyoya.

Kyoya, who mentioned in passing that this was the best celebration he’d ever planned, and seemed extremely proud of it to boot. Kyoya, who always grumbles as he slips on his suit, wishing he could spend the night with his charts and figures instead. Kyoya, who always returns to school the next day more stressed than usual, a tight smile plastered on his face as he fends off hordes of fangirls.

The things you do for this boy.

It’s immediately clear when you arrive that you stand out in your ebony gown, a wisp of smoke and night sky amongst a sea of flouncy pastels. Luckily, each of the boys steps up to greet you- a sweet hug from Honey, carefully avoiding wrinkling your dress; good natured teasing from the twins; a particularly extravagant complimentary poem from Tamaki. Eventually you meet Haruhi at the table laden with food, grateful for someone down to earth to laugh with.

After an hour, you’re almost convinced Kyoya finally worked up the nerve to skip the event altogether when there’s a delicate gap on your shoulder. “Would you care for a dance?”

“No,” you say, because that’s what you always say when Kyoya asks you to do something (even if he knows you’ll do it anyways). He smiles and takes your elbow, ignoring the whispers and glares from the other guests- who is she? What makes her so special? Everything, he wishes he could tell them. So many things he it would take him years to count them all.

“I thought you hated these things,” he says when you’re safely tucked in his arms on the dance floor. The fabric of your dress shimmers softly, as though marking you as something uniquely precious amongst all the other attendees.

“I do,” you reply. You’re slowly taking his lead, following the waltz music played by a six-piece orchestra. “But I think you hate them more, so I figured if anything I could help put you out of your misery.”

“Hm. Poisoned boutonnière, perhaps?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiding up in the rafters with a blowdart gun.”

Kyoya chuckles, sweeping you along. You’re not a bad dancer, all things considered. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness, though that might be difficult given your choice of attire.”

You grin at him playfully, raising your hem up just enough so he can see your battered old sneakers on your feet. “Nah, I always come prepared.”

It’s such an odd juxtaposition- this beautiful girl in the sinful dress accessorizing with sharpie-covered shoes that are peeling rubber- he can’t help but laugh, a real laugh, perhaps the first one he’s given since the night began. Even out of your element, you still maintain something that is so quintessentially you. He wishes he could tell you how beautiful you look. He wishes he could nudge your sneaker with his dress shoe in a secret invitation to follow him somewhere quiet, to steal small fleeting moments that would make the whole night worth its while.

He thinks about this every time you scuff your feet, hearing the slight squeak of rubber against the polished tile floor.

And the beginning…

“Stop it, Kyoya,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, using all your strength to unfold your friend’s fingers from his bloody palms. His fingernails have dug so far into the skin they’ve left bright red crescent moons dotting his hands. You focus on those, trying to soothe the sting with the fabric of your shirt, because if you look at his face and the tears crawling down his cheeks you’ll start crying too, and that’s not what either of you need right now. “Just talk to me. Please.”

No response. He’s trembling as though there’s a blizzard only he can feel, so you sit him on your bed and wrap him in every blanket you have, leaving his hands free so he can clutch at yours like a lifeline. “Just focus on me, okay? Everything is fine.” You try to keep your voice steady as you murmur anything reassuring you can think of, trying to coax life back into his eyes. You knew his anxiety had gotten worse, but this… this is the most catastrophic yet. You sit cross legged in front of him, so close your knees brush his, and hold onto his fingers for dear life. “Keep breathing. I’m here. It’s all okay.” Please please please come back to me. Come on, Kyoya. Don’t let the demons win.

Slowly, piece by piece, something in him seems to uncoil. His grip lessens just a little, and his breathing becomes audible enough to reassure you he’s still with you. Gently, you put a hand to his forehead, then cheek, testing his temperature. “Hey. You with me?”

Something like a sob escapes his lips, thin and heartbroken. Your own shatters along with it. In an instant you have him in a hug, arms as tight around him as you can possibly manage. Kyoya tucks his head into the crook of your neck, practically collapsing on top of you until you aren’t sure where he stops and you start. He says your name over and over and over again, a hymn only he can hear. You press your lips to his temple just to reassure yourself he hasn’t left you and let him cry; only able to offer comfort in presence and spirit. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your skin, and you hold him tighter.

“I’m always here. You know that.”

He sniffs and wipes away a tear with the heel of his hand, wincing when the salt burns his cuts. “Idiotic. I apologize for… all of this.”

“Stop,” you say firmly. You bring his eyes up to meet yours, so he can see the fire in your gaze. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever. Okay?”

Kyoya stares back at you, feeling small and worthless against the monsters in his own brain. Every second spent with you banishes them a little farther back into his mind, loosening the vises wrapping his chest and letting him breathe a little easier. It has almost consumed him today, so he ran to the only safe place he knows-  you. And you had held him and wiped his tears and not for a single second judged him for falling apart.

It occurs to him you are one of the few people on earth who see him for who he truly is, and will still hold his hands anyways.

Ever so gently, he presses his lips to yours- soft, tentative, and barely there. It’s a thank you, and offering, and a question all at once. It’s not the grand romantic gestures he’s planned late at night, wanting to sweep you off your feet in a shower of confidence and joy, or even really a conscious decision- it’s instinct, want, and something like bittersweet love.

You blink at him, eyes wide. “Kyoya… I-”

He stills. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, bringing a hand up to press your fingers against his cheekbone. “Don’t ever be sorry,” you say again, and then you kiss him back. You kiss him like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do; like you’re saying to him what took you so long, you idiot?

He doesn’t know. But he won’t ever make that mistake again. He’ll kiss you every day for as long as he lives to make up for all that lost time, all those late nights and seaside musings and dances with a hand on the small of your back.

When the sun rises, it illuminates a world of a thousand new possibilities.

[fourteenaway]

Little Lion Man | The Story of Cary / Part III

tw: rape, infidelity, pregnancy, stepcest

Exactly at seven-thirty that night, the door chimes sounded, punched by an impatient finger, forcing Caren to hurry lest the man waken Cary who hadn't liked being put to bed at such an early hour.

If she had taken pains to look her best, so had Harry. He strode in as if he already owned the place and her. He left behind a drift of shaving lotion with a piney forest scent, and every hair on his head was carefully in place, making her wonder if he had a thinning spot. She figured she’d find out for herself sooner or later.

She took his coat and hung it in the hall closet, then sashayed over to the bar where she busied herself as he sat down before the log fire she had burning nothing had been overlooked; She even had soft music playing.

By this time Caren knew enough about men and the ways of pleasing them best. There wasn't a man alive who wasn't charmed by a lovely woman bustling about, eager to wait on him, pamper and wine and dine him, if you asked her.

“Name your weakness, Harry."

"Scotch."

"On the rocks?"

"Neat."

He watched her every movement, which was deliberately graceful and deft. Then, turning her back she mixed a fruity drink for myself, lacing it lightly with vodka. And with her two little stemmed goblets on a silver tray, Caren seductively ambled his way, leaning to give him an enticing view of her braless bosom. She sat across from him and swung one leg over the other to allow the long slit of her rose-colored dress to open and expose one leg from silver sandal midway to the hip. He couldn't take his eyes off it. 

"Sorry about the glasses,” Caren said smoothly, well pleased with his expression, "I don't have room in this cottage to unpack everything I own. Most of my crystal is in storage and I have here only wine glasses and water goblets."

"Scotch is scotch no matter how it's served. And what in the world is that thing you're sipping?" By this time he'd shifted his gaze to the low V of her gown.

"Well, you take orange juice freshly squeezed, a dab of lemon juice a dash of vodka, bit of coconut oil, and drop in a cherry to dive after. I call it A Maiden's Delight."

After a few minutes of conversation, they drifted to the dining table, not so far from the fireplace, to eat by candlelight. Every so often he'd drop his fork, or spoon, or she would, and both of them would go for it, then laugh to see who was fastest. Caren was, every time. He was much too distracted to spot a missing fork or spoon when a neckline opened up so obligingly.

"This is delicious chicken," he said after demolishing five hours of hard labor in about ten minutes. "Usually I don't like chicken-where'd you learn to prepare this dish?"

Caren told him the truth, “A Russian dancer taught me, she was on tour over here, and we liked each other. She and her husband stayed with Leeland and me, and we'd cook together whenever we weren't dancing or shopping or touring. It took four chickens to feed four people. Now you know the nasty truth about dancers; when it comes to eating we are not in the least dainty. That is, after a performance. Before we go on we have to eat very lightly."

He smiled and leaned across the small drop-leaf table. Candlelight was in his eyes, sparkling them devilishly.

"Caren, tell me honestly why you came to live in this hick town and why you've got your heart set on me for a lover."

"You flatter yourself," Caren said in her most aloof manner, thinking she was very successful in appearing cool on the outside while inside she was a web of conflicting emotions. It was almost as if she had stage fright and was in the wings waiting to go on. And this was the most important performance of her life. Then almost magically she felt she was on stage. She didn't have to think of how to act or what to say to charm him and make him forever hers. The script had been written a long time ago when she was hidden and first found out her mother had married him. 

"You're not being honest with yourself," Harry said softly, "You know better than anyone where that missing piece is, or I wouldn't be here."

His voice was so low and seductive as he stood and took her into his arms to dance.

Caren put her head on his shoulder as they went on dancing, "You're wrong, Harry, I don't know why you're here. I don't know how to fill my days. When I'm teaching class and when I'm with my son, then I'm alive-but when he's in bed and I'm alone, I don't know what to do with myself. I know Cary needs a father, and when I think of his father I realize I've always managed to do the wrong thing. I've read my reviews that rave about the potential I had... but in my personal life I've made only mistakes, so what I accomplished professionally doesn't matter at all." 

Caren stopped moving her feet and sniffled, then tried to hide her face, but he tilted it upward, then dried my tears and held his handkerchief so she could blow her nose. Then came the silence. The long, long silence. Their eyes met and clung and her heart started a faster thumping.

"Your problems are all so simple, Caren," he began, "all you need is someone like me, who needs someone like you. If Cary needs a father, then I need a son. See how simply all complicated matters are solved?"

Too simply, she thought, when he had a wife and she was discerning and cynical enough to know he couldn't possibly care for her enough. 

“You have a wife you love," Caren said bitterly. 

Caren shoved him away. She didn't want to get him too easily, but only after long and difficult struggles against her mother, and she wasn't here to know.

"Men are liars too," he said flatly, with some of the zest gone from his eyes. "I have a wife and occasionally we sleep together, but the fire has gone out. I don't know her. I don't think anyone knows her. She's a bundle of secrets, wound up tight, and she won't let me inside. It's gone on so long I don't care to be let in now. She can keep her secrets and her tears, and eat her way out of her anxieties and whatever it is that makes her wake up in the night and go and look in that damned blue album! Now she's overweight and she's written she's just had plastic surgery, a face lift, and I won't know her when she comes back. As if I ever really knew her!"

Caren panicked inside, he had to care! How could she break up a marriage that was already coming apart? She needed to feel she'd accomplished this against overwhelming odds! 

“Go home!" Caren said, pushing at him. "Get out of my house! I don't know you well enough to even listen to your problems, and I don't believe you. I don't trust you!"

He laughed, mocking her, aroused by her puny efforts to push him away. His libido was fired and it flamed in his eyes as he grabbed her upper arms and drew her hard against him. 

“Now you come off it! Look at the way you're dressed. You had me come here for a reason. So here I am, ready to be seduced. You seduced me the first time I saw you, and for the life of me it seems I've known you much longer than I actually have. Nobody plays games with me, then calls it a draw. You win or I win, but if we go to bed together we might wake up in the morning and find out we've both won."

Red lights flashed, Stop! Resist! Fight! Caren did none of those things. Caren beat on his chest with ineffectual small fists as he laughed and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. 

With one hand he gripped both of her legs to keep them from kicking, and with the other he turned out the lamps. In the dark, with her still beating on his back, he carried her into her bedroom and threw her down on the comforter. She scrambled to get up, but he came at her fast!

There wasn't a chance to use the knee she had ready. He sensed her dancer's ability could defeat him so he lunged, caught her about the waist so they both tumbled to the floor! Caren opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his hand upon her open lips, then pinioned her arms with his iron strength and sat on the legs that tried to kick herself free.

“Caren, my lovely seductress, you went to such a lot of trouble. You seduced me long ago, ballerina. Until the week before Christmas you are mine, and then my wife will be home-and I won't need you."

His hand eased away from her lips and she thought she would scream, but instead she bit out, “At least I didn't have to buy you with my father's millions!" 

That did it. He crushed his lips brutally hard down on hers before she realized what was happening. This wasn't the way she wanted it! Caren wanted to tempt him, set him on fire, make him chase her, and give in only after a long and arduous pursuit that her mother could watch and suffer through, knowing she could do nothing or she'd talk. And yet he was taking her heartlessly, more ruthless than Leeland at his worst! 

Savagely he bore down on her. He squirmed and writhed to grind in, even as his hands ripped and tore off her clinging rose dress. All she had on then was pantyhose, and soon he had those pulled down so her silver slippers came off and stayed inside of them.

With his lips still crushed brutally hard on hers, he carried her resisting hand to his zipper and squeezed until her knuckles cracked. It was either tug it down or have her fingers broken! How he managed to wiggle out of his clothes, even as he held her naked beneath him, she’d never know. 

When he was naked, but for his socks, she kept on wiggling, writhing, squirming, butting and trying to scratch or bite while he kissed, fondled and explored. Caren had her chance to scream several times—but she too was breathing fast and hard, and jerking upward to force him off. But he took this as a welcoming arch of invitation. He entered, and had his too quick satisfaction, then pulled out before she had any.

"Get out of here." Caren screamed. “I'm calling the police! I'll have you thrown in jail, charged with assault and rape!"

He laughed scornfully, chucked her under the chin playfully, then stood up to pull on his clothes. 

“Oh," he said, mocking her with an imitation of her own voice, “I am so frightened.” Then his voice was deeply earnest.“You aren't happy, are you? It didn't work out the way you planned it, but don't you worry, tomorrow night I'll be back, and maybe then you can please me enough, so I'll feel like taking the time to please you."

"I've got a gun!" She declared thought she didn't, “And if you dare set foot in this house again you're a dead man! Not that you are a man. You are more brute than human!"

“My wife often says the same thing," he said casually, zipping up his trousers shamelessly, without the decency to even turn his back. “But she likes it just the same, just as you did. Beef Wellington, you can have that tomorrow night, plus a tossed salad and a chocolate mousse for dessert. If you make me fat, we can burn off the calories in the most pleasant way possible,and I don't mean jogging." 

He grinned, saluted her, put one foot behind the other to turn in a smartly, military fashion, then paused at the doorway as Caren sat up and clutched the remnants of her gown to her breasts. 

“Same time tomorrow night, and I'll stay the night-that is, if you treat me right."

He left, and slammed the front door behind him.

Caren began to cry, not from pity for herself. It was frustration so huge she could have torn him limb from limb!

She’d lace the beef wellington with arsenic. 

A small timid sound came from outside her door then.

“Mommy... I'm scared. Are you cryin', Mommy?" Came Cary’s soft voice.

Hastily she pulled on a robe and called him in, then held him close in her arms. “Darling, darling, Mommy is all right. You had a bad dream. Mommy isn't crying... see?"

Cary peered into her face worriedly, he heard too much, not that he understood it all. Cowering in his bed scared, before he finally got up and got to his mother’s door.

Caren brushed away the tears, for she'd get even.

Three dozen red roses arrived while Cary and she were eating breakfast, he long-stemmed variety from the florist. 

A small white card read: I'm sending you a big bouquet of roses, One for every night you'll have my heart.

No name. And what the devil was she supposed to do with three dozen roses in a matchbox house? She couldn't send them to a children's ward; the hospital was miles and miles away. 

Cary decided what to do with them, "Oh, Mommy, how pretty! Uncle William's roses!"

For Cary she kept the roses instead of throwing them out, and in many vases she scattered them throughout the house.

He was delighted, and when she took him with her to dancing school he told all the students, roses were all over his home-even in the bathroom.

After lunch Caren drove Cary to the nursery school he so loved. It was a Montessori school that was inspiring him to want to learn by appealing to his senses. 

Already he could print his name, and he was only three! He was like Daniel, Caren told herself, brilliant, handsome, talented, oh, her Cary had everything—but a father. 

From his bright blue eyes shone the quick intelligence of someone who would have a lifetime curiosity about everything. 

“Cary, I love you."

"I know that, Mommy. I love you too," he said before he waved good-bye as she drove off.

Caren was there to meet him when he came from his school, his small face flushed and troubled. 

"Mommy," he said as soon as he was beside her in the car, "Victor Harding, he said his mommy slapped him when he touched her there." 

And he shyly pointed at her breast, “You don't slap me when I touch you there,” Cary whispered.

"But you don't touch me there, not since you were a little baby and Mommy nursed you for a short while."

"Did you slap me then?" He asked, looking so worried. 

"No, of course not. Babies are meant to suckle their mother's breasts, and I would never slap you for touching there, so if you want to try me, go ahead and touch,” Caren said.

Cary lifted his small hand and reached out tentatively while he watched his mother’s face to see if she'd be shocked. 

Oh, how fast the young learned all the taboos, Caren thought. 

And when he'd touched and God's lightning hadn't struck him down, he smiled, very relieved. 

"Oh, it's just a soft place," he laughed at the pleasant discovery he made before he threw his arms his mothers neck, “I love you, Mommy. Cause you love me even when I'm bad."

"I'll always love you, Cary. And if you're bad sometimes, I'll try and understand." 

Yes, she was not going to be like her mother. She was going to be the perfect mother, and someday he'd have a father too. 

How was it that little children, such young ones, would already be talking of sin and being slapped for only touching? 

Caren stopped to buy stamps before she reached home, and left Cary dozing on the front seat. 

Harry was in the post office, which was no larger than her living room, buying stamps too. 

Charmingly he smiled at her, as if nothing untoward had happened between them the night before. 

He even had the nerve to follow her to her car so he could ask how she liked the roses. 

"Not your kind of roses," she snapped, then got primly into her car and slammed the door in his face. She left him staring after her without a smile-in fact, he looked rather miserable.

At five-thirty a special-delivery man brought a small package to her front door. It was certified so she had to sign for it. Inside a larger box was another box, and inside of that was a velvet jewelry case which she quickly opened while Cary watched, all eyes. On black velvet lay a single rose composed of many diamonds. Also a card with a note that read, ‘Perhaps this kind of rose is more to your liking.’ She put the thing away as a trifle bought with her mother’s money, so it wasn't really from him, no more than the real roses.

He had the nerve to come that night at seven-thirty just as he'd said he would. Nevertheless, she readily let him in, then led him silently to the dining table with no to do about cocktails or other niceties. The table was set even more elaborately than the night before. She'd hauled out some boxes and done some unpacking, and on the table were her best lace mats and covered silver serving dishes.

Neither of them had as yet spoken. All his forgive-me roses she'd gathered together and they were in the box near his plate. On his empty plate was the jeweler's velvet container with the diamond rose brooch inside. She sat to watch his expression as he put the jewelry box aside casually, and just as casually moved the flower box out of his way. 

He reached for the domed silver lid, ostensibly hiding the Beef Wellington underneath. His gaze lowered to stare at the huge platter that held one hot dog and a small dab of cold canned beans. 

The disbelief in his eyes, his utter offended shock gave her so much satisfaction she almost liked him.

"You are now gazing upon Cary's favorite menu," she said, gloating. “It is exactly what he and I ate tonight for dinner, and since it was good enough for us, I thought it was good enough for you, so I saved some. Since I've already eaten, all of that is yours alone, and you may help yourself."

Scowling, he flashed her a burning, hard look, then savagely bit down into the hot dog which she’d sure had grown cold as the beans. But he gobbled down everything and drank his glass of milk, and for dessert she handed him a box of animal crackers. 

First he stared at the box in another expression of dumbfounded amazement, then ripped it open, seized up a lion and snapped off the head in one bite.

"I take it you are one of those despicable liberated women who refuses to do anything to please a man!"

"Wrong. I am liberated only with some men. Others I can worship, adore and wait on happily.”

"You made me do what I did!” he objected strongly. “Do you think I planned it that way? I wanted us to find our relationship on an equal basis. Why did you wear that kind of dress?"

"It's the kind all chauvinist men prefer!"

"I am not a chauvinist, and I hate that kind of dress!"

"You like what I've got on better?” Caren sat up straighter to give him a better view of the old nappy sweater she had on. With it she wore faded blue jeans, with dirty sneakers on her feet, and her hair was skinned back and fastened in a granny's knot. Deliberately she'd pulled long strands free so they hung loose about her face, slovenly fringes to make her look more appealing. And no makeup prettied her face. 

He was dressed to kill.

"At least you look honest and ready to let me do the pursuing. If there is one thing I despise, it's women who come on strong, like you did last night. I expected better from you than that kind of sleazy dress that showed everything to take the thrill from discovering for myself.”

He knitted his brows and mumbled, “From a damned harlot's red dress to blue jeans. In the course of one day, she changes into a teenybopper."

"It was rose-colored, not red! And besides, Harry, strong men like you always adore weak and passive stupid women, because basically you're meek yourself and afraid of an aggressive woman!"

"I am not weak or meek or anything but a man who likes to feel a man, not to be used for your own purposes. And as for passive women I despise them as much as I do aggressive ones. I just don't like the feeling of being the victim of a huntress leading me into a trap. What the hell are you trying to do to me? Why dislike me so much? I sent you rose and diamonds, and you can't even comb your hair and take the shine from your nose."

"You are looking at the natural me, and now that you've seen, you can leave."

Caren got up and walked to the front door and swung it open. “We are wrong for each other. Go back to your wife. She can have you, for I don't want you."

He came quickly, as if to obey, then seized her in his arms and kicked the door closed. “I love you, God knows why I do, but it seems I've always loved you."

Caren stared up in his face, disbelieving him, even as he took the pins from her hair and let it spill down. Out of long habit she tossed it about so it fluffed out and arranged itself, and smiling a little he tilted her face to his. 

“May I kiss your natural lips? They are very beautiful lips." 

Without waiting for permission he brushed his lips gently over hers.

Why didn't all men know that was the right way to start? She wondered. What woman wanted to be eaten alive, choked by a thrusting tongue? Not her, she wanted to be played like a violin, strummed pianissimo, in largo timing, fingered into legato, and let it grow into crescendo. 

Deliciously she wanted to head toward the ecstatic heights that could only happen for her when the right words were spoken and the right kind of kisses, given before his hands came into play.

If he'd done for her only a little last night, this night he used all the skills he had. This time he took her to the stars where they both exploded, still holding tight to each other, and doomed to do it again, and then again.

He was hairy all over. Leeland had been hairless but for one thatch that grew in a thin line up to his navel. 

She turned off her mind, and gave in to her senses and to this man who was now treating her like a lover.

But he didn't love her, she knew that. Harry was using her as a substitute for his wife, and when she came back she'd never see him again. She knew it, but still she took and she gave until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

When she slept, she dreamed. Leeland was in the silver music box her father had given her when she was six. Round and round he spun, his face ever turning toward her, accusing her with his jet eyes, and then he grew a mustache and was William, who only looked sad.

She ran fast to set him free from death in a music box when it turned into a coffin-and then it was Daniel inside, his eyes closed, his hands folded one over the other on his chest. Dead, dead.

‘DANIEL’, she shouted.

She awoke to find Harry gone and her pillow wet with tears.

Why did her mother start this, perhaps had she not, maybe she would have found Daniel right away, and before anyone else. She would have fallen in love with him with no revenge to carry out or repayments to deliver. But then she wouldn’t have Cary. But perhaps she still would have found Leeland and maybe he would have been what she wanted had she not had so many other priorities and he would have been good to her too.

Holding tight to her son's small hand she led him out into the cold morning air on her way to work. 

Faint and far away she heard someone calling her name, and with it came the scent of an ocean breeze. 

‘Why don't you come, Daniel, and save me from myself? Why only call in your thoughts?’ She thought.

Part one was done. Part two would begin when her mother knew she had Harry's child.

Harry and her didn't have to sneak around furtively to meet.

The houses where he lived were far apart and no one could see them when he came to her through the back door that opened out into a yard with a fence. In back of that was a country lane, shrubbed, and made private by many trees. Sometimes they met in a distant town and their lovemaking in a motel room was wild, sweet, tender, erotic and altogether satisfying, and yet she froze when he told her at lunch, “She called this morning, Caren. She'll be home before Christmas."

"That's nice," Caren said and went right on eating her salad and anticipating the Beef Wellington that would show up soon. 

He frowned and his fork loaded with salad hesitated on the way to his mouth. “It means we won't be able to see as much of each other. Aren't you sorry?"

"We'll find ways."

"If you aren't the damndest woman!"

"Don't get so worked up over nothing. All women are monsters to men, and maybe to ourselves. We are our own worst enemies. You don't have to divorce her and give up your chance to inherit her fortune. Though she could outlive you and have the chance to buy another younger husband."

"Sometimes you are just as bitchy as she is! She did not buy me! I loved her! She loved me! I was crazy about her, as crazy for her as I am for you now. But she changed. When I met her she was sweet, charming, everything I wanted in a woman and wife, but she changed." 

He stabbed the salad fork toward his mouth and chewed viciously, “She's always been a mystery-like you."

“Harry, my love," she said, “very soon all mystery walls will crumble."

He went on, as if she hadn't interrupted, “That father of hers, he too was a mystery; you'd look at him and see a fine old gentleman, but underneath was a heart of steel. I thought I was his only attorney, but he had six others, each of us assigned to different tasks. Mine was to make out his wills. He changed them dozens of times, putting this family member in, and writing another out, and adding codicils like a mad man, though he was sane enough right up until the very end. The last codicil was the worst."

Of course, no children for him, ever, she knew.

"Then you really were a practicing lawyer?" Caren asked.

He smiled bitterly, then answered, “Of course I was. And now I am again. A man needs something meaningful to do. How many times can anyone tour Europe before boredom sets in? You see the same old faces, doing the same old things, laughing at the same jokes. The Beautiful People what a laugh! Too much money buys everything but health, so they have no dreams left to purchase, and no aspirations, so in the end they are only bored."

"Why don't you divorce her and do something meaningful with your life?"

"She loves me.” That's the way he said it. Short. Sweet. He stayed because she loved him, forcing Caren to say, "You told me when we first met that you loved her, and then you say you don't which is it?"

He thought about it for a long time.

"Honestly, ballerina, I'm ambivalent and resentful. I love her, I hate her. I thought she was what you seem to be now. So please, smother that bitchy side that reminds me of her and don't try and do to me what she did. You are putting a wall between us because you know something I don't. I don't fall in love easily, and I wish I didn't love you."

He seemed suddenly a small boy, wistful, as if his pet dog might betray him and life would never be good again.

Caren was touched and dared to say, “Harry, I swear there will come a day when you know all my secrets and all of hers, but until that time comes say you love me, even if you don't mean it, for I can't enjoy being with you if I don't feel you love me just a little."

"A little? It seems I've loved you all my life. Even when I kissed you the first time it seemed I'd kissed you before, why is that?"

“Karma," she replied and smiled at his baffled expression.

Harry spent more time at her small home than at his huge one. He piled her with as many gifts, as he did Cary. 

He ate his breakfast, lunch and dinner with them on the days he didn't spend in his office, which she privately believed was more a facade for appearing useful than a functioning law office.

Her dancing school suffered from his attention, but it didn't matter. She was now a kept woman. Paid to be his mistress.

And Cary was delighted with the little leather boots Harry gave him. 

“Are you my daddy?" asked Cary, who would be four in February, "No. but I sure wish I was and I could be,” Harry answered.

It was only second before Cary was out in the yard, tromping around and staring down at his feet that fascinated him now that they wore cowboy boots.

Caren and Harry lay entwined after their lovemaking, listening to the wind blending with Cary's shrill laughter, racing after the poodle, Rainbow, that Harry had given him. 

A few snow flurries were beginning to fall. She knew she had to get up soon so Cary wouldn't run in and catch them,  just to tell them it was snowing.

He couldn't remember other snows, and barely would the ground be sugar-coated than he'd want to make a snowman. Sighing first, she kissed Harry, then reluctantly pulled from his embrace. She turned her back to pull on bikini panties as he propped up on an elbow and watched.

"You've got a lovely behind," he said. She said thanks, "What about my front?" He said it wasn't bad and she threw a shoe at him.

"Caren, why don't you say you love me?"

Caren whirled about, startled. "Have you ever said it to me and meant it?" She asked as she snapped on a bra.

"How do you know I don't mean it?" he asked with anger.

"Let me tell you how I know. When you love, you want that person with you all of the time. When you avoid the subject of divorce, that alone is an indication of how much you care for me and just where I belong in your life."

“Caren, you've been hurt, haven't you? I don't want to hurt you more. You play games with me. I've always known that. What does it matter if it is only sex and not love? And tell me how to know where one ends and the other begins?"

His teasing words were a knife in her heart, for somehow, without meaning to let it happen, she'd fallen madly, idiotically in love with him.

According to Harry's enthusiastic report, his long gone wife came home from her rejuvenation trip looking smashingly young and beautiful. 

“She's lost twenty pounds. I swear, that face lift has done wonders! She looks sensational, and damn it, so unbelievably like you!"

It was easy to see how impressed he was with his new, younger-looking wife, and if he was only trying to take the wind from her too confident sails, Caren didn't let it show.

Then he was telling her she was just as necessary to him as before in a tone that said she was not. 

“Caren, while she was in Texas she changed. She's like she used to be, the sweet, loving woman I married."

Men! How gullible they were! Of course her mother was sweeter and nicer to him now that she knew he had a mistress who was very accessible, and that the other woman was her own daughter. She'd have to know, for it was whispered all about how much Harry’s mistress looked like a younger version of his wife.

"So, why are you here with me when your wife is back and so like me? Why don't you put your clothes on and say goodbye and never come back? Say it was sweet while it lasted, but it's all over now, and I'll say thank you for a wonderful time before I kiss you farewell."

"Well," he drawled, pulling her hard against his naked body, “I didn't say she was that sensational looking. And then again, there is something special about you. I can't name it. I can't understand it. But I don't know if I can live without you now." 

He said it seriously, truth in his dark eyes.

So she'd won.

Quite by accident her mother and her met in the post office one day. She saw her and shivered. Her lovely head lifted higher as she turned it slightly away, pretending she didn't know her. 

She would deny her as she'd denied Cassidy, even though it was so obvious that they were mother and daughter and not strangers.

But Caren wasn't Cassidy. So she treated her as she treated her, indifferently, as if she were nobody special and never would be again. 

Yet, as she waited impatiently for her roll of stamps, she saw her mother dart her eyes to follow the restless prowl of her young son who had to stare at everything and everyone. 

He was a handsome, graceful, and charming boy who drew the eyes of everyone, who had to stop and admire him and pat his head. 

Cary moved with innate style, unstudied and relaxed, at ease wherever he was, because he thought the whole world was his, and he was loved by everyone. 

He turned to catch her mother's long stare and he smiled.

"Hello," he greeted. “You're pretty-like my mommy,” he told her.

Oh, the things children say! What innocent knowledge they had to see so readily what others instinctively refused to acknowledge. 

He stepped closer to reach out and tentatively touch her fur coat. “My mommy's got a fur coat. My mommy is a dancer. Do you dance?"

She sighed, and Caren held her breath and thought, ‘See, Momma, there is the grandson your arms will never hold. You'll never hear him say your name. Never!’

"No," she whispered, “I'm not a dancer,” and tears filmed her eyes.

"My mommy can teach you how,” Cary smiled.

"I'm too old to learn," she whispered, backing off.

"No, you're not," said Cary, reaching for her hand as if he'd show her the way, but she pulled back and glanced at Caren reddened, then fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief.

Cary frowned slightly and went on unperturbed, “Do you have a little boy I can play with?" He questioned concerned to see her tears, as if having a son would make up for not knowing how to dance.

"No," she said in a quivering weak whisper, “I don't have any children.”

That's when Caren moved in to say in a cold, harsh voice, "Some women don't deserve to have children." 

She paid for her roll of stamps and dropped them in her purse, “Some women like you, Mrs. Walters, would rather have money than the bother of children who might get in the way of good times. Time itself will sooner or later let you know if you made the right decision."

She turned her back and shivered again as if all her furs couldn't keep her warm enough. Then she strode from the post office and headed toward a chauffeur-driven, black limousine. 

Like a queen she rode off, head held high, leaving Cary to ask, “Mommy, why don't you like that pretty lady? I like her a lot. She's like you, only not so pretty."

Caren didn't comment, though it was on the tip of her tongue to say something so ugly he would never forget it.

In the twilight of that evening Caren sat near the windows, staring toward her mothers house and wondering what Harry and her mother were doing. Her hands were on her abdomen which was still flat, but soon it would be swelling with the child that might be started. 

One missed period didn't prove anything except she wanted Harry's baby, and little things made her feel sure there was a baby.

She let depression come and take her though. He wouldn't leave her and her money to marry her and she'd have another fatherless child. 

What a fool to start all of this, but she'd always been a fool.

And then she saw a man slipping through the woods, coming to her, and she laughed, made confident again.

He loved her! He did and as soon as she knew for certain, she would tell him he was to be a father.

“Caren, you told me there was no need for precautions!"

"There was no need. I want your baby.”

"You want my baby? What the hell do you think I can do, marry you?"

"No. I did my own assuming. I presumed you'd have your fun with me and when it was over you'd go back to your wife and find yourself another playmate. And I'd have just what I set out to get, your baby. Now I can leave. So kiss me off, Harry, as just another of your little extramarital dalliances."

He looked furious. They were in my living room, while a fierce blizzard raged outside. Snow heaped in mounds window-high, and she was before the fireplace, knitting a baby bunting before she began a bootie. She was getting ready to slip a stitch then knit two together when Harry seized her knitting from my hands and hurled it away. 

“It's unraveling!” Caren cried in dismay.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me, Caren? You know I can't marry you! I never lied and said I would. You're playing a game with me." 

He choked and covered his face with his hands, then took them down and pleaded, "I love you. God help me but I do. I want you near me always, and I want my child too. What kind of game are you playing now?"

“Just a woman's game. The only game she can play and be sure of winning."

“Look," he said, trying to regain his control of the situation, “explain what you mean, don't double talk. Nothing has to change because my wife is back. You'll always have a place in my life/"

"In your life? Don't you mean more correctly, on the fringes of your life?"

For the first time she heard humility in his voice, "Caren, be reasonable. I love you, and I love my wife too. Sometimes I can't separate you from her. She came back different, as I told you, and now she is like she was when we first met. Maybe a more youthful figure and face has given her back some confidence she lost, and because of it she can be sweeter. Whatever the cause. I'm grateful. Even when I disliked her, I loved her. When she was hateful, I'd try and strike back by going to other women, but still I loved her. The one big issue we fight over is her unwillingness to have a child, even an adopted one. Of course she's too old to have one now. Please, Caren, stay! Don't leave! Don't take my child away so I will never know what happens to him, or to her...or to you."

Caren laid it out flat, “All right, I will stay on one condition. If you divorce her and marry me, only then will you have the child you always wanted. Otherwise, I'm taking myself, and that means your child too, far away. Maybe I'll write to let you know if you have a son or a daughter, and maybe I won't. Either way, once I leave, you are out of my life for good.” 

Before the fireplace he stood with his arm up on the mantel, then he rested his forehead on that and stared down at the fire. His free hand was behind his back and clenched into a fist. His confused thoughts were so deep they reached out and touched Caren with pity. He turned then to face her, staring deep into her eyes. 

“My God," he said, shocked by his discovery. "You planned this all along, didn't you? You came here to accomplish what you have, but why? Why should you choose me to hurt? What have I ever done to you, Caren, but love you? True, it started with sex, and sex only was what I wanted it to stay. But it has grown into something much more than that. I like being with you, just sitting and talking, or walking in the woods. I feel comfortable with you. I like the way you wait on me, and touch my cheek when you pass, and rumple my hair and kiss my neck, and the sweet, shy way you wake up and smile when you see me beside you. I like the clever games you play, keeping me always guessing, and always amused. I feel I have ten women in one, so now I feel I can't live without you. But I can't abandon my wife and marry you. She needs me!"

"You should have been an actor, Harry. Your words move me to tears."

"Damn you for taking this so lightly!” He bellowed. "You've got me on a rack and you're twisting the screws! Don't make me hate you and ruin the best months of my life!

With that he stormed out of her home, and she was left alone, ruefully regretting that she always talked too much, for she would stay as long as he needed her.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik is the student and reader is the professor.

“When you are in my class, you will learn to pay attention and not disrupt me.”

Miss. Baxter.

Professor in Microeconomic Theory II for the Doctorate program in Engineering. People who previously had her as a teacher complained of how much of a hard ass she was but it was for good reason. That’s why Erik decided to get within the woman’s good graces and become her teachers assistant. All he cared about was getting his Doctorate degree at MIT and graduating. If he was being honest, the whole school thing was weighing heavy on him. Noticable dark circles under his eyes, facial hair more filled out, consuming more coffee than he would have liked, overworking his body in the gym to keep fit for his life after college, all of those things played a role in his shutting down.

Miss. Baxter was only nice to Erik in class, maybe it was because he had a way of sweet talking people. Erik was charismatic and Miss. Baxter enjoyed his company while grading papers and in class activities. She looked forward to seeing him, and the older woman couldn’t hide her attraction to him. She was still young, just five years his age. Currently, she was teaching a segment on Supply and Demand. A poin-dexter type who loved to challenge Erik every second felt the need to disrupt Miss. Baxter during her teaching hours. She hated that, no, despised it.

“You want me to have a talk with him, Miss. Baxter?”

Erik looked at the guy who reminded him of Mandark from Dexters Labortatory, squinting his eyes to show him that he wasn’t fucking around. That seemed to work, the Mandark look alike kept his eyes in his books now, good boy.

“No need, Mr. Stevens. I’m sure this is the last time, yes?”

Her Caribbean accent soothes him. Especially when she was putting someone in their place. The class lasted for about an hour and a half and tonight Erik was more tired than usual. He even had to stop from fucking his usual campus pussy to get some sleep. Then here is Miss. Baxter, his professor and crush, sounding and looking all types of sexy. She spoke her final words on the lesson and dismissed the class, everyone except for Erik leaving the lecture hall. Miss. Baxter erases the board, giving Erik a full view of her ass in those tight charcoal grey wide leg pants she wore.

“How was the lesson today, Erik?”

Erik grabbed his things, heading down the steps within the lecture hall to take his usual seat next to Miss. Baxter at her large dark oak wood desk.

“It was pretty good, you know I don’t have any complaints, you teach very well.”

Finally next to her, half empty coffee mug in hand, Erik could make out the smell of apricots and peaches on her skin. Damn, she always smelled fruity. Yesterday he caught a whiff of her pin curled hair. It smelled like strawberries and kiwis.

“Mango slices?” She offered, like always.

“Sure, you must’ve heard my stomach.”

They both share a comfortable laugh before Miss. Baxter handed him her folder of activities that needed to be graded. After that, she would have a pile of Research papers for him to take home and look over. 12 page research papers.

“I’m not going to nag you like a mother, but, Erik, are you sure this is okay for you? This isn’t overwhelming?”

Erik finished chewing on the juicy mango slice before answering, “Nah, I’ve dealt with worse stress than this.”

Miss. Baxter watched the way Erik would sit with a straight back, eyes sharp like a hawk and reflexes so quick it reminded her of the speed of light. He was so structured it made her organized life look less put together.

“Are you a military man?”

“Yes,” He turned his low eyes on her, “Navy first, now Military.”

“Wow,” she pulled some stray hairs behind her ear, “No wonder why you’re so...”

“Intimidating? Was that what you were going to say Miss. Baxter?”

She smiles, picking up her red ink pin to start on her pile of activities, “No, just very structured...and at ease in stressful situations like a Military man. My father is a veteran.”

Erik rolled his tongue over his teeth, nodding his head in acceptance of her response.

“You have a good eye for that shit- sorry,”

“You’re grown, no need to apologize.”

“You just, I don’t wanna cuss in front of you.”

She scrunched her face, “why not?”

“You might use that metal ruler to wack me over my head.”

She couldn’t fight the fit of giggles escaping her. The sound was so peaceful to Erik. None of the other classmates would ever have the pleasure of witnessing this. Such a beautiful and intelligent black woman.

“You’re so gorgeous, Miss. Baxter.”

She stops abruptly, the tiny hitch of her breath causing him to smirk.

“I...Thank you, Erik.”

“Are you married?”

“No.” Miss. Baxter has to double check question five to make sure she marked it correctly.

“Damn, that’s a shame...I would wife you up if I wasn’t so fucked up...”

She gave him a curious look, wondering what he meant by that exactly. She couldn’t see what was so fucked up about him. Maybe he suffered from a little PTSD from being in the Military that she didn’t know about but what else could be so fucked up about him? He seemed so...perfect.

“It’s never good to talk down on yourself.”

“It’s not a talk down, it’s just the truth.”

Erik unwrapped his hair from the head wrap he wore, shaking out his tapered dreads. They framed his eyes, shadowing them from her line of vision.

“I’m finished this pile, give me the rest of yours.”

She handed it over without hesitation.

“So...what’s next for you? After school? Do you plan on applying your Engineering skills in the Military? I mean, you could get into the mechanical aspects of it, or even the computer science bit of it too.”

Erik recapped the pin, adding the finished activity to the finished pile, “Yeah, just for a bit. Then I plan on traveling.”

Miss. Baxter nods before taking a sip of her cold water. What She really wanted to do was tell Erik how handsome he was but then she felt like that was going too far. There was a comfortable silence for a while until she reached out to grab another mango, grazing Erik’s fingers with hers. She could feel that in her skin, her teeth biting down hard on the mango to fight an airy sigh from escaping her lips.

“Shit,” Erik says while stroking back his dreads from his glasses, “I didn’t realize it was 10:00 pm.”

Her eyes looked up at the old grandfather clock on the wall. It was indeed 10:00 pm.

“You’re right, we should wrap this up.”

“Mm,” he hums in approval, packing things away in his carry on. Miss. Baxter took that distraction of his to admire him fully. She stared at the angles and contours of the side of Erik’s face, the pout of his lips so inviting and the curl of his lashes adorable against his masculine face.

“What’s your first name, Miss Baxter?”

She stole her eyes away from him, packing her things, “Mya.”

“Is it cool if I call you Mya from now on?”

She blushed, side eyeing Erik in a playful manner, “Only because your my favorite student, Erik.”

“Cool,” he reached out to squeeze her shoulder gently. It was friendly but it held a certain longing as well. Miss. Baxter grabbed the hand on her shoulder, taking it to squeeze it. She looked down at their hands, body turning from side to side in that swivel chair nervously. Miss. Baxter felt Erik release her hand, taking his pointer finger and thumb to gently grab her chin, making her look up at him.

“Relax, there is nothing wrong with what’s going on between me and you. Like you said, I’m grown...you’re grown.”

“I know but,” She blinked away from him, “I don’t want my attraction to you to interfere with your education, Erik.”

“Oh, I’ll get my education regardless. Only problem I have is how sexy that Island girl dialect sounds rolling off your tongue.”

Miss. Baxter bit down on her lip, closing her eyes to calm her fluttering belly.

“And then you like to wear those fitted bell bottoms...” Erik makes his voice sultry and low, “and you smell like the fruit you eat...”

He was probably wondering if she tasted like it too.

“Erik, I think...I think we should go, it’s late now and...I don’t want to keep you up any longer.”

Miss. Baxter stood, grabbing the handle to her rolling bag, other bag on her shoulder and water bottle in her right hand. Erik stood with her, grabbing his bag from the floor. He walked in front of her, holding the door opened so she could exit first. Their eyes marked similar paths, looking eachother from head to toe.

“Thank you.” She kept in front of him as they walked down the deserted hall of the Science building at MIT. She tried to lessen the switch in her hips but it was too late, Erik was already on it like clock work.

“You ain’t gotta do that,” his words confirmed it.

Finally within the parking lot, Erik walked her to her car, ensuring that she was cool before he made it to his. She placed her things within her trunk, walking back to her drivers side were Erik was leaning against the front of her car, arms folded.

“Same time, Friday night?” Miss. Baxter asks timidly while hanging on to her opened door, not exactly stepping inside.

“Of course, research papers and all, Mya.”

The sound of her name mixed with his West coast dialect made her toes curl in her four inch heels.

“I’m assuming now you’re going to use my name more loosely,” She couldn’t hide her teasing tone.

“You like it so much might as well, right?”

She twirled her key on her finger, “Yes, I like it a lot.”

Before she could crouch down to get into her BMW, Erik grabs her waist, turning her towards him. Her breath hitches, the sudden influx of air burning her lungs. Erik takes both of his hands, grabbing the sides of her face, pulling her into a searing kiss. His tongue rolled with hers, the warm and wet appendage tingling her very own. Sweet from mangos, and sharp in a good way. Miss. Baxter hadn’t had tongue down her throat in a long time. The hardening of her nipples brushed across his T-shirt, her shaking fingers grabbing and twisting the fabric. He was so needy and insatiable. Her back pressed hard against the car, his leg between her thighs keeping them open so he could feel the heat from her crotch against his thigh. She could feel him alright, knocking against her leg like a heavy pole.

“Miss. Mya,” he whispers against her lips, that sly smirk littered with dimples weakening her further, “You sure you don’t wanna see what it’s like to be with me outside of that classroom?”

She bit into her lip harshly, eye lids fluttering. He had his forehead pressed against hers, his hands holding hers at her sides to keep her still.

“Answer me...” He whispers shakily, her head falling back against the car. This gave him access to her neck now, his lips and that tongue of his tasting what he always wanted to taste.

“Answer my fucking question.” He spoke through gritted teeth in her ear, his tongue curling around the diamond stud she wore. His nose was in her hair, hands moving to grab at her hips, rolling his thumbs along her shirt, lifting it from being tucked inside of her pants. Now there was skin on skin contact.

“Yes, yes, I want to,” she spoke rather quickly.

“Forreal?” He was pressed hard against her now. No one could see them so why was she so damn nervous? Maybe it was the fact that a man had showed her interest again.

“Yes, Erik.” She was weakened by this man.

“Fuck. You don’t know what your getting yourself into with me, girl.”

She didn’t know, but maybe Erik could teach her a few things this time around.

[exosmutfactory]

For (Your) Entertainment

 gif not mine 🌹

❥ Fuckk it’s 1am, I’m feeling hot all over and this damn smut is finally done but I;M FEELING ATTACKED

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut,

— Word Count: 3k

— Rating: 18+ (M)

— [ Contains: The use of toys (and a bonus of blindfolds&ties coz why the fuck not) ]

❥ Let’s go

ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥

You hate to admit how easy it was for your friend to convince you to come out here tonight. A new club-club being the codename for what this place actually entails-has opened up on a quiet corner of your town. And her being ever the extrovert, she was quick to catch a whiff of the news. Seriously, it just flipped its entrance sign 2 days ago and she’s already tugging you over the threshold by the arm.

“Come on! We need to get good seats.”

Rolling your eyes you speed up the pace of your low-heeled clad feet. You being 167cm without any aid of heels being the perfect excuse for the black, 3-inch lifesavers.

The interior of the building switches from the pink neon sign packed entryway to a red velvet coated open area. The dim lights and sensual music alone has a shiver going down your spine.

Your friend smirks at you, “Nice right?” You nod and her smirk widens, “Things are just getting started.”

After a quick trip to the bar for a matching pair of explicitly-named drinks, you are led to a sitting area in front of a stage. Your eyes roam around as you take a seat on a comfortable red chair; noting how the stage reminds you of the one you’ve seen often in your favorite movie.

“Seems like they took inspiration from Burlesque,” You mumble.

Your friend–of course–with her super hearing catches your words, “Oh trust me.” She purrs crossing her legs with a lazily stir of her drink, “This is much better.”

You hum noncommittally, taking small sips of your own fruity beverage just as the lights dim further. Soon others join you; some taking the leftover front row seats (how your friend scored them, you don’t even want to know) while a rowdy bunch sits directly behind you. Seeming to enjoy talking loud directly in your ear until a tall man walks out on stage.

“Good evening everyone.” He greets grinning when the crowd swoons in response. You won’t deny that he’s handsome with his beautiful bronze skin and confident posture. His constant flirting with the crowd is a little much for your tastes though. You catch your friend watching him without blinking.

“Hey,” You whisper nudging her, “Careful. You’re drooling.”

“What!?” She yelps carefully dabbing at the corners of her red lips.

“Kidding!” You laugh loudly. Luckily the lights dim again before she can retaliate.

But oh is karma prepared to make you take back your words.

Another tall man walks out on stage; adoring a black near see-through shirt and tight leather pants with pearls lining from his hips to the inside of his matching boots. But that isn’t what catches your attention the most. No. It’s the sexily disheveled black hair dangling into piercing brown eyes. Dark orbs seemingly focused in your direction.

You curl your hand tight around your glass. And as the performance begins, you wish you had another three with you.

Slow rhythmic, booming bass fills the air; the aura in the room switching from curiosity and excited chatters to barely concealed gasps and hushed whispers.

You’d join in if your own mouth wasn’t running dry; eyes not wavering for a moment from his body. His every movement drowning you farther into the art of his seduction. He runs his hand over his body in the most hypnotizing of ways, maintaining eye contact with a few lucky women in the crowd. Until his eyes land on yours as he gets on the floor; grinding against the cane as if he was made for it.

You don’t even try to conceal your shock; it is written all over your face as he throws you a little smirk, turning around with the cane across his back just to roll his body in the most sinful of ways. And when you think he will be merciful once he gets off that floor, he’s confidently rolling his body in your direction; cupping his hand behind his ear as the room fills with more screams. Sounds you can barely hear over the racing of your heart and the vibrations of the music under your feet.

When the performance is nearing the end he struts over to the front of the stage; directing an aggressive two-finger kiss in your direction. One last devilish smirk is thrown your way before he’s exiting the stage.

“Well?” Your friend inquires turning to you.

You end up crossing your own legs as the lights come on; clearing your throat before downing the rest of your drink. “That was…” Hot. Sexy. Way too intense. “Good.” You settle on; glad that you decided to wear shorts under your wine skater dress tonight.

“Good?” She scoffs, “Yeah right. I saw how you were looking at him. And how he was eyeing you.” She smirks nudging me. “Think you were his favorite?”

“S-Shut up.” You near whine concealing your face with your long wavy hair.

“Fine fine.” She chuckles raising her hand to ruffle your hair before uncharacteristically pausing. Before you can ask what’s wrong she’s whispering, “Don’t look now but I think your dancer is coming this way.”

Giving her a panicked look you part your lips, “Wha-”

“Excuse me.” A warm, deep voice reaches your ears.

You take a deep breath, sharing one more look with your friend before looking over your shoulder.

It is, in fact, the very same man who displayed a hypnotizing performance mere minutes ago. Still in his all-black outfit with his hair just the tiniest bit damp and tousled as if hastily rubbed by a towel. The shine of sweat on his chest caught by the lightning with every breath he takes.

Hot. You can’t help thinking again, quickly reeling yourself back in, “Yes?” You inquire politely.

“May I have a bit of your time?” His eyes stay on yours; a flicker of something dark in his orbs until he blinks again.

“Oh um,” You could damn near die of nerves at that moment, looking to your friend for help, “Actually-”

“Oh! I forgot,” She exclaims; rummaging through her purse. “I am supposed to meet up with Sandra after this. You don’t mind if I leave right, love?” Her mischievous eyes land on you.

It takes everything in you not to simultaneously gape at her and wring her neck. “Um…” You hesitate, feeling a little fearful when she gives you a warning look. “No, that’s alright.” You reply in a high voice.

She smiles, “Good!” Taking her phone out she taps on it a few times before pressing it to her ear; standing up. “I’ll leave you to it then, have a good night!” With a wink she’s headed off towards the entrance, quickly getting lost in the crowd.

With a gulp, you turn back to the stunning man before you; patiently waiting on an answer, “Y-Yes.” You smile, “Sure.” Your eyes fall on the beautiful hand he holds out to you.

“May I take you somewhere?” He quirks a delicate brow, “I’d like to show you something a bit too…private out here.”

Oh. You gulp. That’s why she brought me here. Your heart races even more as he keeps his dark brown eyes steady on you; feeling a blush crawl up the back of your neck as his intentions set in. “Yes.” You breathe, placing your palm in his warm one.

He smiles stepping back, waiting on you to stand before leading you further into the club. “Oh,” He pauses, silently calling for your eyes to meet his as you stop taking in the velvety walls of the building. “I’m Baekhyun.” He says with the sweetest eye smile, a big contrast with his sexy appearance that does nothing but makes you flush further as you quietly utter your own name.

“Well then,” Your name rolls off his tongue is the prettiest way as he leans down to kiss the back of your hand; sending a jolt down your body when his eyes meet yours as he firmly sucks. “Pleasure to meet you.”

If he doesn’t stop being so sensual you are going to be a puddle on this damn floor before you even reach your destination.

Thankfully the raven whisks you even further into the place; hand securely holding onto yours as you venture down relatively dark hallways. After a few twists and turns, you start to wonder why the hell this club is so damn big until a barely audible but completely recognizable noise reaches your sensitive ears.

Baekhyun looks over his shoulder to check up on you; smiling apologetically at your flustered state even as amusement shines in his eyes, “Sorry bout that.”

Before you can reply, a certain red door at the end of the hallway catches your eye. It differentiates from all the black ones lined up to the left and right. You can’t help but gulp as Baekhyun leads you right to it; fishing a key out of his pocket.

“Pardon me if I’m rude,” He starts as he opens the door; holding it for you as you meekly cross the threshold, “But is this your first time?”

Too busy analyzing the dimly lit room covered in various shades of deep maroons and pitch-black furniture, you turn back to him with red cheeks, “No.”

Baekhyun walks over to you. “Then there must be something,” Gently grabbing your hand he starts kissing from your wrist to your shoulder; thoroughly leaving little sucks and swirls of his tongue over your heated skin that leave you trembling in need, “You haven’t done before?”

Taking a deep shaky breath you nod a little, wanting to slap yourself for how hot his kisses just made you. Since when did a man make you want to drop to your knees so damn much?? In a new club your friend just left you in?? Either you’re that crazy or that desperate.

Noticing the conflict in your eyes, Baekhyun smiles in a reassuring manner, “Tell me about it?”

With another deep breath, you agree; excitement running through your veins as he reaches back to lock the door; keeping his eyes on you while biting down on that tempting bottom lip of his, “Bed?”

Instead of a verbal response, you give in to your instincts; grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and smashing your lips to his. Thankfully Baekhyun is quick to return the gesture; expertly sucking and licking the seam of your lips as he walks you back to the bed. The moment your knees hit it, you carefully crawl back on the bed, Baekhyun following your lead until you reach the headboard.

Pulling back, Baekhyun rubs his cool hands up your heated legs; making you shiver as he parts your thighs. His eyes run over your form before they meet yours, “What do you want?” He leans down, nibbling on your ear and pulling a moan from you as he lightly brushes his hand over your inner thigh, “What’s your fantasy?”

“I…” Already feeling breathless at his teasing touches, you try your hardest to remember the thing you’ve been the most curious about for a while. Something that, arguably, is the most flustering yet arousing thing you could think of, “I’ve never used…toys before.”

Baekhyun pulls back with a look of surprise, “Never? Not even a vibrator?” A glint twinkles in his eyes as you shake his head; his lick of lips and another breathtaking kiss shooting another wave of heat between your legs.

“Stay here,” He demands before climbing off the bed.

You keep your gaze pointed towards the ceiling, asking yourself if you’re ready to experience this. Are you ready to melt at the hands of a very capable stranger?

Fuck yes you are.

You jolt a little as Baekhyun makes his way back onto the bed; eyeing the tie and blindfold in his hand and an average-sized red box at the foot of the bed. He runs a hand through his hair as he hovers over you again; meeting your eyes as he asks softly, “Do you trust me?”

Once again glancing at the items in his hand, you utter a quiet, “Yes,” Before he’s putting his lips back on yours.

Baekhyun takes his time in undressing you both; pulling off your dress that doesn’t allow a bra and unbuttoning his shirt at an appetizing but unbreakable pace with the building ache between your legs. You gasp a little at the sudden touch on your clothed folds, looking at him as he hums in approval.

“You’re soaked,” He mumbles with a smile, slowly pulling your last article of clothing down your legs. You can probably guess the sight he has when he parts your needy thighs, rubbing his thumbs on your hips as you drip even more at his stare.

Humming again his eyes meet yours, “May I?” He asks just as he’s rubbing his fingers over your drenched folds. Honestly, what does he think your answer will be? You can’t think straight with his touch so close yet so far to where you need it the most.

“Yes,” You breathe for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, laying still for him as he gently ties your wrists to the headboard and wraps the blindfold around you. The loss of both senses heightens the ones that you have left. And when his lips are suddenly wrapping around your nipple, you can do nothing but moan; arching into his touch and crying out when he bites down. Baekhyun hums deeply, soothing it with gentle licks that have your eyes rolling back; your back arching even more as his wet fingers play with the other one.

You jump a bit at the sudden buzz in the air, wondering what it is for a fleeting moment until vibrations are pressed against your clit.

“Good?” Baekhyun mumbles against your chest.

“Mmhm-” You can’t help lifting your hips as he presses the vibrator harder to your clit, moaning louder as he sucks hard and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your arms twitch with want to tug on his hair. And you’re damn near losing your mind when he starts circling the vibrator around your nub, “F-Fuck.” Before you can even warn him, you’re cumming hard; thighs continuing to shake as he doesn’t let up.

“Good girl,” He presses a kiss to your nipple before pulling away entirely; only his bare thighs touching your trembling ones.

You take a few deep breaths to calm down, whimpering at the feeling of something sliding between your folds; rubbing your oversensitive clit and teasing over your entrance. Your lips part in a silent moan as it’s sliding inside of you.

Baekhyun moves it in and out at a moderate pace, letting you roll your hips as he starts kissing on your neck; finding your sensitive spot within seconds. You sigh in pleasure, keep up that movement until he tilts the dildo a bit; pulling a loud gasp from your lips and making your legs shut when it brushes your gspot.

Baekhyun tsks and parts your thighs, but keeps the dildo still. A few minutes go by as you pant and clench in vain around the toy nicely stretching your walls; growing concerned when he makes no noise or movement. And then, just as you are about to ask if he’s okay, he’s spreading your thighs wider and sucking harshly on your clit; slamming the dildo directly into your gspot.

You can’t help but cry out as you suddenly cum again; whole body shaking as Baekhyun slowly helps you ride it out. But when he’s sliding it out of you, your body still craves for something more. The vibrator and dildo felt amazing but you need more.

Swallowing hard you part your lips, “Baek-”

His lips crash to yours; catching your surprised scream as he slams into you, bottoming out just to do it again. “You look so-fuck-” He hisses, snapping his hips harder, “You look so good tied up like this.”

You can only moan in reply, imagining him over you; pounding into your walls and biting hard on his lip. Sweat dripping down his body in that sinfully hot way that you love. “B-Baekhyun.” You squint at the light suddenly coming back to your eyes, blinking to clear your vision until you see him just as you pictured.

Feeling your eyes on him, Baekhyun slows down; rolling his hips just as he did on stage. Loud uncontrollable moans fall from your lips as he finds your gspot again; another orgasm minutes away from unraveling in your trembling form when he slides a hand down his body and between your legs.

“Fuck.” You breathe, yanking on your restraints when he brushes his thumb over your clit. Your face feeling completely flushed as he looks at you with dark eyes; bangs slightly covering his brown orbs.

“You’ll be a good girl for me, hmm?” Baekhyun slowly licks his lips, smirking at you in such a devilish manner, “Cum all over my cock as I fill you up with my cum?”

You hiss as you clench around him, lifting your hips to meet his every movement, “You sure you can make me cum again?” You daringly ask even as you feel your whole body quivering in anticipation.

The smirk falls off Baekhyun’s face as a darker look forms in his eyes; his hands pressing your hips to the bed. You look up at your lover with a gulp as he breaks out of character.

“We have all night baby girl.” He chuckles darkly, throwing your leg over his shoulder before thrusting so roughly into you the bed creaks and slammed against the wall, “Plenty of time to remind you who this pussy belongs to.”

————

I hope this turned out okay! I took a long ass time to get to the good stuff I know smh 🙈🙊 let me know in my ask box how you feel about this if you want dhdgfhdhgk I’m running back to sleep now 🌹🌹 BYE

[halequeenjas]

She’s No Ariel || Dave & Jasmine

TIMING: During the Living Nightmares POTW PARTIES: @seizethecarpe & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: All Jasmine and Dave wanted was to enjoy the beach. Turns out, White Crest has other plans.

With colder weather ready to creep in any week now, Jasmine was determined to get a nice beach day before she was forced to stow her bikinis away. Well, at least until the new hot tub was installed, but that’d take some time. She still enjoyed the smell of ocean air in comparison to the chlorinated pool water. As far as she heard, no one had seen any of those giant lobsters in some time. It was likely a safe day to soak up some sun. She’d arrived at the beach with her beach chair in tow and a trashy romance novel to hold her interest as basked in the perfect weather. White Crest Beach was no Huntington Beach, but she could make it work. The beach even seemed to be currently clear of fog by some sort of miracle. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, but she was several chapters deep in her new book when she felt a chill in the air. A fresh wave of fog was rudely rolling in. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she grumbled, “Can’t a girl have one nice beach day?”

Dave had arrived at the beach with the exact opposite intentions. He wasn’t carrying his trident aggressively, the prongs hidden from sight at he walked along, looking like he was some old doddering man with a stick and a fishing net. Which, well, for the most part he was. There weren’t many out on the beach - so much of the town was covered in fog they seemed to assume that was true townwide. Which, to be fair, it sure was most of the time, and as Dave walked along the pebbled shoreline, the fog came in, swamping his senses. He could feel the whole damn beach now, including the young lady shifting in her seat in annoyance, and something moving out and about in the water. “You know if the fog is always this thick this time of year?” He asked her, squinting out into the water. 

One of these weekends, she was dragging Beatrice and Leah away for a proper beach vacation where ominous fog didn’t roll in and they could have fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them. Maybe once she was free of Larry Bob, she could make that happen. For now, Jasmine jumped slightly at the sound of someone else’s voice. She squinted through the fog and saw the form of a man getting closer. His voice sounded friendly enough so she wasn’t entirely ready to go into defense mode yet. “No, it really isn’t,” she answered in a tone that she hoped conveyed this was probably serious without sounding crazy. She was about to pack up her beach chair and towel when she felt the tide reaching her feet. Now that was concerning, even more so than the fog. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be the next unaccounted for death on the news, so I’m getting out of,” she was cut off but a soothing voice a little further out in the water. “Join me,” the swimming lady said. Jasmine scoffed,”Do I look like I want to join you?”

Her tone had layers to it, like she was trying to convey something beyond what she was saying. Dave wasn’t all too sure he’d be able to peel ‘em apart when he couldn’t hear her too well in the first place, but she didn’t sound too easy-breezy about it at all, she sounded serious. “Didn’t think so,” Dave replied, squinting to read her lips as she talked. “Not a bad idea.” He didn’t hear whatever Jasmine was responding to, but whatever it was, she wasn’t impressed. Dave set his bag down, to give himself a little bit of flexibility if he needed it. He had a bad feeling about all of this, as much of a cliche as it was. “Who was asking you to join them?” He asked, trying to peer out into the water. There was definitely something moving out there, but he wouldn’t be too convinced it was something human. 

All the fog seemed to keep coming in, making it near impossible for Jasmine to make out the lady who had been floating in front of them. She knew it wasn’t just the fog, there was something terrifying about that chick’s voice and whatever she was, Jasmine had no plans on becoming someone’s dinner. The man hadn’t spotted the woman, but he was peering over the water. “Some spooky chick… I wouldn’t,” she thought of the best way to tell him to stay back from the water, “Get close. Totally sketchy.” Did that suffice? Probably not. As the woman popped above the surface of the crashing waves, this time right in front of him, she let out a small gasp. “Hey,” she yelped, “I said I didn’t want to join you, Ms. I’ve never heard of a freaking comb! You don’t want to piss me off, lady. It won’t end well for you.” Her face remained stony and hard though she was becoming increasingly more aware of just how out of reach her back was. Sure, her nails were pretty sharp, but iron rod was more effective and didn’t require her ruining her manicure. 

“Some spooky chick near the water? In the water? Ma’am, it might be time for you to get back.” Dave frowned, squinting until he saw her. A beautiful woman in the mist, waving her arms enticingly, inviting them both in. He stepped a little closer, despite Jasmine’s warnings, so that he was standing where the sand was wet, and he could feel the rippling water, and how it sloshed against the body. He frowned, tongue pressing against his teeth caps so he could get them off fast if need be. “Now.” Unwilling to be polite about it much longer, and feeling the mermaid just below the surface, Dave hauled Jasmine back bodily as the giant angler fish body opened its maw and tried to grab Jasmine. Dave and Jas were faster. “Don’t like that at all.” Once again, the face on the mermaid was eerily familiar, but she quickly disappeared under the fog. She’d be back soon enough, Dave had no doubt. “You alright there, ma’am?” In the fog, all manner of things might be hiding. 

Of course Mr. Big Shot over here was stepping closer to the water instead of backing away and Jasmine found herself rolling her eyes. Men were impossible. She pulled one of the iron rods out of her bag and followed anyway. At least she knew better and would hit the likely demonic woman across the head if she tried to yoink the man back into her underwater hell den. “In the water. Why are you getting closer,” she said in an exasperated tone. Sure, the woman in the water was pretty, but not nearly as pretty as the one on the shore. Of course, he probably thought he had to be manly or whatever and check it out. Just as soon as she followed behind him, he was pulling her back and some giant fish was opening its wide jaws. She stumbled a bit not expecting to be pulled. Okay, maybe this guy knew what he was doing. Wouldn’t be too shocking considering it was White Crest. “Is that bitch trying to eat us? Have you seen something like her before? I remember the giant lobsters, but fish ladies? Really?” With arms crossed over her chest as they were a safe distance away from the shoreline, she shouted, “You’re not even that pretty. Go find your own beach, lady!” Alright, shouting down a monster wasn’t her best look. She shook her head and said, “Sorry, I’ve really just been trying to actually enjoy the beach. Apparently a tall order around here. But I’m fine. Are you okay?” 

Dave subconsciously bared his teeth at the threat, silent and furious. The mermaid retreated, her grotesque form hidden back under the surface. “Giant lobsters are a walk in the park compared to her. Well, it, technically, their lure doesn’t reflect their sex, but yeah. She can’t get on land, but you might want to avoid coming by this beach any time now.” Dave huffed his laugh as Jas yelled back at her. “Don’t think they understand English, no matter what.” He shook his head, looking back out into the fog. The mermaid had submerged back under the waves, but she was waiting for her opportunity. He looked Jas over, unsure what to make of her being pissed off and not scared for her life. Unconcerned, but not reaching for a weapon either. “Fine. I’ll come back to deal with her later. Ain’t too keen on monsters disrupting my down time either. You seem remarkably nonchalant about all this.”

As the fish lady disappeared back under the water, Jasmine found herself still staring wide eyed at the water still. No matter how many new monsters White Crest threw at her, she always found herself shocked at just how crazy it could all be. Like a woman’s body attached to a giant fish that definitely wanted to eat them for lunch? That was truly wild. She shook her head as if that would make the whole ordeal shake away with it. “I never thought I’d hear someone say the giant lobsters are a walk in the park. Ugh, I still can’t look at surf and turf the same. I guess I’ll have to stick to pool days.” Another part caught her attention, “Wait, they all have the ladies on them? I’m not gonna see any Idris Elba looking fish men try to turn me into their dinner.” Was that a positive or negative spin? She could hardly tell anymore, but picked up her long, cardigan-like cover up to help her fight off some of the chill the fog brought with it. Her eyes still scanned the water making sure whatever the hell that was stayed underwater where it belonged. “Monster fish ladies don’t speak English, got it.” It hadn’t dawned on her that she maintained her cool until the man was noting she didn’t seem too thrown by the whole situation. She shrugged in a manner that indicated she was fairly used to all this even if her heartbeat peaked slightly as she started to explain, “Oh, yeah. I grew up here with… certain abilities. Kind of hard to live in denial when you have dead people chatting your ear off.” 

“By comparison,” Dave stressed gruffly, but with a small smile, although that was likely the spike rush of adrenaline. “Pool is probably safer. Least in those you can see what’s under the surface. And, uh, no Idris Elba. The range is beautiful women to kinda textured blobs with arm like extensions. That one was impressive in its detail.” He stepped back as she tugged on her cardigan, in principle to give her space in case she needed it while processing, but also so that he could stand a little closer to the water and feel just in case the mermaid was angling for a second attempt. He raised his eyebrows at her. There were a few different ways folks communed with the dead, and he wasn’t about to guess which way it went. “Good. Wasn’t sure how I’d lie about this one otherwise. Meanwhile the water’s as much home as my van is, so I’m more familiar with mermaids than the dead.”

“I guess everything here’s pretty relative, huh?” Jasmine laughed a bit and began gathering up her beach umbrella and towel. The fog was still thick, but it seemed to be letting up at least a little bit. “Probably, but the salt water does wonders for your skin. Plus, I’m sure there’s some new age crap about how the ocean’s healing or whatever. Well, at least I know they won’t be fooling me to go out into the water after them. She was a pretty realistic woman for a fish lady.” She noticed the man’s tendency to stick closer to the shore line which was curious, but nothing too alarming to her. Clearly, he wasn’t about to try and eat her or anything which were things that needed to be seriously considered in this town. There was a lot that the water being pretty much his home could mean, but the part of living in his van stuck out. “Wait, your van is your home,” she asked incredulously, searching her bag for one of her business cards. “Here, in case you decide you’d like something a little more permanent than a van. Or I guess if you have any ghost problems since we’re being open here. As you can gather from the card, I’m Jasmine. I’m a realtor in town here. Also, occasionally offer up my services as an exorcist as needed though I prefer to keep that a little more on the down low.” 

“Huh, I’m sure they do say that, but I ain’t too sure I agree.,” Dave replied with a smile, gesturing at the heavy scarring on his face and hands. His skin was weathered and leather like, but he did have, what, thirty odd years on her? He raised his eyebrows as he was given a business card, before shaking his head amicably. “Nowhere permanent has ever stuck,” Dave said with a surprisingly easy smile. “I’m Dave. I do treasure hunting and deep sea monster hunting. In case you run into more where those came from. Part time seal, too. Can I walk you back to your car, or however you got here? Don’t think this fog is lifting any time soon.”

The admission that he never really settled somewhere permanent didn’t make much sense to Jasmine until he got into the details of his own profession. “Oh,” she said nodding her head slowly, “That makes sense then. Ocean is home and all. Anyway, good to meet you, Dave. I’ll admit, the treasure part of that sentence sounds way more fun, but there’s monsters a plenty in White Crest so I’ll keep that in mind.” Considering a fish lady had just tried to make them her lunch, she gladly accepted the offer to walk her to her car. “Thanks, that’d be great. Who know what else I could run into in this fog,” she responded with a laugh as she led the way to her car. Maybe the beach day hadn’t been entirely ruined. After all, new contacts were always a useful thing to have.

[fics-not-tragedies]

Summer wine: Part Three

I’m getting wild with those, am I not? It’s still dirty, still smut, more kinky this time (I guess the moodboard above says it all via pics). Two more of those left, but I can tell y’all I’d be getting to this *cough* idea *cough* back in oneshots, I can assure you. Also I feel obligated to tag @bobblewonka in like every chapter now, JUST BECAUSE; @keanuchillz you can desperately wait for the next one hun!

SERIES SUMMARY: Summer vacations spend with Keanu in Paris. Muggy evenings filled with long walks, wine drinking and loads of crazy sex. Words:  2008; Warnings: wine drinking, daddy kink, spanking, dirty talk and loads of crazy sex; 

one - two - three - four - five - the playlist

The variety of tools he was about to use on you was neatly prepared on your bed. Whips were lying next to the silk ropes, gags were placed between handcuffs and blindfolds. The heavy curtains were shut tightly and the only source of light was the dimmed lamp on the bedside table. He was standing in the doorway so you were able to see his face as well as his full body.

He ditched his shirt somewhere, so he was now standing there in nothing but his pants. His hair absolutely disheveled, face scruffy and he was panting even though he didn’t touched you since the moment you left that fancy restaurant where you had dinner. 

“What do you think?” he swirled the leather crop around and you had to admit that it really suited him.

“I think I’m scared and horny at the same time” you chuckled, looking at him as he removed the dark blanket with all of the items and placed it onto the bedside table.

“On the bed” he commanded, watching you with dark gaze as you laid on your back, sinking into the soft sheets.

An evil smirk appeared on his face, as he crawled onto the bed and began moving slowly closer.

It was visible that he was eager to use this filthy tool on you, perhaps he had few more hidden somewhere around. His chocolate eyes now dark with lust, hands firmly gripping the item.

Keanu placed himself between your legs and slid the riding crop over your collarbones, then down between your breasts.

“Didn’t know, little girl, that you were that much into those darker things. And I think I’m into it too…” he slid the crop to your belly and further down to the inside of your thigh.

“Then stop teasing and whip my ass with it, daddy” you made an effort and stared right into his eyes biting onto your lower lip. His gaze was firm, he wasn’t looking away, his eyes were glued to your face.

“You think it is that easy? That you always get what you want? Oh, my little girl...” he pressed the cold leather between your folds and you squirmed under him, “you have to learn your lesson. You’ve been naughty and your daddy needs to punish you now.”

When he caressed you with the crop, you felt how embarrassingly wet you already were. Your hands fisted the sheets on your both sides and a soft moan escaped from your lips. It was quite obvious that your face became crimson few moments ago, but he wanted you this way.

“Then, will you punish me, daddy?” you stressed the last word and his eyes lit up. He was falling deep down into his own rabbit hole and damn, he enjoyed it. You could see the outline of his hardened cock in the black suit pants he still had on.

Pressing the leather closer to your wet folds with his hand, he rubbed you harshly, another gasp leaving your mouth, feeling the mixed sensation of the cold material and his hot palm pressed closely to your entrance.

“Yes my little girl” Keanu leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours. He licked your top lip firstly, then moved his tongue to your lower lip, sliding it inside your mouth, his teeth nibbling onto your pouty bottom lip, “I will punish you.”

When he pressed the riding crop further into your dripping pussy you moaned loudly, “Oh daddy” you were pushed to the edge and when you expected him to make another movement he just simply removed the tool from between your legs with your gasp of disapproval.

“First things first, my little girl” he leaned over the bedside table and placed the riding crop between two spanking paddles. He reached out for the silky rope and untangled it in one swift movement.

He grabbed you by your wrist, then he grasped the other one, placing them next to each other, holding them firmly before he tied them together tightly. It looked like he must’ve practice it before, at least for few times, his every movement was calculated and he knew what he’s doing, “Are you ready, my little girl?” he asked, holding onto the end of the rope.

“Daddy, do I look unready to you?” you said smiling widely. With a deadly serious look on his face he grabbed you by your neck.

“Be a good little girl. Or else I’m gonna smack your gorgeous ass.” Yes, he was deep into that rabbit hole. And you liked it. Oh, you liked it so much. His words were turning you on once again and you knew you needed more.

“Oh daddy, you can smack my ass as many times as you want” you were overflowing with confidence as you boldly stared into his eyes. An evil grin drew back onto his lips, his hand wrapping tightly around your throat and then you knew he’ll do you no good tonight. Just like in every previous ones.

Keanu leaned over you letting go of your neck, outstretching his hands so he could tie the end of the rope to the headboard. Then he angled himself, so he could kiss your neck, but the kisses turned straight into rough sucking on your soft spot, the one right behind your ear. He probably left a harsh trail of bruises on your neck, marking you as his and his only.

“Time to play, little girl” he softly breathed into your ear, sliding his hand, slowly grazing your soft skin from your neck all the way down to your abdomen. You moaned loudly when his fingers rubbed your clit. It was easy, too easy, to notice how soaked you were and how needy your body was for his touch, “you really want me, don’t you? Are you thirsty for me, little girl?” Keanu asked slipping his hand down, between your folds, slowly circling your entrance. You melted feeling his touch, “oh fuck… so fucking wet, oh my little girl...” he murmured into your neck rubbing his thumb into your clit.

Your mind was doing a dozen of somersaults and you just couldn’t help the orgasm that was building up slowly, “D-daddy…” you moaned, your legs shaking a little.

“Look at me!” he demanded.

You looked up at his face; eyes dark with lust, his tongue licking his lips and his hair being a mess. You were on the edge now, all you needed now were few flicks of his wrist and you’d become undone in few seconds.

“D-daddy, p-please” you were close to begging him, inpatient for his another move. He laid next to you, his hand still between your legs, while the other one cupped your breast roughly, “ooohhh daddy!” With a loud moan you felt how the fire in your belly grew even wider.

“Thirsty for me, aren’t you, little girl?” Keanu asked, but instead of waiting for a response he attacked your lips with his. You moaned when his tongue fiddled with yours, he tasted like the fruity wine you both drank and something minty. When his lips attacked your jaw, you gasped softly, his hand moving your head to the side, so he could have a better access to it.

“F-fuck… daddy!” you panted, when you felt how he slid two fingers inside you. In a desperate manner you tried to move your hands, trying to at least roam your fingers through his hair, but the rope tied around your hands was restraining you from doing so.

“Tell me what you want, little girl” he said moving his lips to your neck, leaving marks all over it once again. You moaned, when his free hand moved to your thighs, fingers digging into it and the obscene sound you made could be heard from few blocks away. You simply didn’t cared. It was all about pleasure now.

“D-daddy I want… want you to… f-fuck!” you screamed when his moved his hand, fingers moving in and out of you. Spreading your legs wider you gave him a better access, desperately trying to get off.

“Fuck, of course, little girl” he licked your neck and moved to sit beside. You looked at him, his eyes fixed on you, as he began to get rid of those pants he still was wearing.

Keanu had nothing underneath them and this wasn’t a surprise, he liked to get dirty from time to time. He tossed them aside and wrapped his hand around himself. With a loud moan he pumped his hard cock few times, precum dripping from his tip, before he placed himself right between your legs, “Are you ready for me, little girl?” he shifted closer to you, his tip brushing over your entrance.

“Y-yes daddy, p-” before you could finish your sentence he buried himself deeply into your soaked pussy, his length stretching you deliciously. He was so big, it always took you few moments to get used to him.

When he steadied himself by gripping your hips firmly, you could help but moan loudly, writhing under him, as he roamed you with his cock.

“F-Fuck, daddy, I-I” your voice trailed off into an obscene groan, your back arching upwards, wrists still neatly tied to the bed. Today he was darker than usual and you liked it.

He growled through his gritted teeth, his cock throbbing inside you, the grip he had on your hips even stronger now. You’d end up with bruised, you felt it, as his fingers dug into your skin again and again.

“Yes little girl, come all over my cock. Oh, f-fuck… I love how tight you are” he leaned closer, his lips close to your ear and you could feel his weight on top of your naked body, “you take my cock so well, little girl.”

Keanu wrapped his hand around your neck choking you a little, making you gasp for air, squeal under him, the rope you had wrapped around your wrists biting into your skin. His other hand reached between your bodies to toy with your clit. Firstly he just put some pressure to it, making you groan, your heart raced up like it was trying to jump out of your chest, but then he rubbed it in circular motions, pressing his thumb harder and harder into it with his every movement.

He licked your earlobe, nibbling onto it, “Cum with me, little girl, make me proud” he whispered into your ear, burying his hard cock deeper into you with every snap of his hips.

With another one hard thrust you weren’t able to hold it any longer, you dug your nails into the rope feeling how your walls clenched around his cock. Keanu wrapped his hand tighter around your neck, “F-fuuuck…oh daaaaddy…” you drawled out the moan. His hand flicked your clit again and the blissful feeling washed all over you, your muscles tensed, toes curling.

You screamed his name and after few more thrusts he came, spilling his hot load inside you. When he laid his hand in the crook of your neck, your bodies pressed closer, you could feel his raced up heartbeat. He was trying to steady his breathing, but you both were panting now, the sound of your heavy breaths filled the whole room.

“Fuck, your cunt is perfect, little girl” he slowly got up got up, his hands pressed to the mattress on your both sides. He fixed his hair a little, his eyes glued to your face, “Oh, little girl, you’re still quite the view” he said, reaching out his hand to caress your cheek.

Looking up at your hands tied to the bed frame you tried to move them around, trying to free them from restrains. Keanu just giggled, stroking your cheek again and again.

Then, he leaned in to kiss your lips, his hot mouth moving roughly on top of your, hands kneading your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples.

And you knew. You knew he wasn’t finished with you. It all was just a beginning…

[saskiel]

The pretty little dress

A short KakaSaku story that I wrote and released both on ff.net and ao3 (you can find me on both under the name Saskiel).

This is a modern AU story. Songs which inspired me during the story are Lost On You by LP, Ring My Bells by Enrique Iglesias and Uncover by Zara Larsson

I hope that you will enjoy the story and if you do, please lemme know what you liked about it ^^

It has been five months. Less than half a year after Sasuke has unceremonially dumped her. They have been together for seven years, being the high school sweethearts and all, before he decided that they were no longer the people they used to be. Sure, they've changed, but Sakura was not dumb enough to understand his message of "I am done with this relationship".

She allowed herself to mope around for a while after he moved out of their apartment that they've found during college. Sasuke left all of the pictures that had both of them in the frame, only taking the ones which didn't have Sakura. She didn't notice during his swift packing, but after a few days of staring at their young faces, it felt like a slap in the face.

After that, Ino felt Sakura should be already over the Uchiha and decided that she would help out. In a very Ino-way.

„Hey girlfriend! We are heading out tonight! No excuses! I will be picking you up at 8 and I am bringing a dress for you with me. Ciao!" Ino's voice sounded way too enthusiastic in the voice mail, Sakura concluded. But unless she was ready to change her address right now, she knew the blonde would not leave her alone.

Glancing at the clock, Sakura's brows knitted together. If she left work now, she would still have some time at home for a bath before the dreaded night out and possibly she could squeeze in pizza delivery if she put in the order on her way home. Turning the laptop off, Sakura got up and stretched her arms, noting the lack of other people in the office. Once again, she was the last one to leave work. A small sigh left her lips as she picked up her belongings, ready to make her way out.

xx

„You cannot be serious, Pig, I own kitchen towels which have more fabric than this," Sakura was turning the skimpy dress in her hands before making it into a ball which fit into her fist, waving it in front of the blonde to make her point.

"Stop being melodramatic and put it on," grabbing both her shoulders, Ino turned the pinkette around and pushed her in the direction of the bedroom.

Sakura decided to send her one more death glare for a good measure before closing the door and stripping down, the clothing in question laid out on her bed, silently judging her choice of underwear. It was a strapless dress which would expose her legs from mid-thigh down. It had a heavy wrinkle design which was pleasant to the touch, not to mention the deep forest green color, which indicated that Ino bought this specifically for Sakura, since the blonde had exactly zero green clothes in her wardrobe.

It wasn't that the dress was bad looking, but it was a lot more revealing than she was used to. Sasuke once mentioned that girls that revealed this much were trying too hard. Sakura always wanted to please him and so she never got any that would reach higher than just above her knees.

But no matter how much she didn't wear them, it apparently wasn't enough. Or not enough for him, in any case.

With that thought, Sakura slipped the dress over her head, surprised at how comfy it felt. Her bubblegum hair was already blow-dried and styled for the night, the longest part of her bob almost touching her collar bone. Her fingertips traced the freckles on her bare shoulders, not even sure when this part of her body was exposed to this degree.

The dress was hugging her body tightly, showing off her narrow waist. Although she didn't have the picture-perfect hourglass figure, her hips were wide enough to be pleasing to the eye. In terms of breasts, Sakura never really had much, but it never bothered her. It made it easier since she wouldn't be able to wear a bra, the top of the dress is secured only with elastic lining on the inside edge.

Sakura was looking at herself in the full-body length mirror which was next to her bed. She couldn't remember the last time her body looked so womanly. For the first time in months, she had a sense of hope.

Ino chose this moment to knock at the door shortly, before marching through them, not bothering to wait for a reply.

"Damn, you hot! I am telling you, we are getting you some action tonight, men won't be able to take their eyes off your butt," she said, plopping herself on Sakura's bed.

"So, you really don't think this is too revealing?"

"For once, just show what you've got – you can wear your virgin clothes some other day," Ino picked at her nails, already dressed in a purple summer dress. Her long hair loose and her make-up done perfectly, she was ready for a party. "Should I do your make-up?"

"Sure. Better you do it, I could possibly make it look virgin," Sakura snapped at her friend with no real heat.

Ino just clapped her hands, excited. "We will make you into an absolute 10 out of 10," she said before running off to get her make-up bag.

xx

And that is how Sakura ended up in a night club, sitting at the bar, alone, sipping on a cocktail. Her friend was nowhere to be found for the last hour. She remembered seeing her hot and heavy with some man on the dancefloor, he was definitely Ino's type. If they were still in the club, it would most likely be in a dark corner in a make-out session, but Sakura doubted they haven't left yet.

She herself thought of leaving some time ago, but the beats were a welcomed change of pace from her usual string of reality shows and pjs. Plus, there were drinks. However, no number of fruity cocktails would keep her here for another hour, she promised herself as well as her wallet.

Tapping her heel to the rhythm of the current song, Sakura glanced over the people lost to the dance. She smiled to herself, toying with the idea of joining them before going home. Just as she was about to get up, her eyes spotted a familiar face in the crowd and she stilled on the bar chair, shocked.

His hair shiny jet-black hair was reflecting the blues and reds of the flickering lights as he was making his way through the crowd. With a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and dark jeans, Sakura could not deny Sasuke's good looks.

What she also couldn't deny was the redhead firmly attached to his side, holding hands with him. And her luck, as it would seem, did not end there, she thought sourly when Sasuke started moving in her direction at the bar, making direct eye contact with her.

"Sakura, I didn't know this was your kind of scene," he said when they reached her. His staredown made the pinkette straighten up in her seat, suddenly conscious of her exposed legs.

"What can I say, I've been broadening my horizons lately," her hand brushed over the hem of her dress, pretending it needed adjusting.

"Sasuke-kun, let's dance!" the redhead glued to his arm whined, clearly upset with the other female who her boyfriend was giving attention. Said boyfriend continued to stare at his ex-girlfriend, seemingly content with the staring contest they were having.

Sakura was cursing Ino in her mind with some very colorful words when she noticed a flash of silver hair next to Sasuke. She's seen this man at the bar earlier tonight, he seemed to be there alone, just like herself. Without giving it much thought, she slid down from her chair and reached for the man's arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey there, babe, what took you so long? I thought we agreed on going to dance to the next song?" she said, a pleading look in her eyes, now that her back was towards Sasuke.

He first glanced behind her before taking in her desperate expression. To Sakura's luck, he was able to put two and two together quickly and seemed willing to help her out.

"Sorry, kitten, have I been gone that long? I haven't noticed," he took her hand in his, leading her away from a very confused Sasuke.

Before they even reached the dance floor, her mystery man pushed her into a twirl before pulling her flush back to his body. Sakura wasn't the best dancer, but she took classes during high school just like the rest of the girls in her class, so she was able to follow his lead. He was making it easy for her, but not easy enough to allow her looking back to the spot where they left Sasuke and his new prize.

When she almost blindly reached out for help, she didn't expect to find this. Her dance partner was moving both of them with the grace of a professional dancer. Very soon Sakura's body relaxed into the movements, nearly forgetting the awkward exchange that happened less than two minutes ago.

The fast-paced beat was replaced by a slow melody of a song that Sakura didn't recognize, but it gave her the time needed to check that her ex was no longer at the bar. She withdrew from the silver-haired man, only to have him tug her back. His right hand rested securely on her back, pulling her closer to his body, as he lowered his head to her ear.

"He is still watching us, they are at the tables next to the bar."

They fell into an easy-going step, the man moving them across the floor in tiny circles so that Sakura could see for herself the male glaring at them, with his girlfriend sitting next to him, talking to him and stroking his arm. His staring made Sakura feel on edge, once again.

"Thank you," she said back, taking her eyes off Sasuke. "I am Sakura, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, kitten," he smiled down at her, the lack of his name not lost on Sakura. She decided to let it go, for now, he has been helping her, after all. She wasn't gonna grill him about manners when she practically threw herself on him.

"So, I take it there was trouble in paradise?"

"Apparently," she said with a sad smile. "I wasn't aware of it until the paradise was over."

"I'd say it's his loss, then," there was a wolfish grin on the mystery's man face, which made Sakura chuckle.

"Is this how you pick up girls in bars, huh?"

"Only those," he made her make another twirl for him, before bringing her back, "who ask for a savior," his grin was infectious, the warmth of his palm seeping through her dress just above her backside.

Her cheeks felt warm and she knew for sure that she was blushing, the thumb of his hand rubbing circles on her back. His scent filled her nose as she got even closer to him. He smelled of misty mornings in the pine forest. They danced for the rest of the song, his chin rested on the crown of her head, both lost in their own thoughts.

"How about I get you a drink, Sakura," it wasn't a command, but he wasn't asking her either. She smiled at him and nod, once again following his lead as they ventured to the bar. Her mystery man ordered a whisky for himself and one of those fruity cocktails she was having earlier.

"How did you know I was drinking these?" Sakura asked while the bartender was preparing their drinks.

"I might have seen you before, it's hard to miss you in that pretty little dress," the wink he gave her left Sakura speechless before she laughs out loud. When their drinks arrived, there was still a smile on her face. She raised her glass to make a toast.

"To pretty little dress."

"To pretty little dress," he echoed her words as their glasses clinked together.

xx

"So, let me recap this," Sakura said, pointing her glass at the man sitting next to her. "You used to be a Latin dancer but then your partner got knocked up and you completely stopped with the competitions? And now you are... A teacher? How does one go from an athlete to a teacher - of geography of all subject?!"

The silver-haired man chuckled. "After Kurenai, my dance partner got pregnant, I realized that I was competing more for her than for myself. As for how does one become a teacher, well, a good friend of mine is the principal of a high-school and they needed someone to teach classes for a short period of time and it kind of just… Stuck, I suppose," he shrugged.

Sakura shook her head, a smile on her lips. After she graduated from college, she got hired in a company where she already worked part-time during her studies. She never had any interesting jobs before that. Maybe it was the sweet liquor on her tongue, but it's been ages since she met someone as interesting as the men who only called her "kitten". She wanted to know more.

"Why do you go to the bars, then?"

"For dancing, of course," his reply confused her.

"But, you just said that -"

"I said that I no longer wanted to compete, not that I stopped liking dance," he interrupted her with a knowing smile.

"Ah, I guess that makes sense," she said, feeling a little silly that this wouldn't occur to her.

They spent a few moments in comfortable silence, each sipping on their drink. Sakura would sometimes cast glances at the man and look away as soon as he would give her a questioning look. After this happened for the third time, Sakura stood up and excused herself. Her steps were just slightly unsteady as she walked past the dancing crowd, in search of the toilets. They were easy to spot with a bunch of girls in front of them, so Sakura took her place at the end of the line.

xx

The wait felt like an eternity, but Sakura would soon be the next one to go, just two more girls in front of her at the moment.

Sakura's foot tapped in the rhythm of the song, mindlessly, as she hypnotized the door with her gaze. Why do bars only have one toilet for women, anyway? It made no sense.

Finally, the door opened and a red-head came out. Sakura didn't immediately recognize her, merely happy that she was almost the one to go there. Unfortunately for her, the girl did notice her.

"Who are you and why does Sasuke-kun keep looking at you?!" she barked out, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at Sakura, who was caught of guard completely.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you dense? I asked you who you are and why is Sasuke-kun so interested in you?"

Sakura finally pieced it together. She looked at the girl in front of her more closely. Her hair was loosely falling around her face, touching her shoulders. Her eyes, hidden behind red-trimmed glasses, were angry and there was a pout on her lips. She was wearing a black tight-fitting dress with sequences all over it, reflecting the multi-colored lights flashing from the dance floor.

"I doubt that Sasuke is interested in me, seeing as we broke up," Sakura said, folding her own arms. She did not appreciate the deadly glare from the trophy-girlfriend of her ex.

The red-head squinted her eyes before she snorted. "You were with Sasuke-kun? That's rich as if he would ever notice someone like you."

Sakura watched as her body language changed. Before, the red-head was angry, holding herself close. But now, her hands were on her hips as she laughed, spewing mean comments.

"He would never be with someone who is so small, also the color of your hair, is that supposed to be a joke? And don't even get me started on -"

"Well, I am sure that you are a much better fit for him than I was for the last-seven-years," she interrupted the string of criticism that was being thrown at her. "So, how about you run back to your boyfriend now and leave me alone, yes?"

The red-head was left speechless as Sakura took off, finally her turn to use the toilet. She didn't see the girl huff and puff away, but she felt proud of herself at that moment.

xx

When Sakura returned, she found her silver-haired man at the bar, basically the same spot she left him. He turned around, seemingly in search of her. It made her smile and she waved at him as she got in his hearing distance.

"Wanna do some more dancing?" she asked, standing next to him.

"How could I ever turn down such a request, kitten" he replied, his eyes smiling.

Hopping off his bar stool, he took her hand in his and together they made their way back to the dance floor. Soon after that, they were lost in the movement, enjoying each others company. Sakura still couldn't believe that she asked most likely the only man in here who was an actual dancer to be her ticket out of the awkward situation with her ex.

They barely danced for ten minutes when the upbeat tune got replaced by a slow song. And another after that.

It has been the third song that Sakura was securely held by the man, swaying in the slow rhythm. His hand was keeping her close to his body, only occasionally spinning her under his arm. He clearly enjoyed the way it made her laugh.

It took her a bit of time to recognize the song that was currently playing in the background of her happy moment.

Burning like embers, falling, tender… Long before the days of no surrender… Years ago and well you know…

Sakura's gaze made it's way to the spot where Sasuke was sitting nearly the whole evening. He was talking to his new girlfriend. She couldn't help but recall what the red-head had told her not even half an hour ago.

All I ever wanted was you… I'll never go to heaven 'Cause I don't know how…

"What's your name?" she asked, looking up in the dark eyes of her dance partner. She wasn't pleading.

Let's raise a glass or two… To all the things I've lost on you…

"Kakashi."

Tell me are they lost on you… Oh oh… Just that you could cut me loose…

"Let's get out of here, Kakashi," taking his hand in hers, Sakura made her way to the front door, not looking back.

After everything I've lost on you… Is that lost on you? Baby, is that lost on you?

xx

She didn't have a plan, far from it. She acted on an impulse and now her head refused to work properly, making everything seem a bit hazy. Once they got out of the bar, Kakashi hailed down a taxi for them. When they were seated in the back of the car, he gave the driver an address.

Sakura was looking out of the window as the car started moving. Their inter-twined hands were between them. Kakashi slightly squeezed her to bring attention to him. When she looked at him, he asked her if everything was alright.

"Yes, actually," she said, smiling at him.

She was in a taxi with a man she just met tonight. If Sasuke did not show up, she would likely never asked him to dance. But he did and she was now driving to, presumably, his home. It was the most impulsive decision she has done in months, if not years. She realized that she was absolutely okay with it as she watched the worry leave his face after the reply she gave him.

She released his hand just to be able to get closer to him. "Everything is more than alright," her fingers played with a button on his shirt. She cast him a glance between her eyelashes, mere inches from his face.

Kakashi did not leave her waiting for long. Putting his hand into her pink locks, he closed the distance between their lips. She could taste the faint traces of whisky he drank that evening as they kissed, unhurriedly.

She felt his athletic body under the shirt, enjoying the way he held her close. Even with the slow pace, there was a hunger to his kisses, something that was thrilling to Sakura. Shifting her body, she was now sitting on his lap, her small frame fitting nicely as he circled his arms around her to keep her firmly in place.

It was also her who deepened the kiss. She felt his fingers dig into her back as he let out an appreciative grunt, adjusting to their new position. They only left each other's lips to draw some air, in those moments they would look into each other's eyes, the palm-able attraction making both of them excited.

xx

She was still on Kakashi's lap when the taxi came to stop. She made her way off of him, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment as he paid the driver. They left the car and he lead her to the front door of one of the buildings that were on the street. She took a quick look around while Kakashi fished for his keys.

It looked like a nice neighborhood, this street was well lit and she could see a few shops, which were closed now, but their fronts were casting light on the street. Kakashi lived in a three-story building which was part of the block. It seemed old but cared for.

He unlocked the door and motioned for her to go in first, closing behind them.

"All the way up," he said.

They were silent as they walked up. Sakura couldn't shake the feeling that he was staring at her butt and before she could stop herself, she added an extra sway to her hips. When she reached the top of the second floor, she turned around and sure enough, his eyes were firmly glued to her backside. It made something primal stir within her.

When they reached the top floor, the pinkette moved out of the way and Kakashi moved to the door at the right side of the small, square hallway. He entered the apartment, turning on the light and walking towards the small table which had a small bowl, presumably for keys, since he put his there.

Sakura followed him into the room, taking a quick look around. They were in a small living room, judging by the TV and a comfy-looking sofa. All the furniture was in off-white color with light gray elements. There was a splash of turquoise in the form of a few throw pillows and an abstract painting on the opposite wall. There was no window here, but from where she stood she could see the entrance to the kitchen on her left side, where the whole wall was almost entirely out of glass. To her right were two more rooms, she assumed one of them would be the bedroom.

Sakura looked back at Kakashi, who was still standing by the coffee table, his back to her. She switched the lights back off, making him turn his head. She closed the door behind her without dropping eye contact with him, leaning against his front door. The only light was coming from the street through the kitchen window, making Sakura visible to Kakashi. Biting her bottom lip, Sakura reached for the zipper at her back, the sound of her dress being undone carrying through the quiet apartment. Letting it fall off her body, she pushed it aside with her heel. She watched him take in her nearly-naked form as she trailed her fingers over the black lace of her panties. He was mostly cast in shadows for her, but she could swear she saw him gulp when her own hand brushed over her nipple, finally releasing her bottom lift. Raising her other hand, she beckoned him to her.

He hesitated for a split second, but then he made his way to her waiting body and like a predator capturing his prey, he started kissing her. The way he was keeping her bare back against the wood, his hands roaming from her hips to her breasts, made Sakura moan. She could feel his cock pressing into the flesh of her belly. Sneaking her hand between their bodies she stroked him through the fabric of his pants, earning herself a low growl as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting open mouth kisses on her skin.

xx

It didn't take Sakura long before she wanted more, making a quick work of Kakashi's belt and tugging at his pants which he promptly removed, once they were at his ankles, together with his shoes and socks. Pushing lightly at his chest, she guided them to his spacious sofa. Forcing him to sit down, Sakura stayed standing in front of him, as she started moving to a non-existing melody. Her heels would make a tapping noise whenever she would turn around as her hands scraped over the exposed skin.

Kakashi's eyes were following the motions of her fingers, wherever they would move. From her hair, which she held in her fists, like he did earlier that night, before letting it fall back, the sparse light in the room making it almost silvery. Then down her neck, which he got acquainted not too long ago, leaving white pressure trails as her nails dug into the skin, over her breasts and belly, all the while her hips were rocking to the rhythm in her head.

When she reached her underwear, the hunger in his gaze nearly drove her insane, but she also didn't want to release this hold she had on him quite yet. Hooking the thin lace under her thumbs, she started sliding it down her legs, taking her time. She kept her back straight, moving her whole upper body until the last piece of clothing was touching the floor. Stepping over it, Sakura savored the look he was giving her, like an animal who hasn't eaten for days, starving.

Starving for her.

Sakura could no longer keep him waiting, as well as herself. She lowered herself on his lap, kicking her stilettos off as she sat on him. He did not waste a single moment and drew her closer onto his hard member, making both of them moan in pleasure. After his initial move, Sakura started moving her hips, pressing her naked sex against his, still trapped in boxers. When he tried to shift them into another position, she held him down and rubbed at him harder, moaning in his ear.

"Sakura," he choked out.

"Mhmm?" she murmured as she nipped at his neck.

"You are driving me crazy," he said, cupping her butt in his palms, squeezing it.

Arching her back as his cock rubbed at her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through her body, she moaned loudly, before looking back at him, her expression full of lust. "What are you going to do about it, then?"

Kakashi wasn't going to wait for any more invitations and with the strength of his athletic body, he lifted her up. Sakura had only a second to throw her arms around his neck to catch onto him, but his hands never left her ass, holding her securely in place as he carried her to his bedroom, pushing the half-closed door with his knee.

xx

He sprawled her on his sheets and for a split second, he admired her pale skin, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming from the window above the bed. Sakura watched him take off his shirt and boxers, drinking in his naked body. Every inch of him was calling to her. Getting on her knees, she caressed his cock before lowering her mouth onto him, sucking gently, testing the waters.

"Fuck, kitten," Kakashi grabbed a fistful of her pink locks, but he didn't pressure her, giving her room to do whatever she wanted.

She enjoyed the way he would tense up whenever she would suck at the tip. Moaning around his cock in her mouth, she touched her already wet pussy. Her moans were increasingly louder as he started gently pushing his hips against her lips, not enough to choke her with his length, but enough to fuel her to suck faster and harder.

"Sakura," his voice came out husky, making a shiver run down her spine. "Lemme grab a condom."

Letting him slip out of her mouth, she shook her head slightly. "It's fine, I'm on pills," she said before bringing him back, her tongue already missing twirling over his tip. This time, she brought her other hand to his balls, gently stroking them.

Kakashi hissed, not able to handle the amount of pleasure she was giving him any longer. He had to have her.

Prying her off his cock, he ordered her to turn around as he crawled on to the bed behind her, only too pleased with her listening to him.

Sakura spread her knees for him, her hands holding the headboard of the bed, observing his approach.

Steadying himself he first touched her, rubbing her wetness over her clit. Closed her eyes, she moaned his name, pushing herself closer to his body, the foreplay slowly killing her. "Please," she begged him, her nails digging into the wooden frame.

Kakashi, even if he wanted to tease her a bit more, swore after hearing her voice. Placing his cock right at her entrance, he brushed against her a few times, spreading her with just the tip.

Sakura was having none of that and with one swift motion, she pushed against him, embracing his full length. Both of them gasped for air as he filled her completely. She was still adjusting to his cock inside her when he started moving, first slow and steady. Soon after, he grabbed her hips to make his thrusts more powerful. Sakura reached between her legs to massage the sensitive bundle of nerves, her soft moans filling the room, signaling her approaching orgasm.

Kakashi, encouraged by her sweet moans, hammered her even faster until he felt her convulsing around his cock, his name falling off her lips like a prayer. It was the way her smaller body was soft and warm, his for the taking, that tipped him over the edge as well. He left out a feral groan as his hips bucked against her butt, his cock twitching deep within her.

They relished the way their bodies were connected for a bit longer before he slipped out of her, giving a fleeting kiss to the middle of her spine.

Sakura released a content sigh, letting her body collapse on the bed. Her peace did not last long, though, before she groaned, remembering something.

"Can I use your shower?"

Kakashi chuckled at her exhausted voice.

"Of course, kitten, c'mere," he said, helping her up and keeping her upright when her knees decided to not work properly after their passionate endeavor.

He walked them to his bathroom, the bright light making Sakura groan some more, waking her up from her half-sleep.

Convinced that Sakura must have been sleep-walking, Kakashi took the liberty of holding her under the stream of water as he washed both of them. Then, returning with her to the bedroom where he covered her naked body under the blanket, holding her close to his side. Her damp hair smelled of strawberries, he thought as he drifted off to sleep as well.

xx

When Sakura woke up, it was already light out. The smell of morning pine forest was enveloping her body, the warm blanket wrapped around her as she lied on her stomach, one arm curled under her torso. She opened her eyes, just slightly dreading the infamous "morning after", only to find out that Kakashi was not in the bed anymore.

She pulled herself up, holding the blanket in front of herself. Last night, she didn't pay much attention to the bedroom, other things on her mind and all that, but now she took a look around.

The most prominent piece of furniture was definitely the bed, made out of dark wood and covered with ocean blue covers. Each side had a small side table, one of them had a clock on it, clearly Kakashi's usual sleeping side. The floor was the same dark gray stained wooden planks as she's seen in the rest of the apartment. There were two wardrobes, the smaller of the two had picture frames on top of it. Some were from his dancing days, but others gave the impression of being much newer, possibly with students. The window on her left side had cream-colored blinds, matching the square carpet that was around the bed.

Other than the two-door, she faintly recalled one of them leading to the bathroom, that was it. The door to the living room wasn't completely closed and Sakura just now noticed the faint music coming from there. As well as a delicious smell, which made her belly rumble, demanding some of whatever food that was.

Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, Sakura fastened the blanket closer to her body, still naked. As far as she could tell, her own clothes were nowhere in sight. Which wasn't that odd, given she didn't undress in here. The memory of her bold choices brought the heat to her face. Thinking back, she wasn't sure what exactly drove her to act as she did. Was alcohol at fault? Was it Sasuke?

She slipped into the bathroom as she thought more about it. She looked back at the years with Sasuke as she tried to wash the make-up off her face. They used to be happy, or at least she remembered being happy. But over the years, things turned sour for the two of them. He just no longer cared and the harder she tried, the more distant he became. She felt unhappy after he left, but maybe he did both of them justice.

But with Kakashi, it was something new. He did not ask why she needed the help, he just went along with it. He didn't need to ask her if she was okay in the backseat of the taxi. Yet he did. For the first time in years, she felt worthy of affection. She was ready to put the past behind her and just explore what it meant to be a woman.

Granted, if she would act less on an impulse, it would probably not be a meaningless one-night stand, but here she was. In his bathroom, making herself a bit more presentable, still feeling the fathom kisses on her skin.

Sakura left the bathroom with her face clean, the blanket trailing behind her, feeling better than she did in months.

xx

Her mood got even better as she stood at the open entrance to the kitchen. Kakashi didn't notice her yet, or at least he did not turn around from the stove. Next to him on the counter was his phone, playing soft tunes that she didn't recognize. She could see the muscles on his bareback as he lightly swayed his hips. His butt looked even better in the morning light, she concluded.

The window was revealing a small inner court, most of what she could see was just grass, but funny enough, she also spotted a swing. Between her and Kakashi was a table which already had a whole array of breakfast food on it. There were fresh fruit, orange juice, a pot of black coffee with cream on the side of it, slices of dark bread, an assortment of jams and some empty plates.

Kakashi was just flipping the last of what appeared to be crêpes, when the music stopped. As far as Sakura knew, she made no sound since she entered the kitchen, but he turned around. Perhaps sensing her presence, she didn't know.

"Ah," he scratched the back of his head, a shy smile on his lips, "good morning. I didn't wake you up, I hope?"

Sakura shook her head, smiling back.

"Okay, that's good. I thought I could make some breakfast for us," he said, taking his phone off the counter and putting the plate full of crêpes in the middle of the table. Instead of sitting down, he looked at her, almost nervously holding the top of the chair.

She decided to take pity on him. "Nice sweatpants," she said, pointing at the clothing in question, as she sat down at the table.

Kakashi looked down at his light gray sweats with dark shuriken print all over. For a moment he seemed baffled but Sakura could see the second he realized she was just making a joke to diffuse the situation.

"What can I say, they are very comfy," he joined her at the table with a chuckle.

"I bet. So, have you been up long?" she asked as she grabbed a glass of orange juice, taking a sip and readjusting the slipping blanket still wrapped around her body.

"Not really, about an hour? Still on school hours even during the weekend, I'm afraid," his hand stopped in the mid-air, reaching for some bread. "I'm sorry, would you maybe like a shirt or something? I… don't usually do this, so I am not sure what the protocol is."

Sakura looked down at the blanket. It wasn't uncomfy, but she did have to fasten it every once in a while. She felt the heat creep up her face, imagining how silly she must have looked like. "I also wouldn't know, actually. But I guess a shirt would be nice," she said, suddenly very self-aware of her appearance.

Kakashi stood up and held out his hand for her to take. She took it and together they walked back to the bedroom. He opened the bigger wardrobe as well as a drawer on the smaller one. "Just take your pick. I will wait for you with breakfast."

He was almost out of the door again when Sakura's hand stopped him. She was facing the floor when he turned back to her.

"I just want you to know that… That I've enjoyed myself last night."

She didn't see his smile, but she felt his palm, warm on her cheek as he made her look at him.

"That makes both of us," he said before he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I'll see you in the kitchen."

This time, she didn't stop him, maybe due to the butterflies in her stomach.

xx

She made it back just a few minutes later, dressed in one of his button-up shirts which reached her mid-thigh, picking her underwear from the living room on the way. Kakashi was sipping his coffee, looking out of the window, but turned his head when she entered. She watched the way his gaze followed the length of her bare legs, the bottom hem of his own shirt, too big on her smaller frame, all the way up to her face. The appreciation in his eyes was clear.

"You look cozy," his deep voice did little to calm down her quickening heartbeat.

"Thank you, I am feeling quite cozy," she took her previous place at the table.

Kakashi started piling various foods onto his plate and Sakura followed his suit. Spreading a thin layer of strawberry jam over the crêpe, she rolled it up and cut off a piece. It was delicious.

"Mhmmm, these are really good!"

"I'm glad you like them," he chuckled.

For the next few minutes, they simply enjoyed each other's company while they ate. When they were both done, only sipping on their drinks, Kakashi disturbed the comfortable silence.

"So… What now?" he asked, not unkindly.

Sakura thought about his question for a moment before answering. What now, indeed. Last night was the result of a culmination of her sorrows, sending her into the arms of this man, who was nothing short of a gentleman so far, even making her this breakfast. She was inexperienced in the whole one-night stand situation, but she had a pretty good inkling that this was not how it usually went.

Looking at him now, as he was waiting for her response, she saw no reason to go home just yet.

Standing up, she moved to straddle him, just like she did last night. Steadying herself by lightly gripping his shoulders, she felt his hands slip under the shirt she was wearing, his warm palms making sure she wouldn't hit the table. "I don't know," she whispered, looking into his dark eyes. Hesitantly, she lowered her head towards his and Kakashi met her halfway. His lips were soft against hers as her fingers trailed the skin on the nape of his neck.

When they broke off their kiss, he kept her close, rubbing his nose over her collar bone.

"Would you like to join me for a movie tonight?" he asked between the gentle pecks.

"I think I would like that," she felt him smile against her skin.

She could stay here for a while…

[tartxglia]

Heaven's Sin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Genre: Fallen Angel AU

Words: 3,890

Warnings: Swearing, sometimes suggestive

Summary: You didn’t mean your declaration of major as Mythology in college to be an invitation for the supernatural to enter your life, but here you were. In just the first year of college alone, you’re knee deep in the drama of the Dark and Light sides of the supernatural world, and falling head first in love with Lee Felix, an enigmatic fallen angel.

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It wasn’t every day that Felix’s heart would be racing in his chest; the incessant thrumming a rare occurrence and yet the mere sight of you was enough to trigger such a response from him. Just as his heart yearned for you yet was caged in his chest, he ached to reach for you who was finally in front of him but alas he was caged with responsibilities. It hurt him to stay away from you, it pained him to see Minho leave their apartment, off to another day with you despite it being in a boring school setting. But he knew what he had to do to protect you, to keep you safe and he stood by his decision. Now that it was finally time–time to meet you, to reveal the secrets of himself and you–he was both elated and terrified.

There you sat, less than five meters away from him and he felt a cocktail of emotions wash over him as he looked into your eyes; happy, protective, nervous, you name it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he also registered the intense tingling on the soulmate mark on his left wrist and it really hit him at that moment. This was his soulmate. There she was, looking so damn beautiful even in the most mundane of situations. The overwhelming sense of profound love and realisation hit him like a truck, the sensation triggering his angelic side and he felt a power behind his eyes–his eyes were flickering gold. He quickly blinked the feeling away, his eyes flickering golden for a mere moment before he suppressed the rising elated emotions he felt and the response of his powers to it. Fuck, he really had to get a grip on it.

The sound of Professor Oh sighing snaps him out of the trance you had him in, “Just go sit down.” Felix nodded in response before walking down the classroom to the only empty seat remaining; next to you.

Meanwhile, you were an absolute wreck of nerves as you watched Felix walk closer to you. You knew that the only empty seat was next to you, and you knew that that was probably the only reason he’d approach you. Regardless, you couldn’t help it as your heart fluttered at the sight of him so close to you. Gosh, he was even more gorgeous up-close, Lee Felix’s visuals just called you ugly and honestly? You had no complaints.

Felix sits next to you with nothing more than a quick glance of acknowledgement towards you before facing front again. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but keep glancing at him. You were itching to talk to him, something inside you pushing for interaction, and you chalk it up to the bubbling curiosity within you. You wanted to ask him about that one summer night, you wanted to tell him you saw him–but a part of you still tried to rationalise and you were left with conflicting thoughts that maybe you saw wrong.

But first, maybe you’d try a simple introduction. “Hey,” you muster up the courage to turn and face him despite the thundering in your heart still going as strong as ever, “I’m Y/N.”

You tried, you really did. You even had a smile on your face that felt as natural and friendly as it can be. But all you got was a few seconds of Felix studying you with a side glance and a prompt response of, “Felix.” You didn’t think it would be possible for your heart to be fluttering any more than it already was, but the sound of his voice proved you wrong. He spoke just a single word but it was enough for you to catch how deep and husky his voice was, a stark contrast to the boyish charms he otherwise held. Great, so he was cute and had a deep ass voice? The power he held over you should be illegal.

You yearned to hear more from him, to listen to his fruity voice talk on for hours on end, but that single word was all you got. Turns out the seemingly all perfect Lee Felix had a flaw after all; he was a dick. He wouldn’t respond to any of the friendly advances you made–emphasize friendly because at least you weren’t like other girls blatantly checking him out and sending him a flirty wink every few seconds. Okay so he was popular, you’d admit it, and maybe avoided new friendships in fear of exploitation, you’d give him that. But he could at least make eye contact when someone was talking to him–but no. So if he was gonna play that game, so were you.

And so, for the first half of the class, Felix and you were worlds apart despite being seated next to each other. The two of you had absolutely no interaction and simply pretended as though the other didn’t exist. A part of you still found him attractive–you wouldn’t deny that–but a much larger part of you now disliked him. With an attitude like that? He wasn’t worth it. You also highly doubt he was your angel from summer. And here you though Minho had good taste in friends.

At some point mid-way through class, Professor Oh–bless his soul–decided to give us a mental break. You appreciated teachers like these, they understood the mental limits of college students and worked with it, not against. Continuing on with the ignore-Felix-Lee trend, you crack your fingers and stretch your back letting out a content sigh at the end. Your eyes now wonder the classroom, unwilling to stare at your laptop screen any longer.

You’d forgotten that Jungho was in the same class, but now he was slightly facing in your direction and sending a small smile your way. Unlike Felix your desk-mate over here, you had simple manners so you sent a polite smile back in response. That clearly made Jungho’s day, because his small smile stretched into a much larger one that made his eyes crinkle and smile too. He was definitely cute, and despite his very forward advances, you were willing to give the poor guy a second chance since he seems to mean well.

The sound of a scoff at close proximity has you whipping your head to face your seat mate who had just made the first sound since mentioning his name. You turn just in time to see Felix roll his eyes before planting his face on his hand, his elbow resting on the desk. You tilt your head in confusion, and just as you’re about to question him, he speaks up.

“You’re better off staying away from Jungho,” his voice is gruff, especially considering he hadn’t talked till now.

“Wow, you just spoke seven whole words to me,” you deadpan at him and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Or maybe eight if you break up the contraction?” You mock the position he’s in, except he’s facing the front with a clear frown on his face and you’re facing him. You watch as his eyebrows furrow together in clear irritation. He lets out a short sigh before also turning to face you.

“Is this how you treat your seniors? By smart-mouthing them?”

“Is this how you treat your seat-mate? By prying into their business?” The two of you narrow your eyes at each other, the tension hanging heavily. What business did he have prying into who you smiled at and didn’t smile at? Especially when he had made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with you?

“I’m just warning you, the guys here tend to be shady and shouldn’t be trusted so easily.” You scoff at his statement and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. How rich of him to play the ‘just warning you’ card. You lift your head from your hand, leaning close to him while holding his strong gaze. The close proximity had you feeling all kinds of things–good things–but you refused to let any of them show.

“Where does that leave you then?” You whisper to him before leaning back and facing the front, just in time as Professor Oh continues his class. Surprisingly, the roles were reversed for the remainder of the class. Now, you’re the one facing forward completely attentive to class discussion while Felix keeps glancing at you from time to time. You felt light tingles up your spine every time he’d look at you, and you wouldn’t deny that you felt a bit cocky over the fact that you had left Lee Felix both speechless and intrigued by you.

Before you knew it, the ninety minute class period was coming to an end and Prof. Oh was wrapping up. The last few minutes became especially chaotic as students packed their bags, the prof having to speak over the rustling sounds.

“A fun first assignment!” Prof Oh exclaims from the front of the class and you can see the collective drop in everyone’s shoulders from the burden, “Write a short research paper on your favourite mythological creature. It can be any creature, you can work in partners! More information about the assignment will be uploaded on Canvas so look out for that. Alright, you’re free now. Off you go.”

Not being one to disobey, you’re quick to pack up your belongings and leave Felix the classroom in the dust. With a little sway in your walk and no attention towards Felix, you’re out the class and towards your next one.

You and Hyejin had made a promise that the two of you would eat together on the first day of college. But being the dumbass that the two of you were, neither of you had planned a meet-up point. So here you were, standing at the entrance of the dining hall praying Hyejin had bothered to pull out her phone and read your text. Your prayers were finally answered when your phone beeped with a reply from Hyejin, and you let out a short sigh as you slip your phone into your back pocket.

You leave against the wall, deciding to let your eyes roam around in search of your best friend who may make her appearance at any given moment. Unfortunately, the first familiar face to make an appearance to you was Felix. He turned the corner into the hallway leading to the dining hall and you groan to yourself, your eyes automatically flicking away. Deciding to play the avoiding game, you watch the tiled floors beneath you with intense focus criticising the way the tile itself was polished clean but the dust between the tiles remained. Despite your best efforts, however, your eyes automatically drifted up to Felix, finding Felix in an instant who was approaching your direction. He still had on his signature nonchalant yet firm expression, his eyes narrow and intensely returning your gaze. The earring he wore on his left ear dangled side to side as he walks strides with confidence. Just as he passes by you, you narrow your eyes at him in a silent glare and he rolls his eyes at your childishness. The moment quickly passes and he’s inside the dining hall, already heading towards Minho’s table.

“Wow, eyeing Lee Felix on the first day?” Hyejin’s voice pops up next to you and judging by the teasing nudges she’s sending you, you assume that she saw the interaction just now. “You’ve got a fast game, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, “Not for the reasons you’re thinking of.”

“Yeah? Spill the tea, sis.”

The two of you walk into the dining hall and queue for food together and you take the moment to fill her in on everything that happened in mythology class. You talk very animatedly with lots of aggressive hand movements while describing the personality of the otherwise oh so perfect Felix. Hyejin, being the good best friend she is, lets you rant your emotions out but with the occasional smirking and chuckling.

“Okay, what?” You finally question Hyejin, wondering what she found so amusing. “Why do you keep smiling and laughing like that?”

“I’ve just never seen you like this over a guy before,” she begins and you already don’t like the direction she’s going in. “Felix really has all your attention, huh?” She’s full-out smirking at this point, and you can only groan in response. Was she right? Hell yes. But were you gonna admit it? Hell no.

You’re pouting in defence as you take a seat at a random empty table, “That’s not it and you know it!”

“Oh, I think it is,” Hyejin puts her plate down before sitting down in front of you. Ignoring her food for a moment, she excitedly leans forward with a confident smile in her face. “I also think that Felix reciprocates the attention you’re giving him.”

You can only stare at her with a deadpan expression as your hands move to scoop your lunch onto the cutlery then into your mouth.

“No, no hear me out–“

“What other choice do I have?”

“–The way I see it,” Hyejin continues on eagerly, your interruption having no effect on her energy. “Felix was obviously jealous of Jungho.”

Her statement has you choking on your food for a brief moment and you sip your glass of water with one hand while the other gently thumps your chest in search of relief. You send Hyejin your best wtf face and she merely holds up a finger, motioning you to keep listening.

“I mean, he was obviously playing the mysterious bad boy trope until you and Jungho were sending heart eyes at each other,” you scrunch your face at her description but she continues on anyway. “Then he panicked, obviously because you’ve caught his eye and he has a thing for you, so he initiated and said that of all things. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.” Hyejin leans back in her chair as she finally finishes her spiel, her hands finally moving to touch her lunch.

You chuckle at her chain of thoughts, no longer finding the situation annoying. “Dude you’re fucking nuts, bro.” She smiles brightly in response, using her fork to slyly point at you.

“Ah but you didn’t deny it, you do have a thing for him.”

“Have a thing for who?” Minho suddenly joins the conversation, his bag over one shoulder and his plate in one hand.

“Y/N over here already has her eyes set on a boy.” Hyejin wiggles her eyebrows at you while filling Minho in.

He sets his stuff down next to you before slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him as he teasingly ruffles your hair. “Yah yah yah, on the first day? Who’s the lucky kid? I need to approve of him too.”

You don’t get much chance to reply to him as you grunt in annoyance at his antics, too busy getting him off of you. Hyejin takes the chance to reply for you instead, her hand leaning on her fist in a mock-dreamy look as she sighs, “Imagine having a thing for Felix and him actually reciprocating.”

Minho’s sudden bark of laughter is slightly jarring to you and Hyejin, but you gladly take the moment of distraction to slip out of his hold. You throw Hyejin a confused look and she sends the same one back, the two of you wondering what was so funny.

“See? I told you Felix having a thing for me was ridiculous, even Minho believes so.” You point at Minho who’s still wheezing next to you. Hyejin’s face scrunches up as she considers your point, especially since Minho and Felix were good friends.

“Hey, I never said she was wrong.” Minho is quick to correct you in his now sober state. Hyejin’s face blooms back into a big teasing smile and you’re left wondering to yourself about what he had just said.

“Guys! Over here!” All of a sudden, Minho is gesturing to a table a little ways away, motioning Woojin, Changbin, and Felix to move to your table. God damn it, speak of the devil. The three of them are quick to change tables, though Felix seems to trail behind a bit and you feel a pang of disappointment at his attitude.

“Hey,” Woojin’s cute smile helps to lift your mood and you easily send one back in reply as he sits next to Hyejin. You raise an eyebrow in Hyejin’s direction at the fact that Kim Woojin was sitting next to her, finding amusement in her frozen form.

You feel a pat on your back as Changbin passes by, “Y/N! How’s your first day been?”

“Not too bad,” your eyes flicker to Felix who sits next to Woojin for a moment before returning to Changbin. His expression was as blank as ever, not an ounce of his inner emotions leaking through.

“Yeah? How was your mythology class?” Minho sniggers–that fucker–and the boys turn their attention to you and Felix, their heads comically swinging side to side in sync. The silence that follows from both you and Felix is enough indication how your meeting was, and Changbin lets out an awkward sigh. Woojin gives Felix a particularly harsh nudge, disappointment in his gaze and you can only wonder why.

“Wow, trouble in paradise?” Changbin mutters and you tilt your head in confusion at his choice of words. Minho keeps giggling next to you, Woojin shakes his head, and Felix lets out a quiet groan as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, how ironic right?” Minho plays along with the inside-joke, only further irritating Felix. He takes a deep breath in before letting a long sigh out, his eyes closed as he continues massaging the bride of his nose. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and you secretly take the moment to appreciate his jawline from your angle. You hated the fact that a part of your found angry Felix really hot.

Suddenly he gets up, picking up his things and leaving the table with nothing but a quiet grumble about him “not being hungry.” Changbin and Minho are no longer laughing, instead trying to call out apologies but to no avail. Somewhere at the back of your mind you register the distant voice of Woojin scolding the younger boys, but all you can pay attention to is Felix.

His strides are long and confident, and he looks flawlessly perfect as he runs his hand through his hair–in frustration or out of habit you didn’t know. Your eyes follow him as he walks down the hall, heading out the doors. His figure briefly hides behind the pillar as he walks past it and you nearly drop your gaze then, but something inside you tells you to keep staring and you do.

When he reappears, he’s walking past a window and you hate to be cliché but you swear time slowed and your heart quickened. The sunlight hit him at the perfect angle, the rays casting a somewhat heavenly glow around the outline of his figure. His blonde hair reflected light beautifully, his skin glowing radiant, and his eyes capturing the brightness within. His side profile has your heart fluttering but the extra silhouette behind him had your breath hitching. As he walked past the sunlit window, not only did the sun cast a brilliant glow on the outline on his figure, but also on the extra appendage sprouting from his back. Despite the fact that light was creating the hazy silhouette, the silhouette shape itself seemed to be shadow like–as if the area absorbed the incoming sunlight.

They looked like dark wings.

All of a sudden every noise that you’d drained out, every sensation you’d muted, comes rushing back to you. You blink and Felix is already gone, hidden behind another pillar. You hear Woojin’s voice still scolding the other two boys as you turn your attention back to the table, still in a daze. Felix was the angel? You had your doubts before but somehow being able to catch him in that state–you were sure of it now. He was the angel from that summer night. He was your angel. Angels were real.

A small smile unconsciously takes place of the frown you previously had. You bite your lip in excitement and look up with determination. Quickly, you begin gathering up your things as the boys and Hyejin question your actions.

“I’m gonna go find Felix.” All four of them are stunned into silence long enough for you to swing your bag on your shoulder and pick up your plate. Just as you’re heading out, Minho grabs onto your arm.

“If you wanna find him quickly, your best bet is probably the dance studio. It’s next to the gym.” There’s a certain seriousness hidden underneath the many tones of his voice and you feel as if he knows what’s going on. If he did, you’d beat his ass for not telling you sooner but you’d deal with that later. Nodding in acknowledgement, his grip loosens and you’re off to look for Felix.

It took longer than you’d like to admit to find the dance studio. It was nestled opposite the gym and you would’ve missed it if it wasn’t for the large sign outside labelled “Dance Department”. You take a moment to catch your breath outside the door, to collect your racing thoughts and attempt to calm your thundering heartbeat. When you’re relatively calmer, you push the door open to find the dance studio completely empty. Your shoulders sag in disappointment and you nearly groan out loud in annoyance before your eyes find a figure slouching on the black leather couch at one corner of the dance studio.

With determination to satiate your curiosity fueling your footsteps, you stomp over to Felix. He’s laid back on the single seater couch in a relaxed manspread, his head thrown back and eyes closed. You weren’t quiet as you cut through the dance studio, the padding of your feet on the wooden floor being the loudest sounds in the silent environment. But still, Felix remained unmoving and didn’t even bother opening an eye. He knew you were there, but he refused to actually acknowledge you–and there was that pang in your chest again. It made your frown deeper, your eyebrows furrow in both anger and hurt.

But you push all of that away as you finally stand before him, in between his spread legs, your shin brushing the leather couch. You lean down, crouching forward, and slam both your hands down onto each of the armrests of the couch. Felix didn’t even flinch and his eyes remained closed but you knew that he could feel your intense gaze and that was enough for you. For now.

You lean forward a bit more, bending your elbows to support the added weight. “I know you,” your voice is just above a whisper in the deafening silence, “You’re the angel from that night.” Felix’s silence felt louder than the silence that was already in the room when you’d walked in, but you continued on. More confidence fueling each word, you were sure of it now.

“You saved me that night. You’re that angel I saw–my angel with the beautiful white wings. Aren’t you?”

A/N: SO Y/N knows, huh? Why does Felix keep avoiding Y/N? Why all the tension? Talk to me about your theories! I'm also thinking about making a 2.5 part that will give a little insight into why Felix is acting the way he is lmk what you think about that~

TAGLIST: @xnxxdlesx @minhos-boo @ooppssiiee @cheriehyuck

[untilthenextencore]

Preview of a Future Kashmir Chapter: Saltburn Meets an Old Flame In A New Form~

It wasn't often that Aria left her little chalet but she did need a break after a long day of baking & tending to the house. She decided to take a trip into town & treat herself to a nice night in town at a local haunt, The Cascade Inn. A pet friendly establishment it was basically a resort cabin with a very high rated cafe where customers and their pets could come in from the cold & enjoy a nice night of jazz music in front of the fire. The clientele leaned towards the upscale which she didn't feel she was but as the resident caretaker & tenant of the famed Chalet Saltburn she supposed she was credited with more of a caché than she otherwise had. The pet friendly atmosphere was similarly forgiven as that evening one of her newfound Chalet's resident cats, Diamondhead, or Di as she called it decided to leap into her car at the last minute & follow her into town and subsequently into the Cascade Inn & it's trademark cafe.

Aria settled into a table not too far from the fire nestled next to a window. It afforded her a gorgeous view of the snow capped mountains as more snow fell in soft flurries. At the same time allowing her to be shielded by any glare cast by the sun fireworking across the horizon as it set, thanks to the thick plum colored velvet curtains, held back by gold ropes. She sat sipping from her drink while Di curled under the table draining a dish of cream before leaping into Aria's lap for a few affectionate scratches & pets.

...

David tapped his foot anxiously as he caught the red light less than a mile from the Inn. She was there. He could feel it.

He could sense it.

Ever since one of his old familiars had made the long distance trip to visit him.

He could smell it.

A heady fruity & floral mix.

He heard so too.

About the gifted local girl who had the magic touch. The girl who they said could bring hothouse flowers to life in the bitterest of their Mountain High winters. The girl who had now appointed herself caretaker of his old Chalet, Chalet Saltburn. The girl who charmed the myriad of animals that guarded the grounds. The animals that until then many had sworn to be feral. Letting no one cross their threshold.

No one...

That is...

Until her...

He knew...

He knew...

He just knew...

At last he arrived at the inn, pulling into a parking spot that just magically seemed to manifest as soon as he drove up.

Fate.

Cutting the engine he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts & fighting back the cresting wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him & trickle down from his eyes.

Damn it all!

It had been so long...

So long...

Too long...

Too many years...

Too many missed opportunities, missed memories...

They had missed so much...

He had missed so much...

He had missed too much...

He had missed...

Missed...

Missed...

Missed her...

And how...

How he had missed her...

His little minx...

His little innocent...

His little minxish innocent...

So much time had passed...

Would she still be the same?

Would she still remember him?

Still want him?

Want to talk to him?

Want anything to do with him?

It was almost too much...

The wave had now crested...

It's peak was now becoming outwardly visible. His vision going blurry, tears now rimming his eyes.

To combat this, with shaking hands he wiped his eyes clear with a handkerchief & then pocketing that, slipped on a pair of sunglasses. There was still enough light that he could get away with such affects.

Taking another deep breath to compose himself he sighed & nodded determinedly. As he exited & locked his car he shoved his hands in his pockets, feigning a cavalier & carefree attitude that he was usually known for, doing his best to camouflage & conceal the buzz of anticipation he felt humming throughout him at that moment.

He strode into the Inn & it's little cafe & upon letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, then at last removing his sunglasses, feeling a bit more in control of his emotions then.

But again he was shocked to the core as when he scanned his surroundings & let his eyes travel to the right towards the picturesque view of the mountains that he was struck with a view of his own. For sitting right there at a little table all by herself was Aria. Her hair was darker, black as night. Just as dark as Pagey's if not darker. But he could easily tell it was her. Her features. Her aura. Her scent. The heady fruity & floral mix getting stronger just at the sight of her.

But just as important to him was the sight of her with her little feline friend. Her dear little cat which lay happily nestled in her lap getting scratches as it slept had once been a dear little companion of his. One of which he was very familiar.

A good old companion.

A good old friend.

A good old familar of his.

Good old Diamondhead.

As a matter of fact good old Diamondhead apparently was well aware of his arrival as well! This David could tell as he saw Di's ear twitch, after which her whiskers did the same. Di then perked up, sitting upright on Aria's lap, scanning the room quickly. Looking for him David presumed.

Indeed, once Di had locked her gaze on him she was off, hopping off of Aria's lap suddenly & bounding over to David where she leapt up & began an attempt to climb him. Di ended up being in his arms after David had taken care to extricate her claws from his jeans & pull her up for a few long overdue scratches, which she purred happily at, rubbing herself against his chest, loving the feel of the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"Hello there, old friend~. Long time no see~. Did you miss me~? What have you been up to in my absence~? Have you found an old friend of ours~? Reintroducing yourself to them too~?"

"Di~!" Aria gasped as she hurried over to where David stood.

"I see you have~..." David whispered in Di's ear which gave another twitch as Aria finally reached them.

"Di~! Bad kitty~! You naughty thing~!" She admonished the cat, waggling her finger which Di only regarded with a sniff & a lick, clearly not bothered in the least.

Aria scoffed at that dismissal. The scoff turning into a soft, nervous laugh as she at last turned her gaze to the towering older blonde clad in a black leather jacket before her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about that, sir. I don't know what came over her. She's not usually like this. She's usually so well behaved and not prone to climbing strangers like trees. To be honest she doesn't even climb trees! She's usually so relaxed and docile. I don't know what came over her or why she decided to try to climb you like that. Again I'm sorry. Thank you for catching her though..." Taking a deep breath so as to compose herself & not ramble so much, she then took Di from him upon which she greeted him with a smile. "I'm also terribly sorry for being so rude myself. I haven't introduced myself. My name is Aria. And this is my cat Diamondhead who I am sure you are now well acquainted with." She laughed. "I call her Di for short. Nice to meet you. I hope she didn't ruin your clothes. Perhaps you'd allow me to buy you a coffee or hot cocoa or maybe some tea to make up for it though? It's only fair." She offered with another warm laugh and bright smile.

Even her voice still had the power to stir & move him, despite the passage of so much time. His mind & heart were racing, just from these few seconds alone!

Even the briefest, unintentional brush of her hands against his as she reached for mischievous little Di, combined with her shy smile...

All of it brought back the fiercest of memories, some of his best-treasured ones indeed.

Realising he had yet to answer her question he returned her smile with an equally inviting one of his own & answered "I would love nothing more than a cup of tea with a pair of such hospitable, inviting ladies, as long as it’s not a bother."

David nodded, meeting her offer with an easy grin. "All right. I see your table is still open. Shall we?" He offered his arm, now free of cat claws & led her back to her table now with a perfect view of the twilight outside, as the waiter returned to take their order & refill Di's little dish.

It was then that Aria met his gaze & hit him with a sudden realization. "By the way... You never told me your name..."

"Agh!" David laughed. "Where are my manners?! A thousand apologies, Lady Aria." He mentally kicked himself for using her former title. But upon glancing up at her he noticed her merely laughing it off. And so he continued coolly. He took her hand & introduced himself simply. "David Coverdale of Saltburn-by-the-Sea, England at your service." He then placed a kiss to the back of her palm stunning her, making her face flush hot, cheeks tinging with pink much like the sky earlier.

"Pleased to meet you..." She hushed.

"Pleasure's all mine I assure you." He smiled.

Clearing her throat after a few stammers she then truly found her voice well enough to speak in a more audible tone, asking. "Ummm... What brings you to town, Mr. Coverdale? That is... If you don't mind me asking?"

[starfaring-princelotor]

Thinking Ahead

Summary: Lotor realizes that the feelings he has been harboring are not what they seem. 

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, underage drinking.

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead ___Best Friends

“Here you go, two cups of black tea.”

Romelle, bright eyed and equally bright haired student of Hufflepuff, placed two dishes of tea in front of you and Lotor. Professor Trelawney’s reasoning for “switching up partners” is so people would not be too familiar with each other. That way, everyone could get a true taste of variety amongst their peers. Unfortunately for her, she was oblivious to you and Lotor’s growing friendship.

“Ugh, this tea is so bitter.”

“Yes, I will admit, this is not one of my more preferred flavors.”

Black tea was too strong on your palette, but at least the temperature of the drink was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold, and you couldn’t help but grin when Lotor sent you a pointed look the second you started sipping loudly. Where are your manners? You had none, not for some tea leaves fortune telling crap.

“Have you ever had sweet berry hibiscus tea?” you asked out of the blue, peeking at him over the edge of your tiny cup.

“I have. The fruity flavor is delightful with a side coconut jelly,” somehow, this meager chitchat made the bitter liquid bearable, “I took a trip to Maui one summer. Oh, so humid, but not as hot as I would have expected. The locals were, ahem, generous and kind beyond measure. Of course, after they accept you, the ridicule for being a tourist never ends.”

You smiled at hearing that, finding some sort of cruel glee in his suffering, “Yeah? They call you old man because of your hair?”

“Oh, come now, surely that insult is as old as time itself,” he chuckled then grinned at the challenge, “No, no, they playfully poked that I am a fish when it comes to surfing. I quote, ‘Floundering and wiggly.’”

Now, the two of you laughed, and unbeknownst to either of you, Allura’s attention was not so subtly focused on the happy duo. Or at least, how happy Lotor seemed. Romelle took her seat across from her, tilted her head when she received no recognition from her close friend, then followed her line of sight. A mild annoyance began creeping up her spine then she gently slid a hand to cover Allura’s dainty ones, a show of support and a way to garner her full attention.

“Allura?”

The Princess stayed silent for a moment more before tearing her gaze away, offering Romelle a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yes? Pardon me, ready for some tea?”

The concerned look reflecting Romelle’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Nor did the soft way her thumb was gently rubbing over the Princess’ knuckles out of instinctual comfort. They talked about this before, talked about her and Lotor’s previous relationship several times over when she felt those feelings creep back up in her heart. You were right when reading her palm: Allura had an insecure heart, even a year after her relationship with him took a turn for the worst.

But that was not why she was intently watching you two right now.

“Are you alright?” or rather, will she be alright?

“Yes, I am quite fine, thank you,” the Princess picked up her teacup and rest her mouth on the lip, “...Actually, I think I am just...concerned.”

“Concerned? You know he can not hurt you anymore, Allura.”

“Not for me, no. I mean for her.”

A spark of jealousy welled up in Romelle, but she quickly tampered it down before it could be known. You and Allura were not friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, but even so, she could understand the Princess’ bleeding heart for others. Especially in situations that didn’t include her, or need to include her at all. She only wished for the safety for everyone and the blonde girl couldn’t blame her. She cared too much for people and it did get her hurt more than once.

This was not new information to Romelle.

She sipped from her cup then glanced at Lotor, taking keen interest in him when he drank from his own cup, “Allura, do you think he’d hurt her? Maybe we should talk to Shiro about this…”

The Princess finally took a gulp of her tea, hoping it would relax her nerves, “No, that won’t be necessary. I’d rather not involve anyone else unless he - Unless I start to notice something. I really am trying to take your advice into practice.”

As in, don’t get in too deep in other people’s lives, ex’s included. It was just hard to do so when the man you once loved is giving someone else that same exact look she felt for him. Or at least, she thought she felt. A year later and it was still so very confusing for her fragile heart. Allura gently squeezed her friend’s hand in sincere apology.

“I am sorry for making you worry,” she continued, “Let’s enjoy this tea, yes?”

Romelle doubted the enthusiasm plastered over Princess Allura’s face, but she knew no words would soothe her troubled mind right now.

Lotor laid in bed with Kova perched on his shoulders, his tail loosely wrapped around the Prince’s neck. The cat would have rather been laying in his lap, but it was already preoccupied with an open book. There were words scribbling fast across the page, yet they appeared not by Lotor’s hand. No, the writing was too big, too loopy to be his.

I nearly threw the book into the fire when you wrote back. You should’ve told me at the dance! Nearly scared me to death. Thought one of the ghosts possessed it or something.

He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his quill. The nub was wearing down. Soon, he would need a new one.

You would willingly traverse into the Forbidden Forest past midnight, but a two-way journal scares you?

I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. Bravery is not in my blood.

Lotor grinned at that. Yes, curiosity and bravery were not of the same definitions.

Did your tea reading spook you of the future?

Why would I believe soggy, yucky leaves telling me I’m going to be attacked?

Maybe it is a sign. Watch out for puddles.

After that, the Prince drew a surprisingly detailed puddle, but then added a stick figure to represent you. There was a frown on your face and he could already imagine the indignant noise you’d make once seeing his creative masterpiece. To his surprise, ink started sketching as an image of, what he could only assume, was HIM appeared over the water. Was that... was that him on his broom? Lotor chuckled in mirthful amusement.

My ears are not that big.

In response, you drew his hair longer. Excessively longer. Rapunzel length longer. Then, the moon appeared. Full, just like that night, and little stars dotting the vacant sky. Lotor’s heart softened at the image you were drawing, not at all thinking about how he was connecting the dots and making constellations here and there. It wasn’t until he saw a single, long line stretch from the bottom of the page to the top and stop there did he tilt his head in confusion.

No more words? Ah. You must’ve fallen asleep on him. It was well past midnight anyways. You had a good idea. Before he decided to snuggle under the comforter in search of dreamland, he wrote three little words. Three little heartfelt words that he knows you’ll see come morning.

Good night, darling.

Lotor’s brows scrunched up in offense at watching you read. Well, he was trying to read, but his eyes caught such a despicable act to nature he had to put his own studies on halt just to make sure he was not dreaming a horrid nightmare. He cleared his throat softly, just enough to catch your attention.

“I had no idea you lick your thumb before turning pages.”

Almost comically, your tongue was still stuck out just as you were about to wet it, “I know, it’s a disgusting habit -”

“Very. Remind me to never lend you any of my books.”

You had to suppress a laugh at his squinty face, almost like he found a fly in his five-star bowl of clam chowder. This time, instead of using your thumb, you swiped the page with the tip of your wand. It seemed this pleased him more than your gross saliva tainting the books and spreading unknown germs to others. Or even to yourself! Who knows how many people have touched these books?

“And remind me never to touch any of your books, too.”

You rolled your eyes yet kept a playful grin plastered on your lips, “One of my favorite stories is World War Z. Have you read it?”

“The one about zombies? Really? That one is the best book you can think of?” Lotor arched his brow, attention focused on you now instead of his own reading, “You know zombies can never really happen.”

“Shh! It could totally happen, y’know. If science can go wrong, why can’t magic? They wouldn’t’ve made reversal spells if magic was perfect.”

“Pardon me, did you just say…” he squinted at you even more, “W...wouldn’t’ve?”

Now, he was baffled at yet another phenomenon you showed him. Unnecessary contractions. Lotor blinked like you just grew another pair of lips on your face, which nearly made you chortle a bit too loud in the quiet library. No other students would even consider staying this late in the archives for fun, yet good company was all you two needed, location be damned.

“You have been hanging around Keith too much, darling,” he reprimanded, yet you didn’t take it at all seriously, “Next thing I know, you will be a brooding jar of angst who mopes in bed all day. Oh, wait, that DID happen.”

It was your turn to scoff in mock offense. How dare he grin that catty grin after openly poking fun at your expense? You almost wanted to retaliate by flicking a paper ball at him. Almost, and you only decided against it when you saw his eyes shine in delighted mirth, half his face hidden behind a book. It was...nice. Not his weak insult, no, but rather the friendly familiarity was quite refreshing between you two.

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I don’t...I don’t…”

“Hm? Yes? You do not what? Use your words, dear.”

“Hmph, at least I don’t...Gah, I can’t think of anything!”

Lotor wasn’t flawless, but it was kind of hard to think of one, singular trait you could joke about on the spot. And he knew this. He reveled in making you fumble over your words because, although you were smart, you still needed at least a day warning to come up with a worthy insult. Meanwhile, the scrutinizing observer he was, he could pick at you till the sun comes up.

“It is alright. Take your time,” he nonchalantly turned a page, that air of victory surrounding his smug self, “You can say it tomorrow when you are ready.”

“Quietly. You do not want us to get caught, do you?”

As silently as you could, you lifted your foot and gently tapped the stone with every step you took. How Lotor could pull off being so stealthy, you had no clue. Magic, probably. He was leading you up many flights of stairs in a part of the castle you were not familiar with. Was this the Slytherin wing? No, there weren’t even any pictures on the cobblestone walls. Where exactly were you?

“Ugh, wait, let me - “ you knelt down quickly, slipping off your clunky shoes and allowing the cold stone to seep through your socks, “Okay. Okay, where are we going?”

One hand in his, the other now holding your scuffed shoes, Lotor decided against giving you a firm answer. Instead, he turned over his shoulder, sent you a quick wink along with his signature trusting smile. You stumbled gracefully, blaming the uneven stairs for fault, yet he was strong enough to still prevent you from kissing the floor.

“We are almost there...if you would stop tripping,” cue smile transforming into a playful grin, an excited grin, like a boy ready to see the fireworks start.

“Well, maybe if someone didn’t have mile-long legs, I wouldn’t have to sprint to keep up,” you huffed, that is, until the two of you came across a large gap.

The chasm below, oh stars, how high up did you two travel? This was at least 50 stories high. It was a miracle the stairs were even holding up at all, as decrepit this building was. But...there, across the death hole, was a door which you could only assume was where he was planning on leading you. Before you could even ask him a question, Lotor released your hand then effortlessly leaped across the gap, landing calculated and ever so majestically.

And maybe a little smug when he met your slack-jawed face.

“That is so unfair.”

“Jump. I will help you, do not worry. The gap is not as big as you think.”

You were half nervous and half...excited? It must be because of your curiosity peaking at the sight of the ornate curved door. Surely, no one else would even consider venturing forth with the prospect of a very long drop right in front of them. But Lotor said he would help. Lotor said not to worry. Yet, you shuffled in spot, calculating how much of a running start you would need to make it across.

Meanwhile, the Prince was way too amused seeing you hesitate. He held out his arms as if offering a hug, trying to lure you in with the trust he carefully built with you.

“You drop me, I haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Duly noted, darling.”

That gap...was it just you, or was it getting bigger? Before you could let your nerves get the best of you, Lotor sent you a nod of encouragement and you exhaled a heavy breath. Shaking your arms, you backed up a bit then took a running start, leaping with all the strength in your legs. Don’t look down. Don’t look -

Oh, fuck. Too late. And now, you realized your jump wasn’t nearly as far as it should have been. One foot landed on the edge and Lotor’s instincts immediately kicked in, his strong arms winding around your midsection to pull you close for security. You weren’t sure who made the “eep” noise, no, certainly not you, but you definitely heard him chuckle when your hands clung onto him for dear life.

Your heart was beating so fast. If you were listening closely, you could hear his, too.

“See? That was not so difficult, now was it?” Lotor took a few cautious steps away from the hole, noting your legs were shaking like a newborn foal, “Come, you - ah - dear, your nails…”

You stubbornly shook your head, refusing to let go of your hug as he guided you through the door, “Forests, fine. Flying over a lake? Fine. Leap of death? No. Next time, give me a piggyback ride. I’m not doing that again.”

The door closed behind you two and it was Lotor shrugging you gently to pull your face out of the safe confines of his chest. A dead fireplace, cushions, some thick blankets, half a ceiling missing. This place was in shambles, but it did make you feel more lax, more safe, more secluded. Lotor’s arms fell to his sides to let you explore the humble room, moon missing tonight and sky shimmering with distant stars.

“Here,” the Prince picked up a folded blanket, spreading it out and over your shoulders, “It is only going to get colder and we will be here for a while.”

“Oh...it’s…” the view from up here, so close to the clear sky, you almost felt like you could pluck a gem or two from the night, “You brought me here to stargaze? They look so much clearer tonight.”

Some more shuffling and Lotor wrapped his own thick comforter around his body then sat on a chilled cushion. There was no wind tonight, thank goodness, otherwise this trip he carefully planned might have ended prematurely. Footing your own cushion closer to his side, you also plopped next to your tall friend while tucking your blanket tighter in your chest. Neither of you minded that you two were, as they say, attached at the hip.

“Not only that. Just wait. Give it a few minutes,” Lotor angled his head upwards, nebulous eyes reflecting those twinkling stars and anticipating the phenomenal show to start.

You mimicked him, orbs searching for something in the sky, anything other than those countless dots swimming in the night. Lo and behold, you saw something flicker. And another, this time longer. A shooting star? Many! Many shooting stars blinking in sight, and just like that, you perked up in amazement, in the awe Lotor witnessed that night at the moonstone lake. Lips parted, iris darting across the sky to catch each falling star, you saw 10, no, 12 pass by in the mere minutes you were sitting here.

The cold didn’t bother you anymore, “That’s...that’s like, 12 wishes!”

16 now and soon you would no doubt lose count with how frequently they appeared. You couldn’t keep up with his freckles, shooting stars even less.

“I can’t...think of more than 3 wishes,” your mouth scrunched up in a corner, “I wish tests weren’t so hard.”

“That, my dear, could easily be handled if you studied more,” he reached to his satchel and pulled out two green mugs, “If I recall correctly, the Muggle world believe wishes can be granted by magic, no?”

Your attention diverted to the cup he placed in your lap, fingers deftly picking it up and noticing it...empty. “Yeah, they believe that if you blow a dandelion in the wind, your wish comes true, too. Other things like, uh...something about ladybugs? And eyelashes? A bit silly, isn’t it?”

And yet, he has a suspicious feeling in his gut you tried every possible wishing device at your disposal. Lotor pulled out his wand then gently tapped the rim of his cup, warm dark liquid instantly filling it to tipping point. The steam wafted in the air and you noticed a few mini marshmallows floating in his drink, clumping together in the sea of sweetness. No sooner were you able to voice your question of “How did you do that?!” did he use magic to fill your cup, as well. Less marshmallows, but no complaints from you.

“Well, magic does not have to make sense,” Lotor spoke with a hint of cockiness and, after taking a sip of his drink, he hummed in thought, “Needs a bit more of a...kick, no?”

“A...kick?” you raise da brow, carefully drinking a small portion before smacking your lips together, “Peppermint cocoa? Didn’t take you as a sweets kinda guy.”

“I adore sweets. Chocolate frogs are one of my favorite delicacies,” he admitted, hiding the fact that he also...collected those cards in the package as a hobby.

Lotor pulled out a bottle. A dark bottle, label unreadable in the dim room, then he popped the top off with one strong flick of his thumb. He poured a generous amount of what looked like milky coffee in his cup before offering the tip to you. Whatever it was, there was a whiff of sugary sweetness and, oh...that was alcohol. Faint, but it was there, and you shot a bewildered look at him.

“The Prince drinks alcohol? What would the Slytherin housemaster say?” you feigned shock and, even in the dark, you could see his glowing eyes roll at your words.

“Hush, you. Alcohol is commonly referred to ‘liquid courage,’ no?” to his delight, you held your drink up and he poured a small amount for now, “After seeing your...flawless bravery over that hole, I think some liquid courage would somewhat embolden you.”

You sipped. You sputtered. You stuck out your tongue, somehow thinking it would help get that ghastly bitter burn off your palette.

“Oh, this is - this is disgusting!” and yet, you took another sip, maybe the second time around wouldn’t taste as bad, “How can you drink this stuff? Blegh…”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. Yes, this must’ve been your first drink, but in his mind, it was not strong at all. Still, seeing your blatant dislike of it, he brought his wand up and prepared to magically whisk away your drink and give you fresh hot cocoa. It was you who cradled your mug away from him, holding it like you were preserving a precious, rare golden apple.

“Oh? So, you DO like it, I see,” Lotor’s eyes cataloged the blush gracing your cheeks, either from embarrassment at playing keep-away or from the drink warming up your body.

“Now, I didn’t say that,” you leaned against him, placing all your weight on the sturdy Prince, “I should try it...a third time. And fourth. And fifth. Then I will give you my five-minute review of your peppermint hot cocoa.”

This was so dangerous, sneaking out this late, drinking alcohol, but it was giving you a sense of acceptance, of fun, hanging out with Lotor with no judgement from anyone. No student roles under a teacher’s gaze or homework to be done before noon or responsibilities other than caring for each other in the most spirited of company. Goodness, was he always this warm? You lifted his arm and tucked yourself against him, figuring double blankets would keep you two cozier longer throughout the night. .

“If you fall asleep, do not drool on me. I will wake you, dear.”

Your eyes scanned the page, mouth silently reciting the spell so you could memorize it by heart. Though, with your previous attempts that came out for naught, you knew this was going to be difficult. It was almost as if your wand was purposely refusing to work with you. While the rest of the class was practicing with success, you glared with determination at the potted plant in front of you. Unblooming. It looked nearly dead, to be honest.

“Morning dew, nightly rain

Bring this rose to bloom again.”

Three flicks of your wand, each punctuated at the end of a verse, yet all the plant did was...wilt. And with it, so did your spirit. To your right, before you could even see his smarmy grin, Lotor hummed in amusement at your failed attempts. Rude. You saw out of the corner of your eye that his potted plant, well, blooming was too nice of a word. It was flourishing. Practically a mini rose bush now, orange of all ugly colors.

“Don’t laugh,” you pouted, trying not to take his mockery at heart and knowing this was just him being a little shit again, “I’m trying.” “Maybe if you said it correctly, it would work. Here,” Lotor faced his already beautiful plant then cleared his throat, voice clear and loud, “Morning dew, nightly rain, bring this rose to bloom again.”

It grew twice its size, nearly tipping the pot. You grumbled, a low “show off” muttered from your lips.

“Now, your turn,” he faced you, watching your every move, from the flick of your wrist to the posture you held, “Your voice must be loud and clear.”

Again, you mumbled, both at his instruction and this dumb plant that wasn’t listening to you. The Prince tsk’d, your behavior and discouragement making him cross his arms. This was stern Lotor now. Not quite the same from the forest, but close enough that if you didn’t heed his advice, he would definitely leave you to fail over and over again.

“Sit up. Do not slouch,” he watched you do as he commanded, “Hold your wand at a 45 degree angle near the plant’s base. Now, LOUD and CLEAR.”

“I don’t like raising my voice,” you finally admitted...stubbornly.

Lotor narrowed his eyes slightly at the excuse. He reached over and scooted the plant closer to you then lifted your chin up with a finger. His eyes didn’t miss the way you stiffened in your seat nor how you easily surrendered to one of his slender digits. For a quick second, his mind flashed to what else he could do to you with just a single finger.

“You do not have to be loud, then. Clear. How will your wand hear you? How will the plant hear you? Now, try again.”

“Tch, now who is the pushy one, huh?”

“You could fail and lose house points. Your choice.”

“Bah! Fine, fine, just - don’t watch me.”

He wouldn’t watch you directly, but he was listening intently now, just to make sure you spoke the spell clearly. Or blow up your plant on accident. A few minutes passed and when you cheered a “Yes, finally!” under your breath, he knew you got it to work on the 6th try. By HIS guidance, no less, but still, it was the results that mattered in the end. A nudge at his side and he raised a groomed brow at you, eyes obviously waiting for a sign of gratitude.

“I don’t like yellow roses. Can I change the colors?” you flipped through ahead of the book, going to the more advanced spells, and he had to stop himself from rubbing the headache forming at his temples.

Fool. Mumbling idiot. You were going to accidentally change the color of your skin if you weren’t careful.

A strange thought crossed his mind then. Were you always this...imbecilic?

Lotor felt sick today. A cold, no doubt, or a fever? He wasn’t sure, but the tonic the nurse gave him only helped temper his body a little bit. The drapes were pulled together to keep his entire room dark and a thick layer of blankets covered his form. Oh, but he was breaking out a sweat now, his least favorite part about being ill. Aside from the migraines, of course.

The journal glowed a faint blue hue by his bedside, the light actually intensifying his headache. You were writing in it, most likely waiting for him to reply, but he was too aching to move any of his limbs. The sick Prince knew that a distraction would help him avert his mind from focusing on his soreness, yet part of him just wanted to...ugh, that brightness was getting on his blasted last nerve.

With all the strength he could summon, he grabbed the book and stuffed it inside the drawer. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Sleep and silence were his best cure for his shut-in self. Eyes drooping slowly, he buried his face into the lush pillow then willed his mind to shut up. For five minutes, just five, let the comforting arms of sleep embrace me. Wish granted.

Though, he roused at the soft rapping of knuckles on his door. He had no idea how long he was knocked out. Could be an hour, could be a day. He wanted no visitors, so who dared…?

A turn of a knob and your face, as well as the hallways blinding light, leaked into the room. His silver brows knotted in annoyance and, with a peek from one eye, he tried to dig even more into his pillow to avoid you. Sick Lotor was an unhappy Lotor. A warning from Ezor when they had reluctantly let you in their wing and led you to the grumpy Prince’s private room. Your footsteps indicated you were right besides his bed, probably just looking down at him in pity. The thermos in your hand suddenly felt a little worthless, but you stood firm in your wavering thoughts.

“Hey, Lotor?” a rumbling grunt as a response, not the friendliest, but you understood his frustration, “Figured you were, uh...y’know, under the weather.”

“I am not sad. I am sick,” came his muffled reply, followed by a cough, “...And tired. Very tired.”

Yes, you know the wretched side effects of being sick. You may be going to a wizarding school, but illnesses still affected everyone. Why couldn’t magic whisk it away? Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, being mindful of his space and the fresh scent of mint wafting in the air, you offered him a soft pat pat on his elbow. Instantly, he cringed into himself, the touch both welcome and a little uncomfortable. You had intended to come and keep him company, perhaps tell him about what you learned in class today, yet all his body language pointed to one option: he wanted to be ALONE.

“Alright, alright, loud and clear,” you weren’t offended by his brusque words, well, maybe a little bit, “Here. Don’t know if you ate anything yet, but there’s some chicken soup in this. Generosity from the kitchen staff after they booted me out for sneaking in.”

You at least expected a chuckle, a quip of “I am surprised they did not turn YOU into soup,” but nothing came. Placing the thermos on his bedside table, you headed for the door and, with one last glance back at him, you offered a soft smile.

“Get better soon.”

The illegal Love Potion was finished and a majority of the class was excited, rightfully so. Everyone was eager to know who their loved one was, their crush, and possibly even sneak a portion out to use on the object of their desires. But not him. He was here for the grade. Lotor adored the dark arts and, although not officially part of the curriculum in his other class, this was just another step into understanding why Love was the strongest curse of all.

And yet, you were shifting nervously in your seat. Hands neatly folded on the desk, knee shaking up and down insistently, and your eyes couldn’t even focus staring at ONE thing. He didn’t understand. The two of you use the same ingredients, so you must be getting the same perfect grade as him. Or perhaps...you, like the others, were curious about what the potion would reveal to you if you took a small whiff.

“Did you...y’know,” you asked vaguely, motioning to his simmering potion.

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

A moment of silence. You knew you had certain feelings for him, but pinpointing them to love or anything stronger than love was what really kept you uncertain. Friends? Best friends? Maybe...something more? Should you ask him? Part of you wanted to, yet another side of you was actually happy with where you two were at now. You trust him. You trusted him quite a bit.

“Wanna do it together?” you asked, knowing there was a few minutes to spare before class started.

Lotor’s silence made you hesitate even more. Not because it was a yes or no answer, but because he was thinking about what he was going to experience. It was no matter of the heart that he already heavily desired you since that mirror showed him what the two of you could be. His thoughts were invaded with you before, yet he couldn’t differentiate between him being a horny adolescent or an actual fool in love.

The Prince sent you a side glance, “Yes. Let us try.”

Both of you gently swept the smoke rising from the cauldron to your noses, preparing yourselves for the answers to the unknown.

Peppermint cocoa. Old library books. Fresh laden snow. Chicken pot pie. A...rose?

You brought a hand up to cover the lower half of your face, immediately knowing where all these scents were coming from. Or rather, who. You...love him? No. That couldn’t be. You didn’t even realize it! How could some liquidy goop know you better than you? But...maybe on some degree, it was true. You love him enough to be such close, vulnerable friends with each other. Enough that you wished his sickness would erase completely from his body that one night. Enough that you willingly leap into his welcoming arms, despite the fear clouding your mind.

The realization...well, it brought you two things. One, a peace of mind now that your question was answered. And two, you found that the damn beating organ in your chest wanted to ask him about these conflicting thoughts. You swallowed a thick gulp lodged in your throat, sparing a meek look at your partner sitting idly besides you. Did he smell...something foul?

Lotor’s face was twisted in utter disgust.

Yes, he knew what his nose would pick up. Chicken noodle soup, white carnations, misty lake water, oak trees, and finely-ground powdered moon stone. With every scent, a new memory flashed in his mind, from that dangerous adventure at the forest lake to the soup he gratefully consumed shortly after you closed his bedroom door. The memories...it made his heart fond, his heart yearn to hold you again, but the smell. All of it mixed together?

It made him want to puke on the spot.

Lotor covered his nose with his hand to block anymore of that potion from reaching his brain. He knew you were staring at him, waiting for an answer, anything, and he knew you were not blind. The growing friendship, the late night cuddling, the hugs, the sentimental time spent together. You must’ve suspected something between you two, some fine line between the moments of vulnerability you shared with each other.

“Lotor, did you - “

Yet, he turned away from you, avoiding looking at you in the eyes, just as the professor waltzed into the classroom. Maybe the smell was too strong for him? Yes, yes, that was a logical conclusion. The potency, when taken too much, can cause nausea. Right? You swear you read that somewhere in the book. It must be the cause of his sudden reaction.

Because if it wasn’t that, then everything else pointed to the other option, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to accept that.  

Lotor didn’t speak to you for the next few days. Sometimes, you thought you saw a glance of him turn a corner. Sometimes, he was hastily shoveling his food in his mouth to leave abruptly. Sometimes, he would spare you a quick, stoic glance before turning his attention to his books. Either way, there was no right time to talk, no perfect moment with his odd evasiveness lodging between you two.

Then again, you tried to see this as openly as possibly. Perhaps he was just busy. Tests and finals were coming up and you, too, were preoccupied with other studies.

“Hey, Lotor, wait up,” you called out to him this time, jogging to catch up before he entered his class.

“Hm? Yes, dear? What is it?”

“Did you wanna head to Madam Puddifoot’s this weekend? After tests and everything. Figure we could use a break, eat some cake, the good stuff!”

Lotor didn’t meet your gaze nor your enthusiasm. Instead, he glanced off to stare at the floor, internally debating something bouncing around that cluttered skull of his. He was a man of few words, even fewer when concerning personal emotions, yet lately he couldn’t even organize his thoughts in a coherent order. There was something bugging him, something deep in his skin, and as your friend, part of him realized it would wedge an awkwardness between you two.

“Ah...no, I apologize,” eyes still glued to the floor, Lotor missed the downtrodden dip of your smile, “Perhaps another time, hm? When things have quieted down and students have gone home for break.”

Yes. Yes, a good diversion, one he didn’t quite think all the way through.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, good idea. Less people would be overcrowding the shop. Just...y’know, the journal. You know where I am at.”

Were you always this...this easy to push around? Odd. He never really noticed it before.

A nod of his head, he turned and left you standing there alone. Not even a goodbye? He really must be stressed.

Lotor was feeling...angry. Frustrated, and not in a way he could relieve himself through some private time alone. Yes, in the confines of his dutiful patrol across the Slytherin wing, he still thought of you, of forcefully kissing you against the wall. Biting your delicate neck with little control until he had his fill of moans and screams. Even pinning your wrists at your lower back as he fucked you from behind made his groin stir in want.

All these images distracted him, but there was something...missing. He didn’t feel love. It was just lust. Just a need to climax, to dump his load into you over and over again. Knowing these thoughts only got worse over time left a bad taste in his mouth. He never wanted to use you for anything, least of all sex. His body wanted you, but his heart...his heart was unsure.

What changed? When did the line between lust and love divert? And why, when he thought of you, did he feel...nothing anymore? 

He would even go as far as to say there was a smidgen of contempt. That’s what was making him irritated. His heart was slowly beginning to dislike you, dislike your stubbornness, your pushiness, even your clumsy nature was grating on his nerves. All those times of you being a fool were true, through and through. You were oblivious to dangers. Not at all patient. Too dim-witted to see your true self, so you relied on others - relied on him - to bring it out of you.

It was annoying, yes. He was not someone to seek attention from. Yet, he couldn’t just say this to you. You’d get upset, cry about it, no doubt. Lotor just didn’t feel the want to deal with your wayward self again. He felt as if he was spending TOO much of his time catering to you and it no longer left a good, fluttery feeling in his chest. In fact, it left him feeling emotionally drained.

What he thought was friendship, or something more, was actually neither of those.

Perhaps that was why he still hasn’t taken that journal out from the drawer.

The two of you were drifting apart.

You finally managed to have at least a few minutes with him. Albeit, yes, it was by pure chance that your curious exploring led you to the same secretive balcony deep within the castle grounds. But, now that you were here, it felt a little awkward to be staring at his broad back. How do you start this? It hurt to realize you were hesitating talking to your best friend.

You were concerned for him, deeply concerned, but how do you say this without saying it?

“Did you follow me?”

The timber of his voice was a little deeper than you remembered. Taking careful steps, you walked up besides him and leaned on the stone railing with your hands hanging off the edge. Stiff, you were both stiff, or maybe it was the trick of the chilly night. The air didn’t feel as warm as it did before.

“No way, how do I know you didn’t follow me, huh?” the accusatory tone didn’t fall on deaf ears, but Lotor didn’t return the usual amusement.

“You should not be out this late. It is past curfew hours.”

It was hard to keep your mood from turning sour at his terse answers, but you had to remind yourself that this was Lotor. Your best friend. You missed him, even this moody side of him. Perhaps another joke would help? Maybe some light hearted teasing?

“Oh, c’mon, classes are over. What’s wrong with a little midnight adventure? Last one too exciting for you?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“I know what you are trying to do,” Lotor’s shoulders slumped and finally, he looked at you straight in the eyes, “I suggest you stop while you are ahead.”

The words spilled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, “Lotor, I’m just trying to help.”

“Did I ask for it?”

“No, but - damn it, you helped me. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

Annoyance. That was all you could see flit across his face and it stung deep within your chest. You tried to put on your best pleading expression, something to show that you really were worried about him, about his distant self, about his walls being rebuilt brick by brick. This wasn’t like him, not at all.

“People usually help out of the goodness of their heart, not as some sort of debt to repay. ”

“That’s not what I meant. I just - you’re acting different.”

Again, wrong words to say. You knew it, you felt the sudden shift in the air. Saw the way his jaw clenched in restrained control and how his eyes hooded low in a paralyzing glare. Pushing, you were pushing too much, and Lotor was getting very uncomfortable. And, as usual, with his discomfort came the need to...protect himself. Retaliate with words to disarm you completely.

“Oh? And you are unhappy with this ‘different’ side of me? Is that why you seek to help change me back?”

“No! Of course not, Lotor. When I wasn’t myself, you showed me - look, I don’t know what’s going on with you - “

“No. You do not. Perhaps you should have been more observant,” he sneered at you, hitting hard at the fact you were an airhead most of the times.

You brushed off his comment, but it left a lingering ache in your heart, “Or you could just - WE could just talk. Just one night, get whatever it is off your chest and I’ll do the same.”

“No.”

You anticipated the answer before even offering the suggestion, especially knowing deep down that neither of you would be comfortable with speaking so openly about emotions. Foolish, you weren’t thinking ahead, thinking about what you were saying before letting it slip from your tongue. Talking to him like this was insufferably frustrating. It was wearing down your patience, HIS patience, but your stubborn persistence is what would tip the breaking point. You were never aware of this.

“Then what do you want to do, Lotor?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Again, his voice was being degrading and part of you wanted to scoff at him.

“I came here by myself for a reason.”

You could at least piece two and two together, even if the sharp edges left biting wounds on your skin.

“...You want to be alone,” you finished for him, sad you had to say those words out loud for both of you to hear.

Lotor needed time to sort out...whatever this was. And, judging by the way he averted every single one of your questions, this had nothing to do with you. Nothing you COULD do, except give him the space he needed unless you want to find yourself facing the brunt of his cold shoulder and burning words again.

You hated this feeling, this feeling of being rejected. Shunned.

“Fine. I’ll give you your space.”

“Thank you.”

Lotor sure didn’t sound truly thankful, but at this point, you didn’t much care. If isolation was his way to handle things, then you would let him do it. Even if it cost you the friendship and whatever feelings evolved between you two. Something that neither of you got the chance to further explore. That revelation made the pit in your stomach sink in sadness.

The hot, angry tears of frustration wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks as you turned and marched away from him.

[lets-just-daydream]

This is something I kinda did ages ago and figured I would post here. It's set in an AU where everybody has a tattoo but when they meet their soulmate, it grows. I hope you guys like it!

The lights of the city shone under the ink blue sky. You were excited for a night out on the town; and who knew? Maybe you'd find Mr. Right.

Your tattoo, just like everyone else's tattoo, has been on your body ever since you were born. A fluffy cloud coloured blue with a white outline graced your skin between your left breast and collarbone. You still hadn't met the person who had the exact same tattoo as yours in the exact same spot as yours was, but when you did, your tattoos would manifest themselves into their full forms as art in your skin. You hoped you'd find them one day.

But that wasn't the aim tonight. You just wanted to let your hair down and have a good night after a long, stressful week of work. Your heels clacked along the pavement as you spotted your favourite club in the distance as you approached.

You adjusted your dress by smoothing the front. A cute one-shoulder cream coloured midi dress with a wrap-around waist.

You went to step inside but a strong hand stopped you.

“ID, miss?” The burly bouncer asked.

“Seriously? How old do you think I am?” You retorted.

“No ID, no entry,” he grumbled back.

They never asked for ID, why today? Whatever. You opened your clutch and pulled your driver's licence out and flashed it at the bouncer.

“Happy?”

“Have a good night, miss.” He said as he waved you in.

You stepped inside and relished in the loud music. The smell of alcohol, sweat and perfume tickled at your nose. You took a look around and realised there were way more people in here than usual. A good thing, right? Maybe you could find someone to take you home for the night.

Maybe.

The purple lights flashed across the full dancefloor and you squinted as the lights shone into your eyes. You didn't bother looking for cloud tattoos on people's chests, you wouldn't be able to see them anyway. Some people were blessed with easily visible tattoos on the hands, necks, legs. You figured they could their soulmates pretty quick. You thanked your lucky stars that your tattoo wasn't hidden on your inner thigh or somewhere else that could cause trouble with the wrong people.

‘Back to the club’ you thought. You decided you need a drink before braving the dancefloor and you made a beeline to the bar.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked.

“Strawberry daiquiri, please,” you yelled over the thumping music. You paused and recognised the song as one by a DJ called Lùcio that had been playing non-stop on the radio for the past month. You sighed inwardly as you heard the song blasted over the speakers for what seemed like the umpteenth time this week.

The bartender returned with your drink and you handed him the cash. You took your drink and scanned the club and you found a seat nearby. You closed your eyes as you took a long sip of the cool drink, it felt like heaven in your parched mouth as you felt the ice slide down your throat.

“Good drink, huh?” You heard a smug voice in your ear.

You turned to the voice and saw a guy sipping a drink of his own. His bright green hair clashing with his orange shirt struck you and you felt yourself tense at his mischievous grin. His eyes, a deep brown absolutely captivated you.

“Yeah…” you started. “Something like that. Can I help you?” You offered.

“No, I just saw a pretty girl sitting by herself and thought she might like to dance with me.” He winked and you blushed. He was cute, funny, confident. Your eyes began to wander and you thought about how you'd like to wrap your hands around his solid arms. The stranger raised his eyebrows at you and chuckled.

You snapped back and cleared your throat and set your now empty glass down. “I could do with a dance”, you grinned.

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor.

“So are you going to tell me your name, stranger?” You asked as you danced.

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners? I'm Genji, Genji Shimada.”

“Genji…” you repeated.

He laughed. “And may I know your name, stranger?” He mocked.

“Ah, I'm Y/N.”

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you here with anyone or are you alone?” He asked, a glint in his eye.

You bit your lip. How much should you say? “I'm alone. Just relaxing after a long week of work, I really need to wind down.”

He hummed thoughtfully and you danced for the next three songs. You decided you needed another drink.

“I need another drink. Can I get you anything?” You asked.

“Ah, allow me.” He replied, following you to the bar. You ordered your drinks and sat in the outside seating area. You drank in the cool night air and exhaled, you felt the week finally melting away. You sat in silence mostly, demolishing your drinks. You kept glancing over at Genji. He was really cute. He noticed you staring and grinned.

“Something on my face, cutie?” He teased.

Cutie. Your stomach flipped.

“N-no, just wondering if you like your drink. I've never had a Japanese Slipper before.” Crap. Really? So not smooth.

“Oh, really? Want a taste?” He smirked at you again. Damn it, why did he keep smiling at you like that?

“Sure, thanks.” You blushed and leaned in for a sip. Mmm, fruity. Genji watched as you swallowed the drink, not noticing that he himself instinctively swallowed.

You sat and talked for a while, chatting about trivial things like where you work and your plans plans for the weekend. When there was silence, you felt the atmosphere shift and you looked into Genji’s eyes. You saw longing and you noticed that his gaze flickered to your lips and quickly back to your eyes.

You gulped. You glanced at his lips and you shut your eyes and leaned in, heart pounding, hoping you hadn't misread his expression. You thanked whichever god you thought was watching you right now because you briefly felt his warm breath against your lips before he closed the gap.

After a brief kiss he pulled back and asked, “can I see your tattoo?”. You gulped. You couldn't just pull the sleeve of your dress down in front of all these people. You felt brazen, all of a sudden.

“If you wanna see my tattoo, you're going to have to come back to my place.” You said with a wink.

He chuckled, his eyes not leaving yours. “Well then, let's get out of here.” You smiled and you both made your way to the door.

“My place isn't far from here, we can walk”, you stated, albeit a bit excitedly.

“Lead the way, Y/N!”

You walked the short distance to your apartment and scanned your key card at the swipe pad. You walked through the foyer and took the elevator up to your floor. You opened the door and invited Genji in. You felt self-conscious all of a sudden as his gaze swept over the place.

“It's not much”, you started. “But it's home and it's comfortable. I'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick, make yourself at home.” You tucked your hair behind your ear as you turned and went to the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a quick once over. 'You’ll do’, you thought to yourself. 'Just wanna have a bit of fun’. You made a face at yourself in the mirror, straightened your dress and stepped back out. You found Genji on the balcony, looking over the city lights.

“You have a beautiful view here, Y/N”, he said as you came up next to him.

“Thanks. When I was looking for somewhere to live, a view of the city was high on my criteria. I've always loved coming home to a breathtaking view.” You explained. You were happy he liked your place, but your stomach was trying knots at the idea of what was in store for you tonight.

Genji looked you in the eye and leaned in for another kiss. You happily obliged. You stepped back inside and Genji followed.

He pulled you in, your back flush against his chest. He moved your hair to one side and kissed from your ear, down your neck and to your bare shoulder. You sighed at the sensation of lips against your skin. You turned around and kissed him again, your hands messing up his green hair,kissing his jaw and down his neck. Your fingers found their way to his shirt and you began to unbutton his shirt. You were anxious to see if he had the same blue cloud on his chest.

You pulled his shirt off and your heart dropped a little at the sight of his chest. There was a tattoo there, alright, but it was a green ...tail? Mermaid tail? Dragon tail. It was beautiful, but it wasn't a blue cloud.

He saw the look of disappointment on your face.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Would you like to stop?” He asked, concerned at your sudden change.

“No, I'm fine. Just noticed that your tattoo is different to mine. It's almost in the same spot though,” you confessed.

“Damn. But I suppose we go through a few flings before we meet our soulmate, correct?” He said, trying to ease the blow.

You perked up. “Yeah, you're right.” You smiled and he turned you around to unzip your dress. He kissed down the back of your neck as he did so, causing soft moans to escape from your lips. He slid you sleeve off your shoulder and turned you around. You turned around to plant another kiss until you noticed he froze.

You looked up at him and saw his eyes were wide, boring into the tattoo on your chest.

“Genji? Hello?” You asked, snapping your fingers in front of his face.

“Y-your tattoo…” he stated, trailing off.

“Yeah, what about it?” You asked, puzzled. Nervous.

“I've seen the exact same one, on someone else!” He scrambled for his shirt and put it back on hastily. “I have someone I need to introduce you to. Put your clothes on, I'll call a car.” And just like that he was at the other side of the room, grabbing his phone and making a phone call.

The information hadn't quite sunk in yet. Did Genji know your soulmate? You bent down to pick your dress up off the floor and put it on again. You excused yourself to the bathroom to tidy your makeup up. You wanted to look your best if you really were about to meet your soulmate.

A few minutes later, Genji was at your bathroom door, knocking. “Y/N, the car is here. Are you ready to go?” He blurted.

“Yep, yep I'm coming now.” You responded, your voice a little shaky. You made your way out of the building and you were greeted by a long, sleek, black limousine. “Genji, is this our ride?”, you asked, aghast. You couldn't believe it.

“Yes, it is. Now please, get in.”

You slid in, taking in the blue lights and the mini bar.

“I've never been in a limousine before!” You exclaimed as Genji slid in beside you. He flashed you a quick smile and apologised.

“I just have to make a quick phone call. Um, help yourself to any drink you like.” He then turned to face the window and he dialled a number and put his phone to his ear. He conversed in quick, hushed tones. While you had been living in Japan for a short time, your Japanese was still not up to average just yet. So while you tried to listen in, you couldn't understand anything, anyway.

You thought about making a drink but then quickly decided against it. You need to be as sober as possible for whatever was coming. You let your mind wander to where you were going and who you were going to meet. You had left the inner city and were headed through the more quiet areas of the area.

Genji finished up his call and sat in silence. You were bursting with questions but you didn't know where to start. Where was he taking you? Should you have even left with him in the first place? Was he going to introduce you to your soulmate? You opened your mouth to start asking but before you could, he broke the silence.

“We're here.”

You gulped. You weren't sure if you were ready for this. Sure, you're probably about to meet your soulmate but what if this is the wrong way to do it? It almost seems forced, what if you don't like each other? There were choices to be made. But you didn't let your nerves get the better of you. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You were greeted by Genji offering you his arm and walking you to the most beautiful, ornate gates you had ever seen.

Tall, wooden double gates with two dragons in a circle at each other’s tail. The doors were flanked  by three massive wooden pillars. Your stare pointed and your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of the wooden dragons.

You weren't feeling so brave all of a sudden. You weren't sure where you were or what was in store for you but it certainly wasn't this. Genji felt you tense at his side and he reassured you that it was alright. The guards at the gates bowed as the two of you approached and opened the gates for you. The sight you were greeted with was absolutely mesmerising.

To your left and right were small white buildings with trimmings all along the sides and black tiled roofs. Straight ahead was a dojo with a huge ornate bell with the same dragon emblem on it. This place is absolutely beautiful. Genji led you through the grounds walking you past beautiful cherry blossom trees and more small buildings than you could keep count of.

You were finally brought to the front doors of what looked to be a massive castle. You couldn't believe it. You honestly thought this was some kind of joke and you turned to Genji.

“Okay, this has been fun but the joke’s up. Who put you up to this?” You asked Genji, your voice wavering slightly.

He looked at you, confused. “Welcome to Shimada Castle, Y/N. This is my home.” You just stared at him, unable to move. Unable to think. He chuckled and led you through the front doors.

You were greeted with a huge entrance, two tall lanterns lighting the small bridge the two of you crossed. You took in the room and your gaze shifted upwards to a mural covering half of the huge wall. Two dragons, a blue dragon and a green dragon wrapped around each other surrounded by mountains.

“... beautiful,” you whispered. Genji lead you through a hallway past the mural and stopped at a wooden door.

“Okay, this is the part you've been waiting for, Y/N, the part where you meet your soulmate. Are you ready for this?” He asked, a grin spread across his features. You could feel the excitement radiating off him. You took a deep breath and simply nodded. You were so ready for this, you were so excited, all the nervousness had disappeared.

He opened the door and extended his hand to let you step in first. Such a gentleman. You walk in and see a young man sitting at a table, head lowered.

He had black hair that fell just below his shoulders that framed his face just perfectly. He looked up as you entered and you squirmed under the gaze of his deep brown eyes. Wait, was he frowning at you? 'Oh god, he hates me’, you thought to yourself. The air was still and no one said a word. After a little while of shifting uncomfortably under his gaze you cleared your throat and spoke.

“Hi… I'm Y/N.” You said, hoping to break what seemed like a never ending awkward silence. The man in the chair didn't say anything at first, just watching you; watching the way you held your elbow in one hand, trying to look anywhere but at him. Finally he stood up and walked around the table to greet you.

“I am Hanzo Shimada. It's nice to meet you, my brother Genji tells me that you have the same tattoo as I have. However, I am intrigued to hear how he came to know of it, given its location.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You blushed with embarrassment and you heard Genji clear his throat and declare that he was exhausted and was going to retire for the night. You turned quickly with wide eyes that screamed 'don’t leave me here alone with him!’. He gave you an apologetic look and wished you both a goodnight.

Fuck.

You turned back to Hanzo, unsure of what to do next.

You wanted to speak, desperate to fill the awkward silence. Surely it's not this awkward for everyone who meets their soulmate, is it?

It was Hanzo who broke the silence first, he spoke gently so as not to scare you. “May I see your tattoo?”

Ah, you figured that question would come sooner or later. You were hoping later, though.

“Yeah, sure. Um, is there somewhere a little more private we can go? I'd hate for someone to walk in here while I'm like, half naked, you know?” You laughed.

He did not laugh, of course he knew where it was. But you were beyond relieved when he stepped past you and led you through another hallway. He opened a door and ushered you through, following in after you and shutting the door behind the both of you.

“This is a guest bedroom, no one will disturb us in here”, he assured you. You still felt uncomfortable taking your dress off in front of this fully clothed stranger. You figured he could see the discomfort plainly painted on your face because before you knew it he had taken his shirt off and puffed his chest, his tattoo gleaming in the light. You gasped. It looked just like yours!

You felt a new wave of confidence.

“Hey, Hanzo, would you mind unzipping my dress for me?” You asked with a slight smirk, “so I can show you my tattoo.” His face flushed and he stepped forward. You pulled your hair to the side of your neck as he slid the zip all the way down your back. You lowered your dress slightly, but not all the way so you could shield your breasts and your stomach.

You turned around and saw his eyes drop to the tattoo on your chest. You dared not breathe as he stepped forward and raised his hand to touch it, his eyes flicking up at yours as if asking for permission. You gave him a small smile and a light nod. He touched his fingers to the ink and you heard him gasp. You looked down to see both of your tattoos growing.

More blue clouds swirled across your chests to your shoulders and down your arms, stopping at your wrists. You dared a glance at Hanzo and he stared at the growing tattoos in wonderment. You marveled at the tattoos when you noticed they were still changing. Gold lighting bolts weaved through and around the clouds, again around and down yours and Hanzo’s arms, stopping at your wrists.

You wondered if that was it until you saw a dragon head form around the first could on your chest. As it moved off it formed a tail on your chest and you watched in anticipation as it snaked its way around your shoulder, forming a claw and twisting around your arm, forming another set of claws. You stared at it as it finally stopped on the back of your wrist.

For a moment, none of you spoke, you just stared at the new pieces of art on your bodies.

“Wow,” you finally breathed, “that sure was something!”

Hanzo looked up at you and chuckled softly, “Indeed.”

After that, everything happened in such a rush, you could barely keep up. The heir to the Shimada Clan had found his soulmate and of course you were to be wed immediately. You weren't really sure what your new life would entail, but you were excited.