#I can’t smell but I can taste sort of still but it’s like

[yeonbinwyd]

can I watch?

pairing: sub!femreader x dom!Sunghoon and dom!Jake

synopsis: you and Jake had been dating a while and he had a kink that he desperately wanted to try

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni,

protected sex,vouerism, threesome, mentions of alcohol

a/n: I saw this pic and died a little

Word count: 1317

“Baby please can we try this?” Jake pleads. His birthday was coming up and you asked him the one thing he’d want. He’d been asking for it for a while. You were a bit on the fence but you really wanted to make him happy this year.

“Ok let’s do it. Who did you want to join us?”

“Yes! I was thinking Sunghoon since you already know him” he explained. You knew him alright. Sunghoon would treat you like his own girl instead of Jake’s. He would hold doors open for you. He’d speak up for you when Jake wasn’t around. He’d even pick you up and take you places if Jake wasn’t free. It was interesting how close those two were.

“You guys talked about this huh?” You questioned. Jake turns away shyly with his hand behind him.

“I mean it was mentioned.” Jake tries to slyly explain. He then shrugs with a cheesy smile. You sigh but you honestly didn’t mind. You were interested in Sunghoon first but Jake made a move first.

“How’s this weekend?” He asked excitedly.

“I mean I guess if you can’t wait” you try to calm down.

“No I can’t. I’ll text him right now” Jake pulls out his phone immediately to set everything up.

With everything set up, Jake had it where you would just show up to their place. When you got there, the two were just sitting on the couch. Sunghoon, on his phone and Jake taking a sip of a drink that he made.

“Hey babe. Let’s get you a drink” he guides you into the kitchen and hands you a red solo. It smelled like a mixed drink of sorts. Right up your alley. Sunghoon follows you two into the kitchen as well. You take a few sips, hearing his footsteps coming behind you. You can feel him brushed up against you. He looks down at you menacingly. You were a bit intimidated but excited too.

“I’m ready for you” Sunghoon whispered in your ear as he brushes your hair behind your ear. He caresses your skin gently, placing kisses on your neck and shoulder.

“You don’t waste any time.” You set your drink down, taking in all of his movements. He hugs around your waist pushing your ass against him. Jake takes a sip, watching intensely. You touch his face, taking in his kisses. He starts to leave small bites. across his skin. Your breathing becomes hitched, you could feel him starting to get hard. He guides you back to the couch, sitting you down. Sunghoon takes off your shorts and panties in one motion, then starts maneuvering your legs open. He rolls up his sleeves while getting on his knees. Jake can’t take his eyes off you and neither will Sunghoon. Jake watches from a distance, taking out his cock to give it a tease. Sunghoon dives straight in without warning giving your folds a taste.

“Mmmm I knew you’d taste good” Sunghoon admits while resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He goes back in, keeping his eyes lock with yours. He leaves small bites on your thighs, preparing you for what’s next. He then plunges his tongue in and out, taking in your walls. His eye contact was so intense still, mixed with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, it was almost unbearable. You grip the couch while throwing your head back with a whimper. You can hear Jake stroking himself behind you. Feeling a bit impatient, he comes closer to you, stroking it next to your face. Sunghoon continues eating you out, going in deep, making you cry out. You managed to latch on to Sunghoon’s hair, pulling him away from your cunt.

“I need you to fuck me” you demand. Sunghoon gives you a smirk, then rises from his knees. He then lets his length free, coming prepared with a condom. He slipped it on with ease, he then goes to position himself at your entrance. Sunghoon goes slow, teasing you a bit. He can see the want in your eyes but he wants to make you wait. That was Jake’s wishes.

“Make her beg” Jake requests.

Sunghoon listened, doing as he was told. He does other things than to keep going. He takes off his shirt then goes in for kisses on your body.

“Please just fuck me” you beg while looking up into his eyes. Sunghoon wants to cave, seeing you beg is killing him inside. Sunghoon wants to give you everything you wanted after seeing those eyes. He’d look at Jake for approval but he shook his head. Sunghoon looked back down to you then went for your shirt instead. Just having the tip in, was driving him insane. Sunghoon takes it out and taps your clit instead.

“I can’t take this” you yell. Sunghoon’s patiences was running thin as well. Sunghoon glances over at Jake one more time and he’s nodding in agreement. Sunghoon penetrates without warning. It causes you to cry out. Sunghoon joins you with a groan. He starts a steady rhythm into you. You grip his shoulders for stability. Jake, aggressively jerking, moans with you two. He can’t wait much longer either, he then places his cock in front of your face. You take him into your mouth as Sunghoon is thrusting violently into you. Jake begins to thrust as well.

“Let me show you how to fuck her” Jake picks up his paces when thrusting in your mouth. Sunghoon starts to rub your clit while pumping into you. You eyes rolled and tears forming in your eyes. Jake notices how rough to two of them we’re being.

“You’re taking both of us so well” Jake continues.

“You ok?” Sunghoon asks worried about you. You nod, giving them reassurance. Sunghoon motions to flip you over to get on your knees. You release Jake to change positions then he lies down in front of you. Sunghoon comes in from behind. He holds your hips in place as he does. A tear runs down your cheek as you go down on Jake. He wipes you tears while holding your face.

“Thank you baby.” Jake holds your face while thrusting in again. Your pulling in Sunghoon, making him loose control. He speeds up like a mad man, burying his face in your back.

“Oh fuck you’re making me cum” Sunghoon says while still leaving bites on your shoulder. He cums in his condom with a gentle cry. Sunghoon pulls out but Jake wants his turn. Jake pulls you on top of his dick standing tall. You sit back, taking him into completely. You both groan loudly. Jake has more girth than Sunghoon but he’s longer than Jake. Nonetheless, it was still a challenge having to take them both back to back. You put your weight on his chest and he starts to bounce you on his cock. Hot tears running down your face, as you’re taking the outstanding pleasure Jake was giving you. You manage to plant your feet on the ground now leaning back to take control. You feel him even deeper now and you start to ride him on your own. The movement is turning Jake into a monster for you. He doesn’t want you to stop. As you continue, Jake thrusts up meeting you each time. Your nails start digging into his thighs, causing some damage but he doesn’t care.

“I’m gonna cum soon. Cum with me baby.” He urges as he clutches your ass cheeks tight. You go even faster, feeding into his orgasm. He’s panting, on the verge of tears, taking all of you. He’s whimpering as he cums inside you. You holler, cumming with him then collapsing on top of him.

“Happy birthday” you say as you catch your breath. He gives you kiss on the forehead with a smile.

“Let’s keep going?” Jake asks

[layraket]

Day 2 - Trust Issues

Character(s): Warriors (LU)

Words: 862

Summary: Even if Wild is a great cook, some habits can’t go away so easily

Whump scale: 1 (see the full scale here)

-

During the war there wasn’t space to form relationships and make friends. It doesn’t mean that the Captain didn’t really had some, at all! It’s just that it wasn’t the main focus.

He talked with the soldiers when needed, to give orders or make sure that they didn’t lose a lot of them. If he was distant at the start, it went worse by time passed.

A group of soldiers were with the enemy, betraying them in the middle of a mission and bringing a lot of problems. They lost a big part of their army that day.

Since then, he distrusts almost anyone that dares to come across his path. The only people that he felt like were worth of trusting completely were the princess, Impa and these two kids that came to aid them during the war.

Attempts to try food poisoning him started to be frequent, even after the end of the War of Eras. There were still people out there that wanted him dead.

When he joined the Chain at first he played safe, not giving them almost any information about who he is in case they were a bunch of assassins trying to trick him. After a while he came to a conclusion: No assassin would be as stupid and self-sacrificing as them. He loved them as brothers, but sometimes he wonders if the Zeldas would share some of their wisdom to keep them alive.

Something that almost all of them share is that cooking is not something that the goddesses bothered to gift them with. Wild is the only one who seems to know what is he doing. Until they found him they were eating his cans of military food and some dry meat. When they tasted the champion’s cooking nobody wanted to eat anything from him or anybody else.

“Today’s dinner will be some stew” Wild had said when they stablished camp, already taking out of his sheikah thing the ingredients and a pot.

He never had problems with eating anything cooked by the champion, in fact he was glad that he made food for them. It’s just, some old habits don’t go away too easily.

“Hey Wolfie, can you smell this really quick?” He put the bowl closer to the wolf’s nose, this one taking a sniff and giving a friendly bark “Alright, thanks buddy” With that he started eating.

Giving some of his food to someone and see their reaction, letting Wolfie take a bite or smelling it, just waiting for the rest of them to eat their part and if they don’t get sick he can safely eat his own food.

It was wrong to distrust Wild, he knows that, the kid couldn’t do any harm to any of them even if he wanted to. But putting his guard down will mean his and his brothers safety in danger.

Tonight’s stew didn’t look different from the one two days ago, some pieces of steak with potato and peppers, nothing new. He was about to ask someone how it tasted, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“You shouldn’t be this stressed, Captain” Time–his not so little brother anymore– commented with that calm expression, he knew that behind that mask there was an energetic and chaotic kid who just wanted to have some fun whenever he could “We aren’t in the war anymore, nobody will do damage here or try to poison you”

He thought that nobody noticed his concerns, but obviously the man that he raised at some point was the only one who connected the dots.

“I’unno… I just want to make sure” He consider them all his brothers, but aside from Wind and the old man, there was nobody that he could blindly trust.

And that’s the thing, he trusts Time.

“I know, but it’ll make you good not to worry at least one time, I assure you that you’re safe” Time always searched to comfort him even during the war, little Mask slipping some sort of snack that he stole to Wars’ tent when he was upset always made him feel so much better.

Warriors hummed “You might be right…” He brought the spoon to his mouth and took a sip. It tasted the same as always.

Time kept that smile in his face, never moving his eye from him. That was a, huh, little creepy.

“How’s it?” He asked, always keeping his good eye fixate on him, taking in count all his movement.

“’s good” His mouth felt a little more rigid than usual, that was weird. He took another sip of the stew.

That’s when the world started to feel weird.

“Already tired? It’s been barely 5 minutes” That was Wild’s voice, there was nothing that made it sound different.

“I thought he would last longer, guess the O Hero of Hyrule didn’t manage well some poison” Legend. What was he talking about?

“Wait, what’s wrong with the Captain? Guys?”

Oh.

Time’s voice came again, but everything was blurry already “Just letting you know, I didn’t lie about the safe part. This is so much better than the other option”

Warriors was blinded by darkness. 

-

Note: This will have a continuation!

[bioswear]

I’m so congested I feel like a human La Croix 😩

[ohcaptains]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

pairing. simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader.

synopsis. simon comes home. he's too tired to fuck you right. eventually, he manages to find the energy.

warnings. 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i’ll find out. female receiving penetration, blonde simon lol, somnophilia, dry humping, pussy smacking, and crying during sex. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

an. :) life sucked so i found a new animated character to obsess over. please comment & reblog if u enjoyed !

When Simon comes back, he’s dog-tired.

As soon as his feet touch the welcome mat of your quaint little apartment, he feels all of his muscles relax – as if they’re unpinning themselves from his bones – and he has to give himself a pep talk to muster the energy to drag his hand up to ring the bell.

But he doesn’t have to, because you’re ripping the door open – shining like the sun – and pulling him into your body, rendering all 6,4 ft and 240 pounds of the super soldier to complete mush.

For five minutes, you don’t speak. Just hold him, as you gently rub the corner of his jaw, and brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He clutches you to him.

His fat, paw-like hands hold your upper back, and you hold him with the same vigour. His body – wrapped in his black compression shirt and army pants – is rock solid.

It’s a weaving of muscles that have been tensed for the last two months. It’s going to take a minute for them all to soften, but like he always does when he’s been away, Simon lets out a deep and resolute sigh.

The breath warms your neck, causing it to tingle, and you grasp him tighter, your body waking up.

It’s been a long two months.

He manages to push your intertwined bodies through the doorway, using his boot to kick the door shut. His house smells like home -- funny how you can’t smell it until you’ve been gone a while.

Vanilla and a citrus fruit, mixed with the savoury scent of his favourite meal. He hums again, and you scratch the back of his head, sending shivers down his locked spine.

He knows the route to your bedroom like the back of his hand, and he maneuvers the pair of you inside.

The curtains are closed and the bed is made. You know him. You know him so well.

You let him push you back onto the bed – a blur of familiar limbs and hair – and he settles lower, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you drag your legs up and cross them over the curve of his ass.

You’re all warm and soft and pliable. Dressed in a pair of simple cotton shorts and a vest top, he wants to grab fistfuls of you and remind himself of how you feel in his palms. Wants to drag his lips over your skin, bully his way between your legs and remind himself of how you taste.

Fuck, he wants you, in a carnal, almost primal sort of way, and you the same. He can smell it. A sweet but sweaty longing that melts from you and causes his senses to wake.

But he’s so God damn tired.

You know. Know this routine. Know that he has to settle back in.

In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait.

You fiddle with his hair. “There’s dinner if you want it,” you whisper into the dark bedroom, looping the strands between your fingers, committing the soft feel to memory.

Simon shuffles just an inch on top of you, but still, the slight movement of his clothes and hard, clenched body against yours makes you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’ll be chewed raw by the time he has enough energy to take you. He grunts something into your skin, and after a second, you gather it’s, tired.

His scent clouds you.

When Simon comes back, he always smells the same.

The soap at the barracks is pine scented – shampoo a strict lemon.

But there’s always a leftover grit to him. A hidden layer the soap can’t clean off, and it makes you delirious. Makes you flex your ass up – just an inch, a sweet, gentle inch that has you feeling the hard lines of his thighs and the metal of his zipper, and Simon’s breathing hitches.

You freeze. With your hips pushed tight against his, you stare at the ceiling, hoping that your worn-out soldier hasn’t felt you move.

Simon stays quiet. His breathing settles. You go to apologise, but Simon doesn’t grumble or make a sly comment. Listening closer to his breathing, you gather that he’s asleep.

Jesus, you think, that’s a record. Barely in the door and he’s asleep, he must be burnt out. Figuring that you won’t be able to crawl from under his weight, you decide it’s your bedtime too.

Sleep comes fast.

Hours later, you blearily blink awake. Not much has changed – the room is still dark, Simon is still heavy on top of you, yet now, you’re sticking to him with sweat.

He’s usually a human furnace, but this is different.

Your skin prickles, vibrating at a frequency that has nothing to do with heat. No, this is…you feel a pulsating between your thighs, and wiggle, feeling your slick coating your underwear.

Fuck, why are you so wet? You clench, and the resulting ache forces you to hiss and push your head back against the pillows. What did you dream about? Thinking back, you come up short. Then why--

Simon shuffles on top of you. It’s a slight movement, but it continues, and all at once, your heart clenches.

Holy fuck, he’s—

“Simon?” you whisper, and your boyfriend whines into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the words wet and desperate. The puzzle pieces lock into place.

He knocks his hips into your crotch once more, and you gasp, clenching, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Simon’s apology comes out again, except this time, it’s christened with a “s-shit – fuck.”

Blinking at the ceiling, you huff and try and glance down, and in the dark, you just about manage to see the outline of his burly body grinding into yours.

You take stock of the situation.

Feel his fat palm around your hip, and squinting, see that he’s got your shorts pulled down around your thighs, and has the band of your underwear looped around his fingers.

Jesus Christ. You fall back into the pillows. “How long have you?” you whisper. “Five – fuck – minutes,” Simon grunts, continuing to roll his thick hips against you. His bulge knocks the edge of your throbbing clit, causing you to gasp again. There’s been no build-up to your want, it’s just there, humming electric, and spread tight over your thighs.

Simon meshes his wet mouth against your chest. He’s tugged your vest top down, too, and his lips close around the skin of your breast. Jesus. He was undressing you as you slept.

“Thought about fuckin’ you, but couldn’t get my pants down, so – shit -- tired. Jus’ woke up and you were just so fuckin’ soft. And wet, Christ, felt you through my trousers.”

Your whole body goes numb. “You were gonna fuck me as I slept?” you whisper, belly flipping. You’d told him – ages ago – that he could, but he hasn’t been here. You’d forgotten.

The image of him pulling your underwear down as you slept streaks across your mind. Imagine waking up with him inside of you, so full and wet and just on the precipice of coming.

Simon grunts. He tugs at the band of your underwear, “I’ll fuck you right, at some point. Just –”

In your delirious state, you manage to finish his sentence, “Tired, I know – I know baby.”

You kiss the crown of his head and whimper into his hair. “Just use me until you’re ready.”

Simon groans out deep and loud. It rumbles against your chest. Echoes through your heart, and you’re so turned on that you begin fidgeting.

You try and squirm away from the stifling ache of your pussy, but Simon’s built like a brick shithouse, so you can’t run from it, just gotta take it and take it and take it, until you can’t anymore, and you break.

You’re so fucked that you don’t even announce that you’re coming, but Simon knows, shit, and as your pussy clenches up tight, he growls low and hard, mumbling, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, until his movements go sloppy, and his breathing goes laboured, and he’s coming into his pants and mewling your name.

When he finally does manage to get inside of you, he doesn’t last long. No, he pushes all the way to the hilt, and you tighten up.

“Stay” you gasp, clenching your pussy around his shaft, and Simon grunts deep and long into your throat.

“S-Stay there,” you moan, then, in case he didn’t hear you, “Stay,” you whisper, and push the ball of your palm into his thick, scarred shoulder. 

You were teetering on a knives edge.

You’ve come once since Simon was home, and your second orgasm of his return was right there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Simon groans into the shallow of your throat, “Did we do enough prep?” 

“Yes,” you immediately whisper, not wanting him to pull out. 

He’s thick and pulsing inside of you, hard and heavy on top, and God, he kisses at your throat — soft and gentle. You try to swallow down the ball that has swelled in your throat, but tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill. 

No no no no, you think. Not now. Not now not now. You try to stifle the tears, but you unconsciously sniff, and despite Simon being perfectly still, he still manages to freeze.

“Sweetheart?”

You inhale, “Yeah?” 

Simon looks up; and seeing tears on your cheeks, his face falls, “Did I hurt you?”

You furiously wipe the tears away, shaking your head.

“M’just overwhelmed,” you whisper, and he presses his forehead against yours, going to kiss you, but the movement causes his hips to flex against you, nudging his cock, and you whine, immediately gripping onto the back of his dirty blonde locks. 

Simon drops his face into your chest and lets out a pained rasp, “Tightening around me, kid.” 

You unclench, “m’sorry.” 

“Gonna come quick.” 

“S’okay.” 

“I’ll fuck you right, just gotta…” he trails off and grabs fist fulls of your hips.

“Fuck,” he huffs wistfully, “This pussy. Missed this fucking pussy.”

You go dizzy with need. Shake your head, and bend to kiss him, tasting his wet and swollen lips. Gently, you knock your hips up into his, and when he lets out a surprised grumble, you flex your hips higher, trying to stuff his cock deeper, further – till you can see it pressing into your belly.

Catching onto your plan, Simon grunts and pushes your hips with his fat palms, pinning your ass to the mattress. 

“Stop,” he orders, and the demand goes straight to your cunt. Jesus. He hasn’t been very dominant since his return, and that little instruction has you chomping on the bit.

“Want you, Si.”

“One stroke and I’ll be fucked.” 

“Just gotta practice.” 

He chokes on a laugh, muttering, “Practice.” 

You try another tactic. Clench around his cock and pout, “Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Simon cuts. You curl your legs back his back and push your foot into the dense muscle of his ass, at the same time rocking your hips up. Simon lets you. Let’s you try and fuck yourself on his cock. With wet lips, you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering his name.

“Gonna fill me up, Si?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, you know that?”

Simon pulls back, and your heart stutters.

You think he’s going to pull out, until he uses your hips to pull you tight against his cock -- your ass nearly sitting on his thighs. His thick, scarred chest is puffed up.

Cheeks red, and he’s got that animal glint in his pretty eyes.

It knocks you for six.

“Where you want it?” he asks, and you’re confused, until he presses the heel of his palm into the middle of your tummy.

“Shoot my load here, huh?”

Your body goes numb. Eyes white out. It happens so suddenly that it scares you, and you’re a mixture of turned on and frightened, but the fear turns you on even more.

All you can do is blearily look up at him as he slides his paw to the other side of your tummy, “or shoot it here. Fuck it so deep that you can taste it.”

He pretends to think about it. Even hums, before he drags his palm up and stuffs his thumb into your mouth. “Or just directly here, huh?” He snarls a smile, “know you like it when your mouth is full.”

You suck at his thumb, and tighten your cunt around his cock, causing his mouth to open, and eyes to flutter, and just like that, you’ve won.

He comes in record time.

But Simon keeps his promises.

A couple of days later – on the seventh day he’s back -- he fucks you so good, that when you wake up the next morning, you get shy just thinking about it. 

Lay in bed, staring at the ceiling – your boyfriend fast asleep on your chest -- remembering the debauchery you’d gotten up to the night before. 

The pair of you are a little tipsy, drunk on beer and wine, but all it’s done is heighten your senses, and made you fully aware of your desires, so much so, that they pulsate behind your eyelids like a migraine.

Simons got you face down, ass up, and as he pushes you face first into the mattress, he presses his thumb against the tight, fluttering hole of your pussy.  

“Gonna let me inside, baby?”

You sink into your thighs and spread yourself wider for him, humming into your crossed arms. Simon watches your pussy spread further, and he can’t help himself, he has to slide his thumb deeper.

He presses, just barely pushing the tip of his thumb into your wet hole, and you gasp, trying to chase the feeling by inching back against his fat palm.  He laughs at you. “Look at your pussy sucking my thumb in, baby. Wish you could see what I’m seeing. So fuckin’ sexy.”

You hum, the words making you wetter – dripping over his thumb.

“Been dreaming of fucking you right, gonna take you whenever I want.”

“Okay,” you whisper, so delirious that you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. Simon raises a brow,

“Yeah?” he asks, tone breathless. Thought he’d get some pushback on that one, but for a second, he forgot that you said the nastiest shit with his dick inside of you.

You nod into your crossed arms, and Simon laughs again, “Free use pussy,” he sounds, then lightly smacks your sodden folds, causing you to flinch, bucking forward. 

“Oh fuck,” you choke, eyes rolling back. Heat ricochets through your crotch and swamps your belly, before settling back in your aching pussy. Once you manage to collect yourself – and it takes a second -- you huff. “Bein’ mean.”

Simon snorts, grabs your hips, then rams the underside of his cock against your pussy, grinning so big that his scars stretch, “don’t know the half of it, babe.” 

You sob, real tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Your desire is visceral, enough for you to taste it on your tongue. Simon pulls back, and your slick coats the length of his dick, earning yourself another light smack to your cunt.

“Soakin’ me,” he grunts, and you sob into the sheets. “Please,” you whisper, then, please please please, and Simon hears your breathing hitch. 

This time, instead of checking up on you, he chuckles, “Crying again, baby?”

You sniff and wipe your eyes on your wrist, face heating.

“No,” you mumble, and Simon sighs.

He reads you like a book. Always has. Always will.

“Lying to me,” he grumbles, then he steers the uncut head of his cock between your folds, whispering, “Lie to me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about,” before bottoming out in one thrust.

[kamitv]

Thinking about Choso who…

Loves any and all sorts of attention from you, even when you’re upset with him.

He’d love the way you frown at him or how your brows tense, finding you nothing more than cute— especially if you’re shorter than him, that just makes it even more amusing to him.

And if you happen to be taller than he’s lowkey ready to get down on his knees and apologize by putting his head in between your legs, even if you’re the one in the wrong.

Enjoys being seen out in public with you.

PDA is probably one of his favorite things, especially when he notices someone looking at you too long.

There’d be a time where a little boy or girl compliments you and suddenly he’s jealous even though it’s just a harmless child that’s admiring you.

If you had an ex that won’t leave you alone, would make it his mission to send him (consented) videos of you cumming on his cock.

Nine times out of ten, you’re on top of him, riding him til’ his eyes are to the back of his skull and he can’t stop himself from groaning. Asking you things like, “You’ ever ride your ex this fuckin’ good?” To which you’d respond with a quiet whine of no.

And next he’s got you bent over for him, hips snapping forward into you, heavy balls smacking against you with his ever thrust, and thick cock filling you up perfectly. All as he’s still mocking your ex, “He never fucked you this good, huh?” “Probably not, right?” “Oh shit, you can’t talk too well, can ya’?” “That feel good baby? Hm? Go ahead ‘nd tell the camera who’s fuckin’ you to tears.”

Loves showering you in compliments.

“You look so pretty in that, kinda like a princess.”

“I love your eyes, never stop lookin’ at me please.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, aren’t I?”

“You’re so cute, baby.”

Could get off on your smell alone.

It’s perverted, yes, but sometimes he gets really needy for you. He’d shove his face into your pillow, smelling a mixture of your perfume and last used soap and using that to get off— fisting his cock desperately as each whiff of your scent makes his thoughts blur together and his body twitch.

Would do anything you ask of him.

He doesn’t care what it is, as soon as you have that requesting tone in your voice, the word yes is rolling off of his tongue without second thought.

Who’s not the richest man in the world but works hard just to spoil you.

Choso loves giving you gifts. The way your eyes light up and a beautiful smile plasters across your face, it makes his heart throb in desire and he can’t help but have the urge to give you more and more.

He’d give you the world if he could.

Shuts you up by telling you to get down on your knees.

He doesn’t get mad at you often but when the argument gets to a certain point and he can tell you’re being a brat on purpose, he’s punishing you by fucking your throat.

His cock would be stretching your throat open too, filling your mouth up with cum after a few minutes because he still can’t always last too long with you— you’re still as pretty as ever on your knees with tears running down your face and a mouth full of his cock, the sight makes him fold every time and suddenly he can’t even remember what he was upset with you for.

Apologies to you by drowning in between your legs for hours.

Literal hours too. He doesn’t care if you told him you forgive him a thousand times already, once he’s down there it’s hard for him to get up. His jaw could lock while he’s nose deep into your pussy and he wouldn’t care, your taste is too addicting.

Then there’s the way you moan and whine out his name, begging him to give you a break— yet it only makes him more eager to get you off. Even if you squirt on his face, he won’t care, if anything he’s begging you to do it again. Groaning a simple, “Gimme another one, princess. Please?”

Blushes when you compliment him.

He’s not used to it so whenever you call him handsome, his ears are turning red and he’s mumbling out a cute thank you in response.

You once praised him and called him a good boy and he moaned, begging you to call him that again and again. It made his cock so unbelievably hard that he was aroused for practically the rest of the night.

Another time you said you were proud of him and he started showering you in kisses and telling you that he’s only doing good because he has you.

Brags & yaps about you whenever you’re the topic of conversation.

The second your name is said by someone nearby, his mouth is on auto-response. He’ll tell people how hard working snd perfect you are, how he doesn’t really deserve you but he’s so happy to have you as his lover.

Calls you specific pet names.

Baby, princess, love— they all slip out of his mouth before he even realizes he’s saying it.

If you told him you liked being called “mama, mamas, or ma” he’d settle on calling you ma.

Sometimes he just calls you his. His girlfriend, his partner, his wife. His anything and or everything.

In the rare case that he’s degrading you because you’ve asked him to— he’s calling you a slut. His slut, a dirty slut, pretty slut, his good slut, doesn’t matter.

Loves you more than he loves himself.

He’d cherish you like no other. Every kiss from his is filled with love and every time his eyes meet your face, his pupils dilate.

A/N: In honor of my lover Choso. Please come home, the kids miss you baby. :( Gege Akutami when I get my goddamn hands on you its a wrap.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 11

“Robin can’t stay here like that again,” Jason said as he chopped up a cucumber. “If he wants to come back, we need to introduce them properly and Danny needs to be okay with it."

“I know,” Dick sighed. “He’s been getting better but him not listening to B when in cape is a real backslide.”

“That’s not…” Jason made a frustrated noise and put the knife down with a level of care that worried Dick. That worry grew when Jason purposefully stepped back from it to lean against the counter.

“Hood?”

“Kid knew that Robin was here,” Jason said, glaring down the faint leftover ring from a cup of last night’s hot chocolate. “Wing, Danny knew, and he was terrified.”

Dick stilled. He had just thought it was fear or someone else being in the apartment. “How?”

“Smelled him, apparently,” Jason said with a casual shrug that Dick didn’t believe for a moment. “Said that Robin reeked of death.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said. “The Lazarus Pits?”

“Best as I can figure.”

Best as Jason could figure, but Jason was still bothered by something— something that wasn’t how Damian smelled to Danny.

Dick reached out to still Jason’s hand from where it was picking at the dried ring of coco. “Little wing… what did Danny say?”

It said a lot that Jason didn’t pull away.

“He was terrified because Robin smelled like death but hadn’t died.” Jason looked up to meet Dick’s eyes. A ring of green circled the blue. “He hadn’t died, not like us.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh fuck,” Dick said again. That was the sort of statement that deserved more cussing. He got up and started to pace. “Did you…?”

Jason shook his head. “No. Wasn’t the time, Danny was too freaked out about Robin’s presence. But fuck, Wing, the way he said it… like I should have already known that about him.”

“Like he knows it about you.”

“Yeah. Since he can smell it or sense it or whatever,” Jason said. He ran his hands through his hair, spreading the streak of white throughout the dark locks.

Dick’s eyes stuck on the movement.

“Wing?”

“You’re hair.”

“Who cares if I mess it up—”

“No, J— little wing, your white hair. Danny…” Dick swallowed around the taste of bile. “We know he should have black hair, but it’s all white. Jay, how many times did he die? How many times did they kill him?”

Jason pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, looking ill. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Dick said, immediately regretting upsetting Jason like that. He hated hurting his little brother, but Dick did need someone else on the same page as him. He needed someone else watching out for things. “We’ll get the story when Danny is ready. What matters right now is that he’s here and we’ll keep him safe.”

“We sure as fuck will,” Jason said, a growl rumbling under his voice.

“But we have to wait until he’s ready.”

“Yeah, got you.” Jason leaned back against the wall. His head thumped against it with a sound that made Dick wince.

“But I do think you’ll be the one he talks to,” Dick soothed.

Jason snorted. “Cause the dead stick together.”

“You’re not dead, Jaybird, and neither is Danny.”

“And we’ll keep him safe,” Jason echoed with a sigh.

Dick didn’t have any illusions that Jason’s version of keeping Danny safe wouldn’t include murder if it came to it, but Dick was sure he could play distraction for Bruce, Cass, and Duke if need be. Damian should be kept away too, he had been doing better. Dick groaned and gave in to laying his head down on the counter.

“What horrible thing did you realize now?” Jason asked.

“Just that I’ll need to go see the baby bat. We need to talk about last night and I should just spend more time with him and the other kids.”

“Yeah, that might be good. You should get some damn sleep too before you start trying to subsist on sugar. Don’t think I didn’t see that cereal you had B.B. buy,” Jason chastised.

“I thought Danny might like it!”

“Danny would have a sugar high for three days if he ate a spoonful,” Jason said and went back to chopping up the very healthy cucumber he had.

“Fine, then what are you making?”

“A quick pickle. We’ll have it with feta cheese and couscous. It will be good protein for Danny since we don’t have him eating meat yet,” Jason said.

Dick smiled back. “You know, if you ever get tired of stabbing people with knives, you could just become a personal chef.”

“Why, looking to hire one and solve your horrible eating habits? You should get a maid while you’re at it.”

“Little wing,” Dick whined, clutching at his chest. “That’s so mean! My place is looking great! You’d know that if you ever visited me.”

Jason glanced past Dick and smirked. “Kid, tell Wing he’s a liar.”

“Wing, you’re a liar,” Danny mumbled, the words broken up by a large yawn.

“It’s no fair using Danny against me while he’s still half asleep!” Dick turned away from Jason with a pout and held his arms open.

Looking far from awake, Danny basically stumbled into Dick’s arm. He rested his head against Dick’s shoulder and seemed half ready to fall back asleep right there. Dick didn’t even try to hold back a coo.

Jason snorted. “Yeah, you’re really suffering over there.”

Dick stuck his tongue at Jason before deciding to focus on his littler, cuter brother. He ran his hands through Danny’s hair, trying hard not to think about the color. “Did you have a good nap?”

Danny shrugged. “Mostly.”

“Yeah? And what does mostly mean in this case?” Dick asked.

“Just… I don’t know. Didn’t dream, not really, but sorta felt like I was close to dreaming.”

“I guess you don’t want to dream?”

“Don’t think they’ll be good,” Danny admitted, softly.

“Well, Dandelion,” Dick said, putting as much cheer into his words as he could, “if that happens you come find me or Hood or whoever’s here. Cuddling is always a good cure for nightmares and if that doesn’t work, hot chocolate is even better.”

When Danny didn’t respond, even nonverbally, Dick gave him a little poke in the side which made Danny squeak and squirm a little.

“Tell me what you’ve got rattling around in that brain of yours,” Dick prompted.

Danny heaved a sigh as he pulled away and sat on the stool next to Dick. He kept his eyes downcast, focused on the rather frayed cuff of the hoodie he had taken to almost constantly wearing. “I don’t want wake anyone else up if they’re sleeping. I know you guys haven’t been getting enough rest because of me…”

“Less than we’d like, maybe,” Jason said casually and Dick shot him a glare. They were supposed to be reassuring Danny!

“But,” Jason continued, “we’re fine with that if it means helping you get well. Besides, we’ll get B.B. over here maybe tomorrow and the big blue bird here can go check on the rest of his life for a bit.”

“But only if you’re okay with her being here,” Dick added.

“I don’t want to… you all have done so much for me already. Of course you can go deal with other things. It’s… you don’t have to pay attention to me.”

“Hey, Danny.” Dick reached out, clearly telegraphing his motions so that Danny could pull away if he wanted. When Danny didn’t even twitch, Dick rested his hand over Danny’s. “We want to. I promise you, we want to make sure you’re well and that you heal. We’ll be here the whole time until you’re ready to talk to Bruce.”

“Hell, we’ll be here after,” Jason said. “Gotham is our city, we’re not going anywhere. We’ll still be around if you need us, even if it’s just to be around us.”

Danny glanced up at at Jason with such blatant hope showing through from where it was shuttered behind hard learned lessons and a horrible life. Dick’s heart just about broke.

“Really?” It wasn’t more than a whisper that Danny asked, but it carried so much weight.

“Really,” Jason said with a shrug and that devil may care confidence that only he could manage.

“Really,” Dick added, trying to put as much care and love that he already felt for his new little brother into the word.

Danny glanced down again, but instead of going back to picking at the hem, he twisted his hand to wrap his fingers up with Dick’s.

“I… thank you. That’s… I don’t know why you all care so much when—” Danny cut himself off sharply, biting his lip so hard that Dick was worried that it would bleed.

Dick just squeezed his hand.

“Anyways,” Danny continued after a few shuddering breaths, “it means a lot, thank you.”

“Always,” Dick swore. This was their brother.

-

Damian’s brother was being annoying again.

This was hardly unusual.

“Grayson, do stop lurking like that. It is unbecoming.”

“I wasn’t lurking baby bat!” Grayson said, bouncing forward like some sort of overly cheerful ungulate.

“Tt.”

“I wasn’t! I was being polite and waiting for you to be done with your kata,” Grayson protested with a pout. “If I was being rude I would have just swept in and scooped you up.”

Damian took a step back. “Grayson, no.”

“No what?” he asked, his eyes impossibly wide and innocent.

It was best to leave, Damian decided.

Unfortunately Grayson was actually far more wolf that sheep and he pursued Damian. They tore around the Cave. Damian attempted to use his smaller stature to be able to slip through spots that should be impossible for Grayson to follow him through, but that hardly stopped his brother. What little speed Damian might have gained from his pathing was well made up for Grayson being larger and, as reluctant as Damian was to admit it, better at free running.

“There’s my baby bat!” Grayson cooed as he held Damian close after catching him.

Damian let his arms and legs dangle listlessly. He had learned that Grayson was annoying resistant to nerve strikes and that it was sometimes better to simple accept the… cuddling.

“My bitty bat! Baby bat! Bladed bloody bat!”

Damian sighed.

“We are going to go out!” Grayson said, hauling Damian towards the lift. “I found a shelter that needs some help socializing a whole bunch of cats taken from a hording situation so we’ll pick up a big food donation and head over. Afterwards, we can get falafel from that place on 8th and ice cream from a new place right down the street!”

That… didn’t sound too poor of a day, really.

“I suppose that the cats will have a better chance to be adopted if socialized quickly,” Damian said, haughtily. He couldn’t simply let Grayson know how appealing the idea was.

“Right? And you’re the best person I know for it,” Grayson said. Thankfully he set Damian down once they were in the lift and moving up towards the manor.

Damian stared at the rock on the the other side of the cage. “And… you do not need to go back to the safe house today?”

“Nope!” Grayson chirped. “I’m even going to stay at the manor tonight.”

“That is acceptable. You have informed Pennyworth?”

“Of course baby bat.”

“Very good,” Damian said. They fell into silence as they moved fully into the manor. Damian made his way for the stairs to go up and shower, but paused at the bottom. “Grayson?”

“Yeah, Dami?”

“He was afraid of me.”

Damian was thankful Grayson was astute enough not to ask who.

“He could sense you, it seems,” Grayson said. He walked over and leaned against the railing of the stairs. “Think of it from his point of view. He was asleep in what he had been told was a secure location and woke up to someone else being there. He didn’t know who, or what, you were. I’m sure you’d go on the offensive right away to find out who it was. Danny though… we know he’s been through a lot and I don’t think fighting back was an option for him.”

Damian thought back to the scars that had covered the other’s body in the first pictures. He frowned down at the steps. “Yes.”

“Right, so for him, he needed to find out who you were, just like you would, but he was scared instead of aggressive.”

“Which is why he hid behind Todd.” Damian had barely been able to catch sight of this ‘Danny’.

“Yep. Jason was one of the people who got him somewhere safe, so he trusts Jason to at least try to keep him safe. I’m sure Jay reassured him that was likely you before they came to check.”

Damian snorted.

“Hey, give Jason some credit, he knows his security stuff. He only pretends to still be bad at cellphones so he has a reason not to call.”

“Tt.”

“Don’t worry, baby bat, I’ll talk to Danny about having you come over again when everyone knows to expect you,” Grayson said with a gentleness that annoyed Damian.

“I never said I wished to go back over.”

“No?”

“No. But,” Damian said, stressing the next part, “if it is something everyone in the family is doing, then I will put up with the chore.”

“Thank you, Dami,” Grayson said. “Babs is next and then we’ll see about you! Now go change so that we can get to the shelter.”

“What exactly do you think I was doing,” Damian snapped and headed up the stairs with his head held high and a flutter of worry in his chest that he was pretending didn’t exist.

---

AN: Aaaah it was good to get back to writing this! This was my first time writing Damian's POV and he was an unexpected delight to write! His part got done very quickly. We'll have Babs up soon and Steph will need to bully her way in I'm sure. Bruce is pouting in front of the Batcomputer I'm sure, waiting for his turn to meet his son.

Anyways, stay delightful darlings!

[fastandcarlos]

Not Without You : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: filled with alcohol, carlos could almost fall asleep, but there's one very important thing that's missing for him

Your head shook as you walked into the apartment, kicking Carlos’ shoes out of the way that he had left in the middle of the hallway. You want to be mad at him, but you can’t, placing them out of the way. There’s a faint light coming from the living room as you walk in, noticing a figure laid out across the sofa.

“Damn Carlos,” you snigger underneath your breath, placing your phone down before walking over to him. You knelt down just beside his head, brushing the hair out of his face. The smell of beer hit you as soon as you got close to him, the sign of a good night for Carlos as he went out drinking with a few of his friends. He was fast asleep, chest pressed into the sofa, completely unaware of you.

His keys and his phone had been discarded on the floor in his sleepy, tipsy state, which you quickly picked up and put on the coffee table to keep them safe. His shirt had a slight stain on it, knowing how incapable Carlos was at eating anything once he had just a single drink inside of him.

Your attention then turned to the man before you, lips parted, hands tucked in slightly to the sleeves of his jumper, feeling your heart pound with the adoration you had for Carlos hitting you hard. Your hand moved across his cheek, feeling his stubble tickle against the pad of your thumb as you try your best not to disturb him.

However, as you go to press a kiss to the top of his head before leaving him to rest, you end up doing exactly what you had tried your best not to do. You hear your name followed by the feeling of a hand around your wrist to keep you.

“When did you get here?” Carlos groggily asks you, slowly opening his eyes and flinching at the light. “Have I been asleep for long?”

“It’s almost three, I can’t imagine you’ve been asleep for long looking at the state of you,” you teased, taking a seat just beside where Carlos laid on the sofa. “Looks like you and the boys all must’ve had a good time, I don’t think I even want to ask what you all got up to together.”

Carlos stretches his hand out, craving for the feeling of your own intertwined with his. You do as he requests, sniggering as he lazily moves, huffing in discomfort as he rolls to face you and be able to face you on his side.

“I had a much better time then you did at work I imagine, are you alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you smile, offering Carlos a reassuring look. Even tipsy, he still cares, it’s by far one of your favourite things about him. “Do you want me to let you go back to sleep for a bit?”

“No,” he immediately responded, tightening his grip on you slightly. “You’re not allowed to leave me, you can only kiss me.”

You did as Carlos asked, closing the distance between the two of you. Carlos’ free hand cupped against the side of your face to bring you in, keeping you in position. Your hands rested against his chest to steady yourself as you forgot about the taste of beer that lingered on his lips for a moment and instead focused on savouring the feeling of Carlos’ touch against your skin.

After a few moments Carlos pulls away, but doesn’t let you move too far away from him. “I can smell coffee on you baby.”

“And I can smell beer on you, so I guess we’re even,” you teased in reply, dreading to think how many coffees you’d had in order to keep yourself awake. “You should really get some sleep now Carlos, I’ll be through to join you shortly.”

“I’m not moving,” he huffed, folding his arms across his chest, tapping the tiny space beside him on the sofa, inviting you to join him.

“I’m going to sort myself out,” you told him again, pushing yourself up off of the ground, using the sofa to help you. Once again, Carlos’ hand reaches out for you, but this time he’s not quick enough, reluctantly watching you walk away and head into the bathroom so you could sort yourself out and get into your cosy bed.

You were lost in your own little world as you started to get yourself ready for bed, you had a makeup wipe in hand, hair tied back as you wiped away the effects of the day. It almost didn’t seem fair how Carlos was awake after a night of fun with his friends, whilst you returned home off the back of a twelve hour shift, barely able to move anymore.

Once everything was sorted, you tidied up the bathroom, and the mess that Carlos had left in there too after he arrived home. You were ready to sleep, and for a long time too, safe in the knowledge that you’d have the bed to yourself tonight, with Carlos stubbornly unwilling to pry himself off of the sofa.

Or so you thought, as you opened the door.

“What the hell Carlos?”

Your hand grabbed onto the bathroom door in order to steady yourself, heart racing at the sight of the figure who stood as close to the doorway as he possibly could. There was a weak smile on his face as he looked blankly back at you, not realising just how much he had managed to scare you.

You reached out and pushed gently against Carlos’ chest, “what happened to not moving off of the sofa, you gave me such a fright.”

You wanted to yell and shout, but Carlos’ exhausted eyes soon stopped you. He leant against the doorway, too tired to find the strength in his legs to keep himself upright. You could only shake your head as he frowned at you, surprised you weren’t expecting him to have moved when you went away.

“The sofa was nice, but it’s not as nice as being able to lay in bed with you,” he softly speaks, keeping his voice as convincing as he can. “It’s not the same without you baby.”

You were left stunned by Carlos’ sudden confession, despite how drunk he was, you could tell by his voice just how much he meant exactly what he was saying to you, there was no doubt in your mind that he really wanted to sleep with you.

The two of you had so many moments when you were apart, that Carlos always promised himself to make the most of the ones when you were together. He made the most of every second, and made sure that every second was spent with his full attention on you. You often reassured Carlos that you understood the demand of his job, but he never took it for granted. He’d trained himself, no matter how tired, drunk or stressed he was to make sure that he still made the most of having you there with him. You never expected any of it from Carlos, and he never expected anything in return for the kindness that he showed you too, it was all that Carlos just wanted to do for you. The little moments were the ones that he treasured the most, particularly when he was able to fall asleep with you.

The closeness that you shared was the envy of others, they wished they could be as tentative and selfless as Carlos, or as sympathetic as you were. You both sacrificed a lot to make your relationship work, but the rewards at the end of it always proved to be more than worth it.

“You didn’t really want to get up, did you?” You asked as you took a hold of Carlos’ hand to help him to steady himself.

“You weren’t there,” he protested, shrugging his shoulders back at you, expecting you to be able to figure that out yourself. “There was just this cold, empty space beside me that some mean woman decided to ignore rather than cuddle up with me in.”

You had to give Carlos credit, if he was good at one thing, it was his ability to try and guilt you in order to get his own way. He knew exactly what to say to get you to do as he wanted, which was why he couldn’t help but smile when he found himself sat on the edge of your bed, watching as you looked through your drawers to try and find yourself a fresh pair of pyjamas to wear.

He’s lost in a moment of disbelief as he studies you, asking the same questions that he’s been asking for years, wondering if maybe today would finally give him the answer. How did he get so lucky? When did life get so perfect? What was it about him that drew you in and made you decide Carlos was your forever?

The click of fingers in front of his face snapped Carlos back into his reality, feeling the bed dip beside him. Your hand rested against Carlos’ thigh, squeezing against it gently. He responds by throwing his arm over your shoulders, pulling you down so that you’re both laid in the middle of your bed.

“Did you like what you saw there Sainz?” You enquired, referring back to you changing in front of him a few moments ago. There were no words, but as his smile slightly turned up, you knew exactly what Carlos was trying to tell you. “Come on, I think the both of us are on the verge of being overtired now.”

“Much better,” Carlos whispered to himself as the two of you pushed up and then pulled the duvet over you both. He could hear your giggles, unaware that you heard him, but with how drunk he was, nothing that Carlos did was quiet.

“You’re going to be such a giant pain in the morning,” you huffed as you watched Carlos relax as soon as his head hit the pillow. “You and hangovers are never a good combination for me.”

You knew all too well that Carlos was never going to remember any of this in the morning, if you told him how clingy he was or how needy he was for you to share the bed with him, he never would believe you. He could never imagine himself being so embarrassing, refusing to take on the role of soppy, emotional boyfriend.

After making himself comfortable, Carlos’ complete attention turned to you. His grip on you was incredibly strong as he pulled you into his hold, tying his legs in with your own. You were much colder than he was, still recovering from the chill in the air as you returned home, leaving Carlos running his hands along your body in order to try and warm you up a little bit.

“You’re not allowed to move for the rest of the night,” Carlos told you as he pressed a lazy kiss against the top of your head, “you’re mine forever now.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to escape even if I tried,” you joked, barely able to move in amongst Carlos’ tight embrace.

“I love you.”

“Carlos,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest. “I love you too,” you smiled, pausing for a moment to make sure that he was listening, wondering what world he was daydreaming in beside you. You still knew he wouldn’t remember what you had said, but the two of you had always promised that if one of you said ‘I love you,’ then the other always said it back.

“Be quiet now, it’s sleep time.”

You scoffed at how quick he was to shut you down, as if you had not been the one trying to get him to sleep half an hour earlier. How he’d finally decided it was time for him to sleep so now that meant that you had to be the one to go to sleep too. You could only shake your head, but seeing as Carlos had decided it was time to sleep, having not listened to you, you decided to test his boundaries.

“Do you really want to sleep now?” You asked, moving your hand down Carlos’ chest so that it settled just above his waistband.

You could feel his body tense up, he wasn’t drunk enough to miss what you were implying. “You said that I stunk of beer earlier.”

“And you said I stank of coffee,” you reminded him, propping yourself up to get a better look at him. “But I guess if I smell of coffee then you’ll just want me to move my hand back up here, won’t you?”

Carlos’ head shook as your eyes looked at him expectedly, “please don’t do this to me, it’s not fair baby.”

Before you know it, a pair of hands grip at your waist and turn you over so that Carlos is now the one hovering over the top of you. A shiver run downs your spine at how close he lays to you, not expecting Carlos to get so close. He can’t help it though, you’re like a magnet pulling him in, and the second that you drop the hint, he’s there and desperate to make the most of the situation.

“Carlos…please.”

It never fails to make him smile when he hears you whisper his name, followed by a shaky breath. He leans down and presses a kiss against your lips, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He tugs lightly, feeling your hands hold against his waist to try and pull him even closer towards him. Once you’re happy with where he is, you grab at the hem of his shirt and begin to lift it up, your kiss broken momentarily so that you could discard it to your bedroom floor.

“I love you,” Carlos repeats again, meeting your eyes as he pulls away from you.

You nod back at him, admiring the fiery passion that’s staring down at you. “I love you more,” you smirked, “why don’t you let me show you just how much I love you?”

“Baby…I am all yours.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[yumeboshi]

Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．

𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”

。no literally 。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire. 。“oops, you caught me.” 。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in. 。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go. 。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone. 。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for. 。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.

“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.

how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.

the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.

“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.

when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.

“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself

。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre 。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs. 。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this. 。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either. 。“please, love. now im quite offended.” 。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks. 。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good. 。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.” 。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork. 。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.

STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.

you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.

“what…?”

his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.

“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”

sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.

“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“

“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.

you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.

“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”

your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.

“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.

[bioblsm]

ASKING FOR A KISS

✮ ꒰warnings꒱. N/A

✮ characters. kafka, serval, gepard, sampo, dan heng (il), jing yuan, blade, luka

☆彡 notes. im having hsr brainrot （╹◡╹）i got himeko on 33 pity..my kafka finally has her gf <3 thank you imbibitor lunae ur my fave lesbian protector d(^_^o) (it’s why i also pulled for him teehee)

KAFKA ⛧ 卡芙卡

“kafkaaaa~”

“yes, darlin’?”

“can i have a kiss, please?” you gaze at her with a sickeningly sweet smile which makes her chuckle and ruffle your hair lovingly.

“hmm, why do you want one?” kafka lifts your chin up with her forefinger and leans in teasingly close to your face, tilting it slightly to the left. your lips part expectantly at the same time she does and for a moment there’s nothing, no sound but your breathing. she pulls back a fraction more and rests a hand on your cheek, brushing her thumb gently over your soft skin.

you can feel your heart thumping against your chest and your hands begin to shake slightly. you think you could die, right here, right now, but instead you bite your tongue and try not to give into temptation. you cough awkwardly and avert your gaze to everywhere but her eyes, “uhm…just… because?”

kafka can’t help but chuckle and grin, leaning in to gently kiss you. she smells like leather and mint and yet ironically tastes sweet like berries. “you’re going to have to work for another one, alright~?”

SERVAL ⛧ 希露瓦

serval had asked you to come help her with the workshop, apparently she works better when she has you with her (despite her getting much less work done because she keeps staring at you). she’s cleaning some sort of mechanism before you trot your away over to tap on her shoulder.

“hm?” she turns her head to look at you, “what’s wrong, hun?”

“can i have a kiss?” you tilt your head and smile which just makes her heart skip a beat as she straightens up.

“of course!” serval brushes her hand over your cheek and pulls you in close, you can nearly make out the sweet taste of her chapstick as her lips mould with yours.

serval breaks the kiss after a while with a soft hum, “you never have to ask for a kiss, just come give me one.” she chuckles and ruffled your hair playfully before returning to her work.

GEPARD ⛧ 杰帕德

“geparddd, i want a kiss.” you whine as you lean onto him with a pout. patrolling belobog clearly doesn’t entail “ignoring your partner” now does it!

gepard sighs in some sort of defeat to gaze at you for a brief moment, “my love, please, i’m on duty…” he pinches your cheek in frustration at his own work, as much as he wants to kiss you, there’s just that nagging voice in his head telling him to not get distracted.

and well, that voice can’t be blamed since when gepard does give into your childish pleas he tends to…lose himself? it’s like he suddenly switches off and malfunctions for a good moment and ends up indulging you perhaps more than a good solider should.

“pleaseee, just a kiss on the cheek will do…” you pout teasingly and he can’t help but let out another deep sigh as he leans in to kiss your cheek. perfect. before his lips manage to touch your cheek you tilt your head so they incidentally land onto your lips instead.

gepard pulls back swiftly and looks at you with a stern but playful expression, “you…are such a little troublemaker.”

SAMPO KOSKI ⛧ 桑博

curse this man’s silver tongue and that wink of his. with just a few smooth words and actions he managed to embarrass you in front of the entire astral express. luckily, none of them noticed just how much that man’s words affect you as you had your back turned to them but still…

now you’re just standing there in front of a kneeling sampo who’s pleading for your forgiveness in the most shameful way possible. how is he still managing to stir up all these butterflies in your tummy while looking so pathetic…?

“pleaseee honey~ i’ll do anything to apologise!” anything? you repeat in your head before smiling subtly and glaring at him, which just makes him shiver as he stares at you with a clueless toothy smile. you lean in close to his ear with a frustrated expression, one which betrays the words that escape your lips, “give me a kiss and i’ll forgive you.”

you swear you’ve never seen him jump up and hold you so quickly. his hands immediately found hold of your waist to pull you in for a sweet yet rather sloppy kiss. god he’s such a loser for you.

DAN HENG (IL) ⛧ 丹恒 「饮月君」

“hey, dan heng, can i have a kiss? (^_^)” you whisper to him.

dan heng appreciates that no matter if he’s himself or imbibitor lunae, you treat him all the same; not out of some sort of disrespect but because you truly just view him as someone who you love and cherish, but, he couldn’t help but laugh at your slight obliviousness to the situation.

he was having a rather serious discussion with the astral express crew about his circumstances, it was lighthearted sure, given the fact no-one viewed him as anything more or less than himself so the topic wasn’t as hard to chew, but it was still a rather awkward conversation to have. he glances over at you for a brief moment and lands a gentle peck on your lips before continuing the somewhat amusing interrogation with march 7th.

no matter what, your needs will be his top priority, especially if they’re as cute as this one （╹◡╹).

JING YUAN ⛧ 景元

“you don’t have to ask.” jing yuan’s voice echoes in your ears as you stand there confused, tilting your head at him with a slight pout.

“what do you mean?” you continue to stare at him which just makes him chuckle at your harmless obliviousness.

“i see you gazing at my lips frequently, you want a kiss don’t you?” such small details don’t ever go unnoticed by your beloved. you awkwardly nod your head and avert your gaze.

he laughs and looks at you, placing his fingers under your chin to tilt your head upwards so that you’re looking right into his eyes. you can feel your breath hitch as jing yuan’s lips touch your own before you slowly relax in his gentle touch. it was a warm and sweet sensation of lips pressed against yours, he didn’t push for more than what is comfortable. this made your heart flutter as jing yuan pulled away, leaving only his thumb on the side of your face, stroking gently, making your eyes flutter open in bliss.

you stare at him with bashful eyes, his hand still caressing your cheek. you laugh at his eagerness when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip before he leans forward again for another kiss. this time his other hand rests securely at the curve of your waist, his grip loose enough that if you wanted to escape you could easily do so. but instead, you let out a soft hum of contentment as his lips press against your own.

BLADE ⛧ 刃

“can i have a kiss?”

“why?”

“because i want one..?”

blade remains quiet as his eyes scan you up and down almost eerily. watching blade examine you like this just makes you wonder what goes on in his head. blade wouldn’t say he flinches at your affections, your sweet and gentle touches or caresses do make his heart jump in his ribcage, but it never shows on his face.

to be quite frank, you couldn’t tell if he was internally ridiculing you or waiting for you to take the initiative.

“sorry, i thought you were going to...it doesn’t matter. come here.” well that answered your question. you can’t help but quietly giggle at his, ironically, wholesome dumbassery. wrapping your arms around his neck lovingly to pull him down towards you, you finally get the smooch you asked for~

LUKA ⛧ 卢卡

“can i kiss you?”

“can you give me—“

oh.

luka’s eyes widen before he begins laughing till his stomach hurts, both from the humorous aspect of the situation and the butterflies invading his tummy. you laugh along with him, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

“am i going to get my kiss or are you going to laugh yourself to the next week?” he calms down slightly and captures you in a hug, swinging you gently from side to side affectionately.

“sorry! it’s just…quite cute how in sync we are. c’mere.” holding your face with his hands he began planting kisses across your cheeks before his lips finally settled on yours. you could feel yourself grin through the kiss before luka pulled alway and pecked your cheek quickly. “as much as i wanna stay here and keep kissing you, i have a match at the robot settlement so byebye love you!” he ushers away just as fast as he kissed you.

wait.

…

robot settlement?

well, that was definitely a “kiss goodbye” alright…better get natasha on speed dial.

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[f1goat]

more than friends + lando norris x part five

In which your best friend wants to help you so you get more sexual experience, but he discovers quickly that he never wants to share you and your new sexual experience with others.

masterlist - playlist

warnings: smut with a plot or a plot with smut? :) minors dni! i never proofread so probably grammar or spelling errors

requested: yes, based on: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things (ofc pretending for it to bot mean anything), while he’s actually in love with her

part one / part two / part three / part four

You can’t help yourself and stare at Lando, just like a lot of others are doing right now. He’s absolutely glowing and taking in the attention he’s getting. After his deleted lap time from yesterday, he came back stronger then ever. Right now he’s standing on the podium claiming his well deserved trophy for the second place in the race. You smile while staring at him. Podiums look good on him. Insanely good. 

“You did so good!” You almost scream when Lando comes to you later day afternoon. He’s still glowing from his podium. You can smell the faint odor from the champagne. You wonder about kissing Lando, will you taste it then? Lando doesn’t talk at first, he just hugs you. You continue to praise him in the mean time. 

“You know what this means, right baby?” Lando eventually whispers into your ear. You think back at his words from yesterday. Is he serious? “I want you to get into my drivers room, so I can get my celebration right after debriefing,” Lando tells you. 

You feel your cheeks heating up and reddening. Fuck. 

“Can you wait there for me babygirl?” Lando asks you. You can only nod as response, if you even knew what to say right now you’re sure the words would get lost on your tongue. Lando makes things even worse by pressing a kiss against your forehead. You wish you could feel his lips on yours right now, but you’re fully aware of all the cameras around you. Tomorrow - or maybe this afternoon already - you will see this fragment of your life all over your socials. 

Lando walks away from you. You know what to do now. Lando was clear about his wishes, and who are you to deny them from him? Without giving it a second thought, you walk towards the McLaren motorhome. It’s not hard to get into Lando his drivers room, probably because everyone around you knows who you are. Instead of talking to the mechanics who are still here instead of getting ready to party, you walk directly towards Lando his drivers room. They let you. 

In Lando his drivers room you suddenly start to feel a bit nervous. What does Lando expect from you? He made his wishes clear yesterday and today. Apparently he wants to eat you out? The thought alone makes you feel more nervous. Although you have no idea why. Lando is probably pretty good at it, so it will be more of a celebration for you then him. Right? Maybe it’s the thought of Lando coming this close to your private parts. What if they don’t look good enough? You try to shake off those thoughts. 

You know that a debrief can cost some time, so you try to kill the time by scrolling on your socials. You like every post about Lando his podium. When you see a notification from Lando popping up on your screen, you almost drop your phone on the floor. Is he serious?

Lando: 5 minutes babe

Lando: maybe you can already lose some clothes ;)

The thought of waiting for Lando while being in your lingerie only - or maybe even naked, makes you feel all kind of things. Your stomach is tightening by only the thought already. You don’t even realize that you’re already kicking of your sneakers. It feels like everything is happening on some sort of automatic pilot. You don’t even think about the possibility of other people walking in to this room. Even though the possibility is kinda high. You don’t care about things like that right now. In no time is the floor covered in the clothes you were wearing earlier. The only thing left on your body is your lingerie. It’s a black set, nothing to exciting, but it does look nice. You doubt a bit if you want to keep it on or off. Eventually you decide to take it off as well. 

Thank god for the warm weather today, because you’re already shivering from only the thought that Lando can come in any second. It feels weird to wait here for him while being naked. You realize that Lando never saw you naked before. All the cons are weighting up, but you can’t stop thinking about Lando finding you like this. Will this be what he expected? Or will this be a surprise for him? 

When the door opens you start to feel extremely aware of your surroundings and your own bareness. You’re relieved when you see that Lando is the one to open the door. He is quick to close the door when he sees you waiting for him. After that he’s even quicker to get towards you. 

Lando can’t tear his eyes away from you. He realizes that he’s staring and that there’s a chance that it makes you feel uncomfortable right now. But he really can’t look away from you. He never saw you like this before. All the things that happened between the two of you before, happened with you in clothes. He can’t say he didn’t imagine about your body before, but in some way it’s even more beautiful then he already thought. He lets his gaze go over every small detail of your body. 

He looks at your breasts and notices the way your nipples resemble small pebbles. He wants nothing more then to shower them in kisses right now. He wants to take your nipple into his mouth until he felt the hardness of it on his tongue, only to switch over to your other nipple after that. He lets his stare slide towards your most private part. You’re sitting with your legs crossed over each other, causing him to imagine the way your pussy will look. 

It can’t be right that you’re without a doubt the girl who has the most impact on him. Seeing you like this has made him rock hard in only seconds. His dick is throbbing painfully. He remembers himself that this is about you - and not about him. You’re the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, with and without clothes.

You feel uncomfortable when Lando doesn’t say anything. Was it a mistake to undress this far already? When you start to think about questioning him about it, Lando lets out a soft sound. You look at him. Lando is still taking in your body. You notice that he’s looking at you full with adoration, or are you making that up? 

Lando comes closer and closer to you. When he’s finally close enough, he eagerly puts his mouth onto your lips. He gives you a soft peck on the lips before moving the two of you towards the couch in the drivers room. Lando pulls you onto his lap, instead of normally this time he makes sure you face him. He doesn’t want your body to get out of his sight right now. 

He presses a kiss against your neck. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he finally mutters. Then he presses another kiss against your body, this time it’s to your collarbone. “I didn’t expect to walk into you being naked already,” Lando continues to say to you, “Such a beautiful surprise,” he adds before pressing his lips against your body again. He presses multiple kisses against your body, at first closely to your collarbone again but after a bit he moves his lips down. He’s getting close to your breasts. 

You’re already trembling under Lando his touch. Lando grunts. “Can I touch you babygirl?” He asks you. You’re quick to tell him yes. Lando takes on of your breasts into his hand, he kneads it while looking at you. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he tells you.

Your stomach tightens. You feel your cheeks reddening. Why are those small words doing so much to you? You’re glad that Lando isn’t paying attention to your face, because you’re sure that it’s reddish from blushing this much. Lando is busy paying attention to your breasts. He lowers his face to get closer to your tits. He is still kneading on of them. You almost jump up when you feel his lips against the other tit. He presses soft kisses against it, before sucking on the skin. You quietly follow Lando his movements with your eyes. It doesn’t take him long before pressing a kiss against your hardened nipple. After that he takes your nipple inside his mouth. Softly you feel him suck onto it. 

When Lando pulls back, you let out a soft whimper. Lando switches his movements. He moves his hand away from your breast, to put it back onto the other one. He presses kisses against your tit that he was kneading earlier. Before you realize it, your other nipple is in his mouth. 

It surprises you when you feel your pussy clenching. It amazes you that you even start to feel that you’re getting pretty wet. Lando his mouth is doing all kind of things to you, but you can’t complain about one tiny part of it.

Lando removes his lips and hand from your breasts again. This time he moves his hands downwards, he is quick to get close to your private parts. It annoys you when he doesn’t touch you where you need him, but keeps a bit above of the place. Suddenly without realizing it, you let out a soft whine. 

“What’s wrong babygirl?” Lando asks you. You notice the small smirk on his face. It makes you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. What a tease. You can’t tell him that, every word that leaves your mouth is begging Lando to do something about the way you’re feeling.

“I need you,” you softly whimper.

Lando lets out a low groan. Fuck, what you just told him makes him even harder. That’s actually insane. He moves his hands away from your vagina even further. He softly lifts you up and puts you next to himself onto the couch. Only to get of the couch himself after that. He takes your legs into his hands. Slowly he spreads your legs for him. 

You look at Lando. He doesn’t look back at you. All his attention is onto your slit. Before you can feel uncomfortable about it, Lando starts to shower you with compliments about it.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Lando tells you with a low voice. He lets his hand slide around it carefully. He makes sure that he isn’t already touching your clit or entrance, he focuses himself onto your lips. He enjoys teasing you a bit. This is his celebration after all, right? He looks at the frustrated emotions that you’re displaying on your face. He realizes that you really need him. Lando never wants you to need anyone else. 

He softly spreads your lips a bit with his hands. 

“So beautiful,” he continues to tell you. 

This time he slides his finger through your slit. It surprises him how wet you’re already are. He coats his finger in your slick. 

“So wet already,” he murmurs to you.

He presses a soft kiss against the inside of your thighs. 

“Is that all for me babygirl?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him eagerly.

“Who’s the one who made you this wet?” Lando continues to ask you. He needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear it that this is all because of him. 

“You Lando,” you softly confess, “It’s all for you.”

Lando lets out a soft moan after hearing your words. He presses a few more kisses against your thighs. He moves a bit closer to your pussy, but makes sure that he isn’t coming closer then your lips. You let out a frustrated whine. 

“I need more Lando,” you tell Lando a bit ashamed. 

Lando presses a soft kiss against your clit this time. He’s quick to move away from it after making his move.

“More,” you whimper.

Lando grins. He softly slides his finger over your clit a couple times, but makes sure that it’s not enough. He presses more kisses against your inner thighs. Suddenly he starts to think about you begging him. The thought is making him even harder. He looks at you. How hot would it be if you ask him to lick you? 

“What do you need baby?” Lando asks you. 

He makes sure that his finger is laying dangerously close to your clit right now. Almost onto it, but still a bit too far away. 

“You,” you whimper.

“No, no,” Lando tuts, “I asked you, what do you need? What do you want me to do babygirl?”

You stay silent for a bit. Lando moves his finger even closer to your clit. Softly he touches it. It makes you tremble under his touch. It’s unfair what he’s doing to you. It’s even more unfair how fast he can make you feel like this. For a few seconds you wonder if anyone else can make you ever feels like this, you highly doubt it.

“If you don’t tell me baby, I can’t make you feel any better,” Lando teases you. 

“Fuck,” you groan, “Tease.”

“Just tell me babygirl,” Lando continues to tease you. 

“I want you to, fuck,” you stutter, “I want you to lick me.”

Lando doesn’t reply verbally anymore. He presses a soft kiss against your clit before starting to do what you asked from him. Slowly he licks around your pussy. He makes sure to lick every tiny part of it, before coming back to your clit. He presses another kiss against it, before using soft licks onto it. He makes sure that he’s not going to fast, but also not to slow. He wants you to enjoy this as much as he’s enjoying it right now. He increases his pace a bit after hearing you letting out multiple moans. 

In the mean time he slides his finger around your slit. He slowly brings it to your entrance, but doesn’t push it inside. Yet. Lando knows it’s teasing and maybe even a bit mean, but he needs to hear you beg even more for him right now. He has fallen in love with the desperate voice you used earlier with him. He wants to know that he’s the one who makes you feel like this and that you need him to come. 

You buck your hips. Hopefully Lando gets the hint. You want his finger inside of you. Maybe even more then one now that you think of it. Lando doesn’t response to your movement. You open your eyes to look at him. To your surprise he’s already looking back at you. Before speaking up, you admire the way he looks between your legs. 

He’s still making short licks onto your clitoris. Sometimes he switches and licks around your whole slit. But the things he’s doing to your clit right now, are the things that feel the best. Although, you can use a bit more.

“More,” you softly say. 

“More?” Lando asks you. You let out a soft whimper when he removes his mouth from your pussy. He looks at you. His finger replaces the movements his tongue made earlier. It still feels good, but not as good as before.

“Please,” you beg Lando. 

“Tell me what you want baby,” Lando states. He increases his pace with his finger. He likes looking at you while you look like this. You’re shaking underneath his touch. Moans are falling out your mouth like they’re your new language. Lando wishes he could save this memory so he could look back at it to see all the small details, again and again. His cock is throbbing even more painfully then before. He needs release as well. 

“How longer you take, how longer you will miss my tongue onto your pussy,” Lando tells you. He hears a soft whine leaving your lips.

“I need your fingers,” you eventually confess. 

“Ask me,” Lando tells you sternly. He can’t help himself. He has fallen in love with your pleads.

“Can you finger me?” You ask Lando softly with red cheeks, before Lando can say anything you add another word. “Please Lan?”

His boner almost explodes when hearing the soft please Lan coming from your lips. He doesn’t say anything anymore, he’s quick to move his lips back to your clit and to move his fingers to your entrance again. This time he licks your clit even faster. He hears moans coming from you. Is it bad that he’s getting addicted to that sound? He realizes that he wants to hear you like this forever. No one else should ever hear you like this he even thinks. 

Lando pushes one of his fingers softly inside of you. He feels your walls clenching around his finger. Easily he pushes in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t take him long before using another finger. He starts to finger fuck you with two of his fingers. In the mean time he focusses on eating you out. He softly sucks onto you clit. It makes you almost scream. 

“Lan,” you loudly moan when he sucks a bit harder onto your clit.

He doesn’t response verbally, he just keeps increasing his pace. Waiting for you to come. Your walls are starting to clench even more around his fingers. Lando feels how your clit is starting to throb inside his mouth. You feel your stomach tighten. Moans keep coming out of your mouth. You can’t stop yourself. 

“I’m close,” you tell Lando. He reacts by sucking harder on your clit. He moves his fingers faster inside of you. He notices a soft spongy spot inside of you and gives it all his attention from now on. You let out a hard moan. 

“Can I come?” You suddenly ask Lando.

He’s overwhelmed by your question. Fuck. It’s insane how it feels that you’re asking him for permission to come. In the mean time you have more trouble with holding back your orgasm. You feel waves of pleasure hitting over you. 

“Lan?” You quickly ask. 

Lando removes his lips from your clit for a couple seconds. No longer then necessary. “Of course babygirl,” he tells you before sucking harshly onto your clit again. He repeats his movements from earlier, but his eyes are focused on your face. He looks at the way you close your eyes when the first waves of your orgasm are washing over you. He notices the way your lips are partly open, only to let out a couple of soft moans. When you press your legs closer together, Lando stops his movements and pulls back. He doesn’t want to overstimulate you. At least, not today. It would be a nice thing to do in the future. 

Lando waits for you to say something. In the mean time he sucks your slit of his own fingers. He takes place next to you on the couch. You quickly lay down against him. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, “that was really good.”

“Glad that you liked it,” Lando replies with a small grin. His cock is still throbbing inside of his racesuit. “You tasted better then that champagne,” Lando tells you. You let out a laugh. Without thinking about it you press a kiss against Lando his lips, he is quick to turn it into more. When his tongue slides into your mouth, you taste the faint taste of yourself on his tongue. 

“Do you want me to do something for you as well?” You ask Lando softly.

“I wished,” Lando grunts, “but we have a dinner and a party to get ready for.”

“Maybe later tonight?” You suggest.

“I like the way you’re thinking babygirl,” Lando replies to you. 

“I just want to feel your lips on my clit again,” you confess laughingly. 

“Next time I won’t stop after your orgasm.”

“You think I can come more then once?” You ask surprised.

“You can add a lesson about overstimulation to the teaching plan babe,” Lando tells you jokingly, but none of his words are a joke. He wants to spend a whole evening between your legs and pull everything orgasm out of you that you have.

part six

this is my favorite part so far :)) hope everyone liked it!

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes @barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector

[dreaming-medium]

Just Look Up

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader

Word count: 4.4K

Tags: Angst, pining, fluff, best friends to lovers

Summary: Seungmin’s been watching you from an arm’s length for so long, his heart yearning to be closer to you. All he wants is to to hold you, to be held by you. Why can’t you just look up and notice how much he loves you? Why do you stay with your horribly toxic boyfriend when Seungmin’s right there?

Author’s note: Please listen to this song and picture Seungmin singing it, oh god it destroys me.

Warning!!! The reader has a pretty toxic boyfriend in this fic!!

————————————————————————

How are you this perfect? How can you go day to day being so flawless and not even realize just how breathtaking you are?

After being best friends for years, there isn’t a single hour of the day that Seungmin hasn’t seen you at, and never once have you been anything but amazing. Even when your hair is frizzy and tied up, face puffy from sleep, eyes bleary and asymmetrical, you’re still gorgeous.

Just the thought of you alone has Kim Seungmin weak in the knees. Every little quirk of yours drives him crazy. From the way you stick your tongue out when you concentrate to the way you always overcook your rice.

He craves the simple, sweet, delightful smell of your apartment. The way your TV is always on even if you’re not watching it. The way every room in the house is spotless except for your bedroom which goes from organized to a disaster in just a few short days.

Seungmin can never get enough of you. Never has been able to, and he never will.

Which is why it hurts so bad that you’re with someone else. You and your boyfriend have been together for four months. Four painful, excruciating months.

The guy doesn’t even understand how good he has it. He does t grasp how lucky he is to have captured your heart.

What is Seungmin supposed to do when he comes over for movie night and that jackass is sitting on the couch next to you? His stomach flips and churns uncontrollably until he makes up some lame excuse to leave early.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even treat you the way you deserve and it boils Seungmin’s blood.

Right before his very eyes, he watches as your chump of a boyfriend drops your hand when you tried to hold it during a big group dinner. Seungmin had been sitting directly across from the two of you at the large table full of a mixed bag of friends.

Innocently, and with the most adorable smile ever, you reached down and laced your fingers with your boyfriends. As if you burned him, he drops your hand and motions down to his food.

“How am I supposed to eat if you’re holding my hand?” he asks with an annoyed tilt to his tone.

“Oh,” you frown, that gorgeous smile of yours was wiped off your face. “Sorry, hon.”

“It’s whatever,” he replies and goes back to the conversation that he was in beforehand.

Meanwhile Seungmin was seething. He watched the entire interaction like some sort of car accident. Does the guy need two hands to eat? What kind of lame excuse was that?

The rest of the night, your mood was different. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes. And your laughter sounded fake and hollow.

No one seemed to notice.

No one except for Seungmin who took it upon himself to go up to the bar and order your favorite drink on his way to the bathroom. He told the waiter not to say anything about him being the one to order it.

It was already in front of you when he returned from the restroom.

“Look, Minnie!” you chirp while he’a sitting down. “The bartender said they made an extra by accident and gave us this drink on the house!”

A rainbow stretches over his heart at how happy you sound. But dark clouds come crashing through just as quickly.

Your boyfriend look down at the drink as you were about to take your first sip.

“Hey!” he calls out and places his hand over the top of the drink before you could even taste it. “You’re the one driving home.”

Your expression fell. “What? But you said you would drive home this time.” You look around the table and lower your voice to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve driven home every time we’ve gone out, I never get to—“

Your boyfriend slides the drink away from in front of you at the same time he kisses your lips gently. You don’t respond to the kiss at all, you don’t even close your eyes. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

He leans away from you and picks the drink up, taking a sip from the straw. His face twists up in a disgusted expression.

“Fuck, what even is this?” he asks, looking down at the drink.

“It’s a Long Island…” you murmur, looking down at the table.

“Who drinks this shit?” He places it down on the table and pushes it away from him.

You do. It’s your favorite drink. You always order a Long Island no matter where you go. How does the guy not know that? What boyfriend doesn’t know his girlfriend’s favorite drink?

What kind of shit head does that?

Seungmin is seeing red. He wants to vault the table and throttle the guy. His shoulders are shaking he’s so angry.

Your demeanor drops even further through the floor, taking Seungmin’s heart with you. No matter what conversation anyone tries to pull you into, you only offer one word answers.

Your boyfriend barely pays any mind to you.

Seungmin nudges your ankle underneath the table. You look up at him with dull eyes. He motions for a writing utensil in the air.

You think for a moment, turning and fishing through your purse until you pull out a pen and hand it to him.

He flips the paper placemat over on the table and draws a tic-tac-toe board on the back. He draws one ‘X’ in a box and then slides it across the table at you.

When you look down, the corner of your lip quirks in a tiny smile. You take the pen and draw an ‘O’ in another box, then slide it back to him.

This continues a few times before the game comes out to a tie.

Wordlessly, he meets your eyes with a cocked eyebrow. You nod. He draws another board and you do it again.

With each X and O that’s drawn on the back of the paper placemat, life returns to your eyes. You even let out a few giggles when Seungmin makes a ridiculously terrible move.

Each and every game comes out in a tie until you make a specific, unbeatable move. Seungmin looks down at the board for a few drawn out seconds.

He bites his lip with a grin. “There’s no move I can do that you won’t win.”

“I know!” you cheer and laugh. “I mastered the technique.”

“You didn’t master shit,” he grumbles in fake annoyance. “You cheated.”

Balking, you gasp. “I never cheat, Kim Seungmin.”

“Well, you just cheated at tic-tac-toe so you’re also a liar.”

“I didn’t cheat!

“Did so.”

“Did n—“ You’re cut off by a hand on your arm.

“We’re going.” Your boyfriend’s voice is gruff, slurred, and a bit agitated.

For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, your face falls when you look at him. “What do you mean? We just finished dinner and I thought that we’re going to the karaoke bar after this.”

“Not anymore.” He grabs your jacket off the back of your chair. “Come on, get your purse, we’re going.”

“But—“

“We’re going.”

Your body tenses and your mouth flies shut.

By the flush that crawls up your neck, Seungmin can tell you’re embarrassed. Embarrassed that you would let someone speak to you this way. Embarrassed because now most of your friends were watching you both closely.

You’ve always hated confrontation.

You take a deep breath and push back from the table, seemingly giving up. Seungmin has had enough.

“I think she wants to stay,” Seungmin says from across the table. “Can’t you call an Uber or have someone else take you home?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes flash with anger. “Hey, why don’t you stay out of our business?”

Seungmin’s nose twitches, he’s gripping the pen in his hand so hard it might snap in half.

“I just think that you’re ignoring the fact that she doesn’t want to leave.”

You look over at Seungmin. “It’s okay, Minnie. I’ll go out another time, promise.”

His gaze softens when you call his name.

“Yeah, Minnie, she’ll go out another time.” Your slime of a significant other slides his arm around your waist and pulls you away from the table.

You only fight his pull for a moment, glaring at the side of your boyfriend’s face before looking over at Seungmin one last time.

You’re apologizing with your eyes. Seungmin can read you too well. The two of you never needed words to communicate.

Then, you’re gone. And everyone else around him continues to talk as if nothing happened.

Seungmin flexes his jaw while he fights back his anger. A small part of him wants to run after the two of you and deck your boyfriend in the parking lot.

But, it’s not worth it. Who knows how you’d react to that.

He looks down at the paper placemat and draws your final ‘O’, drawing the line across to signify your win.

Seungmin doesn’t go to the karaoke bar that night either.

____________________________________

It was the next night when you texted him.

[January 10 1:26 AM]

Y/N: Are you awake?

Seungmin was about three seconds from sleep when his phone buzzed. Normally, he would ignore it and answer in the morning, but something in his brain told him to roll over and check anyway.

His eyes widened at your text, his thumbs flying to answer you.

Seungmin: I am, what’s up?

Y/N: Can you come over?

This late? You’re asking him to come over now? Sure, it’s a Saturday but it’s still strange.

Y/N: Please. I need you here.

Seungmin: I’ll be there in 10

He only took seven minutes to get to your apartment. The other three were spent jogging through the parking lot and up the stairs to your floor.

Only one knock lands on the door before you rip it open.

Seungmin’s heart falls through his chest.

You’re looking up at him with red rimmed, glassy eyes. Tears flowing down your flushed cheeks.

“Hi, Minnie,” you choke out.

Seungmin steps inside and looks all over your body, trying to find any sign of an injury or anything. “What’s going on?” he asks in alarm.

He cups your cheeks and looks in your eyes after kicking the door shut. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you cry. “‘M sorry if I scared you.” Another sob wracks your chest. You throw your arms around Seungmin, burying your face into his chest. His own arms immediately fly around your body.

“I broke up with him,” you mumble into Seungmin’s hoodie.

It’s shameful how his spirits lifted. Internally, Seungmin wants to pump his fist in the air and jump around. He wants to stand on your balcony and scream victory at the top of his lungs.

But externally, he keeps his cool, one hand moving to rub your back in soothing circles.

Fucking finally.

“What happened?” he asks gently, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You force a dry laugh. “It’s been coming for a while, I couldn’t fucking stand the way he talked to me last night.”

Seungmin laughs under his breath. Yeah, yeah he saw it. He wasn’t the only one that wondered why the hell you were still with the guy.

“He always talked to me like trust. I just…” You sniff and bury your face further into Seungmin’s hoodie. “I think I just liked having someone, you know?”

Seungmin’s heart clenches.

“It was nice having someone who at least pretended to like me like that.”

Do you not see him? Do you not see the way he looks at you whenever you walk into a room? How his entire demeanor perks up by your very presence?

If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you blessed him with your presence.

You let out another sob and hold him closer. “God, why am I crying so much?”

Seungmin grabs both of your upper arms and rubs up and down a few times. “Here,” he says gently. “Why don’t you sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

Nodding, you pull away from him and wipe at your cheeks with your sweater sleeves. “Yeah, okay.”

He reaches out and uses his own sweatshirt sleeve to wipe at your cheeks with great care. “I’ll only be a few seconds, okay?”

Again, you nod. But your body makes no move away from him. You lean into his gentle touch, craving the closeness of it all. Eyes sliding close, your lip quivers with more cries.

His fingers poke out from the sleeve and run down your tear-stained cheek. His hands are always so warm.

It could be the dead of winter or the middle of summer, his hands were always warmer than yours. But even an ice sculpture’s body held more heat than yours did.

On several occasions, you would shove your hands into Seungmin’s pockets to thaw your frozen digits.

He can still remember last winter where you unzipped his huge, puffy jacket and then zipped it back up with you inside of it, your back to his chest. Seungmin can’t remember a time where his heart was beating faster than that day.

He had warmed you right back up, gladly sharing his body heat to keep you toasty warm. He even went as far as wrapping his scarf around both of you.

The bus came late that night to pick the two of you up from that stop and he was grateful for every single second he got to spend wrapped around you.

You’ve always been his soft spot.

Seungmin cups your cheeks with both hands, thumbs swiping away the tears that keep falling. Your tongue pokes from your lips and then you bring your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Tea will make you better,” he whispers. Seungmin leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead.

The happy sigh that you let out doesn’t escape his notice. It was a sigh that was reserved for when you were relaxing after being tense for so long.

He’s heard it after you’ve kicked your shoes off after a long work day. After the first bite of a hot dinner. After curling up in a cozy blanket on Friday night.

And now when his lips meet your skin.

It wraps around his heart and squeezes even tighter.

He pulls away first and nudges you backwards a bit. “Go sit down.”

“Okay,” you answer with a whisper, turning and making your way to the couch while he moves into the kitchen.

He meanders around like it’s second nature, there’s not a single dish in your kitchen that he doesn’t know where it is.

There’s a pan full of cold food sitting on top of the stove. It looks like it was never served.

So, you haven’t even eaten.

Seungmin clicks the burner on to reheat the food while he switches the electric kettle on.

When he comes in with a full plate of food and hot tea, you’re on your phone with a scowl on your face.

“What is it?” He decides to be nosy.

“He’s texting me.” You don’t look up at Seungmin as he places everything on the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t answer,” he says simply.

“I’m not. But he’s just…” you trail off. “Being so mean.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow. “Show me.”

You only hesitate for a moment before showing him your phone.

[January 10 2:02 AM]

DON’T ANSWER: I’ll be here when you decide to stop being a bitch and remember you need me.

DON’T ANSWER: As if you could even do any better than me, did you think about that? Have you seen yourself and then looked at me?

DON’T ANSWER: You’re the one who said relationships are all about compromise and some shit. So why are you making all the fucking rules?

DON’T ANSWER: so now you’re not even going to answer??? You’re leaving me on read??

DON’T ANSWER: cunt

DON’T ANSWER: couldn’t even give good head, what good are you for anyway.

The rage Seungmin felt last night is nothing compared to what he feels right now. His hands are shaking with thinly veiled anger. His eyebrows are furrowed so much his face might start cramping.

He grabs your phone away from you and looks closer at the texts to make sure his eyes are seeing this right.

“Don’t say anything,” you say quickly.

“I won’t,” Seungmin replies angrily. His teeth might shatter from how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

Who the fuck says this to someone? Someone with a majorly bruised ego, that’s who.

He takes it upon himself to tap through your ex-boyfriend’s contact and block him. Your phone is thrown onto the coffee table soon after.

You don’t address it. You sip your tea and take an uneasy bite out of your food.

Seungmin’s leg starts bouncing on the floor. He’s never been a particularly angry guy, his emotions are always in check. Usually with situations that get him upset, he lets it roll off his shoulders.

But that’s when it’s about him. This is about you.

You, who finally stood up for yourself and you’re getting shit for it.

The sound of the plate and mug being placed on the coffee table hits his ears.

“Minnie,” you say gently, letting your hand slide up his arm. “I think you’re more upset about those texts than I am.”

Seungmin huffs and bites his lip. “How could he say that shit about you?”

“I wounded his fragile ego, that’s why,” you chuckle dryly.

Your touch is soothing. Like an ice pack on a burn.

“What happened?” he asks, looking over at you. “What happened between the two of you?”

You gulp and avoid his eyes. “After last night when we got home, I didn’t say a word to him, I didn’t have the energy for it. I dropped him off at his apartment and he got so mad that I didn’t stay the night.”

Your legs pull up under you, your hand drops from Seungmin’s arm to wrap around yourself. “He came over tonight since we usually have dinner on Saturdays together and just… everything went to shit before we ate. I told him how he spoke to me and acted yesterday was unacceptable and he just went off on me.”

You’re right, though. It was unacceptable. It was uncalled for, rude, toxic, disgusting, all the above.

“I said I was done. He blew up; spouting all this nonsense about how he’s the best I’ll ever have and blah blah blah.” You pause and let out another dry laugh of disbelief. “It’s funny cause he’s actually the worst. Even my dumb high school and college boyfriends were better than him.”

A small furl of jealousy bubbles in Seungmin’s gut, but he stamps it down.

“Why were you with him for so long, Y/N?” The questions comes out of his mouth before he could stop it. You stayed with the guy for four months, about to hit five.

You swallow thickly. “Loneliness?” You shrug and fiddle with your hands in your lap. “I… I liked the way he looked at me in the beginning I guess. It made me feel wanted.”

How was he looking at you any differently than Seungmin was? He stares at you every single day with his big puppy dog eyes just waiting for you to look up!

Just look up!

“I was…” Again, you hesitate, trailing off and biting your lip nervously. “I was trying to get over someone else truth be told. After pining for so long I couldn’t take the one sidedness of it.”

Seungmin feels his heart crack. God, how much more of this can he take? Even before all of this, someone else had your heart?

“So, it’s like I’m back to square one again.” You run your fingers through your already messy hair.

“You still have feelings for this person?”

“Yeah.” You look around the room and then directly at Seungmin. “They never went away. Maybe that’s why I’m so upset. Not because of my ex but because I have to go back to yearning for him to just look up and see how much I like him.”

He’s trying so hard to be a good friend, he really is. His happiness at your freedom was so short lived. He got, what? Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes of hope.

But he needs to be supportive.

“Y/N.” His voice cracks when he says your name. “You’re… amazing and beautiful and intelligent. I’m sure whoever has your heart would bend over backwards for an opportunity to be with you.”

Your eyes sparkle when he speaks.

Fuck, stop making this harder than it already has to be, please.

“You think so?”

“I know so. If it’s a guy, you just gotta be direct. Look him right in the eye and say ‘I have feelings for you’”

You tongue your cheek and think about something for a long five seconds before speaking up again. You stare at Seungmin directly in the eye and speak.

“I have feelings for you.”

“Yeah, just like that. See? It’s easy.”

“I have feelings for you,” you repeat with a little more feeling. He can’t look at you anymore. It hurts too much.

Seungmin’s head hangs down a bit, hair falling in front of his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N. You got the hang of it.”

“No, Seungmin.” You crawl closer to him on the couch until you’re kneeling directly next to him. You take his face in both of your hands. “I have feelings for you.”

What?

Is the world still turning? Is he awake? Is he interpreting this right? Are you still practicing?

“Huh?” Smooth, Kim, smooth.

“Seungmin, I have feelings for you. I have for so long and I was so scared of losing you as a friend so I didn’t say anything.”

His brain is malfunctioning. His heart surely is going to explode from the fluctuations in his heart rate.

Him? You had feelings for him this whole time? Is he breathing?

“It just seemed like you didn’t feel the same, so I kept it to myself and tried to move on. I’m sorry if this makes things awkward between us.”

“Me?” The word is hoarse when it comes out.

“Yes, you.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Yes, Seungmin.”

“Oh my god.”

He says it under his breath as his body acts on its own. He grabs your face the same way you’re holding his and smashes your lips together.

It feels so right. Your lips are so soft against his, he could cry. They’re everything he dreamed they would be and more. No amount of daydreaming compares to how it feels to finally kiss you.

His bottom lip slots between both of yours while his hands slide all over your body. They start on your face just for one to thread in your hair while the other comes down to your waist.

Your mouths open and close like mirror images of one another, lips sliding over each other. Your own fingers slide into his hair while the other caresses his jawline as it moves.

He could die right now and he would be happy. Anyone could tell him anything and it would be okay.

Seungmin would give you the world if you asked him to. He’s absolutely on cloud nine, his head in space.

Small hums and groans come from both of your throats the longer your mouths slide over one another. He’s never felt more alive, more awake than he does right now.

He can barely feel his legs.

Seungmin didn’t even realize how much he was leaning into you until you lose your balance and fall back on the couch, his body quickly coming up to hover over yours.

Your lips don’t stay separated for long at all.

When they meet again, your tongue slides along his lips and Seungmin swears he hears angels singing. You taste like tea and happiness.

Your tongues tango for a while. His chest flush against yours. Can you feel his heart hammering against his rib cage? Can you taste the years of desperation on his lips?

All this time he thought you were just ships passing in the night.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N,” he murmurs into your mouth. You suck on his bottom lip and a shiver races up Seungmin’s spine. “You’re the one that needed to look up, idiot.”

Pulling back, you stare up at him like he hung the moon.

“Do you mean it?” Your fingers trail over his face, tracing the soft lines of his features. When they run over his lips, he purses and kisses the pads.

“Every word.” He grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. “These past few months have been torture, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for so long for you to see me like I see you.”

You gulp and stare deeply into those big, brown puppy dog eyes. “I can’t believe it. This is real, right?”

With a laugh, Seungmin pinches your side with his free hand. You yelp and giggle.

“I should ask you to pinch me.”

You grin wider.

His eyes fall to your lips. Seungmin is only able to control himself for another three seconds before he dips down and captures them with his own once more.

Your smile doesn’t fade even as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so contagious that his own grin blossoms against your sweet lips.

The long, heated kisses dissolve into delicate pecks since neither of you can control your happiness. Your lips are stretched too wide to properly interlock them.

The happiness shared between your hearts is overflowing. The dams that were holding back your feelings for years have finally burst.

No longer do you need to hang onto fleeting moments and cling to hoodies forgotten at your apartment.

You sigh. Your happy little sigh huffs out of your nose.

Seungmin’s heart sings with joy, it grows wings and flies from his chest and into orbit. You’re everything he ever needed.

And all he needed to do was look up.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“God, I love you too.”

[cmdrfupa]

“Perfect match.” Was all Shoko could say before she introduced you to Kento upon his return to the world of sorcery. It was always no marriage until he retired from his role and Nanami knew he should’ve kept his word. But you were a welcomed change to his always-exhausted mental and a challenge to his monotonous life. He just wishes he could pinpoint where it went wrong.

Hello! Refer here for information about this ongoing series! I appreciate you reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy ✨

REFORM

We're only a train ride away. Love you, and come to us anytime.- Iori

You read the attached card to the cotton percale duvet set Utahime and Shoko got you months ago. They never saw the light of day during your separate room trial. Nanami and you seemed to find yourself in the comfort of each other's arms against your therapist's better judgment every time.

The room echoed as you shuffled around, throwing the rest of your undergarments in your duffel. The new room smell had been gradually overtaken in the past few weeks by the orchid-scented soy wax candle you had treasured in your once-shared bedroom.

"It is important to maintain physical and emotional boundaries while you sort through your emotions."

Your brain was buzzing with your therapist's words as you rechecked the dresser's drawers for good measure. 

You were used to the house being cold, as you and Nanami agreed that anything above 68 degrees was inhumane. But the lack of furniture in the guest bedroom brought it to a bone-chilling cold. 

Air humidifier quietly hummed in the distant corner, the last bag of belongings on your shoulder as you walked down the hall one more time.

"Ken?" The living room showed no signs of him, and his keys were gone.

Was probably for the best he wasn’t there.

You left the note against a short glass on the wet bar in den. “Can’t say he didn’t see it if it’s sitting here.”

No argument. No tempting to keep you home.

You were gone.

  Divorce was going to be your demand until your mother said that was too harsh for a couple who hadn't tried counseling yet. Initially, you and Nanami decided on therapy and a few more date nights.

After the first two sessions, you both promised to make the pertinent changes to save your marriage. You almost had a bit of faith for a while as you made minor adjustments per your therapist's suggestion. But that never occurred from his end. 

You asked for a separation that would become legal once you figured out the following steps: living arrangements or possibly going back to your sorcerer clan and training whoever Gojo sent to you. Your options were not only limited but far more depressing than you realized. That night, Kento watched you move your belongings to the guest bedroom, giving up on making things right far too soon.

Living in the same home but being separated created a surreal and often uncomfortable atmosphere Nanami didn't expect. 

After six years of marriage, a sense of familiarity came with your daily routine—the smell of Chickory coffee brewing promptly at 6:30 as you hummed your gentle tunes, precisely putting on your makeup was his wake-up call. However, the feeling of being disconnected and distant became far more prominent when he reached over, and only a decorative pillow was in your place. Your hums were too far away to enjoy. Another rough morning. He sat on the side of the bed, gruffing as he scooted his feet into the slippers.

The sleep wore off as he walked towards the kitchen, the bright, smelling coffee filling his nostrils with each slothful step. As he hit the threshold, your familiar happy hum hit his ears. With your back to him, you stood there tasting your coffee, your robe hanging off your shoulders, your scarf wrapped to protect your hair loosely held on. "Mm. Just a little more creamer."

"Think of agreeing on scheduled times to use spaces like the kitchen. They can still make enough coffee for both of you if they like, but allow the other person time to make their coffee and leave the kitchen before you go to make yours."

The therapist gave the piss poor idea, and you ran with it. A stranger telling you what needs to be done regarding your marriage. And yet he did it because he wanted to make anything work with you, even if he genuinely thought it was a waste. You knew him; you knew everything about him. You'd known him at his worst and wanted marriage counseling to help pick apart something good from Kento's perspective.

He turned and stood in the hallway, putting himself directly in line with you. His heart ached, wishing he could steal a kiss and wrap himself around you the same way he had for years.

_____________________

The ticking clock filled your den's silence as you and Kento took a break from verbally jousting for the fourth time that week.

He'd come home after not calling you back much earlier in the day. You’d heard about a special grade curse roaming between the school and the local city hall he volunteered to see about. No communication, no sign of remorse.

"We've made strides." Kento slumped back into the chair, watching how your leg shook with each empty moment he created. "I'm home more; only every other Saturday is mandatory now, and we've been going to counseling. Is this not enough for you? Am I the only one expected to change?"

"We've gone to two sessions. Which the first you left early and the second you showed up in the last 15 minutes." Patience had run thin and the grace you were always willing to extend had worn. "You avoid discussing scheduling the next one even when its a good day for you. I have done everything but change my fucking first name for the sake of trying, Kento."

Kento swirled the bourbon absentmindedly. The conversation was going in circles yet again. "I have changed everything you've complained about. I asked what you needed from me as your husband, and you gave me nothing to work with other than you want to know how I'm feeling. Honey. I'm fucking tired is how I’m feeling and this isn’t helping. What's missing?"

You could only muster a laugh to keep the flood of tears from invading. "I feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything more than half the time, Ken. Like I only get parts of you while everyone else gets all of you. Do I not deserve that? What's changed? What are we doing?"

His rich eyes found yours for a quick moment. "We're doing what you've been begging me to do. We're talking now."

—————————

"Well fuck, you said that? No wonder she's staying with Utahime."

A bitter taste punched the back of Nanami's throat before he looked over in Gojo's direction. 

It had been four months since that night, and he'd made it everyone's problem since. More annoyed than usual at work, Nanami had a quicker temper towards all staff and was facing his hell going back to an empty house night after night.

  "Despite me being the hottest, most desired person you've known since high school-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish, Nanami." Gojo sipped his piña colada and licked his lips in the most bothersome manner possible. "Despite being gorgeous and desired, I am also very knowledgeable about relationships and everyone else's business."

From the end of the bar, Kento signaled for another whiskey sour.

"Alright. Tell me what you've perceived, six eyes."

Gojo sat up straight on the bar stool as if he had an audience to entertain. "Your wife often called me when she couldn't contact you. She called me asking if I'd heard from you when you would go on missions alone. I was giving her status updates on you. Why?"

Celebratory sounds filled the bar as the college students slammed another round of shots in the brightly lit booth in the corner. 

The ring on Kentos' finger suddenly felt five sizes too small.

"Utahime, of all people, called me when you weren't answering because she showed up scared shitless." boisterous cheers filled the space as someone named Jai chugged a pint down. 

"Your partner got on a 3 1/2 hour train ride to Kyoto when she didn't hear from you. When were you upset about seeing me at your house after midnight that night? I was there because I happily drove over 6 hours back and forth to get your wife."

"Enough, Gojo," the drinks seemed weaker as he downed this one in a single gulp before getting the barkeep's attention. "Another one, please."

Gojo knew he had a few more buttons to press before he could stop. "The day after her birthday, she called Shoko and started crying. Sobbing, really." slurping the last remnants of his colada, Gojo sighed heavily.

"Gojo." Nanami gripped the glass before him, muttering his name.

"Upset that you found something to nitpick before completely shutting her out. You're a real piece of work, you know."

Gojo had no time to move before Kento grabbed him by the collar.

"If I shove the stem of this glass through your ears, how far do you think it'll go?"

"Someone's touchy, Nami." The bar quieted by a few decibels as nearby patrons watched Nanami hold Gojo by his neck. "Those whiskey sours are starting to get to that blonde head of yours." Gojo's cheeky tone was like that of a toddler who had gotten someone in trouble.

Gojo cheesed as Kento let go of his collar.

Nanami downed the remainder of his drink, and the bartender wasted no time making his next one.

"Wanna talk now instead of making empty threats?" Gojo drank a sip of water before licking the sugary rim of his glass.

"I fucked up, Gojo." He was left with this: a late Saturday evening at a college bar, talking to Satoru about his failing marriage. Patting his breast pocket, Nanami seethed at the words written on the note you left him. "She said she doesn't recognize her Kento. That I'ma ghost of him or whatever."

Part of Gojo hated seeing Nanami sulking this way. Sure, they never saw eye to eye for years, but you were a common factor in their lives.

A positive one. And Nanami knew just as well as Gojo that they were the two men who knew you best.

You were hurting, but so was Nanami. And Gojo knew why.

"Nanami. Talk with your wife."

"We talked every damn day."

"No. You talk to her like she’s some intern you have a grudge against. It would help if you talked with her like a man who's afraid of losing his wife."

"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Nanami managed to squint, his vision officially tanking as Gojo became a slightly hazy figure of himself.

"Elle magazine talks about shitty husbands pretty frequently. I read it often and can confidently say you aren't alone in the shitty husband community."

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. You tossed around for 3 hours before getting up to sit out on the balcony, hoping the late-night breezes would calm you. The clouds broke sparingly, allowing the moon to peek through while you watched the stars try to shimmer through the thick blankets.

Four months of staying at Utahime's old home back in Kyoto led you to return to Tokyo because you knew putting off the divorce was doing more harm than good. You weren't running away. You just needed a break from seeing him in every hallway or advisory meeting.

With some help from Gojo, you hired a great lawyer who drew up the divorce papers within 12 hours, giving you a chance to serve them yourself when you stopped thinking about how the opportunity to do it would come up.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you shuffled back in, locking up until a recognizable tone struck your ears.

"It's your husband. Please open the door," A familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door.

"Please. Gojo told me you were back in town staying with Shoko." His words slurred as he pounded on the door. The neighbors were definitely not pleased to hear a drunken ruckus this late.

"I need to see you. I need you." A thud got you to move swiftly to the door, opening it to find Kento with his forehead against the wall next to it. "Thank fuck." He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed more than the earth.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive?" The warm air of the hallway rushed into the condo as you stood in the doorway.

He was like a lost puppy. Warm eyes low like he couldn't look at you without guilt eating him alive. "No. No no. Gojo got me a cab." You saw blood on his hand as he brought his phone to your face. "Can you tell him I made it safely?"

Gojo got him a cab. Here. You'd be talking to him about this stunt later.

"Ken, you're bleeding."

"It's just a small scratch. It'll be fine."

Come in, and I'll wake Shoko to look at it."

"She already hates me for being a shit husband to you." The gash in his palm wasn't urgent, but the amount of blood on his arms showed it still needed attention. He finally dared to look you in the eyes as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"Can you fucking stop and let me help?" You tried hiding your longing behind your voice's assertion, but that didn't escape him. He couldn't stop trying to push you further away. Distance, at this point, felt like the only solution.

"I'm fine. Stop." The firmness in his voice forced you to take half a step back.

This wasn't a buzz from a few drinks with Shoko after work; this was Kento hammered, which was hard to get to but possible.

This state of drunkenness only happened once, and it was after being released from the hospital post-Shibuya. You watched him drink himself to sleep for months, telling yourself everyone has a vice while trying to have understanding. But it became too much for you and everyone close. Nanami's drinking was getting unmanageable yet again.

You grabbed his uninjured hand and led him into the apartment. Inert moonlight streamed across the room, and the dimly lit recessed lights were your only lighting source. You placed him in front of the kitchen sink, letting the water run over the wound. "Stand here, don't move your hand from under the water, and don't talk."

He watched you march away to rustle through the guest bathroom cabinet before emerging with a first aid kit. Without uttering a word, you stood beside him, watching the pinkish-red water circle down the drain until it cleared.

Gently patting his hand dry with gauze before spraying saline solution around the wound, you broke the silence. "How did you cut your hand."

A deep breath that smelt of pure alcohol filled the gap between you. "Grabbed a broken glass at the bar." hiccuping, Kento pressed up against the counter. "Broke it after some guy said Gojo and I were a cute couple."

Surely, you misheard him. "What? You tried to stab him?"

Kento smirked as he watched your bewildered eyes. "I'm not one for stabbing. You know I'm more of a slashing type of man, baby."

It's like the wires in your mind got sewn together. The tired smile growing on your face soothed that itch Nanami had for weeks. "I suppose."

Nanami scanned your arms and shoulders as you remained in close contact with his left side. He knew your skin was just as soft as it was months ago. Supple and warm when he would run his knuckles across your thighs during his evening unwind. A dull pain from the cold feeling of tweezers in his hand brought him back. "Shit." grunting through the uncomfortable feeling.

Small glass fragments clanged into the dish as you dropped it. "None of the pieces got too deep into the wound."

As you finished cleaning the wound, a few drops of blood surfaced. You quickly grabbed another clean gauze, tenderly covering the wound before applying gentle pressure to Nanami's palm. His fingers instinctively gripped around your hand as if holding on to you would make sure you wouldn't vanish from his side.

The close proximity made your throat dry as you dried the wound again, patting it more than necessary to avoid his knowing gaze. "Almost done." You opened the sterile pad and placed it on his wound, holding it down while you tried unraveling the rolled bandage with the chin and hand combo.

He watched you intently, knowing that all he needed was for you to look at him. He was burning to see a sign that you still hadn't totally given up on him. Kento needed to know he had someone with his best interest at heart, even if he couldn't be vulnerable without being an intoxicated mess.

You carefully tore the bandage and expertly wrapped it around his hand before tying it off. "And there we go." Trying to prolong the cleanup only made the air heavy while Kento watched you closely. For every two steps you took, he took four to stay close to you. "Are you close enough?" the heat from his upper body radiated on your back as you wiped the counter down. "Unfortunately, no. I'd rather be under your skin and inside of you, but I'm trying to work on earning that privilege back." "Kento." "Yes, my love?" Any attempt at a casual facade was gone, unable to shake the emotions that threatened to consume you both. "You can take the guest bedroom, and I'll take the couch. It's too late for you to go anywhere." Kento closed in a few inches. "We could both sleep in the guest bed. Ample space, no?" The low lights in the kitchen cast a warm, intimate glow over the room, and you became keenly aware of the scent of whiskey and his Initio Phsychadelic Love cologne as you moved closer. "Nothing more than sleeping." "Nothing more than sleeping. What else would we do in bed?"

There would always be a chance of falling back into the same routine. Apologies, sex that silenced the blaring alarms in your mind, a week of cohabitating in peace before the cycle of low-effort communication and quiet dinners would resurface. But, you allowed the only intimacy you yearned for the last month.

His arms surround you like a tight-fitting sweater taking you in. His arms were your shelter, and your heartbeat motivated him to live. You'd settled into the queen-sized bed after both successfully fighting off very apparent sexual tension marinating between you both. His lips traveled across your chest. Faint kisses left on every available part of your skin as you combed through his light locks. "I want to go back to therapy. I promise I'll be open and try." The feeling of his stubble-covered chin rested on your sternum. Looking down to meet those glossy brown eyes that showed exhaustion and the early stages of sobering up.

"I want honesty. No half-ass truths while there, Kento." "No half-ass truths from me as long as you are transparent about your thoughts. You can't HR yourself out of sharing your raw thoughts." Sticking your pinky out, you waited for Kento to link his. No hesitation, he locked his pinky around yours.

"We'll make it work. I swear on my life.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Okay, nobody does this because they want to be friends.

It smells like new carpet in here. Eddie looks around his new bedroom, all his stuff is there. It’s all neat, orderly. There are curtains hung, the bed is made with new sheets, his books are on the shelf and salvaged records all neat. Even his sweetheart is hung on a shiny new mount on the wall.

“Steve would, he’s a really good guy.”

Billy doesn’t answer, but Eddie can feel the look he has on his face. Well. If Billy had a face at the moment – well. It’s kind of complicated.

Eddie sets out his meds in a neat line on the dresser – only a few more days to go and he’ll be free of those too. He can hear Steve rattling around in the kitchen and heads down the hall to check on him. He’s putting something in the oven, “it’s jut a casserole thing, but there’ll be enough left over for Wayne and I figured you’d probably want to eat and get some rest?”

“Yeah, sounds...really good. Thanks, Steve. I really like, appreciate you doing all this, my room, bringing my stuff, visiting, the ride from the hospital, you know, all of it. I just...had to say it, it means a lot, you know.”

Steve smiles at him, twisting the towel he’s holding into a long rope, “I...it’s no problem.”

You’re doing that thing again. The staring at each other thing again.

No we’re not.

You literally are – and by the way he just looked at your mouth.

Eddie huffs a laugh, can’t help it really, and Steve does the same and looks away and...okay. Steve is blushing. Even Eddie can see that.

“Stay for dinner?”

“I made it for you and Wayne -”

Eddie shrugs, “there’ll be enough, maybe we can add something to it?”

“Okay I’ll – yeah. I’ll see if there’s anything in the-”

“I can help-”

“You should sit, you should be resting-”

This is painful.

“You’re a guest.”

“Eddie,” Steve stands with his hands on his hips, Eddie raises his hands in surrender, but goes to sit at the table so he can still see Steve.

“So...you watched the game with Wayne?”

“Oh, yeah, it was pretty good.”

Ask him how it went and I guarantee you I can get him to kiss you by bed time.

Eddie feels his face flame, knows he’s flushed red, tries to hide it behind his hair as he nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Here, man, don’t die,” and Steve puts a glass of water on the table in front of him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he does.

Don’t say shit like that.

In his head, Billy is laughing hysterically.

You really think he likes me?

Yeah man, I really think he likes you. You are gay though, right?

Uhm. Yeah.

Well you don’t sound so sure there.

Well I’ve never, you know.

Man I am literally the ghost of a dead dude living in your head, who the fuck am I going to tell?

In the kitchen, Steve starts humming as he peels potatoes.

I’ve never done anything, with anyone. Ever. So pretty sure I am but I’ve never, you know, tested it.

Huh.

Limited options, you know? Also, not exactly the most desirable, you know, reputation, I guess.

Doesn’t seem to be putting Harrington off.

What about you?

What about me?

Well, I mean, say, hypothetically, I kiss a dude...we are kind of cohabiting here, would that...bother you?

Aw, sweetheart, cute of you to ask...Nah, I swing either way. Eddie nearly chokes on his water, and Billy laughs. I mean, not been with a dude since I left Cali, you’re damn right about the limited options thing. But yeah, I’m not fussy, getting off is getting off, and I figure if I can taste your food and feel it when you scratch your ass...Besides, we’re walking around in your body, no ones calling me a faggot, I’m dead.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry, what?”

In the kitchen, Steve is putting potatoes on to boil, Eddie clears his throat, “I said, so tell me about that Pacers game you watched with Wayne?”

Steve smiles, big and bright, “you really want to know?”

Say you could listen to him all day.

“Yeah, if it’s you talking I could...I could listen all day.”

Steve smiles, then sort of looks away and fiddles with his hair before he comes over to the table. If anything Eddie would say he looks suddenly shy.

Bingo.

“Well, they beat the Celtics a couple of days ago, a hundred and sixteen to a hundred and nine, so they were fresh off a fair win and it showed. Absolutely smashed the Nets, a hundred and twenty three to ninety nine. Fleming and Stipanovich both made really decent showings…”

Part Six

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[neonovember]

Carmen definitely has black cat energy, maybe more akin to something like a stray cat (saying that lovingly) but definitely is more cat boyfriend than dog boyfriend. Have to leave him alone and gain his trust and then he’ll be curious about you, and then won’t leave you alone 🥰😭

this is completely true, carmen is kinda stand-offish and reserved at first and he is horrible at replying and calling you back because let’s face it he doesn’t really know how to communicate properly. but even after all that, all of that distance and reservations you force him to come out.

you drag him to a nice hole in the wall lunch spot, you take him for drinks, and then something just clicks in Carmen. Once he realises you aren’t going to leave him stranded he completely opens himself to you, and don’t try and tell me he wouldn’t be the most clingy mf after 😭 this man is literally a toddler yall!

So why not a little drabble down below? A sneak peak if you will. it’s likes 200 worth of word vomit and there’s allusion to smut to enjoy ;)

*

The busy streets of the farmers market spilled into the morning traffic, as Carmen rushes between crowds with two cups of coffee grasped against his chest.

They burned, really fucking bad, probably searing a third degree burn right under his pelvis but god did he not care, his legs ran with the wind behind them as he tried making it back to your shared apartment as quick as possible.

He had only left the warm bed where you lay 10 minutes ago, only after you had thought about ‘how good a coffee would be snuggled up here’ and Carmen had shouldered on a flimsy fleece jacket and his house slippers before racing out of the house to fulfill your request.

He didn’t regret it now, but he could practically feel his skin itch with a desire to feel you against him again. There had been a celebratory dinner of sorts for the beef after it got recognised as Chicago’s up and coming restaurant of the decade. Carmen couldn’t wait till you both made it to your apartment and just took your right there in the backseat of his car that now stood stationary in the parking lot.

Carmen can still taste you on his tongue and now he’s grateful he took a much needed day off to spend it with you.

Opening the apartment door, the smell of melted butter and grease washes over Carmen’s senses. Flipping of his slippers, Carmen past the kitchen, where used dishes lay on the stove top and the ingredients for pancakes lay open.

“Baby? I got our coffee?” Carmen yells out, and when there is no answer a sweat begins to break on Carmen’s forehead.

“H-honey? You there!?” Carmen yells louder, looking through the living room before entering the bedroom with haste.

“I’m right here Carmy, it’s alright” The sweet saccharine melody of your voice pulls Carmen from whatever fear inducing nightmare he fell into.

You’re here, back where your supposed to be. Wrapped around the covers that smelled of the both of you.

“Made us pancakes” You smile, the sun streaming in through the linen curtains so they dusted all over your gorgeous face.

If Carmen could shift his eyes away from you (which he can’t) he would see the pretty tower of pancakes dripping with syrup and berries plated on the bedside table. Hell, if he saw how well done they were you feared the coffee might get thrown across the room and Carmen will drag you up to his face.

“Got us coffee” Carmen whispered, placing them to the side, forgotten as his mind was consumed with feeling you against him.

“Just get in here already” You giggle, before the sheets are thrown to the side and the warmth of Carmen’s body encapsulates you once again.