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deandoesthingstome · 1 year ago

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Gothic Fantasy

Pairing: Vampire!August x Reader

Summary: Are you in over your head, little girl?

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v (doggy style), anal toy/anal sex, dom!August, Sir and princess, monster fucking (which involves at least one bite, right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You took your time with a little extra research, but the ancient myth vibe of the story you created out of your experience with Sy was a hit and your werewolf!boyfriend tale had been picking up steam thanks to the upcoming holiday. Subscriptions were rolling in which left you both excited and anxious.

sendmeanangel: i have enough to cover at least two more stays even if nothing more comes in at this point MNstrluvr: how could nothing more come in? sendmeanangel: look, i’m having a great time, but at some point in my life i should probably stop paying for monster sex and get a boyfriend, right? darkgothnightengale: that time doesn’t have to be right now. Besides, how will you ever go back to some regular guy? sendmeanangel: very funny. This can’t be a sustainable way to go through life. I just worry people will start feeling like they are owed new monster fucking tales every week because they subscribed to read the ones already out there. I don’t want to let people down or make them think they got played somehow MNstrluvr: what if when you get to the point where you think you're through, you make that clear to any new subscribers? And just because you aren’t fucking a new monster at the hotel every week doesn’t mean you can’t keep writing amazing stories that your followers will love darkgothnightengale: you can write whatever you want when you want. There’s nothing on the site that promises content on any kind of consistent basis and people can always stop subscribing if they feel cheated, which is stupid because they are still getting quality content. you have a voice that people like to read. It doesn’t have to be about shapeshifters or vampires sendmeanangel: speaking of which MNstrluvr: YES!!! I’m so glad you decided to try him next. I cannot wait. He looks so fucking hot sendmeanangel: yeah, well walter continues to be completely booked. besides, they all look fucking hot lol MNstrluvr: there’s just something even more dangerous in his eyes. He looks totally unhinged. In a good way. darkgothnightengale: the best way sendmeanangel: you guys are crazy

“It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for signing the T&C online this time. I hope you had a chance to look through the extra restrictions on this room. It's very important that they are adhered to.”

Were you being called out? Did the hotel somehow know your two previous hosts had broken rules for you? Hopefully no one was getting into trouble.

“We simply don't want any mishaps,” as if in answer to the questions swirling in your mind. Though it still didn't tell you if they knew.

The desk clerk handed you another heavy iron key. Where the mechanism to open the forest room last month had been fairly plain and rustic, this one was filled with intricate lacy patterns. You wanted to snap a picture of the antique gothic skeleton key and send it to your online friends but decided it might be too much like bragging. After all, this would be the third fantasy visit they'd talked you into. Not that you needed much prodding anymore. That they couldn't partake in reality was making you feel bad, no matter how happy for you your friends said they were.

You made your way down the hall after exiting the elevator and stopped before the heavy wooden arched door full of intricately carved details that matched the key in your hand. The room was dark when you stepped in, but before you could reach for a light switch, a deep voice spoke from across the room, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're late."

"I only just checked in."

"And no apology, I see. It's five after. We were to start on the hour. I assumed that was clear, but maybe I'll need to remind you of the importance of punctuality during our time together."

A finger snap sounded from the place in the dark where you heard the voice and flames lit up a fireplace nearby. Your eyes were drawn there, hoping the glow of the flame would illuminate your host, but no one appeared. All you saw was the carved stone of the mantle and wrought iron candelabras filled with fat pillars that were lighting one by one as if by magic as well.

As the warm light began to bathe the room, you felt a rush of air behind you and heard the door to the room slam shut. You turned to see nothing again, though you heard the click of a lock.

"Did you at least come prepared?" the voice sounded near your ear, though again, no one was to be seen as you spun once more to face into the room.

"I did," you answered into the space in front of you, even as you peered left and right. Where the fuck was he?

“Right here,” he spoke from behind you again, and this time you could see as well as feel the hands that gripped your upper arms and held you tight against the solid form behind you. You glanced at the fingers curled around your biceps and licked your lips, thinking of where you’d rather have them. Caressing your face. Around your throat. Thrust deep inside…”Before we get there, I believe you owe me an apology.”

And now you had a choice. How would that apology go? Remain standing like an insolent brat or kneel to the man you wanted to dominate you this evening? Not that he wouldn’t dominate the brat as well, but maybe you didn’t need it to be so demanding this first time. His fingers loosened as you began to turn toward him but you sunk to your knees before you saw his face, so it wasn’t until you lifted your chin to plead forgiveness that you had the opportunity to drink him in.

He was dressed in sharp black pants with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. A neatly pressed black button up shirt with french cuffs and mother of pearl links sat behind a black silk brocade vest with mother of pearl buttons. In the light, you couldn’t tell for sure, but the pattern in the vest seemed to match the key as well. A blood-red silk tie paired with a handkerchief peeking from the front of his jet black jacket that set off his broad shoulders nicely and was buttoned at the right height to taper his waist.

But his face. You inhaled to keep yourself steady before you spoke the words requesting his forgiveness. The calming breath helped you take in more of his visage without fainting on the spot.

His jawline was strong. And unlike the fuller beards of Walter or Sy, this man’s facial hair consisted of a five o’clock shadow and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark hair was swept back to the side, though you could tell if he hadn’t styled it perfectly, the curl would take over. You’d love to see it sometime. Maybe even tonight.

What caught your breath in your throat was his piercing blue eyes and it took you a few moments to realize he was laughing at you. You had to fight to gain control from his mesmerizing gaze, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he already was.

“I said," Apology accepted” and you can stand now, princess. Show me what you came with.” He helped you to stand, then drew his hand down your arm as he took a step back. He dropped your hand and motioned toward you before he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head as if to say “go ahead now.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if you’d made the right ensemble choice. Though it matched his outfit perfectly somehow, you were hesitant to bare so much to him so soon. But there was no turning back now. Well, of course there was, but you didn’t want to. At best, you could imagine excusing yourself to use the restroom and changing into a different outfit.

You undid the belt on your long, black trench coat, then popped the buttons one by one until you could open the flaps and shrug the coat off your shoulders and down your arms. You were about to let it drop to the floor, but something made you stop and hold the fabric in your hands at your sides.

“May I take your coat?” he asked like the gentleman he was portraying, holding out a hand and you reached it over to him, before smoothing your hands down the body of your black strapless gown, worrying away the non-existent wrinkles. A few blood-red rose embellishments nestled strategically into the delicate embroidery woven along the sheer black lace bodice of the dress, your bare skin visible only in the spots where no design was found. You released the clasps attaching the hem of the dress to the waist and allowed the full length of the black silk skirt to flow to the ground. It sported a trail of matching but larger floral adornments cascading in spiral from one hip across the front and down the other side. With the matching red silk pumps, you were a vision. You felt a rush of air and as you lifted your gaze from your dress back to him, your coat seemed to have disappeared, because it was no longer in his hands. And the look on his face told you you’d made the right choice.

“You look ravishing.” At his words of praise you forgot all about where your coat might have gotten off to.

“Is this okay?”

“If this is the attire you wished to begin in, then it’s perfect. We’ve already lost so much precious time with your late arrival.”

You stood silent, unsure if he was asking for another apology. It seemed like a bad idea to let him actually ask before you offered another, but your voice was stuck in your throat, so taken were you by his demeanor. It turned out you were wrong to wait.

“I don’t like to ask for apologies, but trust that I will whenever they are warranted. Hopefully, you’ll begin to know when you’ve crossed a line. I suppose technically, you have already apologized, so I won’t ask for another. This time.” At the admonishment, you dropped your gaze to the floor with embarrassment. “I also ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. So many lessons you’re learning already and you don’t even know my name yet. Allow me to correct that. My name is August Walker and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally.”

What did he mean by finally? Here, now, in this room when he finally shared his name and lifted your arm to kiss the back of your hand? Or had he heard stories about you too?

“May I add something to your ensemble?” You could practically hear the subtle tilt of his head in question.

“Of course,” you replied, willing your nerves to allow you to look up at him again.

“It's only, well, you look so delicious. I'm afraid I'll need a reminder, or rather, a deterrent.” His hands raised, something appearing between his fingers as if from nowhere. You noticed a wide band of heavy black embroidered ribbon with metal clasps at each end. Your chin tilted almost involuntarily to allow him room to place the choker around your neck.

“You don’t want to…?” Was he not going to bite you? Did you make a mistake by not actually reading the T&C when you signed, scrolling quickly to the end of the form and checking the box as fast as you could to make sure the room wasn’t swiped from under you before you’d had a chance to complete the online booking.

“I never said that,” he replied, stepping in closer as he traced a finger around one side of your neck, down over your collarbone, and stopping just at the valley between your breasts.

“Is there a rule you’re afraid of breaking with me?” you asked, craning to bring your lips closer to his.

“I don't break the rules darling, I make them.” August returned his hand to your neck, stilling your advancement with the smallest effort.

“Well then, are you unable to actually bite me?” you asked, not sure whether you wanted him to consider this a question that crossed the line.

“Oh, I'm free to bite when and where you want. Many foolishly ask for the neck. In those moments, I usually oblige.”

“But…” you began.

“But there is a sweeter spot, more delicate, most delicious. This,” he let his finger run along the material around your throat, ”will help me make the better choice for both of us.”

You drew in a quick breath through your nose, causing a shudder in your shoulders as you realized you’d been holding your breath while he hinted at where he’d prefer to bite you. You’d chosen the dress specifically because it bared so much of your body near your neck that you’d hoped he couldn’t help but want to taste you. You foolishly never considered how much more bare you’d need to be before he was able to see the spot he wanted.

His dark chuckle unnerved you, but he quelled your apprehension with an invitation to join him at the dinner table. You’d completely forgotten that this experience had promised an evening meal, but honestly you assumed that was just some clever play on words. That you were to be the meal. He escorted you to a corner of the room near the fireplace, where a sumptuous feast had been set, and deposited you on one side of the table before taking a seat across from you.

“Would you care for some wine this evening?”

“Wine sounds lovely,” you answered, suddenly curious if he’d be drinking and eating with you. You watched as he lifted a decanted red and filled your glass, only to replace the crystal container onto the table before pouring a glass of his own from a dark brown glass bottle. He lifted his glass to toast your evening.

You watched carefully as he brought the goblet to his lips and drank, noticing that no obvious fangs appeared as he opened his mouth, though his canines did seem a little longer than you were used to. At least until recently that was. The men at this hotel all seemed to have been genetically gifted with glorious canine teeth and you weren’t complaining in the least.

“Now, what can I offer you to eat?” Cut fruit sat in open bowls alongside a tray of sliced meats and cheeses. He began to lift the covers off several porcelain serving dishes, revealing chicken and beef dishes, as well as vegetables and roasted potatoes. At your hesitancy, he smiled, as if extremely pleased, and continued. “Or would you prefer I choose for you?”

“I’d like it very much if you would recommend something. It all looks so wonderful.”

“Would you pass me your plate?” You obliged and he ladled servings of a few of the dishes. You noted with curiosity that he was choosing everything you would have chosen for yourself and none of the items you’d already determined you didn’t want to try, though you hadn’t said a word.

You thanked him as he handed your plate back and he invited you to begin, which you did. Because he’d asked you to. As you took your first bite, you moaned at the taste in your mouth and you thought you saw him lick his lips. What you didn’t see him do was serve himself.

“Is it to your liking then?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s delicious, thank you August…may I call you August?”

“For now. Now, what shall we talk about at this very civilized dinner we’re having together?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair, goblet in one hand, as the fingers of the other drew lazy circles on the tablecloth.

“Can we talk about how it doesn’t appear you're actually going to be eating with me?” You knew it was a bold question, but you still wanted to needle him a little, see where the line was.

“You see, it’s the insolence I mind. Not the question. There is a way to go about asking what you want to know without making it seem like you are trying to anger me. Or are you? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, August,” you spoke as you placed your fork down. You had a sudden, unfortunate thought. What if you weren’t the only one who could call the whole thing off? What if your hosts had just as much right to pull out a safeword and end the liaison? You supposed, even though you were paying for the pleasure, they had to have a say in things as well. Otherwise, they were just…the thought made you shudder and not in a good way. “I am truly sorry. That was rude of me. Are you able to eat with me?”

“I am not. But I’m more than happy to enjoy your company and a more pleasant conversation while you dine. If you agree, of course.”

“Of course. Please, can we start over?”

“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” he commanded. “Continue your meal. And consider what you would like to talk about.” He took another drink and watched you with deeply penetrating eyes.

The meal was delicious and you finally figured out a topic of conversation that was neither too personal nor banal. When you made him laugh, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, as if his heavy and dark demeanor had made you nervous that this choice of hotel hosts was a mistake.

You had always been a bit enthralled with vampires. Loved reading Dracula both as published and in chronological order, as you’d heard about on Tumblr. Enjoyed the myriad of cinematic adaptations of the tale, especially the ones that played up the sensuality of the character. You really never imagined them to be real, but then again, you didn’t think werewolves or minotaurs were real either. For a brief moment, you thought back to your previous visits, letting your fork trail down with a slow descent.

“Finished?” he asked when your utensil hit the plate, eyebrow raised in question as he leaned forward preparing to scoot his chair back from the table. Before you’d even finished your nod, he was at your chair, easing it away from the table and offering you a hand to help you up.

“I think it’s quite time to get started on the rest of your lessons. Would you step to the window please?”

You turned and noticed the thick, black velvet curtains and assumed they must cover a window. You were commanded to open them, and you did, peering out into practical darkness only to see your reflection in place of any scenery. You glanced to the side of your image when you felt the fingertips at the top of your zipper, but though you knew they were attached to arms, attached to a body that was pressed right against you, adding more drag to his knuckles against your skin as he pulled the zipper down, you saw nothing in the mirrored window that would tell you another being was in the room with you.

You gasped, but he mistook it for shyness.

“I like to show off my conquests to whomever may be passing by below. We’re far enough up that no one could make out a face, but the body they’ll see,” he finished unzipping your dress and pushed it down your sides, letting it drop to a puddle of fabric at your feet. “The hint of red from these barely there panties, the silhouette of these curves.” You could feel but still not see his hands running up and down the sides of your body, his hands gripping your thighs before traveling up to cup your breasts. You watched as they bounced lightly in the reflection and smirked back at where you assumed his face would be before licking your matte red lips.

Your concentration was broken for a brief moment at the far off sound of a melancholy howl, but August didn’t let you linger on the thought. He spun you around to him and pressed you back toward the window, where you hissed when your ass came into contact with the chilly pane. How he missed the clink against the window, you’ll never know.

Then he caught your attention and you lost all concern for how exposed or cold your body might be at the moment. The change was practically imperceptible. One moment, he held your gaze with his dark and stormy eyes. In the next blink, his eyes burned red and held you rapt as he began to grin. Slowly, as his lips drew back, the fangs descended and you could swear you heard a faint click.

You probably let out a whimper when you saw him run his tongue along the sharp points and you definitely tilted your head on impulse, forgetting for a moment that he had already refused to take you there.

“I’d like you on your knees, please,” he asked, a little nicer than you imagined he had reason to be. Once you had obliged, he returned to commands. “Take me out.”

You did so gladly and without delay. Every assumption you made turned out to be right. He was just as well endowed as your other hosts, at least in human form. Which was nothing to sneeze at and you certainly weren’t kicking it out of bed.

You feasted on him as if you hadn’t just already eaten and you were happy to hear the sounds from him that told you he was enjoying it. And then he spoke to you.

“You like sucking on this cock, where everyone can see you, don’t you?”

Truth be told, it had never occurred to you before. But there was an exhibitionism option on the registration form and you clicked it in a moment of audacity. He was simply giving you what you had asked for, right? It would feel this way for any guest he had in this room, right? That feeling of being out of control while technically being in the most control? You wanted him to take it.

“Yes,” you gasped as you pulled your head back for air before diving forward to take him down your throat again.

“I knew that you would. You like being naughty, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down as you looked up at him, praying he didn’t make you take him out of your mouth just so he could hear you answer verbally. Your prayers were not answered.

“I asked you a question. Would you care to answer? Now? You know how I feel about punctuality, I trust.”

“Yes. Yes August, I’m sorry. I do. I really do like being naughty with you.”

Another howl sounded, closer this time and you thought you detected the slightest of eye rolls before August got stern again, reaching down to take hold of your upper arm and lifting you to your feet with ease.

“You’re going to call me Sir from here on out and you’re going to be naughty another way now. First, close the curtains.” He spun you around so you could grab hold of the panels and draw them towards one another. You thought you glimpsed a pair of eyes, a deep glowing amber flame in the night before you shut out the world for good for the moment.

August pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “I’ll open them again if you want, if you didn’t get enough of a taste of that. I’ll take that as far as you want to go. But you should know,... he’ll see.”

It both excited you and made you afraid. Afraid of the feelings you knew had been stirring for weeks now. And yet, you were here. In this room. With this man. As much as you thought about what might be, you also knew you wanted to experience what you could. So you’d never have to doubt or question, because you knew you’d be getting the best in the end. Could it really ever be that way? Could he ever feel the same?

“I’m good. Thank you. That’s really kind of you,” you blinked, bringing yourself back to this moment. To August. “Sir.”

“That might be the last time tonight I will be. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Sir” you answered, with no more doubt.

August took you in his arms and kissed you deep and hard, one time, before he turned you by your shoulders and gave you a firm slap on the ass. “Into the bedroom.” The ‘now” at your hesitation was punctuated with another sharp crack and you were wet, there was no doubt about it.

The hotel suite was bathed in sheer red curtains, over the window, over the ornate gothic canopy bed, draped down the black walls. Tall black metal candelabras held glowing candles to light the room. Hooks and straps and rings attached to the walls in various spots held your attention for a brief moment. You hadn’t checked that box, and now you wondered why not.

You could only see yourself trying a few new things at once.

These things tonight would be a vampire. And you’d already exposed yourself. Only one more to go, and the bondage wasn’t going to be it.

August turned you back towards him when you reached the foot of the bed, then proceeded to undress. You watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his jacket, the vest, his shirtsleeves, his shirt. You watched as it all came off, one piece at a time, designed to torture you, you were sure of it. He was fucking with you. Keeping you from seeing everything all at once.

You bit your lip, but all you wanted to say was ‘i’ve seen your dick already it’s been in my mouth please give it back.’

He finally did, ordering you to the bed on your hands and knees as he stepped his fully naked body toward you, halting at the foot of the bed to grab your head and stuff his cock right down your throat. Like he’d heard what you thought.

You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together for friction as you gyrated your hips and bobbed your head back and forth along his length. It would take barely nothing, just the slightest touch, if he would just, yeah, just…

“Oh, you did come prepared, didn’t you?”

You moaned again when you felt his fingers slide over your ass and pause to rub against the handle of the largest teardrop plug you owned. It came in a set of three, black silicone with a shiny red crystal in each handle. Up until this week, you'd only ever used the smallest while alone, but decided you needed to be ready and so had worked your way up to the largest just last night.

“Yes, Sir,” you pulled off and answered quickly, eager to get back to sucking his large member.

“What are you prepared for?” He wiggled the handle a little when he asked.

“For you to fuck my ass, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he slapped a cheek again, then smoothed his hand over the sting and down in the dip to find your aching pussy and just like you knew it would, his touch lit you on fire. He had the wherewithal to slide your thong to the side and angle two fingers so you could press back into them on your withdrawal from his dick and pull away from them, though he’d chase, on your approach. You fucked back into his hand like you were possessed and you came once more because you definitely were.

This man owned you. For tonight anyway. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t say no. No way in hell.

He pulled away and turned you to face the other direction, ass waving in the space directly in front of him as you imagined and wished and hoped he’d just fuck you, please very much. He chuckled and you blinked, imagining you’d seen him now standing at the nightstand, now right behind you again. You felt him pull your underwear all the way off. And you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and you felt him slide two fingers back inside you, felt him rub the pads of his fingers along your inner walls and you felt him find the right spot, the one that released more lubrication which he gladly gathered on his finger and smeared all over his sheathed cock before he pressed himself into you.

He fucked you for a bit before he spoke again.

“I’m going to give you what you want me to give you, and then you’re going to give me what you want to give me.” With a slap on your ass, he pulled out, grabbed your hips and flipped you to your back. You watched him discard the condom before he climbed on to the bed and stepped his knees between your legs, nudging you further up the bed so that he could lay his body on the mattress, his head on your thigh, peering at your puffy pussy.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, dipping his head down to take a taste. His tongue trailed through your folds and as his lips closed you felt a hint of the scrape of his teeth against your delicate skin. He sucked at your clit for a moment before he drew back and looked up at you.

“You still want to feel this?” he asked, and you paused for one moment to consider, that yes, yes you absolutely still wanted to know what his bite would feel like. There was really no doubt in your mind. It’s what you came here for. And you knew you needed to answer him directly or it would all be over.

“Yes, Sir. Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to feel your bite.”

It was all he needed. In a flash he was at the crease in your thigh, just outside your cunt. You felt his mouth open, felt him drag his teeth back and forth before he finally settled on a spot to sink them. Your pussy pulsed around nothing but the brief rhythmic flow of your blood drawn into his mouth.

You felt a rush of euphoria, a warmth like never before. A million stars lit up in your eyes and you could feel every molecule in your body and every one of them was in a state of bliss. You felt him take one more pull, a wave rushing across the shore of your imagination. When he stopped, it was almost as torturous as before he had begun. At least now you knew what that bliss could feel like.

It scared you a little. It felt like a drug you didn't want to mess around with. As good as it felt, you could imagine never wanting to let the feeling go. Begging for more. Offering up your body and soul to get one more taste, one more drifting orgasm.

Suddenly you were aware of the softest lick. The smallest peck of the lips. When you looked up at you, a stain of blood still remained on his lips and he saw you moan, saw you begin to writhe and strain up, even against the voice in your head that told you it was wrong, and it was all he could do to turn away.

“Please August,” you begged, forgetting what role you were in.

“Princess, not for a million dollars. Not for ten million. There is literally nothing you could offer me that would make me break that rule.”

“What rule, August? What can’t you do for me?” you pleaded for an answer, pressing yourself up to your knees, unaware that the rush you were experiencing had nothing to do with the way you thought you felt about August in the moment, and everything to do with the essence he used to ease the pain of the skin break, numb the feeling of loss, and reseal the wound in the aftermath.

“I get the feeling you really didn’t read the T&C, darling. If you had you would know, in this room, this suite,” he emphasized, as if he’d had to make that clarification before, “I cannot feed you. Even if what you’ve scented is your own blood. It’s too dangerous for you to taste it. Full of my saliva. Mixed together, it’s too potent for you.”

You were distraught and he was … was he amused?

“But I’ve given you what you asked for. Are you still ready to give me what you want?” He waited a few moments, allowing you to come to grips with the reality of the situation. You had slipped over a line, though it didn’t sound like this was something he hadn’t experienced before. A naive young thing, determined to play out a school girl fantasy, relive the stories she made up about being ravished and taken by the Count, made to be his bride.

With a small shake of your head, something cleared its way to the forefront of your mind. Of course he couldn’t feed you and of course you didn’t really want him to. It was a fantasy. That’s it. That’s all. You could only take this so far.

Once he saw you understood where the line was, August's chuckle was sinister. “You can still have something new. I’m more than happy to accommodate that request. As a matter of fact, I think that’s really the only reason you came here tonight, isn’t that right?”

Oh, he was good. That’s for sure. The way he was subtly shifting the priority of the night. Technically speaking, the only thing you’d really wanted was the bite. And he’d already given that to you. So if you were up for one more game…

“That’s right.”

He grabbed your chin and stared directly into your eyes. “That’s right, what?”

“That’s right, SIr.”

“Good girl. Lay back down. I’ll be right back.”

You wanted to kiss him goodbye as he let go of your face and appeared to float away from you. When he returned from the bathroom, his face was fresh and free of any temptation.

“Alright, princess. Hands and knees again, darling. Bring that ass right on over here,” he directed you back to the edge of the bed, ass once again in the air while you rested on your forearms.

August took his time. Warmed you up with a few more light taps that grew to harsh stings that you couldn’t stop squirming for. And you squirmed again when he tugged and twisted and pulled on the handle, teasing the plug almost all the way out before pushing it back in and then repeating the exquisite torture. You couldn’t hold still until he’d finally pulled it all the way out and pressed two lubed fingers into your puckered hole, and it was only because you needed a moment. Needed to let the sensation settle. Needed to relax to let him in deeper. Let another finger in. It wasn’t long before you were fucking yourself back on his hand again. ‘Same but different’ was all your mind could cobble together.

“Please, Sir,” you managed to gasp out in a moment of clarity. If you never asked, would he have just kept you dangling like this all night? “Please fuck my ass.”

“There you go, princess. You’ve found your manners finally.” He pulled his fingers out and you heard the familiar tear of another wrapper. Felt more lube. And finally, finally had the tip of what you knew was his extremely large cock pressed against your entrance.

It was easy to relax. He’d been prepping you for this for what felt like hours. It took nothing more than for you to release the deep breath you’d taken and he was past the now-less-tight ring and moving further inside you, slowly and with purpose. That purpose was to get you comfortable with the feeling, loosen you up further, and get you begging for more of him. Faster. Harder. Please, Sir. Please! More!

He obliged and it was not much longer before you felt the familiar coil tightening in a brand new way. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You were breaking protocol and screaming his name instead of Sir, but as he came himself, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker #vampire!august #vampire!august walker #vampire!august x reader #vampire!august walker x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #gothic fantasy #mine #deandoesthingstome

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green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle · 3 months ago

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NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN (oneshot)

Aventurine x ex girlfriend!reader

He would gamble his own life before ever risking your relationship but his dangerous job forced him to give you up, shattering both of your hearts in the process. Months later Sigonian notices you on one of the boujee parties he got invited to as an IPC representative. Motivated by yearning and alcohol in his veins Aventurine tries his luck in love again. ANGST,SUGGESTIVE

general masterlist

Aventurine was always a little bit fed up with those expensive parties thrown by his business partners, lavish ballroom filled with pathetic people living with no purpose besides endless consumption, each of them raised in conditions he could only dream of as a child, staring at him with curiosity. Hoping that he will make a mistake, prove them he is still a lowlife they take him for despite all those privileges he now enjoyed as a high ranking IPC member. But tonight he sincerely did not care about any of this, barely acknowledging the noise around him.

He sipped on a drink more pricey than lifetime supply of food for his whole clan would be, giving out charming smiles that never reached his devoid of emotions, outstanding eyes to greedy leaches sitting alongside him at the poker table. Seemingly interested in shallow exchange of blows disguised as jokes and witty remarks young man looked around not expecting anything positive out of this meeting, maybe except meaningless material gains he forced himself to care about for the sake of keeping up his Aventurine persona.

Then he noticed elegant woman standing alone near the entrance. Fingers adorned with precious rings clenched around the glass, almost shattering it in desperate attempt to conceal how much his hands started to shake at the sight of familiar face. He thought he imagined it at first, but his broken heart wasn't playing tricks on him. Aventurine would recognize your face even after centuries, every detail of it carved into his mind, into his soul. Long, green dress tightly hugged your figure, enhancing every curve he loved to caress so much. It was really you. Just as beautiful as the day he broke your heart, five months ago. The day he saw you for the last time.

***

- Why are you doing this to me? To us? After all this time? - tears dripped down your cheeks, you were choking on your sobs. Aventurine wanted to hold you, make you feel like everything will be alright, but he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe.

- Y/n, there is nothing to talk about, stop making this so hard. I never loved you in the first place, I just needed some distraction from my work. - he was always a great liar. You seemed to believe him and he thanked Aeons for it, despite how much it hurt him to see you in pain. It's the only way to make sure they won't touch you. - It was funny to play house with you for two years but that joke got old. You no longer entertain me.

You looked into his eyes, begging for this to be a cruel prank, searching for any crumbs of love in his eyes, but they were cool and calculated. Speaking to him when he put on his poker face felt like talking to a wall. Despair slowly turned into hatred in you heart, it's fire kept you warm in spite of your ex boyfriend's cold attitude.

- I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. I can't blame you for being a shameless liar, you told me that's who you are at the beginning. I should've trusted you when you showed me your true colors. I don't even want you to apologize, I played myself investing my love in you. Now get lost Vasha. - nickname once spoken tenderly now felt like a slap to Aventurine. How do you tell somebody in front of whom you bared your soul that they were only a toy to you?

He spared you the rest of monologue he prepared and went outside with all his belongings packed in three suitcases. He glanced at the door of your shared place for the last time and whispered to himself.

- In another universe I can be just your Kakavasha, kiss your face every morning after I wake up by your side and hold you every night, love you the way you deserve to be loved, make you proud of me. Protect you with my own strong arms and build our future with them. But Aventurine can't afford such luxury, not at your expense. Not if it can cost your life.

***

Just thinking about how he treated you made him want to punch himself in the face. He tried to reason with himself. Back then his position in Stonehearts was endangered after he risked his Cornerstone during the mission in Penacony. If he lost all his power opponents he got during his work in IPC would go straight after you and he wouldn't be able to fight them off. Aventurine secured his rank and influences by now, as soon as he did that he got rid of enemies to make sure he will never feel this incapable of protecting those dear to him. Such as you.

Aventurine knew he should not hope for rekindling of your love, not after all those terrible things he has said and done, but could you blame him? All his life nothing really belonged to him, nothing but your heart you so willingly gave to him. Even money he bargained with were only borrowed from IPC, just like his new name, dignity and life. Not to mention his whole new personality, attitude worn as a mask grew so deep into him it felt like a second face. Kakavasha was a different man, the kind that knew what was really important and what was not.

One not impressed by money or political circus, instead wanting to protect and provide for those close to him, more down to earth and proud than Aventurine could ever be with all his wealth and victories. The one who stood in silence when the lights were gone, the one who observed emotionless when his fate was debated by the rest of the Stonehearts, the one who put his own body as a shield between his friends and dangers of battle.

There was not much those two men caged together in one body had in common, with few exceptions. Both had iron will and ambition forged in hellfire they went through in this lifetime, both were aware that even with all the luck in the universe their destiny was inherently unjust and both knew they will love you till death returns Kakavasha's tired soul to his family and Gaiathra Triclops in afterlife.

Alcohol circulated in his veins, clouding his mind and soothing his fears. He excused himself not caring about worried glances his coworkers sent him and rushed towards you on slightly wobbling legs, passing self-important gentlemen and overdressed ladies. Concentrated on getting to you as fast as possible he didn't plan on what to say so once your eyes crossed he just froze in place. At first your eyes widened in pure shock but right away hatred took over. Aventurine inhaled sharply when your brows furrowed and jaw clenched. He wasn't used to irritated glances from you, you were always so gentle with him. His mouth got dry.

- Long time no see, dear. - your voice was more collected than you expected it to be. Sometimes you imagined meeting him again but even in your dreams you were never this calm and over him. So time truly does heal wounds. - I have no idea why do you think you can just approach me out of nowhere after what you did to me, but I won't let you waste any more of my time after you stole years of my life with your empty promises. So please, hurry up.

- So cold, huh? - Aventurine awkwardly attempted to laugh his anxiety off. - I know I must come off as a complete jerk but please, listen to me. Back then... I... I don't know how to explain that.

- Maybe for once just say the truth if you even know how to be sincere. - you scoffed. - Simply say it like it is.

- I was one bad day away from losing my job and I needed to make sure you won't get hurt in the process.

You raised one of your eyebrows.

- So you can only love me when you are on the top of the world but as soon as problems emerge I am a burden to discard? - you rolled your eyes.

- Don't say that... It's not like that. - he hid his left hand behind his back, toying with one of the poker chips he always carried around. - If they kicked me out all kinds of sick people who prayed for my downfall would go after me. None of them would miss the opportunity to hurt me even more by harming you.

- If that's what you say... - you seemed unbothered.

- What do you mean by that? - Avgin curved his lips in confusion.

- How can I be sure you aren't lying? That wouldn't be the first time it seems. - you chuckled sadly.

- Please don't use that against me, I had no choice... - before he had a chance to explain further you interrupted.

- Why should I believe you? Not to mention at this point it wouldn't change anything. - you looked away. - Not after all this time.

- How could I let you know it was a bluff if you cut me off completely? I couldn't find you anywhere, I tried for weeks. You moved out and blocked me. - Sigonian's voice broke when he choked on repressed emotions, wondering if you even listened to him, your expression not showing any sign of interest.

- I don't care anymore. If you really wanted to you would find a way. - you shrugged.

Before he could mention how he overused his political influence and still could not find a single trace of you black haired male approached you both with glass of wine. Aventurine sized him up, tall and well build man had a reserved and cool aura, Avgin could feel hidden power radiate from that guy, as if he had a beast under his skin. Something about the way dark-haired male looked at you made his stomach turn.

- I brought the drink you wanted. Are you ok? Who's that man? - mysterious guy asked you, concerned by your uncomfortable body language. He had a deep, melodic voice but spoke in monotone way.

- I should ask the same thing. - Aventurine did his best to sound intimidating. - You guys know each other? - he turned his gaze back to you.

- Yes, it's my coworker, Dan Heng. We grew really close lately. - you smiled at that strange, tall man. Sigonian stopped himself from asking just how close the two of you were. - Thank you for a chance to catch up Aventurine, but you see, I'm very busy right now. I promised to introduce my... friend to a few people.

You gave him venomous smile when Dan Heng put his arm around your waist protectively and pulled you away from your ex. Aventurine hated the way you let that guy touch you. Did you allow him even more in private? Did you let him do things Avgin used to do? Does that other man know how beautiful you look with messy hair and no make up, with flushed cheeks and tears of pleasure in your eyes? Do you sing for him the way you did for Aventurine every night? Does he wear your marks on his back? Gambler preferred not to know, but whether Dan Heng already took his place by your side or was yet working on it, he was sure of one thing.

- It's not over yet. - Aventurine muttered, clenching his left fist till he heard a poker chip breaking in half.

#honkai star rail #honkai x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader

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starryylies · 10 months ago

Note

Simon with an emo gf :0 (or just any type of alt!!!)

SIMON WITH AN EMO GF

I’m so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry for replying so late like soooo sorry, and I love your req. like it’s really unique!! It’s awesome and I can totally imagine him dating an emo girl.

I hope this is to your liking!!! And if you have any suggestions always feel free to drop a message

☠︎︎ Okay so this man, I personally think he didn’t really care much about goth/emo culture before he met you like he just knew about it.

(Tbh he gives me emo vibes, esp w the skinny jeans)

☠︎︎ Looking at your clothes, your choppy cut hair all in all made him a bit reluctant to approach you at first simply because he couldn’t tell if he was in love with your style or if he was in love with you

☠︎︎ He lovesyour style omg, like the way you put your eyeliner from the way you make your hair every morning before you went out

☠︎︎ Definitely had made some very dark jokes about the stereotypes regarding emo.

☠︎︎ Whenever or if you guys go out nobody will dare to give you funny looks lemme tell you that, he will make sure nobody even looks at you funny.

☠︎︎ He’s really protective of you generally but when you guys go out it’s way more.

☠︎︎ He genuinely loves the way you do your eye makeup, enamoured while you do your makeup in the morning.

☠︎︎ He once asked you to do his eyeliner for him once.

☠︎︎ He is not a fan of clubbing or raves but goes with you nonetheless if you’re really into that just so you can be happy, his world lights up when you’re happy so how can we ever deny you.

☠︎︎ Thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

☠︎︎ If you’re a metalhead you both definitely go to those concerts together and collect vinyls and music from shops.

☠︎︎ If anyone dares to make fun of your fashion or your appearance they’re so dead. Like genuinely they’re 6ft underground.

☠︎︎ Whenever he’s out or deployed and he finds a shop where there’s some cute stuff (like skulls, bracelets, vinyls etc) he will pick it out for you to give when he’s back.

☠︎︎ Wears one of your bracelets before he goes for deployment, carries it as his good luck charm.

☠︎︎ He definitely doesn’t want to dye his hair but how could he say no to you so he let you dye his one strand of hair matching to yours.

☠︎︎ he would get matching skull bracelets for you guys.

☠︎︎ would get you a black ring with a small skull carved at the top of the ring.

☠︎︎ Starts copying your style a bit if you wear chunky bracelets he will try wearing them too when he’s at home.

☠︎︎ def has a I 🩷 emo girls shirt for himself.

☠︎︎ will let you do his nails black, once soap called him out for wearing nail polish and he just replied with, “my girl did this fo’ me i ain’t removing this”

☠︎︎ Is a proud and loving boyfriend all in all.

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chimericalilith · 10 months ago

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Entangled Ribbons and Gifts

𐙚°˖➴ pairing. marius x fem!reader 𐙚°˖➴ tags. ooc, smut, lots of teasing, fluff, established relationship, bits of light bondage, both are top/bottom, multiple rounds 𐙚°˖➴ wc. 4.1k words 𐙚°˖➴ notes. inspired from marius MR christmas card. reader is a bit feisty, nickname; miss. first time posting so its simple layout we ball.

Tidying up some gift boxes, you finally finished another long list of gift wraps. Christmas always makes the business buzz, but it’s always so tiring. You sigh as you fix your posture and scan your finger for another list, waiting for you to wrap them all up. As your gaze transfixes on the list and your mind starts to wander which ones you should sort out in the workshop, a jingle sound spurred in as the door open, softly producing a creak of a sound.

You don’t bother looking up, your hand starts propping skillfully. Tying up the bows and cutting paper miniatures alongside carved letters with intense speed. It’s nearing Christmas Eve and you still haven’t thought up of how to surprise Marius, making your job more ironic. Unconsciously forgetting the opened door beforehand, there’s a sudden warmth wrapping around your waist that sends a jolt towards your body.

“Missy, what’s got your face all scrunched up?” Marius teased with a knowing smile, his wrap around your waist only getting tighter.

“Oh, I don’t know Mister. Maybe the fact that I’m carefully putting a wreath together and someone decided to surprise me which almost caused the unfurling of this whole thing. Almost pressed charges for my patience.” You met his gaze, lowering them to where his hand nestled comfortably.

Marius lowered his face to the nape of your neck, breathing hotly against it, lightly grazing your neck. A shiver ran to your body. Before, you slowly continue punching out snowflake papers for the gift wraps but now? Completely stopped on your tracks.

“I-I’m working right now. Plus, people can see us and it’s certainly not good for business.” You muttered, although you both secretly knew that it isn’t that much out of your realm. You did it before, besides you didn’t do anything about his hand that slowly slivers under your skirt.

“Hm? I don’t have any clue what you’re implying Miss. But…well, if you say so.” He gripped your thigh, swirled his fingers around it, and completely let you go. The warmth suddenly left you which inadvertently made you sigh. But that’s beside the point although his visit is an everlasting welcomed one, what’s with the sudden visit?

“With that out of the way, why did you come here? Did you want to put an order for a gift?” You asked, putting a certain distance between you two so he doesn’t try to do anything funny. Again. You spun your body around, preparing for a notepad to jot it down in case he does.

“Yeah. I’m planning to put together this event however I’m quite lacking in terms of this so-called professional eye for the quality. And that’s where you come Miss.” He winked, snatching a folded paper out of his shirt and surprisingly it’s a genuine contract stating my work.

“Well, I’d love to know how it feels to be employed by my own boyfriend but unfortunately, I’m swamped by work right now. Christmas season really is the gift-wrapping business’s main stage.” Lowering your gaze, feeling a tiny chip of guilt chiming in your heart.

‘Ah, no worries, Miss! I just thought that as a boyfriend I can help in terms of business. Which seems it isn’t needed, because it’s apparent everyone wants my girlfriend so much, she can’t even spare some time for me.” Marius pouted, although that pinkish hue peeking out of his ears betray him of how casual he took you calling him a your ‘boyfriend’. It didn’t completely miss you about how you two don’t meet as often now due to how swamped you are with your work. Seeing him right in front of you reminded of how much you missed him. It brings you back to Christmas of last year where you two are practically inseparable. He always readies you to work by propping earmuffs and cozying up your scarf to your neck.

He always made sure to cover up the hickeys well. Realizing your musings are turning to a certain direction, you completely shut it down and cleared your throat.

“…Well, I might not be able to fully help but I think I can assist you in simpler ways! I ordered too much ribbon cloth by accident. I think there’s a lot to spare for your event and it might spice it up better.” You cheerfully added, covering up the indecent thoughts you had while Marius has his eyes bore on you curiously.

“Only if it doesn’t burden you. But that will be super helpful. I’ll make sure my girlfriend is properly compensated.” Marius softly laughed, closing in the distance between the two of you and nuzzled his nose against yours.

“By the way, I think ribbons would look nice on you Miss.” He whispered in your ear, before pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead. Feeling your face burn up, you pull his collar shirt and kissed him deeply. Tongue swirling until you’re out of breath.

“H-haa…Miss…” Your intertwined lips parted. Before he can do anything more, you immediately let go and push him out of the store. Sticking your tongue out, you look at his flustered face and feel smugness bubbling in your insides. Marius 0 – You 1. That is until you crouched out of embarrassment, face painted as red as the bulb ornaments decorating your store festively.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

You arrive at the event, carrying big boxes filled with satin silk. It is worth noting that the red and dark-light hue of green stash are abundant compared to other heaps of ribbon cloth. Picking up the boxes strains bits of your muscles that’s only used to meticulous work caused you to furrow your eyebrows, configuring an image of you taking multiple trips back-to-back to deliver it. Seems like your fate is sealed and all you can do is relish in its despair. That is, until Vincent showed up.

Perking your head up excitedly, you hurriedly greeted Vincent. Way too eager to get rid of this delivery and start up on decorating the ribbons instead. “Thank god you’re here Vincent! Am I too presumptuous to assume that you’re here for backup to pick all this up?” You exasperated a laugh, a bit desperate that you’re wrong and Vincent is indeed here to help you.

“Technically, I’m not here for that… But I am the in charge to bring the reinforcements specifically.” Hastily following up his speech, noticing your face falling in the middle of his sentence which quickly lit back up as fast as fairy light bulbs.

“Now, let us haste to the venue for the decoration.” Vincent said, instantly walking with you following with a haste. Upon entering the venue, the smell of cinnamon wafted throughout everything with a small hint of sugar canes mixed with hot chocolate scents. You can even smell the faint smell of the mint. It truly is a mesmerizing event, knocking you back to your senses that this is Pax Foundation we’re talking about so we’re not here to joke around.

“We have arrived at the venue, now if you will excuse me- “

“So? What do you think Miss?” Warm hands suddenly enveloped your shoulder, startling you which shocked you a bit which caused the voice to kick in a soft a laughter.

“Woah! Easy… I know you’re excited to meet me but let’s exert some patience, shall we?” Meeting Marius’s gaze, you see the glint in his eyes. Great, he’s going to tease that about you for the whole day now.

With Vincent nowhere to be found, your focus retrack back to Marius and you crossed your hands. “Hey, aren’t you the eager one to see me?” Pouting your lip ever-so-slightly, undoubtedly Marius bit the bait. His smirk growing bigger.

“Well, if you say so. Now, chop-chop! Get to work, dear Miss.” His face shifted suddenly, refusing to return your gaze. Shrugging, turning his back onto you, and stepping away. What a petty man! You thought, but before your hand reached him out you step back. Not wanting Marius to get the upper hand you decide to participate in this ‘nonchalant game’, aiming for the top spot.

Hence, you begrudgingly start putting up ribbons. Concocting placements that would strategically fit the best in the venue. Slowly, you completely forget the begrudging feeling and started humming to the tunes that played rhythmically in the background. Amidst it, your mind suddenly buzzed. That’s it! You finally know how to solve the looming problem that’s haunted your brain for days. Staring at the ribbons, you giggled. Marius is in for a surprise.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

Tipsily checking your watch, you see it’s 10.36 PM; 24th December of 2032. You took another sip of red wine Marius prepared you. Cozily waiting for the celebration of Christmas, you decide to spend it in a cabin with Marius. Intending to participate snowboarding, the plan didn’t happen. The snow piled up more than you two thoughts of and so, here you are. Nibbling your olives from the charcuterie board while excessively sipping wine.

You gaze at Marius sitting near the fireplace, deciding to join him. Bringing a giant blanket to cover the both of you, you cozily snug up on him. He embraces you softly, slowly resting his head towards the nape of your neck. Both of you enjoying this silent moment together. Moments pass but the drowsiness never hits you, rather it feels hot. Its like heat bubbling up inside, one look at Marius and you notice you’re not the only one.

Gazing each other, you slowly intertwine into a kiss. From soft wanting kisses it turned into a more ferocious one. Swirling each other’s tongue, panting out of breath whilst your hand crumpled his khaki shirt. Subconsciously, you unbutton few of the top ones. Riding off of the heat, you start to graze your teeth and lick his neck, paying extra attention to the veins.

“Mm…haa… right there Miss…” Marius panted, lifting you up to put you on his lap, direct contact with his clothed bulge. Heat swirling, pooling up your stomach making you dizzy. Trying to keep your head clear, you realize this is the perfect time for the surprise.

“…Marius…. hngg hold on. I… have something to give you…” You whisper weakly, desperately trying to keep the heat inside you from bubbling up. Wriggling your way out of his clutch, you softly put his hand off of your hips. Releasing the intact from his obvious bulge.

Unhappy with how the situation continued, Marius reaffirmed his grip onto yours. “Miss… really? Must it be right now?” Whining, his eyes sparked bits of desperation. Not wanting to release you. Biting back, you shift your fingers to his button shirt, freeing it from him by unbuttoning three buttons from the bottom. Slowly, you caress his abs, swirling it softly. Leaving a ghost of a touch, sending shivers down his spine.

“Now… let’s be a good boy and let me give you something. I promise, it’s worth the wait.” Emphasizing on each word, tapping on each of his abs. He squirmed, loosening his grip on you. Oh, how pretty your boyfriend looks. You wish he knew how his lips, plump after countless kisses you did and his face. His face stained with red from the mix of wine and the feverish heat that intoxicates the both of you.

Taking advantage of this moment, you hurriedly slip away and instantly rummaged your belongings until you find the right one. A red box, filled with beautiful ornaments but most importantly, ribbons. Bringing the box towards him, you scoot just right over to him and opened your mouth “Dear Marius, close your eyes.” Which surprisingly he obliged. Chuckling, you put one of the ribbons to cover up his eye.

“Uh… Miss? What is this for, perhaps?” Grunting, his vision taken away. Marius immediately jolted when you put your hands around his neck and went up close to his ear.

“Now, stay still. Why are you so nervous for? Are you thinking of something…bad?” You exaggerate your voice, sarcasm seeping through while making a mocking gasp. Doesn’t help how this seemed to turn Marius on more, as his cock visibly twitched.

Seeing as he is genuinely staying still, you start to prop up your craft. First, you’re taking the green ribbon, beautifully lush with a hue of lighter grass green. Going from bottom to top, you wrap it around his thigh. Making him buck down while you quickly stop and caress his chest. “Shh, take it easy. We’ll be there when I finish. So let me.” He only answered with another grunt. You continue to wrap around his chest, tying it up with a pretty little ribbon.

Feeling pretty satisfied with yourself, you hastily take another ribbon. It’s red this time. You carefully nudge your way around his neck. Making sure its loose, but he can feel it. You wrap it more times than before, finishing when it reaches his thigh. Nudging him to lay down, you stare at your masterpiece. Your own little gift. Admiring your hard work, you release the ribbon used to blindfold him and look at him expectantly.

“Oh… so this is your little gift to me. How’s it? Tying up a handsome man, very influential too nonetheless. Never expected you to have these thoughts regarding me. Been lonely, hm?” Marius remarked teasingly, but his face melts to a sweet smile. Well, that face is also soon wiped out of his face too. Because you started undressing in front of him.

Peeling off clothes one by one, you scoot closely over to him. It’s cold, and you’re naked. Plus, it’s super embarrassing but that part is soon erased when you start ravaging each other mouths once more. Even when all tied up, Marius still tries to use his tongue to overcome you. You slowly climb up his body, positioning your entrance towards his mouth.

“Lick.”

He did just that, and more. Needing a grip, you start tugging on his hair. At first, it’s a lick, but then he continued – deeper on you, swirling it inside of your clamp walls. Your hips instinctively buck, riding out your high off of his tongue. The cabin floors creak, he starts lapping your wet cunt up with no mercy. Noticing how much you’re enjoying it he ups the intensity, slathering himself in your juice.

“Miss, you look so fucking beautiful… bouncing up and down for me. Just like that…” Marius breathlessly mutters, continuing to lick all your juices. Suckling on your pearl, he coos and pushes hot breaths into it. Making you let out a whimper. Needing more, you push his head whilst jerking his hair, resulting his tongue reaching further into your walls. Clenching on it, you choked on his name and squirted all over his face.

Dazed off of your high, Marius starts to prop his body up. Making you feel just how clearly his cock is twitching, aching to be released. You shudder, the release left you beyond sensitive. “H…haa, Marius…wait….” You feel his hand getting untied, propping them on your naked hips.

“I’d love to Miss… so go on.” Marius smirked, knowing you’re still recovering from before. Refusing to give in to his whims, you start unbuckling his pants. He’s the gift, you’re the one that’s going to savor it. His tip leaking from pre-cum, is enormous. Standing upright you try to line it up with your entrance so it doesn’t slip and oh so slowly, you start to slid your cunt in.

‘Hngg…. Ha….aah….Marius…” You start to move it up and down, squelching noises echoed throughout the cabin. Your hand locking to his neck, needing a grip. You move achingly slow, Marius grunts becomes more and more visible. Visibly gripping the rug till his knuckles went white. You chuckle, nibbling your mouth up his ear while occasionally moaning. Reveling in the fact that there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I… c-can’t. You little minx… driving me insane.” Marius panted, hair damp from all the restraining he had to do. But all his words dry out when he feels you instantly clenching around him from his new nickname, chasing yet another high off of your own.

"F-fuck... didn't know you're sensitive like that Miss..." He whispered barely audible. Hot breaths scorches through your ear. Your own knees start to buckle, pace getting sloppier. Clenching all the while you pull out till his tip and crash down till it hits your cervix, Marius gasped out a moan and you feel it twitch. Skin against skin, you hug till your nails scratch against Marius’s back leaving marks while the two of you chase both of your high. Clenching as hard as you can, you both crash into climax at the same time. Mixing splashes of your fluids, leaving both of you delirium off of the heat.

“M-Miss, please… need more…” Marius whined, which earned a chuckle from you.

“Who’s the winner now?” You flicker your gaze away, musing. You did climax twice and he did only once, plus he obliged even if it was achingly slow for him. Fair game, you’ll let him off this one time.

“Fine.” You sigh, “One time, let’s see what you got. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t even reach orgasm though…” You scoffed playfully, which Marius started acting on. He starts spreading soft kisses. Your nape, your collarbone, your breast. Stopping on your breast, he trails down his fingers down till your stomach – causing an arch down your spine. Closing in on the lower part of your stomach, he starts to circle on your clit.

“F-fuck… you’re so wet. And you said no orgasm? Minx.” He hisses, jamming one finger into you ruthlessly. Your chest heaves, sucking in how expertly he’s using his finger to flicker in-between your walls. Increasing his digits, he jammed two fingers inside you. Relishing in the way you’re grinding against his hand, pinching your pearl which earned a shriek from you. But just before you’re so close… he lets it out.

“What’s that…f-for, Marius!?” You breathed heavily, sounding more desperate than you intended to.

“That’s what you get for trying to play by yourself. Now, open up.” Spreading your hips apart, Marius slid his cock in one thrust. Choking a sound, you grab him hastily for support. It’s an insanely different feeling from before. The intensity, different.

“Hng… Fuck. You’re s-so tight. Loosen up a bit…. will you…?” Hastening the pace, wet slapping sounds wafts through the cabin. Pressing on the bulge inside your stomach, Marius put another stimulation towards you. Trying your best not to lose through the haze of it, you scratch more and more of his back. Each thrust intensified, making louder noises, you start wrapping your legs around him.

“M-Marius…close…. Keep it going….” You blabbered, clenching. Moaning right up to your ear, Marius starts to lose his pace and his thrusts becomes sloppier. Pressing more tightly towards your bulge, you squirm and choked up a tired moan. Feeling you climax, Marius grunts and thrusted a few more till he also climaxed. Relieved, you start propping up your stiff muscles to relax. Only to behold the sight of Marius’s cock, still hard and ready for another round.

“Oh, come on now, Miss. Finish what you started!” Marius whined, which resulted in a pout. You refuse to relent; you already gave him one chance. Maybe you’re lenient with him sometimes, but that’s not today. Huffing, you thought of an idea.

“Okay.”

“Really? We- “

“However, there’s a requirement. You can’t go in. At all.” Sharply cutting him off, you scoffed. This sure is a payback for fucking you so hard before that your hips are basically sore. You see his face falling off.

“Th-that’s not fair.” Marius stuttered, dumbfounded over your answer.

“Well, you wanted something and I rewarded you. Won’t you reward me now for this thing I asked of you Marius. Please?” You mockingly pouted, wishing him to take the bait. He did take it, marvelously. He scoots over out of desperation and softly touched your thigh.

“So, anything… as long as it isn’t your clit can do right?” You slowly nod, starting to grapple what he meant by that. You spread your thigh open, cocking your head high. Signaling agreement to what he’s about to do.

“Well, good luck. Third’s time the charm after all… hm.” You hum, feeling happy over your plan working out. Every single one! Flawlessly. You sense a rubbing in your thigh and your head that’s up at the clouds drags back down to earth again. Flickering your gaze towards Marius. He starts speeding up, grinding against your thigh. Shoveling down all his embarrassment against his desires that’s burning him up. Panting and moaning, making a slobbery mess of himself. You position your thigh to assist him, scooting closer and humming on his ear. Teasing him, you sucked on his neck which propelled him to climax. An orgasm for a hickey, quite an equivalent exchange isn’t it.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

That was intense. You liked it, and Marius liked it though. However, it did take all the stamina out of you. You’re spent. Drowsily, you try to stand up. Hips being sore, the result of foul play of Marius. You wince, going back to your bed. But you can’t go to bed before taking a bath, that’s simply just isn’t an option. So, you sit. Contemplating on what to do.

Setting down bits of his work that he’s been doing, Marius slides to your side of the bed. Moving your hair to one side, resting his head carefully upon your neck while pulling you into a deep hug. He’s so tender with how he moves, careful not to put a single bit of weight upon your spent body. Slowly nuzzling his face to your cheek, he whispered “Care to take a bath, Miss?”.

He must have realized, breaking into a smile you eagerly nod. Propping you up, he carried you ala princess bridal style. Grinning, Marius strides towards the bathroom where a bathtub sits at the center of the bathroom with a bunch of lotion, creams, soaps, shampoo splayed out. Putting you down on a stool, he starts leveling the level of warmth for the water running through the bathtub. Busying himself with picking scents of soaps and shampoos, flickering his gaze towards you ever so slightly once in a while.

Once everything’s ready he makes a show out of it by sprinkling rose petals everywhere then insisting on carrying you. Not letting your feet touch the cool marble ground of the bathroom. He sets you in, then starts softly scrubbing your skin with a sponge. Smoothly handles your hair, making braids out of it in the process. He tends to you like you’re a budding flower, such care and tenderness. Every move earnest and once everything is done, he marvels at the sight of you. Making sure he doesn’t lose out; he scrubs the hell out of himself before both of you return to the couch.

“Marius, why did you specifically pick this cinnamon scent?”

“Well, because I noticed you wafting through the smell of the venue a few days ago and humming when the cinnamon ones are sprawled throughout. Can’t have you forgetting what the occasion is tomorrow.” He sarcastically added, knowing that the both of you just spend Christmas huddling on each other, drinking hot chocolates, and relishing each other’s gifts. Chuckling, you give into his arms. It’s ridden with peppermint. Complimenting the cinnamon. A lovely sight, and a memory that’s etched forever for future Christmas that is to come.

You and Marius sat in the sofa for what it seems a long while, when suddenly the hour beeps and Christmas tunes chimes in. Signifying the change of date into 25th of December, 2032.

Looking at each other, you both smiled tenderly.

“Merry Christmas, Marius.”

“Merry Christmas, Miss.”

“I’m insanely grateful for you, Miss. It shames me how word doesn’t justify but I’m happy to be your gift. Used whenever you like. Because, your own existence into my life has been the most magnificent gift of it all.” Marius spur out his words, pink hues covering his face making his glassy eyes stand out.

“Oh, Marius… You’re a gift to my life too. Life has been such a delight, and I can’t see myself without you.” You softly wrap your arms around his body, nuzzling against his cheek and returning his gaze. You don’t need a mirror to know that the both of you are making the same face right now.

You lean into Marius for a kiss, resulting in a long tender kiss filled with warmth. Both of you taste like candy canes you ate whilst sitting with Marius. Snuggling your head up Marius’s chest, you let out a satisfied sigh. Drowsiness washing the both of you, falling asleep leaning towards each other and awoken by the chirps of a chickadee. Welcoming a Christmas morning, unwrapping each other’s gifts with buzzing excitement.

#tears of themis #tears of themis smut #marius von hagen #marius x reader #lu jinghe

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home2venus · 7 months ago

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LOVE IS A SINKING SHIP

── ˖✮⋆˙꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ jungkook x han so-hee ˒˓ seven music video universe summary. a missing scene from the seven music video, from the perspective of han so-hee, firmly in denial. genre/tags. post-break up, getting back together, pining, accidental confessions, humor, incredibly whipped jungkook ─ 3.9k words ─ this is han so-hee's perspective of my other seven fic! read them here ⋆｡°༄˖°.🪐

Han So-hee knows what love is, and she knows for a fact that love is not found in a laundromat.

She just truly, desperately, wildly wants and needs Jeon Jungkook to get that through his head before he convinces her otherwise. That man is really too persuasive for his own good, and Han So-hee does not want to bend on this issue.

Jungkook, however, seems to have other plans.

“Can you leave me alone?”

“I love you.”

“Like, for one second, that’s all I’m asking. One second, I promise, after one singular second you can go back to bothering me, but like— One second, I feel like one second isn’t so much to ask. Just don’t talk to me, don’t say a single word, it’s really not so hard.”

“I love you,” he says again, and So-hee just sighs. Jungkook is kicking his legs back and forth, smiling at her hopefully like a child. Because, honestly, he might as well be one. Even at 25 years old, he acts like she used to when she went to the laundromat with her mother as a child. Looking at him again, with his hoodie slipping off one shoulder and his wide, doe-like, brown eyes staring at her pleadingly, she decides that he was far worse than her as a child, because she can’t remember ever being this annoying.

“So-hee,” Jungkook whines, grabbing at her sleeve as she turns from him, “I love you.”

So-hee, instead of looking at him, resolutely declares to herself that the moment she gets home she’s calling her mother to apologize for ever behaving slightly similar to the way he is right now. Her mother deserves ten awards, maybe a nobel peace prize, and, at the very least, ten winning lottery tickets.

Jungkook is her boyfriend, or he used to be her boyfriend before she wisened up and figured out he was no good. He’s pretty, and sweet, and fairly smart on the occasions where he uses whatever brain he has in there. He’s so funny that she has to sometimes grind her teeth together and zone out to keep from laughing or smiling, because to give in to his jokes means he has won. But he’s an asshole: an immature, reckless asshole that So-hee should want, does want, nothing to do with. So, she broke up with him, and that should’ve been the end of it.

It’s been two months since they broke up, and So-hee is still getting used to an empty apartment where he used to be. He didn’t live there, he had his own place with a couple of his guy friends, but he was over so often that he had carved a permanent place in her home. So-hee can feel the void where he used to be whenever she goes home.

In other news, So-hee has been spending a lot of time out of the house. Online forums say fresh air is the best way to get over a breakup, so it’s not like she’s being unhealthy. She’s fine. She’s so fucking fine.

So-hee takes the clothes out of the dryer and slams them into the empty laundry basket.

She’s fine.

When So-hee turns around to load the rest of her dirty clothes into the washing machine, Jungkook is still there. He’s quieter, not chatty or pleading like he’s been the whole time after she broke things off. He’s just... quiet; Maybe even introspective. He’s just looking at her with an unreadable stare. And he is not leaving. He sits on the washing machine and kicks his feet as she throws more clothing in, not even looking at it. She knows they won’t wash as well if she doesn’t shake them out, turn them the right side in, but the risk of Jungkook seeing something of his in her basket of dirty laundry is too high to risk. So-hee’s fingers catch on a loose string, and she knows from just the feeling of the fabric that it’s the old college sweatshirt she never gave back, the embroidered logo of white flames through a red circle faded and worn with time. She shoves it into the machine and then buries it underneath her own clothing.

So-hee can almost feel his stare, even though she knows it’s not actually possible. Something about his presence is heavy. Something about his presence makes her feel something complicated, and complicated is very rarely something So-hee likes to deal with. She sighs loudly, and gives him a pointed glare, and he raises his hands placatingly; an easy grin replacing the contemplative look he was wearing just moments prior.

“Shut up,” she says childishly, and she does not notice the way his eyes gleam at the recognition or the way his posture straigtens as she notices him. The whole reason why they broke up is because he never cared, because he was too reckless and messy and indifferent. He didn’t care about anything, and in the beginning it was fun, because he knew how to have fun and keep the fun going. But they’re adults, and going with the flow doesn’t buy houses or keep jobs or stay stable.

“I didn’t say a word,” he says with an audible smile, and So-hee hates the way he can reduce her of every bit of wit she knows that she has. So-hee’s smarter than this, she knows she is. She’s always been quick with words, and she’s always known how to make her words sharp to a point and sharp as a blade. Jungkook takes that away from her, and the worst thing is that he doesn’t even mean to. So-hee snaps away from him with a roll of her eyes and a grimace —truly not her finest moment— and barely notices the water rising in the building as she grumbles frustrations under her breath.

So-hee doesn’t notice the water until it’s about waist high, and she can’t see the tops of the washer and dryer units anymore. She swears, and pushes at Jungkook who is saying something that she refuses to listen to. The water pushes them upwards, and a silly, stupid part of her feels like she’s in Titanic; the movie, not the tragedy. Jungkook is still smiling at her, even as the water reaches their chests and they’re practically swimming towards the ceiling. So-hee, because she’s a genius, manages to push at him and the ceiling at the same time. He barely drifts away from her, but the water is reaching their necks, and one of those things is far more pressing than the other.

As they barely escape the laundromat —through the cieling, of all places, and then through the vents that lead outside— Jungkook is blessedly, strangely silent. He doesn’t talk to So-hee as they escape, just watches her with an unfaltering focus and care. When they finally are on solid ground, soaked in the cool, late night air, he keeps a steady hand on her shoulder. She’s nearly coughing her lungs out, the hand drifts to her back to rub soft, comforting circles. It’s off-putting, because Jungkook shouldn’t have that focus, doesn’t have that focus. He’s messy and careless, and that’s all he is. He can’t be anything else.

He can’t be.

So-hee has known Jungkook for years, has gone on countless outings alone with him or with his weird, codependent friend group or with his rotation of dogs that he’s always fostering or babysitting or adopting. She knows that he cares about things, that he’s given his whole life to his family and his best friends and his job and his passions. But, she knows Jungkook. She knows that he’s selfish and possessive and impulsive. So-hee knows that he thought he loved her, and So-hee knows that he still thinks he loves her, but So-hee knows better.

Jungkook dedicates everything in him to what he loves, and he dedicated himself to her. He loves her, according to him, but So-hee knows better because dedication runs out and love runs out and passion runs out. Jungkook is running on empty, and one day he would regret ever loving her, and then where would she be?

So-hee knows better.

She doesn’t even say goodbye when she leaves for the train. He’s still standing out in the nighttime rain, alone and soaking wet. She doesn’t look him in the eyes when she leaves, and she doesn’t turn around.

So-hee knows better. So-hee knows it’s for the better. She still does not look at Jungkook.

The train ride home is a long and silent one. She checks her twitter feed in an attempt to not make eye contact with any of the other people on the train, who are unsubtly staring at her dripping wet hair and soaked clothing. On the news, there’s a mention of a laundromat flooded by a freak accident, and So-hee catches a glimpse of a photo taken by the on-site reporters. In the background, there’s a man and he looks pathetic and exhausted and sad and determined. So-hee can’t look at him.

So-hee goes home to a pathetic, sad apartment, and she is deeply exhausted. She changes into dry clothes, and pins her hair up, and resolves to take a clean shower and change her sheets tomorrow. She passes out the moment she hits the bed, and she does not dream, because she never does.

She wishes she had, if only to justify the thoughts of Jungkook still remaining when she wakes up in the morning.

In the quiet light of morning, with music playing softly as she loses a fight with the omelette she’s attempting to make, she realizes that she cares a lot more than she wants to. She realizes that she cares a lot more than she should. It’s a startling realization, if only for how mundane it is. It crosses her mind leisurely, wearing the disguise of something normal, because it is something normal. The thought crosses the streets of her mind hand in hand with I’m hungry and Don’t forget to pick up mom’s perscription later and Is it embarrassing that I still can’t cook eggs.

I still love him, she thinks, and it’s completely normal.

I still love him, she thinks, and I still love him so much more than I should.

What makes her uncomfortable isn’t the thought, but the fact that the thought wasn’t uncomfortable. It’s an unsettlingly normal thought to have, like it’s lived inside her long enough to be comfortable, like it’s made a home in her mind.

What’s uncomfortable is that loving him is a part of her. What’s uncomfortable is that the love she has has settled into her home and her life and her routine. The love settles under her fingernails and in her hair, settles in the cat toys littered around her house and the trinkets that clutter her shelves and tables and workdesk.

She loved him and she loves him and she misses him.

In the soft light of morning, So-hee sits on her kitchen counter next to a plate of rapidly cooling eggs. Her legs swing and her cats bat at her socks, meowing and pestering her for food. So-hee doesn’t even look at them, her eyes faraway and staring down at her blindingly bright phone screen. She has a couple missed calls from a number she doesn’t recognize, and eventually just blocked once they started calling well into midnight, and one unread text message from an account she should’ve blocked a long time ago if she had any dignity.

Jungkook: we left our wallets at the laundromat.

So-hee takes a deep breath and steels herself.

So-hee: Thanks, I’ll pick it up there later today.

Jungkook: i dont think thats gonna work

So-hee: Why not?

Jungkook: they gave ur stuff to me bc my wallet was at the top of the basket and they assumed it was mine. the laundromat is still closed, is there anywhere i can meet u to give it back?

Let it be known that, usually, So-hee is a rational woman. Usually, she does not make decisions that will hurt herself, especially not knowingly, and she rarely ever makes rash decisions.

So-hee: Just come to my place to drop it off.

Usually, So-hee is a rational woman. Not always.

Jungkook: really???

So-hee: Do you not remember my address?

Jungkook: no i remember ur address ! i’ll be there in fifteen :)

So-hee: Alright. Drive safely.

So-hee is staring at her phone. So-hee puts her phone down, and does not scream or cry or have any other disproportinate and dramatic reaction. She is so calm and collected and not stressed in any way. So-hee is the most normal, well-adjusted woman in all of South Korea, possibly even the world, and one man will not change that for her.

To show how well-adjusted she is, she changes her clothes seven times in the mirror, and arranges and disassembles and rearranges a messy bun another fourteen times. On her seventh outfit —a baby tee and low waisted sweatpants with the same fuzzy socks— So-hee turns to see Hammer staring at her judgementally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” So-hee whines, throwing herself dramatically on the bed and burying her face in her hands.

Hammer does not respond, because Hammer is a cat.

“Don’t judge me, Hammer,” So-hee continues, “Not all of us can be nonchalant cool kids, you know?”

Hammer does not know. Hammer wants breakfast, not an existensial crisis.

The doorbell rings, and So-hee does not look up. The doorbell rings again, and it takes a moment, but So-hee flings herself up with wide eyes. She races out of her bedroom, checking herself in the mirror one more time. She looks perfect, because So-hee has always known that she’s gorgeous. But, this time, it’s not about being pretty. It’s about being cool. She slows as she reaches the front door, schooling her face into something that looks effortlessly calm, and opens the door.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, startled and looking slightly embarrassed.

“Hey yourself,” She says back, straight-faced. She’s so fucking cool. She steps back, and gestures for him to come inside. He hesitates, looking at her intently like he hasn’t been begging to be around her for the past month. She’s shocked he didn’t just open the door and sit on the couch all by himself.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and she rolls her eyes fondly.

“I’m always sure,” She says, lying through her teeth, “Anyway, I don’t know how you’d bring my laundry inside without, y’know, stepping inside?”

“Yeah,” He says, blushy and nervous, “Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” He stumbles through the door like he’s never done it before, like it’s not his thousandth time being in her house. It’s upsettingly endearing, the way that he’s a bumbling fool of a man.

“I’m always right, it’s nothing to apologize for.” So-hee says, shooting him a smile. She would say that she doesn’t know why she’s bothering to comfort him, but due to previous realizations that day, she thinks she has a pretty strong clue why. It starts with L and ends in oving this stupid idiot to an unhealthy degree.

He sets the laundry basket down in her living room, all of it dried out from being in police storage overnight as they emptied out everything that was once in the laundromat. It’s wrinkled, and she’ll have to find a new laundromat to rewash and dry everything, but it’s back in her possession. Marsh-ie and Hammer leave their spot at their food dishes and sprint as fast as their kitten legs can carry them to Jungkook, who laughs and crouches down to coddle them with babytalk and pets. So-hee remembers then that she has forgotten to feed them, so she moves over to the kitchen area, still watching him over the counter and thanking the apartment gods that she has one with an open concept kitchen and living space. She pours them both food and water softly, trying not to attract attention from them or Jungkook.

“Hi baby,” He coos, and So-hee flinches at the way she almost responds on instinct to the endearment. She turns quietly, but he’s immersed in Marsh-ie and Hammer’s antics, smiling softly as Marsh-ie bats at his hands and Hammer tries to climb up his back.

I love you, she almost says.

“Want some coffee?” She says instead, and he startles. She almost regrets disturbing him, but the cats have already left at the sound of her voice, realizing that breakfast has finally been served. He looks hopeful for a moment, and then deeply, deeply tired.

“I do,” He says glumly, and she furrows her brow in confusion at his downtrodden look.

“...But?” She prompts, and he looks downright murderous to the point that she’s almost worried for herself, before he finally stands up to look at her and his eyes soften to something sweeter. He smiles a smile that looks more like a forced grimace, and shakes his head.

“I’d stay, but the guys have been planning brunch for a while now, and Hobi would kill me if I cancelled on them this short notice,” Jungkook says. So-hee hums thoughtfully, and he looks at her nervously.

“No worries,” she says, “Thanks so much for coming then, if I had known I’d make you late for other plans I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It was my pleasure! The guys know that I’d do whatever you ask, so they won’t mind my lateness” He says with an earnest grin, and the worst part is that So-hee really does believe him. So-hee knows that he doesn’t even realize that what he says would be embarrassing for anyone else to admit, especially to their ex-girlfriend, and she knows that he doesn’t care. So-hee doesn’t understand that confidence, the disregard of any and every social boundary in a pursuit to show love for someone. She does understand the art of changing the subject though.

“Well, still, thanks for that. Have a safe drive over to brunch then, I won’t keep you waiting,” So-hee says, grabbing his jacket off the kitchen stool he draped it over and tossing it over his shoulders as he bends down to say bye to her cats. It’s quiet as Jungkook leaves, only the sound of residual cat purrs and the shuffling of him putting on sneakers. He puts the jacket on more firmly, and smiles hesitantly at her.

“Oh!” She says, and Jungkook takes a step back, eyes wide. He startles easily, So-hee notes absently, I don’t know why he’s so nervous.

“Yeah?” Jungkook questions tentatively, and she snaps her fingers at him.

“Hobi is the one with a dance studio, right?” She asks, leaning closer.

“Uh, yeah, he is. I didn’t think you remembered that-”

“Of course I remembered, I remember everything you tell me,” she says absently, waving him off as she scrambles around her kitchen for a pen and paper. She’s rummaging through a junk drawer when she calls over to him, “Wait just a second!” Jungkook’s barely paying attention anyway though, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth as he repeats her words disbelieving under his breath.

“Everything?” He whispers, and she hums in questioning. He goes to ask further, but she shoves a notecard with a phone number and a name on it into his hands.

“If Hobi’s ever looking for a ballet instructor, he can call this number,” So-hee rambles, “It’s one of my cousins on my mom’s side, and she’s such a great dancer that it’s almost maddening. She’s a little annoying, but not terribly so, and she’s such a fantastic teacher-”

“Wait, So-hee-” Jungkook tries, but she’s still talking.

“And if he has any space in that contemporary class, tell him to let me know because my sister has been scrambling for a good dance studio nearby for her daughter.”

“I’ll have to ask Jimin, because he teaches contemporary. But, So-hee-”

“Alright, thanks so much, you’re the best in the world, I literally love you so much.” So-hee says breathlessly, and Jungkook feels just as breathless, the air knocked out of him. His face is a little pale and his hands are a little shaky, and So-hee frowns, lightly putting her fingers on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, “You look a little sick, Jungkook, are you-”

I literally love you so much. I literally love you so much.

Oh, fuck.

Jungkook looks at her, and So-hee looks at him, both of them now pale and slightly shaky.

“I-” So-hee starts and then doesn’t finish, the words barely leaving her. Jungkook’s eyes are shiny, and hopeful, and So-hee hates herself for how much she wants to fall into them, into him. She loves him.

So-hee loves Jungkook. So-hee loves Jungkook more than she’s ever loved anything, and that is a big, scary feeling to feel. So-hee’s love could fill an ocean, and that is a big, scary place to be able to fill with love for one man, one person, one anything.

Love is a big, scary thing.

“I think you should go,” So-hee says, instead of saying any of that. So-hee is a coward.

Jungkook smiles at her, all sad and soft and patient. So-hee hates him. So-hee hates that stupid face and stupid smile and stupid patience that makes her feel cruel and evil and mean. She hates him and she’s terrified of him and she loves him.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, because Jungkook cannot just be reckless and immature because that would be too easy, but he must also be patient and loving and brave. She hums in acknowledgement, and he hesitates for a moment, but he leans in and kisses her right under her eye.

So-hee didn’t even realize she was near tears until right then. She doesn’t say anything, even as he fully walks out the door and slowly shuts it behind him. So-hee can’t even cry. She just stares at the wall and pets her cats and it’s so quiet. So-hee wishes she had begged Jungkook to stay for a few more minutes, if only for the sound of him embarrassingly babytalking her cats could drown out what she hears in her own thoughts. There’s the leftover heat of a kiss right below her eyes, and she wipes harshly at her eyes, partially to clear the tears and partially a futile attempt to remove the sting of what could’ve been, if So-hee stopped being so scared all the time.

In So-hee’s apartment, where a light breeze flutters the curtains but the bright sun warms the floor, So-hee can hear the vivid sounds of an ocean flooding a laundromat and the impossibly clearer sound of her heart breaking on her kitchen floor.

So-hee loves Jungkook, and So-hee is terrified of loving Jungkook, and So-hee hopes that love is not found in a laundromat. Selfishly, So-hee hopes that Jungkook continues to love her and continues to wait for her, and continues to pursue her so that one day, she can love him in a place where she isn’t surrounded by baskets of her dirty laundry.

The dirty laundry, So-hee reminds herself with a glance at the laundry basket sitting innocently by her couch. Jungkook’s sweatshirt lies at the top, next to her wallet and a note in his familar bad handwriting that says ‘I love you.’

I love you, So-hee says back, if only in her own mind.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #han so hee #han so-hee #jungkook fanfic #seven jungkook #seven #bts #bts fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #༄˖°🪐 writes

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thesightstoshowyou · 1 year ago

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~ Three, Two, One…. ~

Lochlan (lok-lin) Smith

A Sight’s Slasher OC

“My friends call me ‘Lok.’ You will call me that too.” Dumbly, you nod, quickly stilling when you realize what you’re doing.

Age: 29

Pronouns: He/him

Location: East Coast

Language: English

Sexuality: Bisexual

Profession: Job-hopper. Whatever pays the bills and funds his “hobby”

Slasher type: Self-aware sadist

Weapon of choice: Anything and everything

Skills: Persuasion, hypnosis, stealth, blending in, silver tongue

(Warnings below: Mentions of violence, suicide, hypnosis, murder, gore, torture, noncon, and supernatural elements)

🕜 Appearance:

Height: 6’0

Weight: ~180lbs

Hair: Copper red, short on the sides, longer on top

Eye color: Green

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Notable traits: His hair and piercing gaze

Body type: Athletic

🕥 Personality:

Lochlan is a chameleon. He will adjust his personality to compliment those with whom he interacts. He can be charming, funny, quiet, boisterous, or whatever you need to feel comfortable. He can blend seamlessly into any group or situation and he always has something clever to say.

Lok knows his name is silly. He doesn’t care. In fact, he kind of likes it. It makes him seem less threatening. Go ahead, crack a joke about it. He’ll laugh with you. You’ll let your guard down. Now, he has a way in.

Lok is much different in private. He’s a condescending bastard with a god complex. He is a true sadist; he never feels more pleasure than when he’s hurting someone. To Lok, people are things to mould and destroy as he chooses.

🕚 Method:

Lok loves to people watch. He’ll search a crowd and single out someone who looks impressionable. The more susceptible you are to hypnotism, the easier it is for him to talk you into a trance.

He’ll follow you for a few days, when he has the time. He’ll learn your schedule, formulate a plan, find an opening.

Next, he’ll put himself in your path. Maybe he stands behind you in line for coffee. “I noticed your pin. I love that band! What’s your favorite song?” Isn’t it a coincidence it’s his favorite song too? And what are the odds he has the exact same coffee order as you?

When Lok speaks, you find yourself almost compelled to listen. When your eyes meet his, your mind becomes just a little fuzzier. You can’t help but relax, letting the sound of his voice fill your head. His words are so calming. What’s that, he wants you to follow him? Yeah, that sounds nice. His car? Yes, you’ll get in. You are feeling pretty sleepy, after all. It will be nice to sit down.

When you wake, you’ll find yourself restrained in a small room. The walls will be littered with tools and other evil implements. You won’t know how or why you’re here.

This is the extent of Lok’s planning.

Now, he can chase whatever ideas come to him in the moment. Should he rip out all your teeth? Break your fingers? Carve away flesh? Dissect you and fuck the wounds? He’ll figure it out as he goes and he’ll do whatever makes you scream the loudest.

However, his favorite past time is playing with your mind.

🕣 Background and Hypnosis:

Lok has always been persuasive, even as a child. It seemed as though—if he concentrated hard enough—he could talk his classmates into doing things they would never normally do. Once, he convinced the kid bullying Lok about his hair to stick his finger in the pencil sharpener and crank the lever.

A year later, at 8 years old, he would convince his mother’s boyfriend to blow his brains out all over the bathroom walls. Technically, this was his first victim, but he wouldn’t kill someone with his own hands until he was 17.

When Lok was 12, his mother took him to a family event downtown. It was some kind of fair organized by the local businesses. Because it was free, they could go, he remembers her saying.

There was a magician. Lok remembers the stupid card trick he’d flubbed. None of the other kids noticed.

Next up was a hypnotist. Lok assumed it would be another fool in a cape, but this man proved him wrong. He was self-assured, smooth, and practiced. When he counted backwards and placed audience volunteers under his spell, Lok’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. The man made them cluck like chickens and pretend to bob for apples! He could make them do whatever he wanted….

Curiosity turned to obsession. Lok spent months at the library, studying different hypnosis techniques and reading testimonials. Hypnotherapy piqued his interest in particular. Imagine what things he could learn from someone in a trance, things he could hold over then once they were lucid.

As Lok grew, so did his skill. Using hypnosis, he could force victims to say and do things no other hypnotist in history could manage. To Lok, this meant he was a prodigy, a genius, far superior to the average man.

But, unknown to even Lok himself, there is an explanation for his unnatural talent.

Lok possess an inkling of supernatural ability. An inhuman ancestor, long ago, passed down abilities through the bloodline. After hundreds of years, only small traces remain. In Lok, this manifests as persuasive skill beyond the realm of natural human ability.

“You’ll like it, when I bring you down. All the way down. But when you come back, I’ll be waiting right here. And I make consciousness hurt.”

(Read my first fic starring Lok here)

#lochlan smith #lok smith #thesightstoshowyou #slasher oc #slasher original character

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iwriteloveletters · 4 months ago

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Cookie Cutter Love (Yan! Eren x Reader)

Hello hello!!! Cherub here, it has been super duper long since I’ve written but I’ve been sucked back into escapism and I wanted to try something new. Now I will add trigger warning but I’ll even say here, this one shot contains knife play, obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, descriptive mentions of cutting/carving, and semi graphic descriptions of the wound. If this is not your cup of tea, SCROLL!!!!! BLOCK!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE I AM AN ADULT AND I WILL WRITE ABOUT ADULT CHARACTERS DOING ADULT THINGS!!!!! And if you are in any sort of recovery please look away <3!! Prioritize yourself first! Anyways let’s get on with it! Enjoy <3

TW - KNIFE PLAY, CUTTING, BLOOD, DESCRIPTIONS OF A WOUND, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIORS, YANDERE TROPE, RESTRAINTS, HIGHLY SUGGESTIVE BUT THIS IS NOT FULL ON SMUT!!!!!

WORD COUNT - 1,278

Before you knew it you were being held in place. One moment you were at a party talking to a friend and now you’re bound to your bed, your wrists against the headboard and your legs forced against the bed. You only knew one person who knew how to tie knots this tight.

Your long-term boyfriend, Eren.

“Eren…” You shakily called out. Your breathing was picking up at a rapid pace, your chest rising up and down seconds apart from each other.

You knew Eren was possessive, somewhat controlling, and could become very sexually frustrated but this had never happened before. He had never pulled you out of a party just to relieve himself.

“Eren c’mon! This isn’t funny, these knots are too tight!” You call out for him once again, hoping for a response this time.

The door to your shared bedroom finally opens and the light turns on, there’s Eren with an irritated expression on his face. You see he’s holding something in his hand, you look down to see he’s holding a knife. One you’ve never seen before, it was a black hunting knife. Eren never hunted, you were sure of that.

“Eren, what the fuck?!” You began to struggle in your restraints. The knots were nowhere near to coming undone.

“What?” His irritated expression quickly turns into an empty, emotionless expression as he looks down at his hands, “oh this? Hm, you’ll see what it’s for in a minute.” He makes his way closer to you, taking the safety cover of the knife. “Just be still, ‘kay? I don’t wanna mess up.”

You began to quickly panic at the sight of the knife, it was sharp and threatening, only the worst thoughts came to mind immediately upon seeing it get closer to you. “No no no, what are you doing?!”

Eren shows some emotion once again in his face, a scowl quickly forms. “I don’t like how you were talking to Connie tonight.” He confesses, for months he’s been jealous of Connie, he hated the way he tried to make you laugh more than he did with the others. In Eren’s mind, he believed Connie wanted you more than anyone around him.

“What?! Eren, do you realize how insane you sound? Connie is our friend!” You laugh but not because you’re mocking him, you were extremely afraid and uncomfortable. He knew that too, and he seemed to relish in it too much.

“I don’t give a fuck, Y/N.” He takes a deep breath in and quickly out, as though he’s trying to compose himself. “He knows of our relationship but clearly has no respect for me. So I’m gonna show him you’re more than just my partner, you’re mine.”

He began to drag the blade against your thigh, not making any marks. Simply to get you used to the feeling of the knife.

“What are you going to do with that… please don’t do anything you’re gonna regret.” You say, your voice shaking with every word. There was no way out of this and you hated every second of it.

“You really haven’t figured that out yet?” He scoffed in amusement. “I’m gonna carve into you, I get so worried when my bite marks fade away. As if you’re not mine anymore, others will get the wrong idea and try to hit on you and that makes my chest hurt. This will ease my anxiety and give you an even better sense of belonging. This will be forever and I love that.”

Before you could say anything else he pierces into your skin.

“Ah…” That was all you could muster up, the knife felt cold against your skin for a brief moment. You could feel the warmth of your own blood spill out, leaking down your thigh. “Eren please don’t do this, please don’t!” You squeak.

He does this again, then again, deeper than the last each time. You could tell he was carving letters. You could feel the letter ‘E’ forming on your thigh, your thighs begin to tremble due to the pain. Your eyes are filled with nothing but tears, you couldn’t tell if you were aroused or still afraid at this point. You felt shame, you felt pride in his love for you, your head was cloudy due to both your conflicting thoughts and the pain of the lacerations itself.

“Almost there, my love.” He sighs, his eyes locked and focused on your thigh.

He pressed deeply once again, this time it was the letter ‘Y’. This letter felt excruciatingly slow for you, as if he knew what he wanted to do this time. He found a new technique.

He finally pulls the knife away from your skin and places the bloodied blade on your bedside table. It was covered in a deep, rich crimson. It almost blended in with the black blade itself.

He lowers himself to your thigh, giving it a few licks as if he was trying to clean it up. Or maybe even savor the taste of you he’d never considered before.

You shiver at the action but luckily it’s over before you know it. He lifts himself back up and simply admires the fresh wound. A wound of ��love’ he would refer to it from now on.

“You look perfect…” He says as he unties you from your restraints.

You both sat side-by-side one another in silence, you were still misty-eyed and trembling.

He pulls you onto his lap and cradles you in his arms, stroking your head and shushing you.

“I know it hurts but I had to do it, you’ll like it I promise. I saw the way you were reacting to it, this felt intimate huh?” He grinned to himself, to him this was the best idea he’s ever had since starting your relationship. Of course, besides stalking you for an unbearably long time and learning to sneak his way into your life. But this was a close third for him.

Meanwhile, you look down at your thigh; you notice that some cuts were deeper in a few lines, it was very noticeable in the letter ‘E’ but it could easily be explained by the fact he was learning how to cut deep enough just for scarring. The skin was splitting apart and scarring either way, some cuts were simply not as deep as the others.

“Hm, do you like it?” His fingers hover over the area, not wanting to touch or irritate it.

You hum in slight satisfaction. “I think I can learn to like it.”

He laughs quietly as he presses a kiss against your forehead. “I told you you’d like it! Just trust the process I promise. And maybe if you like it that much, I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

You roll your eyes playfully, not wanting to admit your possible newfound interest in whatever this was. You wanted to feel disgusted and angry with him a little longer.

“Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not too happy about this. This was violent and aggressive.”

Eren nods but doesn’t say anything. He’s aware, but he doesn’t care for the most part. He instead removes you off his lap to get cleaning supplies for both his knife and your wound.

After everything was wrapped up and clean, he treated you to a late night meal from your favorite place and let you pick what you’d both watch to bed tonight.

“Next time, ask.” I look at him and then my bandaged thigh.

Eren chuckles, “I will I will.”

For now, you will convince yourself this was a one time thing but for Eren, this was going to occur again.

In other news, I hope if you made it this far I hope you enjoy. I will probably never write smut but this was a fun way to dip my toes into other aspects of the yandere trope. Again, the block button exists and I hope you utilize it if you don’t enjoy this type of content. My goal is to just write what I think people may enjoy, never to upset or trigger anyone. - cherub

#eren x reader #eren yeager #attack on titan #self shipping #yandere #yandere eren x reader #self insert #self insert x canon #tw yandere #canon x self insert #kn!feplay #bl00d

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ghostiiess · 1 year ago

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[NSB HEADCANONS] - making aesthetic pumpkins with regie

pov: painting pumpkins with regie during a rainy afternoon

warnings: some swears here and there

type: fluff

member: regie macalino

REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

I didn’t want to do another one ‘carving pumpkins’ type of hc since i already did one about ryan and i think it would be a bit lookalike, so i thought that painting on pumpkins could be a cute idea

Plus, regie is really good in art and everything artistic (you can’t tell me otherwise, he’s our fav artist), so i thought it could fit him perfectly for this kind of post!

Anyways, let’s start :)

(More under the cut!)

So you recently shared that idea up to your boyfriend regie: painting on pumpkins for halloween

Ofc he wasn’t that hyped up when you first said it

“Do you think it’ll look good?”

“I’m not that good in arts…”

EXCUSE ME SIR???!!!

DID YOU SAY YOU WEREN’T GOOD IN ART?

Damn if regie says is not good in art, then it means I am really bad at art.. 🥲

So you were both back home with two big pumpkins 🎃

Regie installed the journal paper on your table and put music on your television for the little fall ambience

“Here’s the paint and the water cup p”

“Want a drink my love?”

He would go on Pinterest to search for inspiration

“I want to make an original concept”

“What are you doing my love?” (He will copy your work and says he’s the one who did it first and claim that you copied his art, be careful)

“I’m not copying you, i am taking inspiration!” He would say while smiling

He would def glance at your pumpkin just so he can see your art (he thinks you can’t see him doing that)

“What? I’m not doing anything!”

“your moon look like a babybel” (the cheese)

Thank you regie 🥲 i guess?

Lots and lots of teasing

“Is it supposed to be a cat?”

“It look like a squirrel”

He would judge your art, then says a few seconds later “babe, you have taste and talent! So cute!”

He would also try to put paint on you or on your pumpkin

“What? I’m not even touching you! I’m just looking at your art!”

“I want to paint you like you’re one of my French girls”

Thank you regie x2

he would just sing (and you would think you are in heaven)

THIS MAN SING SO WELL

Like-

Regie’s cover when? We are waiting because his voice >>>

It’s so relaxing

Sometimes, he would stop what he’s doing just to look at you

He would smile so much omg

« You look so cute when you’re all focused, baby »

« No, don’t mind me, baby! keep doing your thing »

Btw, his pumpkins would look so great

Yours too, btw

He would post them in his ig story « who did better? Me or y/n? »

And make the stars choose him

“Stars, i love you all so much and you know I would always support you guys, so…. Do the same for me, vote for me” (something like that)

You decide if you win or lost, but regie was happy to had done this with you

« funny how I copied you and it look better on mine than on yours… »

But would still be proud of you

« You tried, my love »

Okay regie. That’s enough. 🙄

« It was so fun and relaxing, thank you ml »

Taglist! (Open! Send an ask if you’d like to be in it!) : @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

Bold can’t be tagged.

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dragonbinx · 2 years ago

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Existential Halloween

From my Halloween series last fall and the first part of my Jed Explains the Holiday series. Posted on Ao3 here.

Series: Legacies

Ship: BenJed

Characters: Jed Tien, Ben

“What is this?”

Jed startled, thoughts of Odysseus disappearing from his head. Midterms were coming up and for the first time, he was focused on studying. His head hurt a little and he was pretty sure he was using way too much highlighter because half the book was orange, but he was interested in his subjects and he was pretty sure he could do this. If his boyfriend didn’t distract him too much.

He looked at the thing covering his books, then up at Ben. “Um, that’s a witch hat. Why do you have a witch hat?”

“Because that’s what the woman at the store in town called it, but witches don’t wear hats. And even if they did, I thought humans didn’t know they existed so why are they trying to sell them accessories?”

Jed smirked. “Okay, I’m guessing the Wikipedia in your head doesn’t include Halloween?” Ben’s head tilted his head in confusion. “Which one’s tripping you up, Wikipedia or Halloween? Actually, you know what, never mind, I’ll just try again. Your power that lets you know things doesn’t cover holidays?”

“Oh. No, it doesn’t. It’s mostly for languages and how to perform tasks, that sort of thing. So there’s a holiday for witches and it involves this hat?” He picked up the pointed hat and turned it over dubiously. “Why does is it pointed?”

“Halloween is a mix of Celtic pagan traditions and a Christian holiday from several centuries ago, to honor the dead I think. And then history happened, traditions kept changing, and now it’s a holiday where people celebrate the funny or scary parts of what they all think are totally fake supernatural stuff. Including weird, over exaggerated takes on witches. The traditional ‘witch’ rides on a broomstick, has a pointy nose, and wears that.” He tapped the point on the hat for emphasis.

“That’s … ridiculous. Why would people think that?”

“Don’t ask me. I grew up in a pack, I only know this stuff because I went to a human school on and off before I turned. Which is probably one of the reasons I’m not good at studying. Which is why I should get back to it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.” Ben dropped a kiss on the top of Jed’s head. “Thank you for explaining and I’ll be in the RV if you need my help.”

Jed chuckled under his breath as he watched his boyfriend walk back to the RV, turning the hat over and over in his hands. Then he turned back to his studying, thinking that was the end of it.

It was not.

“Why are there cats?”

Jed blinked at Ben sleepily. He’d spent the night studying and was running a little late this morning, so he was still nursing a coffee at almost eleven. Ben had already gone into town to pick up some packages they’d had sent to the local post office and apparently had questions. “What, like why did we choose to domesticate cats and not something cool like rhinos or something? No idea. But I like kinda like cats, there’s a lot of videos of them on the internet.” He was really loving having access to WiFi. It wasn’t better than magic, but it was pretty awesome.

“No, I meant for Halloween. There are so many black cats on things. And pumpkins, why are there pumpkins?”

“Oh. Um, black cats are supposed to be unlucky and they have something to do with witches, their familiars - like an animal sidekick, I guess? And pumpkins because fall and jack-o-lanterns. Crap, jack-o-lanterns - so you carve a face into a pumpkin and put a candle inside and it’s supposed to scare away ghosts and stuff. I think. Irish myth or something. That one might be true though. It sounds like a thing that might exist, some ghost carrying around a lantern. I’ll ask Professor Vardemus the next time we talk.” He shook his head and tried to get back on track. “Was that all you wanted to know?”

“I think so. Thank you.” Ben looked more lost than before he’d asked, but he left Jed to his coffee.

Jed was vibrating, waiting for Ben to come home. He’d been updating his student portal waiting for grades to be posted repeatedly all afternoon and they’d finally been posted half an hour ago, and he’d texted Ben immediately. He’d paced their camp a dozen times, lifted some weights, then texted Finch and Cleo the good news, and now he was sitting by the fire pit, knee jiggling, waiting for Ben to show up.

When he did arrive, it wasn’t with the hoped for attitude. He strode into camp, tossed some bags down on the table, and said, “I do not understand Halloween. What could candy possibly have to do with a holiday about honoring those you’ve lost, incorrect myths, and cats? Why are there signs everywhere telling me I should get the candy early? Are they going to run out? And why -“

He was cut off by Jed’s hand over his mouth. “Look, I usually don’t mind your endless Halloween questions. I actually think it’s kinda cute how much this is bothering you -“

“Thank you,” Ben said, muffled by Jed’s palm.

“- but I have news. So we can talk about trick-or-treating later, but right now, don’t you want to hear about my grades?”

Ben pulled Jed’s hand off of his mouth. “They posted them?”

“An A, two A minuses, one B plus and one B minus. Best grades I’ve gotten since the wolf who did my homework freshman year graduated. I kinda killed it.”

“That’s amazing, Jed!” Ben wrapped him up in a hug. “We should celebrate. Whatever you want to do.”

Jed pulled away and looked in the bags on the table. “Did you get anything that’ll go bad? Dairy, meat, anything like that?”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?

Jed dragged Ben in by the front of his shirt and kissed him, all open mouth and sliding tongue and dirty intentions. Ben, always quick to jump on board when Jed wanted him, gave as good as he got, digging his fingers into Jed’s hair to pull him closer, the other hand slipping under his shirt to splay over his side possessively.

“Time to go in and celebrate,” Jed said hoarsely when they came up for breath, twining his fingers through Ben’s and tugging him towards the RV, laughing as Ben crowded him, banding his arms around his stomach and burying his face in Jed’s neck. It made getting inside more difficult, but Jed wasn’t complaining.

“Why do they laugh at monsters? Monsters aren’t a joke.”

Jed turned to Ben. They were sitting by the fire, a beer in each of their hands. He’d noticed that something was off with his boyfriend, but he’d wanted to give Ben some time and see if he’d bring it up. Apparently he was now. “Is this another Halloween thing?” Ben nodded, still looking at the fire. “It’s because they don’t believe in them. They can’t take them seriously, because they don’t think they’re real.”

Ben sighed. “I understand. It still makes me uncomfortable.”

“I get that.” Jed scooted his chair closer and pulled Ben close. Ben gratefully put his head on Jed’s shoulder, and Jed took his hands and rubbed circles on the back of it. “How about we spend Halloween by ourselves this year?”

“I thought you were excited to do human holiday traditions now that you aren’t at the school anymore?”

“And we will have a very intense Christmas, I can promise you that. But we can skip this one. Besides, it’s not like it’s our last chance or anything. We’re going to spend a lot of Halloweens together. There’s no rush.”

Ben lit up like he always did when Jed mentioned their future together. “I suppose you’re right. We can have a pumpkin, if you want,” he offered.

“Maybe.” He pressed his mouth into Ben’s hair and smiled, feeling very fond of his demigod.

“Jed?”

“Yeah?”

“I still hate the witch hat."

#Legacies #CW Legacies #Legacies CW #BenJed #JedBen #Jed x Ben #Ben x Jed #Jedetheus #Jed Tien #Ben (Legacies)#werewolf demigod soulmates #dragonbinx fics

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angelisverba · 4 years ago

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thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number)

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

* * * * * *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter.

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat.

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society.

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’ his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room.

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck.

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin.

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit.

Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips.

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had.

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango.

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion). The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere.

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it.

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough.

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did.

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother.

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat.

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door.

Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be.

And he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company.

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants, and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel.

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already.

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.”

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like.

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy.

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation.

Right?

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy.

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table.

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon.

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants.

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny.

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could.

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again.

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin.

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class.

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go.

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’.

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence.

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said.

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement.

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.”

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible.

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked.

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t.

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited.

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible.

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another.

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart.

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent.

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.”

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy.

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.”

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully.

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be.

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her.

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer.

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning.

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him.

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked.

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home.

His home.

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture).

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too.

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did.

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number.

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room.

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise.

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her.

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her.

“Oh my god!” She said, “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with. She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’.

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’.

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm. The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow.

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up.

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf.

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.”

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.”

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.”

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three.

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said.

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n.

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her.

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.”

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck. Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements.

Like dropping her card when she piped up again.

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm.

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous.

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing.

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram.

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added.

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?”

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.”

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma.

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time.

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates.

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat.

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store.

***

Harry was having a shitty morning.

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should.

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage.

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead.

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance.

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way.

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day.

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that.

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning.

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart.

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down.

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content.

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.

It’s no use.

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true.

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be.

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him.

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier.

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin.

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible.

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy.

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips.

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay.

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day?

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look.

“Back again so soon, H?”

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop.

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.”

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said.

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal.

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and-

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart.

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?”

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off.

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove.

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.”

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.”

It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence?

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.”

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.”

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out.

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle.

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly.

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice.

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like.

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.”

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance.

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought.

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.”

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling.

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.”

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!”

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles.

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!”

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all.

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else.

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time,

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-”

Harry and y/n giggle at each other,

“You go first.”

“Y’speak first.”

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.”

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands.

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm?

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.”

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose.

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.”

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her.

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.”

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum.

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face.

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body.

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything.

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers.

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes.

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning.

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole.

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?”

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-”

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists.

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?”

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.”

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning.

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching.

“Will you text me?” She asked him.

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?”

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center.

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?”

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.”

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent.

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling.

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.

********

Harry can’t stop thinking.

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning.

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom.

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds.

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface.

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button.

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like.

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut.

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock.

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her.

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself.

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm.

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge.

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base.

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum.

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum.

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out.

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again.

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body.

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads:

y/n <3 : so… dinner?

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name.

He couldn’t be happier.

* * * * * *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

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obeymeoasis · 3 years ago

Text

Demon Bros React: MC Compliments Them Aggresively

Warnings: A generally thirsty MC, Beel’s react has a brief mention of choking.

Lucifer

It was rare that Lucifer had time off during the afternoon and you were fully taking advantage of it.

Holding hands, you were taking a leisurely stroll around the garden. Every few minutes you stopped to point out a flower or a bug that had caught your eye.

“Ooh Luci, look at this one! It looks like a rainbow! Oh my god, it’s so shiny, I love it!”

You heard Lucifer chuckling at you and turned to ask what was so funny when you stood still in shock at the sight before you. The glow of the afternoon sun illuminated Lucifer beautifully, his black hair almost glowing, his face open and happy, smiling at you. He looked absolutely radiant. And you were going to tell him as much.

“Oh my god Lucifer, what is wrong with you?”

Lucifer’s smile dimmed immediately and his eyes narrowed. “Love, whatever do you mean?” His voice was careful and tense.

“I mean, it is illegal for you to look that good! Oh my god! Do you see you? You look like a greek god like what in the actual world!”

Lucifer’s mouth opened in surprise at your sudden outburst.

“How are you even my boyfriend? Like you’re literally glowing Luci. Oh my god my eyes, you’re too bright I can’t even look at you!”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times as if to clear his head. Slowly a satisfied smirk replaced his confused look and he moved to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“Love, what on earth has gotten into you today?”

“What, I’m not allowed to compliment my boyfriend?”

“Of course you are, although I’d prefer it if the compliments were given in a more... private place next time.”

“...Fine.”

Mammon

Mammon had apparently made some money in one of his schemes and he practically dragged you to Majolish one morning to go shopping.

Once in the store Mammon had sped off in a flurry of activity, adding clothes to an ever-growing pile before herding you toward the dressing room.

"Wait for me outside, okay? Ya gotta tell me how each outfit looks.”

A few minutes later, Mammon stepped out in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his toned legs and a black v-neck sweater that showed off his collarbone. A thin gold chain adorned his neck and the look was completed with a pair of combat boots.

“Well, whattaya think?”

“Mammon. What the hell.”

Mammon’s shoulders drooped a little. “Not good?”

“Mammon. You look so hot. So fucking hot. Like. A supermodel? An icon? You’re stunning!”

He was beginning to blush and you could see how pleased your compliments made him. “O-Of course you think I’m hot! I’m the Great Mammon! I always look good in whatever I wear.”

He expected you to stop at that point and chide him to be more humble but was surprised when you amped up the compliments.

“You do babe, you really do. Look at how long your legs are! And your arms, oh my god. And your chest, wow, I kinda want to lick your chest right now.”

“MC!” Shocked and a little embarrassed, Mammon fled to the inside of the dressing room, swishing the curtain shut behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning.

“Sorry Mams, I’ll stop if you want me to. But I meant every word.”

“...Please don’t stop.”

Leviathan

You were in his room, cuddled on some cushions, watching a new anime together.

Your head on Levi’s shoulder, you were so comfortable that you were close to drifting off to sleep, until Levi nudged your shoulder. “Sorry, I have to go feed Henry.”

You watched Levi sprinkle food into the large tank, his face illuminated by the soft glow. The bubbles and movement from the tank created dancing patterns on his face. As Levi watched Henry eat, he smiled a soft, private smile, and in that moment he looked ethereal.

“Levi, you’re so beautiful.”

Levi’s head whipped around to look at you. “W-What are you talking about?”

You got up and moved closer until you were inches from his face, studying his features. “I’m serious Levi, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Devastatingly handsome. I could honestly stare at you all day. You are so so beautiful.”

With each compliment, Levi’s mouth grew a little bit wider until he was gaping at you.

“I-Is this some kind of joke? Are you making fun of me right now? Why would you- You know how I feel about-”

“Levi, please. Have a little more faith in me. You know I’d never make fun of you. I’m being completely serious right now when I say that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

Levi thinks his brain might have stopped working.

His face is burning, his body is all tingly, and he can’t get any words out?

“Levi? Come back to me, Levi! Hello?” You’re waving your hand in front of his face but you think he might be broken.

You take his hand and slowly lead him back toward the cushions for kisses and more cuddling.

Satan

Reading with Satan was one of your favorite ways to spend an afternoon.

You sat in opposite armchairs and let the comfortable silence fill the room. The only disturbance would be if either of you wanted to share a line or passage from the book you were reading.

Legs curled against your chest, you watched the flame of the candles make flickering shadows against Satan’s bookshelves.

He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see his outstretched hand holding his book.

“Love, look at this line.”

You read in amusement as the hero of the story made a witty joke. "That was a good one-"

You turned and saw Satan, his eyes crinkled in laughter, a light blush dusting his cheeks, his lips bitten in an attempt to hold in a giggle.

"Satan... you're so fucking cute."

Immediately one of his eyebrows cocked in confusion. "What-"

"You are so adorable, wow. I want to squish your cheeks and like keep you inside my pocket or something."

"Love, I am the Avatar of Wrath. I am not... cute."

"Yeah? Well I beg to differ. I call it like I see it and right now, I can see that you are the cutest being I've ever seen in my life. The way your eyes light up and you get all blushy. So adorable, I can't stand it."

Satan seemed to be stunned by your exclamation, his features frozen in a mixture of confusion and shock.

You walked over to him and began pressing kisses against his eyelids, on his cheeks, nose, and then finally, lips. "I'm gonna keep kissing you because you're so cute, okay?"

He ended up tugging you against his chest and holding you in a princess-carry, trying to bury his face in your hair so you couldn't see how flustered he was.

Asmodeus

You were in Asmo's room helping him pick an outfit. Well, more like you were scrolling through your D.D.D. while Asmo went through his entire closet complaining about how he had nothing to wear.

He had some sort of big business meeting coming up with a perfume company who wanted his help in designing their new line of products.

Every outfit so far had been beautiful and Asmo looked amazing in each one, as always. You weren't sure how to help him.

"MC, this next outfit is a little different. It's not really my style but it was a gift from the designer so tell me what you think, okay?"

Asmo swished aside the curtain of his dressing room and walked out in a formal black business suit. The shirt was open at the throat, exposing his delicate neck, and he had added a pink pocket square. A large silver watch shone on his left wrist. His shiny black shoes clicked against the floor as he walked toward you.

"So, what do you think?"

"Asmo... If I'm being honest I kind of want you to pin me against the wall right now."

"Darling! You're usually never this forward."

You stood up and twirled him around. "My god Asmo, you look incredible. You look so sexy and professional. Like a rich CEO or something. Scratch the wall thing, I kinda need you to bend me over your desk."

Asmo had never been more surprised by you, but his shock didn’t last long.

"Do you really like it, MC? Do you like when I wear this sort of thing? I should wear suits more often if it means you talking like that. I love this side of you darling!"

He began stalking toward you until your back was gently pressed against the wall, his arms making a kind of cage around you. “Is this what you pictured, MC?” He began kissing you fiercely and you grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket to keep yourself steady.

“Asmo?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t go to the meeting today.”

Beelzebub

You were in the gym with Beel. He was lifting weights and you were bouncing on a medicine ball next to him.

Even though you didn’t exercise at all, Beel said he liked you being there with him. And since it was such a hot day outside, you didn’t mind spending the afternoon in the cool air-conditioned building.

But despite the chill of the room, Beel’s shirt was soaked with sweat. He was lifting enormous weights and you could see the muscles of his arms straining with the effort.

Beel was, well, absolutely ripped. His arms, legs, and stomach all looked like they had been carved from marble. And you spent enough time cuddling with him to know that his body felt exactly like it looked, solid and incredibly strong.

People who didn’t know Beel personally would have found it hard to believe that the demon with an eight-pack had the personality of a hungry golden retriever.

A grunt from Beel startled you out of your thoughts and you realized you had been staring at him this whole time. Uncomfortable at the way his shirt was sticking to his body from sweat, Beel peeled it off of himself.

“Beel?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re killing me here.”

He looked at you in confusion, worried he had done something. “MC, what’s wrong?”

“Beel, do you even see yourself right now? You literally look like sex on legs. How are you even real? I want to touch you all over. But I also kind of want you to choke me.”

“MC!” Beel cried out in surprise and you could see his neck was flushed. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know big guy, I trust you.” You let out a low whistle and reveled in how Beel looked, a combination of pleased and a bit embarrassed. “Beel, you’re so perfect. You look like you could protect me from the world.”

“I would you know,” he whispered. “I want to protect you, I don’t want anything or anyone to hurt you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Beel, and I love you for it.” You let the silence hang in the air for a moment. “But also, can I lick your abs?”

“MC!”

Belphegor

It was a rare occasion that you and Belphie were outside, as you both usually preferred to stay in.

You had both woken up late and decided to stop by a local cafe for some lunch because you were too lazy to cook.

Belphie sat across from you at the small table and sipped his tea delicately while you polished off the rest of your sandwich. You had one of your ankles hooked around his.

He was looking out the window, his face turned toward the side, and you used the opportunity to study his features.

Long black eyelashes framed his piercing purple eyes. His silky dark hair stood out against his pale complexion and your eyes traced the high bridge of his nose, the softness of his lips.

As if feeling your stare Belphie turned toward you with a smirk. “Something I can help you with?”

“Belphie... you’re really pretty.”

You could see that you had surprised him a little with your honesty. “You’re so pretty, Belphie. I know a lot of people would kill to have eyelashes as long as yours. And your mouth looks so kissable. You kind of look like a doll. You’re honestly so gorgeous.”

His face was completely blank for a moment then morphed into a calculating stare. “Are... are you being serious right now?” His gaze suddenly turned cold.

“Why would I joke about something like this? I’m telling you right now that think you’re pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Belphie's voice betrayed no emotion. “Nobody’s ever called me pretty before. Or beautiful.”

“Oh, Belphie.” You took his hand from across the table and pressed a kiss against his palm and then the inside of his wrist, the way he did to you all the time. “I’ll repeat it everyday for the rest of my life if you want.”

He scrunched up his nose and whispered, “Don’t. You’re being embarrassing.” But you could tell he didn’t really mean it by the way the corners of his lips quirked up.

He was mostly silent for the rest of lunch, apparently deep in thought, only nodding occasionally at your comments.

When it was time to leave, however, he reached to hold your hand and didn’t let go the entire way home.

1K notes · View notes

colorfullfalls · 2 years ago

Text

La Push settled into fall season finally and the wind was full blown. Leaves swirled on the moist grass as the powerful gusts ran across the earth, squirrels scampering to trees to find shelter. This was the best time of the year according to you. Cold but not too cold, yet so freaking pretty.

Embry invited you to the lunch picnic with the pack. You were Paul’s little sister and saw him phase accidentally when he didn’t know you were home. From there you got to be in on the little secret and met Embry.

Little did you know that the second he laid eyes on you, his world changed, the imprint love running through all of his veins. Since then the two of you had been close, but he had yet to explain you were his imprint.

He was nervous.

What if you didn’t want him?

What he didn’t know was that you very much wanted him. You often thought about the way his brown eyes glowed when he talked or his little laugh when he thought something was amusing. Embry was taking forever to make a move if he was interested and you got tired of it. Being the young adult you were, you had causal sex with people. Everyone has their needs and you weren’t exempt of that.

“Do you have to go?” The man named Max asked, grinning lazily at you.

“Yes, I seriously have to go. I have plans besides sex you know.” You retorted, throwing your flannel over your t-shirt. The soft fabric still smelled like Embry which made your gut hurt. Sleeping with other people made you feel guilty but you two weren’t even together.

“Cancel them.”

You snorted, “no. Look, I had a good time okay? I’ll give you a call.”

He grinned, “don’t wait too long,” he got up and dressed himself before leading you out the door.

Driving through Forks to La Push was pretty as usual but something was nagging you about sleeping with Max. It wasn’t the first time you’ve had sex with him but this time felt especially wrong. Wrong because it was someone not Embry. A blush came on your cheeks as the thought of that. He was so attractive and had no clue either, so frustrating. You longed to be able to kiss him at least once to be able to experience it, but that seemed out of reach.

Kim‘s car sat at the bottom of your drive way, the green old beat up jeep slightly parked half in the yard half off. You smiled at her shittty park job. It was a charm of hers.

Fuck.

Kim will ask where you had gone. She somehow was really disappointed whenever you slept with Max, scolding that he was a bad person. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t a bad person, just not your type of boyfriend material.

Kim was waiting patiently in her room when you walked in. Slinging your bag on the floor you sheepishly smiled at her, “Hi bestie.”

“Were you at Max’s?” She asked, a deep frown carved on her beautiful face.

You let out a noise of surprise, “What? How did you even jump to that conclusion so fast dude?”

She shook her head and pointed to you, “Y/N, your flannel is on backwards and inside out. Don’t treat me like I’m dumb. Besides, I have you on Life360. I knew you were there already.”

“Fuck,” you took off your flannel and fixed it, “I was at Max’s and it was fucking good sex too- if you must know. Just saying… that man never disappoints.”

Kim scoffed and stood up crossing her arms, “Don’t you feel guilty for doing that to Embry?”

You rolled your eyes, “Kim. My dear Kim. My best friend. We have been over this. He doesn’t see me that way. I’ve tried leaving hints and nothing has come of it. Besides, he hasn’t imprinted yet so why would I bother. The moment he finds that girl I’m nothing compared to her.”

Kim shrugged, “Maybe he would pick you.”

“Fuck off, that’s not even funny. I’m not dumb either. I see how you are with Jared, how my brother is with Rachel. You can’t deny an imprint, Kim.”

Even saying those words hurt. You did want Embry but odds were clearly not in your favor. So sleeping with Max was satisfying and got the sad reality out of your brain for a while.

“We have to get going.”

Kim brushed past you and towards the car. She seemed mad with the way she dismissed the last thing you said. Why did she care who you slept with? It wasn’t her body.

“Kim, I use protection you know. I’m not going to get pregnant if that’s why you are annoyed.”

Kim rolled her eyes, “you’re so oblivious and that’s what makes me annoyed. Come on, Jared said they are already there waiting for us. Embry is waiting for you. Wait till he finds out what you had been doing before this.”

“Kim, seriously back off. Embry won’t know, how would he?”

“He is going to smell another scent all over you.”

The drive was quiet and you were slightly getting pissed off. Kim had no right to make you feel ashamed for having sex as an adult. Your body was your own and you were very much single. She was acting as if you cheated on a husband, this was ridiculous. Besides, since when did she care so much about who you slept with. She didn’t care when you were in high school. If anything she celebrated with you.

Now she was different.

Was Jared making her think that sleeping with anyone who you weren’t dating was wrong? Was the imprint affecting her?

Parking the car, Kim turned to you and slightly smiled, “I’m sorry for earlier. I love you and I just want you to be happy and I truly know Embry is the right choice.”

“Thank you Kim, I appreciate that. But please chill out okay? Embry and I are best friends and we are fine with that.”

You just lied to your best friend right through your teeth.

Tapping on the window scared you, eyes turning to see Jared beaming at Kim as if she was the sun. She giggled and opened the door going right into his arms. You rolled your eyes. Jared realized you were here within seconds. Stupid wolf senses. You got yourself out of the car and saw Embry lazily walking over with a joyful expression.

God he was so cute.

“Hey stranger, long time no see huh.” He teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You let out a short laugh, chest feeling full when he reached your side, “Yeah, it’s almost like we got dinner together last night. Tacos, was it?”

Embry playfully rolled his eyes, “alright, alright. I’ll admit that those tacos were good. But, I’m sticking with the fact that Chinese food is better. You can’t change a man’s heart, Y/N.”

“You’ll become a taco lover if you keep hanging out with me. Taco Tuesdays! $3 for 3 tacos? You can’t beat them Em. You just can’t.”

Embry pulled you in for a hug and you felt him tense up.

“Em?”

He pulled away and gave you a fake smile, “What?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing you just seemed to tense up. Do I smell bad?” You joked.

Fuck he for sure smells Max and now you’re gonna get another lecture about being the town whore.

“No, you smell like you.”

“So bad.” Jared jabbed, bringing Kim and him around the jeep to be on the same side.

“Jared.” Embry warned, glaring at him.

“Oh my gosh it’s a joke.” Jared argued, “if Y/N is a big girl enough to sleep around then she can take a joke.”

You were fuming, “Kim! For the love of god, keep your damn mouth shut for once in your life. Stop telling Jared my business.”

Jared’s face went from happy and joking to livid within one second. His muscles rippled as he took a step forward, “What the fuck did you just say to her?”

“Jared, leave it.” Kim begged, grabbing his arm.

“Yeah Jared. Leave it. Now.” Embry warned with a tightness in his voice.

“No. I’m not going to leave it. What did you just say to her? You think you can treat her like that in front of me?” Jared loudly spoke with venom coming out of his mouth.

Truth be told you were scared. You never saw one of the wolves act like this in front of you. You knew the playful and caring side of them. Not anger. Never anger. Emily wasn’t lying when she said wolves are extremely protective of their imprint. You glared at Kim trying to convey how annoyed you were with her.

She gave you a pleading look and tried to calm Jared down but he was too angry.

“Leave her alone. Walk away, Jared.” Embry stepped in front of you once he realized that you were starting to feel uneasy. You felt your heart beat going faster. If these two fought you would not be welcomed back to hangout. Or worse, Paul would find out and kill Jared.

“I know she’s your imprint, but god why are you defending her? She sleeps with the same dude when you’re literally the perfect option for her. I’m sick of her hurting you man. And I’m not gonna let her talk to Kim like that.” Jared yelled.

Before Jared could finish the last syllable on ‘that’ you were hunched over puking. Holy fuck you were Embry’s imprint this whole time and he never told you. He let you sleep with other people this whole fucking time! He clearly failed to mention that you were his soulmate. You were repulsed with yourself and how dumb you were. Guilt ripped every cell of your body and you slowly moved to sit down.

No wonder Kim was such a bitch about Max. You were breaking Embry’s heart.

Embry snarled at Jared as Jared realized he fuck up. He shooed Kim to get back into the vehicle. Embry’s arms were shaking as he tried his hardest not to shift right there and then. “You upset her. Look! She’s literally puking! You think you can just talk shit on my imprint Jared? That just because I’m not dating her means that I love her or care any less? You’re dead wrong, idiot. I love her.”

Within seconds Embry’s wolf was grabbing Jared’s wolf by the neck and tearing at his fur. Looking at the violent scene made you feel even more sick.

Panic flooded in your veins. You had to get away from here. You shakily stood up and started to walk away when you saw the pack run over. Sam shifted into his beautiful alpha wolf before going to stop the violent fight.

Paul’s arms were scooping his baby sister up in a minute, looking worriedly for any harm on you, “Hey, you’re okay. What happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Embry imprinted on me?”

“Fuck.” Paul yelled.

That night you heard a knock at your window. You knew it was Embry. Of course he would show up once you were starting to wish he came around to explain. It’s almost like he knew how you were feeling in that moment. You wondered if he did know and if that was a side effect of being an imprint. You had a vague idea of imprinting but so much was to be learned.

You opened the window and let him climb in. His hair was wet from the rain and so were his muscles and abs. Shirtless. Of course. The boys were always shirtless and it made it harder not to stare at him. You grabbed the towel off your floor you used earlier and he dried himself with a thankful smile.

“So, let’s clear the air. I’m sorry for not telling you that you’re my imprint. I thought we could naturally see where things went between us.” He admitted, putting the towel on your desk chair.

You crossed your arms, “You should have told me.”

He sighed, “I know. I was an idiot. I didn’t mean to make Kim and Jared mad at you. It wasn’t fair of them to treat you like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have slept with anyone if I knew I was yours. Yet again, you should have told me. I’m so embarrassed that the whole pack probably thinks I’m some whore who is stringing you along.”

“It’s not stringing along when you’re literally the love of my existence, Y/N.” His body gravitated towards yours naturally.

You blushed, being at a loss for words. You often were envious of whoever ended up being Embry Call’s imprint. They would get to be adored by the most thoughtful and handsome man that ever lived. That lucky girl would get to spend her life knowing she was loved by such an amazing human. The thought used to make you want to puke or cry. But it was you the whole time. You were his and he was yours.

His brown eyes were looking expectantly at you for the next move or next part of the conversation.

“Embry.”

“Yes?”

“You pretty much will do anything I ask, right?”

He chuckled, unfolding his arms and nodding, “Always, yeah.”

“Kiss me.”

#embry call imagine #embry call

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sugar-petals · 3 years ago

Text

SuperM as Boyfriends Headcanon

↪ caro’s note. extra long version because i miss ‘em. best boys, they’re all bf material to the moon and back ♡

5k words | bullet points

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub play, shibari, female reader, grinding, poly mentions, threesomes, face-sitting, femdom & vanilla, smut and fluff

⌈ ten

— motto: they won’t underestimate me for long.

most of your social environment is gonna be confused by ten at the beginning

and don’t really get what he’s all about

or think he’s like whatever, some random guy in a tank top

acting peculiar

finding him kind of hard to gauge

some of your family and relatives might even think he’s totally unusual and a sneaky fuckboy making you mad

they seriously wonder what you see in him

down the line that perception has turned by 180 degrees

as it should

ten becomes more irreplaceable, relatable, beautiful, perfect and impressive the more you know him

he’s not as mysterious and impossibly badass as everyone assumes

his personality is very approachable to you

and you find him interesting in every aspect, looks to hobbies to background to personal habits

and also opinions because ten is a guy who really thinks stuff through

so you gotta be roughly on the same wavelength

he likes discussing controversial and complicated stuff a lot for sure

being far wiser than his age suggests

you are the first to share those things with him until the rest of the world catches up to this gem of a person

spending so much time with you

in the most personal way he can

he takes you to see the floating markets in bangkok, you spend the summer in thailand

wakeboarding and playing badminton

his entire family knows you inside out at some point this shit is serious

it’s very important to him to go back to the roots every now and then

and that you have been around his home city as well

getting to enjoy the area and time together eating the most savory delicacies

renting a boat and paddling you around to the important spots, he can explain any question you have

this kissing is gonna be so romantic

who needs a vacation in venice when you can go to thailand with none other than ten himself as your ferryman let that sink in

except eating durian there he is, the boyfriend who can do anything!

with seemingly no effort

ten does little kind services of love for you throughout the day

he pours you herbal tea, fixes some furniture (he’s surprisingly good at tinkering), comes home from the bakery with your favorite pastry, does the laundry with your favorite fabric softener

he also goes on a huge shopping spree with you monthly because fashion is key in this household and it’s tremendous fun

you giggle when he puts on oversized shirts deliberately to look funny

everyone in the clothing store will think oh man what an adorable pair

ten will model the living hell out of the entire stock

and buy you the cape you really really want as a birthday present

said item turns out to be your favorite couple accessory

because you can sit next to each other on a bench at the river and wear it

what’s not to love about a portable blanket

of course he will take to instagram and make it such a cool thing, photographies of you wearing really cool coats and jackets

mirror bathroom selfies together as well, with a back hug, the classic

and not just for insta

you snuggle a lot generally

ten is always available for affection

and accepts all PDA

he’s a kitty after all, he loves the warmth of your body more than you know

remember how taemin said ten’s hands are always cold, newsflash not anymore since you stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie whenever you can

and hello sir your paws will be nice and cozy on my waist

or hand in hand when you waltz through your apartment

time for dance is a must

oh my god ten is so good at all of this

although say he’s definitely faster into latin than standard genres

tango argentino, he loves flamenco as well

don’t believe me? ten is a diehard rosalía stan!

vamos

so, no-brainer, expect a lot of dancy stuff

that escalates into wild, passionate fucking

which probably looks like an aggressive form of couple exercises

you poor sore souls

ten’s lil kitty butt is falling apart from all the “i can handle a bigger one!”-level pegging and you have aching legs all over

favorite position? full nelson

if you ask me ten’s ass is probably so carved out by the end of this you could fit lucas and kai in there from head to toe

this is not for the faint of heart

sex with this guy is extra cardio

and if you’re into that a threesome is gonna go down sooner or later

with our girl lisa

there. i said it

miss manoban in those knee-high boots, grinding her thighs between yours and you finishing off on ten’s face? the fucking hottest thing ever i need a moment wow

i don’t have to tell you how orgasmic this is gonna be

steamy sex life with ten very recommended

⌈ kai

— motto: you’re like a precious rose. i’ll protect you forever.

to be straightforward with you

he is in so heavily in demand it’s madness

to give you an idea of the scale

mark is basically occupied by yuta until the end of time

but kai has an entire idol fanclub on top of all erigoms

those sharp moves did not go unnoticed

he gets an inkigayo sandwich every other day

jesus christ

if rent-a-sexy-bf.com was a thing kai would be the most requested

his phone would be blowing up with contracts like

and you also have to pass kyungsoo’s vibe check

and taemin’s

the road to being kai’s gf is indeed the way of the samurai

i mean honestly: kim jongin is without a doubt the hardest member to get a date with

this has got to be the most selective man of the entire industry or something

if he likes you he REALLY likes you

and he will be the one showing initiative

because he wants to make it clear he isn’t just spending time out of politeness or something

although it’s pretty logical that if kai was unable to reject someone he would no longer be an idol but a harem husband busy every hour of the day

seoul would be able to found its own village

kai town

where like 70% of the population is pregnant

but since kai wants to keep on dancing obviously and he wants to lend his heart to only one person

seoul has to settle with a singular nini family house instead of a kai district

where you and the man himself are a full-fledged household basically since kai’s nieces double as actual kids

if you wanna be a young ass ‘mom but not mom with kids’ and be married to kim kai this is it

does he have a thing for milfs or something

that thought just came to my mind

anyway you’re mommy anyway wink wink

fucking til’ dawn until even his muscles hurt

going raw at the gym together

him cooking the most random food with the infamous waffle maker

cuddling with an army of teddy bears surrounding you

walking the dogs with the sexiest dancer alive

and the sexiness is only the tip of the iceberg

we know he’s all-round amazing

kai is the king of figuring out ways to chill out with you anywhere anytime

and yes innocent chilling

...unless you’re in the mood for something else

up to you

anyway

sweet innocent chilling for now... with the stunner... just smooching at best things aren’t going raw or anything

on the couch in the kitchen in the car when it’s parked somewhere in nature

kai takes you very seriously and is a great listener

he’s literally so respectful and open-minded i can’t

he will keep your secrets and stand up for you if it’s ever needed

yes he is extremely caring and invested

kai does not tolerate others being shady towards you

if there’s an instance where you are hurt and unable to assert yourself don’t worry. he knows how to confront others with measure but a firm determination.

kai takes a lot of that responsibility but only to the degree where you are comfortable

i think you get what i mean by that

and he is diplomatic instead of plain patronizing

you have a right to be protected. it means he not only treats you well, but also makes sure your well-being isn’t disturbed in any other way outside of the relationships

outside influences aren’t to be underestimated

and since kai is a godly man you encounter a lot of jealousy from others

a matter he will take into his hands since he knows he’s the reason

standing up for you also means saying no

to these jealous voices so this is an important boundary he has to draw

that all kinds of hellbent people want to get into his pants and take his stage image too literally is not up to you to fix

kai is there for you to enjoy and love not to defend

that’d be exhausting and beside the point

kai prevents stress and negativity to come to you

i hope i explained this well he doesn’t do this to be bossed up or make you weak it’s because he wants to make life easier for you

guys being protective will be chalked up as chauvinistic these days. often rightfully so

but what i mean is that kai support you in all regards so you won’t be at a disadvantage or feel terrible about something

⌈ taeyong

— motto: we’ll take good care. enjoy the pleasure.

he’s the type of boyfriend who will ask you about things he missed out on while he was busy

things um from the internet

while mark literally knows that one by heart already taeyong will ask you things like what the wellerman song is

and you thought it would be something nsfw

i got you fooled

did we forget that the man literally watched nct memes on youtube

taeyong is both even more 18+ than you think but also even more innocent than you think it’s complicated

this man is just hard to describe he’s so different, i mean every person is unique but he’s an original it’s the extra mile you know

anyway

sea shanties

bopping to it all day since he just heard it

singing it while he prepares dinner based on a youtube recipe video as he often does

he’s the most adorable person ever ever ever

asking you why shanties are back in fashion

(good question, requires a deeper sociocultural analysis i reckon)

planning to remix one for his soundcloud lmao i kid you not

maybe your favorite shanty

featuring fast-pace rap and all

creating his own previously unknown phrases and shit like that you know him

palazzo rocco lemon detox flashbacks

he’s hilarious i swear

taeyong will produce his own shanties for you can you imagine

as he says: my happiness is your happiness

watch out he will drop a shanty music video with extra krumping moves

taeyong is a never-ending source of pure crack

prepare to laugh a lot like, a lot lot

how can a man who seemingly has such a serious outlook on life and such a bonkers kinda face be so lighthearted

it’s like he’s peter pan or something

especially since he has to manage like over 20 brats in nct his cutesy behavior towards you as his gf will stand out to you

yeah so to be clear we all know he’s the cute one in the relationship

and guess who wears the pants

that’s always you ma’am don’t deny it

or wait

not for long actually because they come off um physically

but not metaphorically

because who doesn’t wanna sit on his face tbh

your favorite reserved spot

he loves it

taeyong has such a thing for your body it’s ridiculous

mister lee got a sexy mama

and you have such a thing for the gloriousness that is him

but neither of you will not admit it as openly as other people would think

all there is... is being flustered

baekhyun probably has to play some cupid now and then

and give you some ideas

like gifting taeyong plushies and things like that

baekhyun knows what taeyong is all about so the advice is very welcome

but most things you find out for yourself

by being a little braver with him you know

you walking around naked in the apartment or basically fresh out the shower with nothing but a towel

will shake up taeyong so immensely, he will back himself against a wall without you even pinning him there lmao!

jeez he’s so deep into kinky stuff but easily shook anyway

i quote him again: “born to be cute, i dunno!”

you can imagine the overwhelm when you rub yourself against him like it’s nobody’s business

it’s so much fun to give taeyong a regular horny meltdown not gonna lie

this man was grinding his whole body all over the superm stage and now he’s basically freezing up and drooling

how many denied and ruined orgasms he’s gonna get, so much overstimulation all the way

you’ll lose count of it

and just how wet you’re gonna be

is a thing for the history books

taeyong isn’t such a big deal in nct for no reason god gave him every talent

so great sex is obviously in his repertoire

i think you’re gonna break some records for most fucks per week

you know... guys like lucas taemin kai and baekhyun spend more time wooing and teasing and flirting

but taeyong gets down to business

one glance is enough

⌈ lucas

— motto: the hottest couple around.

ah, big boy

you really got this man’s attention

doing nothing much at all really

he probably just saw you walking around talking to friends

carrying an impossibly huge veggie burger munching and enjoying yourself after going on a jog

yeah boy that’s how you catch his eye

they say love begins in the stomach and that is the true meaning

or the nose, your food smells really good, lucas is going crazy, he’s seeing stars and shit

anyway

the towering burger isn’t the only thing he wants

lucas cannot get you out of his mind no matter how much he tries to distract himself

with more good food, movies, games

fooling around with wayv or the superm maknaes, and working out

he’s admittedly... a little himbo head over himbo heels with you the feels got to him

he’s not gonna say it’s a date he’s just gonna invite you just because

to hang out in the kitchen while taeyong cooks and baekhyun comes up with the idea to play twister

imagine lucas with his long arms and legs bending himself all over the place

fighting with kai who almost crashed his shoulders into taemin who avoided the accident quickly

making you lose a round

obviously lucas will hustle until your team wins

mostly because he’s so tall and baekhyun is so small which is a huge advantage when stacking each other over the map

let’s just face it baekhyun only suggested this game to bite everyone’s butts and to see you have skinship with lucas

which is definitely a successful plan of the leader

yukhei is in paradise

jumping around his room like an oversized bunny after you went home

don’t lie, you fell hard for him as well he’s just such a presence

emotionally, physically

a gentle but persistent giant

he’ll do anything to make your relationship happen once he knows you’re interested

if there’s someone meant to be a boyfriend it’s gotta be him come on

he will cave in after a while and admit he can’t just forget about you

not gonna lie

your ex is gonna be shaking in his ratty boots

his poor eyes will literally jop from their unexpecting sockets

when he sees lucas hanging out with you

with his shining blonde hair and tall stature, that perfect shapely body, with great fashion on top of that

looking like your guardian angel

man, xuxi really does

pulling you out of your slump that’s been going on for months

and bringing back smiles and a good time he knows how to do that best

and big big hugs of course

you can imagine how soothing and grounded it feels with such huge arms around you

he will make sure that feeling is always there when you need it

because you deserve that treatment

which means he will come over very very often

yeah get ready for how yukhei is a lot more driven than you think just dial and he will be there

underneath the meme surface is someone very determined who really really wants you

yukhei is chaotic good incarnate but in that area he isn’t messing around

his brain is like: “gotta be with her”

on repeat

he must call you, he literally can’t sleep without tying loose ends together as quickly as possible

no second wasted with this guy, even far down the relationship timeline

i really pity your ex

i mean someone dating any superm member would drive their former partner completely nuts

but lucas is a special case

he has that kind of look and aura that makes other guys dig themselves into the ground like wiggling worms or cope by fanboying over him

i don’t wanna make this sound like a competition and yet — congrats on your noodly blondie boyfriend alright

⌈ mark

— motto: two nerds in love.

how to explain this. mark is a perfect balance of a lover, a talker, and a shy bean

with a tendency toward bean

and flicking the bean

you know

cutting right to the chase are we

mark is very invested in pleasing you as good as he can

and defeating his awkwardness

because if we know one thing it’s that he always strives to become better and better like he can’t help it

and isn’t afraid of almost biting off more than he can chew

how many subunits is he part of at this point is it gonna be nct hollywood as well god dangit

back to the point mark doesn’t treat relationships and sex as something static which is a good and rare thing

he does his best and always looks for room to improve

while being very nervous, very bilingual, it takes two languages or more to express what he thinks about you let that sink in

that’s very shaky first date sex while being extremely in love with each other

lucky you

and an afterglow where he plays the guitar for you

that’s so nice

he can play it while laying down and shit

while singing

not rapping, actual full-fledged serenading

we’ve heard how that sounds in the relay cam

are you dating some kind of teenage heartthrob or something huh

mark will make it very clear he’ll stick around, this bad bitch is here to stay

or actually, he’s a good bitch, don’t misunderstand

mark doesn’t have a lot of edgy in him unless rap is concerned

he’s the kinda guy to get lost in IKEA with

having a good time

as often as his schedule permits

you really have to make use of your time together

this man might as well the busiest idol out there

and you are no different because birds of a feather

you’re both mr. and ms. independent

out and about very often

so meeting up becomes something special during comeback season

or wait mark always has a comeback going on

which is a double-edged sword but something you both know you signed up for

which is why you spend a lot of time around NCT dream, 127, and SuperM

sm’s publicity agents have to work extra hard i’m telling you

a dating rumor is the last thing both of you would need

since you befriend several members you gotta stay on the low as well

but hey the rage of jealous people of the public is nothing compared to the force of nature that is yuta nakamoto

who seriously thinks himself threatened and robbed

in case you are feeling possessive as well...

...you might have to fistfight yuta

to be able to be with mark

who is basically property of osaka at this point

yuta is a scorpio that’s just the way it is

unlike taeyong who wishes his rap buddy the best, yuta kinda wants to be mark’s wingman and see him date, live his best life

but also have mark for himself to fawn over and to adore, to be fascinated by

we get it yuta. bisexual struggles. very understandable

you have to promise in person that mark doesn’t forget about the holy gaming nights with yuta

which is hilarious since that’s not up to you but mark’s memory

bestie, yuta uses everyone as a scapegoat don’t sweat it too much

regardless you put a weekly reminder on the fridge

so the roaring lion yuta would be pacified

he doesn’t want to lose his sweetheart can you blame him

the ultimate but also most risky solution is obviously inviting yuta for movies

which will be appreciated but also cause a storm

mark will definitely break a sweat when you start a popcorn war or try to prove who hugs mark the best

caught in the middle of mayhem is mark lee’s specialty what did you expect

this either ends with murder or a chaotic open relationship down the line

yuta really is attached but who wouldn’t be

it could be worse mark has double the love you know

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you wanna know why i’m your candy?

baby tell me are you ridin’?

in fair verona where we lay our scene...

that baekhyun always wants to woo you — his way, which proves to be very interesting to say the least — is never hard to miss

putting in effort is mochi default mode

no matter what stage of the relationship you’re in

he might as well regularly serenade you under your balcony in the backyard just because

probably singing ‘baby we can stay up’ and wiggling his ass in all directions because he’s a dirty boy gone wild

yeah. nowadays romeo is twerking instead of feuding with tybalt

that’s good for him and everyone involved

you in particular because you get some very racy eye candy

you know how baekhyun is

at least nobody’s around seeing him put on an 18+ show like that

your little guy is one unhinged fella

if it starts pouring he will grind up and down the next lantern and belt out ‘singing in the rain’

you bet he can do some actual pole dance

he’s strong and bendy you know

and loves to gyrate his whole bag of bones like... he wants to hit you with all the body rolls

in the rain

what a freaky man

but hey you wanna stay up for sure

doesn’t take long until you beckon him to come upstairs

where the only way to alleviate him of his wet clothes—

oh well he has those roger rabbit vibes and you can’t be mad at it

he will play off all his hormonal antics

baekhyun is hilarious

and so perverted, he can keep up with your spicy idea of playing patty-cake don’t worry

how do i know you’re an extra nsfw kinda person?

who else would like baekhyun

he says juicy things all the time

and does juicy things

yes. finally a couple on eye level indeed.

when baekhyun asks are you ridin’ you ask how hard

bruh

this is gonna be fun

and remember

beside handing you sacks of money

his priority is always to make you smile

i’m kidding about the bags but

baekhyun is so rich it’ll show in your relationship, but he’s more about the interactions with you rather than the lifestyle

baekhyun didn’t hustle for a bentley he hustled to sing and get out of sm alive alright

financial stability: important

luxury: very nice to have, he can make you the presents you want to have and travel a lot together

but smiles: baekhyun priority

because he so badly wants to know you love him and adore him, he sometimes feels so insecure

of course you do

you always reassure him with your reactions

it’s very important to him don’t underestimate it

baekhyun has always been talking about his ideal type in terms of how he can cheer her up

so even the naughtiest sexy time evenings are gonna be filled with all giggles

anyway other than that your pussy will be dripping

because this guy is as horny as all other members of super m combined

and you have your ways of leaving him tongue-tied and wrists-tied

taemin’s impact

superm isn’t short of bondage supplies we all know that

so yeah. shibari baekhyun is gonna happen

since he does pilates imagine what kinda shapes you can bend this lil guy into

and take some pictures

privé is in trouble

bondage model baekhyun is bursting onto the scene

you might even run a risque blog that features cropped pictures with him

heh — you think people will recognize him by his body?

nope

first: you only upload HD pictures that aren’t whitewashed

baekhyun is basically never photographed like that

second: who expects baekhyun to be featured on a bdsm blog with his girlfriend

and this is the guy that drives you around in his expensive car with his big black shades on

well what can i say

nothing is the way it seems

⌈ taemin

— motto: i’ll unfold a whole new world for you.

taemin is cocky, he’s sensual, and: a very smiley person as we know

least boring relationship ever

he will prance toward you whenever he can to involve you in cuddles

touch-starved taemin is a thing

kkoong can tell you about it, he needs kisses and embraces so often

might as well pepper him with it no problem

and put him into your oversized sweaters when he eats ice cream on the sofa, watching movies, and you brush his ever-growing hair

he’s smol he’s gonna fit into them don’t worry

and on the other hand he likes a rough and tough girl who thinks of him like a boy toy

who acts tsundere or like his bodyguard

working out almost daily to the point of sweat all over

a gal probably able to pretzel minho lucas and chanyeol into one giant bundle

taemin truly has the taste of a divo

multi-layered as always

so you couldn’t say the relationship is always the same in sentiment, the vibe of the dynamic could be different every day

we love a complex man

what would be volatile to others is actually an advantage up close

because taemin understands every difficult facet of himself and his partner

even if those facets might be contradictory

or something that’s felt shameful about

he will accept and listen anyway

the same goes for getting what drives you

taemin is like a walking psychology velvet couch with fancy swirls as arm rests

point is he isn’t fooled by the surface of the world

he knows what has to be known

which also means your looks aren’t the part he prioritizes

and not even outward personality and habit is what he’s drawn to

it’s the mentality and values underneath

that’s true compatibility to him and he can feel it

he’s really really smart

and also finds it important that you get along with shinee and superm, that you think they’re nice to be around and vice versa

especially kai as taemin’s absolute bearly bestie. if kai thinks you’re shady and you don’t like kai either

or if you’re permanently super awkward and taemin’s moodmaking doesn’t help

we have a problem

but fair enough

kai and taemin are basically one soul at this point so if taemin likes you jongin does anyway

bff telepathy

in fact jongin was probably the one introducing you to taemin lmao!

because he knows you go well together instinctively and he is correct

so not to worry then

and it’s good on taemin to think longterm and not see you as a person outside of social interaction y’know

cough cough he thinks about marriage, you might be ms. lee one day

here he goes again taemin is just very mature seeing you as well-rounded in every aspect of life

without letting his dick make the important decisions at the detriment of making this a relationship of two lives not just two bodies only

but obviously don’t assume taemin is no horny devil. we all know he dreams of the freakiest scenarios and fantasies in this whole group

going kinda crazy about the thought of making you cum which he always wants to try with new methods

which occupies his mind more than a big bowl of super spicy noodles which is taemin’s favorite meal so

at the same time taemin junior is definitely the same clingy attention whore as his sparkly owner

limp wrists from all the handjobs on your side

and very swollen lips from giving all that head on his side

this is gonna be interesting

he puts the 6v6 in 69

equals 69v69 am i right

but i’m serious that’s gonna be a lot of oral action

you definitely ask each other about having sex very often, daily if you have the time and find a nice spot

and how on earth do both of you keep your hands off each other sleeping in one bed

taemin is touchy as hell with no shyness, and you squish squeeze and grope this guy like the mochi he is

ah when things go both ways

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