#I make ONE comment on how 'I wanna be stretched out' (referring to my back) and now I'm known as the 'I wanna be stretched out' guy

[pocket-notebook]

I wanna stretch him out, ya know?

[asonofpeter]

It's My Party

Pairing: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Plus-Sized!Best Friend!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Rafe's birthday, so he could do whatever he wants, right?

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NON-C0N/DUB-C0N, substance use, alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

A/N: Woah! Where'd this come from? I honestly have no idea, I wrote this in like three days and I love it. My first full Rafe fic? YAY! I've been kinda down so I'm glad I was able to write this! Also pictures in moodboard are my personal perceptions of how Reader looks, doesn't translate into the story besides her being a plus-size queen! Enjoy! 💕💕💕

PLEASE HEED WARNINGS BEFORE READING! I DON'T CONSENT TO THIS WORK BEING REPOSTED, COPIED OR TRANSLATED!

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s my birthday,” Rafe chuckled, leaning back on his arms on your bed. “I wanna make sure the hottest girl at the party is wearing a pretty outfit,” he said, his striking blue eyes running over your frame. 

Your mouth fell open at his comment. You stared back at yourself in the mirror, studying the outfit Rafe had gotten for you. 

It was a dainty light pink sun dress with cherries on it paired with a matching ruffled tie-up cover. It was cute, feminine, soft. 

Just like you. 

“It’s not your birthday yet, Rafe,” you shook your head with a smile, glancing at your best friend before running your hands over the cotton.

“But it will be,” he replied. “So what do you think?” He referred back to the outfit. He had stood up by then, stalking over to you so that his front brushed with your back. The heat of him radiating onto your skin. 

The heat between your legs grew, but you forced it away. Shaking your head clear of any possibilities, you glanced in the mirror to look your best friend in the eyes. 

His intense stare was already on you.

“I love the outfit, but I don’t know about it making me the hottest girl at the party,” you snorted before walking away from the mirror to grab your clothes to change back into. You felt him roll his eyes at your statement but you ignored it as you turned back around to face him.

“You’re already the hottest girl, so that won’t be a problem,” he said, eyes darkening. 

This time you rolled your eyes.

“Really?” You scoffed. “You’re aware that the blonde skinny chicks are going to be throwing themselves at you, right? You won’t even notice I’m there,” you blew out a breath.

While you were comfortable in your own skin, loving your stomach rolls, stretch marks, and flabby skin—you also knew that you weren’t society's beauty standard. So it always confused you when Rafe flirted with you.

He would call you hot one minute and the next you’re seeing a blonde skinny girl walk out of his room with her clothes disheveled.

Still, he was just your best friend and you’re sure he only meant it for a fun laugh. He was never serious. 

As you were about to go into your bathroom, leaving the conversation, you felt a firm hand wrap around your arm.

“Why would I pay attention to those girls when I have you?” He questioned, face hard as he stared at you. “It’s my party and if I say you’re gonna be the hottest girl there, then you’re going to be the hottest girl there,” he squeezed you slightly. 

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush once more. Sometimes you wondered if Rafe was truly attracted to you or if it was all a big lie just to get in your pants. “Okay, didn’t know it was a big deal,” you ripped your arm away from his grip. 

You also wondered if that curiosity was the reason you knew you’d never want to explore a relationship with him. Curiosity killed the cat and what you have with Rafe now is more than perfect for you to be wandering on a side of regret.

“Just wanted to make it known,” he shrugged, stepping back. “So do you like the outfit?” He asked.

Your face softened as you smiled. “Of course, I love it,” you emphasized, earning a smile from him. You closed the bathroom door behind you leaving him in your room.

Rafe had come over just like any other day. You expected you’d be driving to the club like always but today he had a bag from your favorite store in his hand. His smile brightened at the way your face lit up at the sight of it. 

You assumed it was another piece of jewelry or a handbag he made a habit of buying you. But no, it was an outfit this time around. And it was actually your size. Part of you wondered how he guessed so accurately but then you realized you weren’t giving him enough credit. 

He had bought you a cute outfit for a special occasion, and you were happy. 

“Are we still going to the country club? I’ve been craving their strawberry-mango smoothie,” you stated as you walked out of the bathroom, knowing the fruity drink had been on your mind since you had it well over two weeks ago. 

“We could do whatever you want,” he grinned.

~

There were few things in life Rafe enjoyed. And his birthday was one of them.

It was the one day out of the year that was about him. The one day out of the year when Sarah wasn’t the favorite. The one day out of the year that his dad didn’t look at him with disappointment or disapproval. It was the one day out of the year that he was celebrated just for existing. 

Most importantly, you would go all out. Planning him the perfect day to make him feel extra special. He doesn’t think he’d have any other person do that for him.

The thought brought a smile to his face and it only grew when you opened the door, greeting him immediately.

“Happy birthday!” You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face in the crook of his neck. 

He wrapped his arms around you, enjoying the smell of your perfume.

“Mr. 21,” you smirked, pulling away. “You feel old?” You joked.

“Not yet,” he reached up to push a piece of hair out of your face. “You look beautiful as always,” he complimented, loving the way you grew flustered. He raked his gaze over your body, taking in each curve, craving to touch the softness of your body, but he noticed a big thing was missing. “Where’s the outfit?” He questioned. 

“It’s in here,” you held up the bag in your hand. “That’s my party outfit, but we’re going golfing and I don’t want to sweat in it,” you explained. 

“I was gonna say,” he smirked before nodding towards his truck, implying it was time to go.

“Have some faith in me, Rafe,” you gazed at him, your eyes sending him a look he couldn’t decipher but his mind told him what he wanted to believe. 

He chuckled in response as he opened the door for you. 

“I have all my faith in you”.

Rafe knew it was the right thing to put all his faith in you. No one ever cared for him more than you, loved him more than you, treated him with respect more than you. You were safe, warm, and reliable. 

He glanced over as you watched the scenery pass by. You had your hands folded neatly in your lap, your skirt stretching over your thick thighs he craved to have wrapped around his waist or his head. 

You were goddamn gorgeous and the thought of you created an unquenchable thirst. Hell, he’s been thirsty since he realized he was attracted to you back in high school. But you were so fucking oblivious to his flirtatious remarks that you’ve never been more than best friends.

Curling his fingers around the steering wheel, he pushed the thought to the back of his head. Focusing on the road.

You arrived at the club shortly later, your water bottle in hand as you made it to the golf carts. You had one job today—sit pretty and cheer Rafe on.

Turning in your seat to face the course, you waved at the two men waiting on Rafe. They waved back before greeting the man of honor. Soon they started their game, Rafe’s name leaving your lips every time he hit the ball.

You didn’t understand the sport, found it rather boring. But it was his birthday so you faked your way through it with the biggest smile on your face. It wasn’t until you were done reapplying your sunscreen that he called your name.

Lifting your head to find him at the bottom of the short hill, he waved you over. You met him and the boys there, a puzzled look on your face.

“It’s the last hole, why don’t you give it a shot?” He grinned, eyes shielded from his sunglasses but you could still feel his intense gaze. 

Sticking your sunglasses in your hair, you squinted to where the flag was. “I don’t know how to play,” you stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, you guys are having fun, I’m just the cheerleader,” you puffed out a small laugh.

“It’s my birthday, c’mon,” Rafe tipped his head. “It’ll be fun,” he encouraged. “I’ll show you”.

You let out a soft breath, caving in. “Just this once,” you pointed. You stepped in front of Rafe’s welcoming stance, allowing him to envelope his arms around you. 

He showed you where to place your hands and position your fingers, his hands on top of yours. Almost every inch of him was pressed against you—his hands rested on your forearms, his chest against your back, and his front pressing against your ass. 

You gulped as the feeling made you hot before you attempted to ignore the proximity but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. And when he swung the club, following through, you smelled the masculine scent of his cologne, your knees buckling.

“Atta girl,” he grinned, stepping away to watch as the ball landed close to the hole.

“Damn, Y/N,” Kelce chuckled. 

“You should join us for the full game next time,” Topper smirked.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, guys, but I’m sitting out any future games,” you smiled. 

“You just need a little more convincing,” Rafe slid his arm around your shoulders. 

The four of you began heading back to the carts. Top and Kelce were in front while you and Rafe stayed behind.

“How’s your birthday so far?” 

“It’s more than perfect”.

~

“Wow,” Rafe smirked, watching as you walked out of his bathroom, now changed into the outfit he had specifically picked out for you. He reached for your hand, raising it in the air so you could spin. “You’re incredible,” he breathed out, in a complete daze.

“Rafe,” you dragged, avoiding his gaze as the heat grew on your face. “Thanks for the outfit, it’s really nice,” you played with the sleeves of the cropped cardigan. “But it was really expensive, I-,” you began, but he raised a hand.

“You’ll find a way to repay me,” he finished your thought, his blue eyes darkening. “But right now, we’re gonna celebrate my birthday,” he pointed over his shoulder towards the door where the party was starting.

With your hand in his, you nodded, letting him pull you along. 

You met up with Kelce and Top in the kitchen, everyone wishing Rafe a happy birthday as you passed. You thanked Kelce as he handed you a cup of water. The night was still young so you had enough time to catch up with the rest of the partygoers.

Leaning against the counter, you listened to the guys' conversation, droning in and out of it when parts became boring. It wasn’t until you spotted a few girls making their way toward the group, that a smile appeared on your face when you figured they came for Rafe.

While you held some feelings for Rafe, all you wanted was for him to settle down with a nice girl. One you could maybe be friends with too. It was a little fantasy you had.

“I love your dress, Y/N,” one of the girls complimented, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

The three Kook girls were standing in front of you and Rafe. You were a bit shocked that they acknowledged you first, but you welcomed their kindness.

“Thanks,” you rolled your lips together in a smile. “Your earrings are so cute,” you gestured to the gold hoops she had. 

She hummed before her attention turned to Rafe. “Happy birthday, Rafe,” she brushed her hand along his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Me and a few of my friends are gonna head into the pool if you wanna join,” she batted her lashes.

“Maybe later,” he pressed his lips together in a smile. “I’m with my friend right now,” he slid his arm over your shoulders.

You furrowed your brows, glancing at him like he was insane for turning down her offer. “He’s kidding,” you butted in. “You guys have fun,” you pressed a hand on his back, urging him closer to the girl.

“Awesome!” She beamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the patio.

Rafe glanced back at you with a look you couldn’t decipher but as he noticed the smile on your lips he only turned back around, shaking his head and chuckling. 

You knew he’d thank you later just as Kelce and Topper did when the other two girls dragged them along to the pool as well. You grabbed your water from the counter before weaving through the house. Just as you were about to go outside for some fresh air, you bumped into someone.

“Shit, my bad,” they apologized, placing a hand on your arm. “You okay?”

You gazed up to see a very handsome guy—tall, with dark eyes, dark hair, and dimples that were so kissable. 

“Yeah,” you shook your head, a little dazed by his beauty. “I’m fine,” you reassured. Many guys on the island were attractive enough to catch your eye, but this guy was something else.

“Can I get you a drink? Since I spilled yours,” he offered and that's when you noticed your cup was on the floor.

“Sure,” you beamed. “It was just water though,” you added with a shrug.

“A water for the lady then,” he grinned. 

You followed him back into the kitchen where he got you a new cup. He had asked if you were heading outside so you nodded as he grabbed your hand, leading you past the pool where you saw Rafe hanging out with the girl from before. 

A smile fell on your face, glad to see him have fun before you stopped at a bench under a tree in the yard. 

“I’ve never seen you around the island,” you told the guy, smoothing out the skirt of your dress before sitting down. 

“I’m visiting my cousin, he brought me along,” he answered. “What about you? You live here?” He gestured to the house.

“Oh, no” you snickered. “My best friend lives here, it’s his party,” you explained. You glanced back at those brown eyes, chewing on your lip as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. There was a new feeling in your stomach tonight, far from basic attraction—there was more. 

But you couldn’t pinpoint it. Still, the longer you talked to this guy, the more you felt it.

“I was struggling to stand up on that board, that wave was huge!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. 

You hid your laugh with your hand, doubling over as he told his story. “You’re kidding?! How did you make it?” 

“Pure luck and ambition,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I also learned maybe there’s a reason you shouldn’t surf during a thunderstorm,” he joked.

You agreed. “I’m glad you lived to tell the tale,” you reached over to touch his arm, gazing at him through your lashes.

His eyes flicked over your frame before he hummed out in agreement. “Me too”. 

Silence engulfed you for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped and only you and him were in existence. Letting the feeling in your tummy guide you, you leaned in. 

He followed, reaching over to place a hand on your waist and soon his lips were on yours. Your hand reached up to thread through his hair, deepening the kiss. 

You kissed for what felt like hours but in reality, it was only minutes. It was a soft and innocent kiss, but it felt so intense, so hot. You were fully making out with a stranger at a party and all you could worry about was the heating sensation igniting in your heart.

Unsure of it, you still didn’t want it to stop, unfortunately, it did.

“Watch out!” You heard Rafe scream as a ball flew over your head and bounced off the tree trunk. You yelped, heart racing at the thought that it could’ve hit you square in the face. Immediately, you saw Rafe jog over towards you. 

He was in his swim trunks, chest bare, and water dripping down his abs. 

You licked your lips unconsciously, the familiar feeling burning between your legs but you pushed it aside when you focused your attention back on the guy, making sure he was okay and he placed a hand on your knee in response.

“You okay, Y/N?” Rafe caught up to you. “Didn’t see you until the ball slipped from my hands,” he chuckled, running a hand over his head.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you reassured.

“Didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” he cleared his throat, sending a glance to the guy.

“This is,” you placed your hand on top of his that was resting on your knee. You paused, realizing you didn’t know his name.

“Eric,” he answered with a smile. 

“Eric,” you repeated, unable to control your growing smile. You liked his name. Turning back to Rafe, you chose to ignore the frown on his face.

“Happy birthday, man,” Eric turned to Rafe. “Sick party,” he smiled and you grinned between him and Rafe. 

“Yeah, thanks, Y/N threw it for me,” Rafe said, his eyes flicking to yours before they rested back on the hand that was on your knee.

“No way, you have a talent,” he squeezed your knee and you felt your cheeks heat up.

You shrugged bashfully and you narrowly missed the snort that left Rafe. 

“I was about to head back inside,” Rafe pointed towards the house. “We were gonna get a few drinks,” he trailed.

“Okay, have fun,” you said. “I’m gonna chill out here with Eric,” you added, leaning into his side. You also chose to ignore the way his jaw clenched.

“Okay, sounds good,” he pressed his lips together in a smile before he made his way back.

Once he was out of your eyesight, you turned back to Eric, threading your fingers through his hair and resuming what you were doing before.

~

Rafe didn’t want to leave you tonight, especially on his birthday. But you had practically pushed him into the girl’s awaiting hands. He didn’t understand why you were so happy to do that, didn���t you see how more perfect you’d be in her place? 

Was he not obvious?

As he stared back at you, the smile adorning your lips, he knew the answer. Which is why he turned back around, allowing the girl to lead him to the pool. 

He tried to have a fun time, jumping in the pool with her. He could admit that she was attractive but nothing compared to you.

As he, the girl, Kelce, and her friend had a chicken fight, his mind continued to wander to where you might be. 

Kelce and Top were in the pool with him, meaning you were alone. You could’ve sat in one of the lounge chairs, enjoying the game, but when he glanced over, you weren’t there. The thought of you alone in the house irked him, what if someone spikes your drink or makes you uncomfortable?

Your laugh answered his prayers but another question came to mind, who was making you laugh?

He was about to jump out of the pool when the girl stopped him, handing him a shot of something while she pressed her boobs against him. He chuckled, taking the shot from her. He was distracted for a moment but then he heard your laugh again. 

This time he exited the pool, leaving the girl dumbfounded. It didn’t take long to find you but he wasn’t expecting you to be so far from the party, alone, with a guy.

He inhaled sharply. 

There was no way, right? He’s been drinking all night, his mind was painting a picture he didn’t want to see. But then the sight of you leaning in to kiss the guy, his hand sliding over your waist and yours fingering through his hair made that anger grow. 

To his side a few guys were kicking a ball around, without another thought, he grabbed it, throwing it in your direction. He knew it’d miss you but he still shouted out your name before he went running in your direction.

You pulled away from the guy, your eyes going wide as the ball hit the tree over your head. 

He checked on you, hoping the incident would make you open your eyes and realize you shouldn’t be spending the night with a stranger on your best friend’s birthday. But that’s not what you had done at all.

Instead, you snuggled up to the guy “Eric”, letting him keep his hand on your knee, and telling Rafe to have fun.

He swallowed down the jealousy, forcing a smile before making his way back to the house. The thought of you outside with him made his blood boil. Even more so when he snorted up a line in the kitchen a few moments later.

The white powder was the second thing that could calm him besides you. Still, he preferred you.

“Eric,” Kelce said the name in thought. “I don’t know an Eric,” he shrugged. 

“I mean look at her man, she seems to like him well enough,” Topper said, glancing at the way you were staring at the dude.

Wiping his nose, Rafe sent him a look. 

There you were, busting out in laughter again at something. “I don’t trust him,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on you as you giggled behind your hand. 

When had you ever laughed like that towards him before? When had you ever been so focused on a guy other than him? 

“That’s for her to decide,” Kelce laughed. “And by the looks of it, she seems to trust him well enough,” he snickered behind his cup. 

Rafe grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth as Eric rubbed his hand along the exposed skin of your thigh. If he had known the short skirt he explicitly picked out for you would lead to that, he might’ve rethought the outfit entirely.

“Well I don’t, it’s my party, I can decide who’s attending and who’s not,” his gaze darkened and his friends sent him a look.

“Hey, man, Y/N’s having a great time. Are you sure you want to do that?” Topper asked, aware of what Rafe was implying.

“I know what I said,” he stated before he began walking towards you. He heard Topper mutter under his breath but he paid no attention to it.

“Oh, hi,” you turned to face your best friend who appeared in front of you. “Back so sudden?” You asked, gazing behind him where the house was still active. 

“Yeah, I was thinking it was time to head back inside,” he said. “It’s getting kinda cold,” he added.

“I’m fine,” you dismissed. “Do you need me for something or-” You were cut off by him.

“Nah, I just think it’s time for us to head back inside, it’s late,” he stated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I said I was fine here, Rafe,” you said his name but he didn’t like the way you said it. 

He narrowed his gaze, running a hand over his mouth as he contemplated. “Get inside, Y/N,” he opted to say. The look on your face told him what you were thinking. “I mean it”.

“She said she’s fine,” Eric stood up, blocking Rafe from you. 

Rafe placed his hands on his hips, dropping his head down as he let out a chuckle. “I don’t remember asking you,” he jutted a finger into Eric’s chest. “Actually, I don’t remember inviting you to my party,” he grinned.

You stood behind Eric, frowning as you stared at your best friend. Even under the moonlight, you could see how blown out his eyes were. The knowledge didn’t settle with you. So you stepped around Eric, grabbing hold of Rafe’s arm to prevent anything from escalating.

“C’mon, Rafe, I’ll go,” you sighed.

He relaxed, smiling down at the hand that was intertwined with his and the other on his forearm. He glanced back up at Eric, sending him a look of victory. 

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Eric directed to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you blew out a breath. “It’s best if you go, Eric,” you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes and Rafe couldn’t help but grow angry at that. You shouldn’t be crying over a boy you met a couple of hours ago. With your statement though, Eric left. 

Rafe led you back into the house and he couldn’t help the feeling of pride swell as you clung to his arm.

You, on the other hand, tried to keep a smile on your face but you couldn’t feel the pang in your heart at what you missed out on. Why did Rafe need you back in the house? You wondered.

“C’mon, drink up, it’ll take your mind off of him,” Rafe handed you a cup with some type of liquor in it.

You sent him a look and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s my birthday,” he encouraged. “I want my best friend to be having fun too,” he grinned, pushing the cup into your hand.

You pressed your lips together. “Alright,” you sighed, giving in for the third time today. The bitter taste landed on your tongue and you cringed as it burned down your throat.

Rafe chuckled beside you, quickly pouring you another. “See, you’re having fun already”.

The longer the party went on, the more drinks you had. You weren’t drunk but you could feel the buzz. Reaching for a few of the snacks on the counter, you hoped you’d be able to sober up but Rafe had another idea.

“Let’s head up, yeah?”

You nodded, reaching for his hand as you began making your way up the stairs. You were still down about Eric, but you knew it was better than dealing with Rafe punching the life out of him. You didn’t enjoy his violent tendencies, especially when the white substance made it worse, but you tried to push past it, noting the good qualities he had.

He was loyal, smart, and confident.

Sometimes you wish that was enough for you.

You brushed past him as he opened his bedroom door for you. You found your bag on his bed, searching for his gift deciding now would be a good time to give it to him. Even though you were slightly pissed at him, he was still your best friend and it was his birthday.

He smiled at you when you sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you so he could sit. 

“Happy birthday,” you grinned, passing him the small box, and your shoulders pressed together. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he raised a brow but he took it from you nonetheless.

“Shh, just open it,” you laughed, watching as he did.

His gaze softened at the gold Rolex. He hummed out in delight, thanking you in the process.

“There’s an inscription,” you pointed at the expensive watch. 

He turned the watch over to find that there was. His thumb traced over the words you picked out.

Rafe, you’re worthy of everything. Love, Y/N.

His heart swelled at the sentence. He wasn’t often told he was worthy of anything so for you to say he was meant it all. “Thank you, Y/N,” he swallowed.

You could tell he appreciated the sentiment so you wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Anytime for you, Rafe,” you smiled, gazing into his eyes. “What does the birthday boy want to do now? I’m sure the girls are waiting for you to rejoin them in the pool,” you smirked, standing up and walking over to the window. 

Part of you wished that Eric was still outside, but he was long gone. The other part of you already accepted the loss, knowing something worse could've come from it if Rafe had escalated things.

Which in the past, he’s done many times.

You turned back around to face your best friend.

“Nah,” he said after a pause. “I kinda wanna stay up here with you,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s much fun when the party is downstairs,” you pointed towards the window.

“Who says we can’t have a party of our own?” He smirked, holding a small bag in his hand.

“By all means, enjoy yourself, Rafe,” you chuckled. 

“It won’t be fun if you’re not doing it”.

“Rafe,” you warned. 

“C’mon, it’s my birthday,” he said.

“Just this once,” you rolled your eyes, deciding you could indulge for one night.

He smirked, standing up and guiding you to his desk. He lined one up for you, instructing you how to do it. 

You cringed at the feeling, moving from the seat and walking back to the bed as you rubbed your nose.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he found his spot next to you, laying back on his bed. He folded his arms behind his head and you couldn’t help but peek at his lower abdomen that became exposed from his shirt riding up. “This is probably the best birthday I’ve had,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, why’s that?” You decided to humor him.

He sat up, leaning in close so his chest pressed against your shoulder. “I got the hottest girl in my room, wearing the most beautiful dress,” he sucked in a breath, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. 

Your face grew hot and you gulped. “You could have a hotter girl in here if you didn’t chase Eric away,” you bit, unsure why you said it.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re still sad about that?” 

“I’m just confused,” you breathed out. “I was having a good time with a cute guy, is that so wrong?” You asked.

“Yes,” he stated and your jaw went slack. 

“You’re kidding,” you laughed, shaking your head. 

“It’s your best friend’s birthday and instead of hanging out with him you’re kissing a dude you don’t even know?” He spoke with his hands, his movements becoming erratic and that had you worried. 

“Rafe, I spent the whole day with you, you were hanging out with that girl earlier, what happened to her? She was cute!” You exclaimed.

He stood up, walked over to the window and he ran a hand over his face. He was pacing back and forth in front of you as you shifted on the bed.

“You think I care about her?” He stopped in front of you. “I didn’t want to go in the fucking pool with her but I did because of you!” He shouted. 

You flinched. 

“I don’t give a fuck about any other person besides you!” He yelled. “And it fucking sucks when that feeling isn’t reciprocated by my own fucking best friend,” he huffed, chest rising.

Your heart dropped and felt a sting in the back of your eyes. You didn’t realize you were crying until a sob broke through you. 

Rafe stilled and he let out a sigh. “I-,” he inhaled, pressing his fist to his head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “You don’t get it, okay? You’re the only one on my side, the only one who makes me feel like I’m not crazy,” he dropped his head to your thigh, his hands squeezing your sides like he was afraid you’d leave. 

“I care so fucking much about you,” you cried. “Everything I do is with you in mind,” you closed your eyes, your hands settling on his head as you began to run your nails along his buzzed hair. “This entire party, the entire day, I chose not to go to college so we could be close, I-,” you sucked in a breath, trying to decide what the point was. “I gave up on what I could have with Eric so you didn’t get upset,” you wiped your eye.

“What you could have?” He lifted his head to stare up at you. “What do you mean by that?” He leaned back. 

“Love, Rafe,” you answered.

“What about us?” He furrowed his brows. 

“Romantic love,” you elaborated. “Why do you think I’m always trying to hook you up with a nice girl?” You tipped your head to the side. 

You both stared at each other in disbelief before Rafe stood up, running his hand over his head. 

“I already told you I don’t want another girl,” he shook his head. “I want you,” he faced you again. 

You were left dumbfounded. 

“Are you honestly that blind?” He narrowed his gaze. 

This time, you stood up. “We’re friends, Rafe, nothing more!” 

He quickly stepped towards you, gripping your face in his hand firmly so you were forced to look at him. “You really think that’s all we’re meant to be?” He scoffed, flicking his gaze over you.

Your eyes were wide and you tried to push him off of you but he instead wrapped his other arm around you to keep you in place.

“Look at us, sweetheart,” he said. “If you really think all we’ll ever be is just friends, then you’re adorable,” he chuckled. “I think it’s about time you realize it was always meant to be us,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into yours. “Tonight was supposed to be perfect, I had it all planned,” he began. “Tonight was the night we were supposed to make things official,” he breathed out.

“Rafe,” you clutched his wrist, trying to pry his hand off of your face. “We’re just friends,” you restated, fear spreading over your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” he mocked you and you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes. “Stop playing dumb, for once, will you?” He taunted. “Did you think we’d go our entire lives without ending up with each other? Why do you think I’ve never dated anyone seriously, or you?” He tipped his head to the side.

Your stomach dropped. Is that why all the boys who were interested in you never lasted or never got the chance to properly ask you out? 

“We get each other, no one else will. We’re from good families and you’re the only girl my father will ever approve of,” he gulped. “So let me ask you again,” he inhaled. “Did you really think we’d never be more than just friends?” 

Your heart dropped. “Is that the only reason you want us to be together? Because of money and status?” You asked, voice shaky. “Am I just some silly pawn to get your father’s approval?” You felt a tear slip down your cheek but Rafe was quick to wipe it away with his thumb.

“Stop asking stupid questions,” he pressed his forehead against yours. 

You shakingly let out a breath, closing your eyes as more tears slipped. The proximity and his grip had you uneased. You were confused. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N,” he rubbed his nose against yours. 

Your breath hitched as you stilled, unsure how to respond. But it seemed like he already knew the answer to his own question. His silence is what caused the sobs to rack through your body.

“Hey,” he cooed, stepping back and letting go of you. “Don’t cry,” he used his thumbs to gently wipe under your eyes. “C’mere,” he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to cry into his chest. 

It felt strange to be consoled by the man who brought tears to your eyes, yet, here you were. Still, there was nothing more comforting than Rafe, you thought.

He led you to sit back on the bed, bringing a tissue to wipe your face once you calmed down. “Cheer up, okay?” His lips curved into a smile. “It’s still my birthday, we should be celebrating”.

You nodded. “You’re right,” you inhaled, hoping this conversation would be left in the past.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple before he pinched your chin, guiding you to look up at him and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes widened and you tried to pull away but the angle you were in made you fear he could break your neck at the grip he had on your chin. Still, as his lips continued to move against yours, you couldn’t help but melt at his touch. 

This feeling was something you’ve been curious about for so long. The fire, desire, and passion that was enveloped in the kiss lit you up. It was intense. He loosened his grip on your chin, cradling the back of your neck as you moved your lips against his. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you moaned, but that was the wake-up call you needed. 

You quickly shoved him away, getting off the bed and creating some distance between the two of you. “You can’t do that!” You pressed your fingers to your lips and you still felt him there.

He stood up, stalking closer to you. With each step, you took one back. “What am I gonna have to do to get you to understand that I can?” He reached for you and he was fast, pulling you against him once more.

He was strong, you’ll give him credit for that and it was scary how you didn’t realize it before.

“Rafe,” you exhaled, turning your head away, feeling the intense presence of his stare.

“Am I gonna have to fuck you?” He hummed. 

Your eyes widened and you struggled to remove yourself from him again.

“I think I’m gonna have to fuck you to get it into your pretty head,” he chuckled, squeezing you tight so you’d stop moving. 

“No,” you shook your head, hands pressing against his biceps. “Rafe, please,” you pleaded.

“Oh, I love it when you beg,” he smirked. “But fine,” he loosened his grip on you. “Give me one night,” he proposed. “One night to show you it’s always meant to be this way, us,” he elaborated.

You dropped your gaze, blanking out as you contemplated. But he took your silence for an answer, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. You gasped, pulling away from him but instead, he pushed you back against the bed.

Crawling further up the bed to get away from him, you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were some prey he was getting ready to devour. He chuckled as he forced himself between your thighs, his hands slipping underneath your skirt and hooking around your panties.

It felt like such an out-of-body experience, your legs moving as he slid them off them, your thighs pressed against his shoulders as he laid before your cunt.

“We’d be so good together, sweetheart,” he said, hands kneading the soft flesh of your wonderfully thick thighs. “And I can make you feel just as good,” he said before he dipped his head down and licked a long stripe against your folds.

Your back arched at the feeling. You scratched your nails along his buzzed hair, a moan erupting from you as his tongue flicked around your sensitive bud. The feeling of his chuckle against you made you shudder and you felt embarrassed that he was finding your reaction amusing. 

“Just relax, don’t think too much about it,” he stared up at you before he licked another long stripe. 

You whined, squeezing your thighs around his head in hopes of getting him to stop but it was fruitless. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his focus on your clit as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

Your imagination only took you so far when you thought about this. What it would be like when it would happen if it would ever happen–which you already decided it wouldn’t. But you were wrong about it all. It felt amazing, it was happening on his birthday, and it would happen.

But was it right? Did you want this? Your body was telling you yes but your brain was saying no. Rafe wasn’t the man you wanted to end up with, the man you wanted to have children with. But it seems like he made those choices for you and he was proving so with his tongue.

Staring up at the ceiling, you allowed your hands to rest at your sides, your chest heaving with each breath as you felt the pressure between your legs build. As your mind begged for release, it pushed all your confusing thoughts aside, allowing you to fall over the edge.

You gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came down from your high. 

Rafe licked up your wetness before kissing around your sensitive skin, nipping at your thigh. He pushed the skirt of your dress up, exposing more of your flesh, granting him the desire to kiss every inch as he made his way up your body.

Trying to process what had happened, you felt him unbutton the one button that held your cardigan in place. It took all your strength to swat his hand away.

“Rafe,” you tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. 

“What is it? What’s so wrong about this?” He asked, stopping his movements and holding himself up above you. “Are you going to tell me you never thought about us?” He dipped his head down, whispering against your ear. “Is it me?” He pulled his shirt over his head, a smile appearing on his face. “Because I see the way you look at me and I don’t think it’s me,” he smirked, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. 

The way you rubbed your thighs together and trailed your hand down his abs told him what you were thinking. Of course, you found him attractive, he was a Cameron and the Kook Prince, and he was athletic, muscular, and tall. 

What wasn’t there to like?

“It’s definitely not me,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t,” you forced yourself to say.

“Why not?” 

You didn’t answer so he kissed you. 

“You know how you said you want to repay me for this pretty dress?” He said in between kisses. 

Your breath hitched in response, knowing when you said that. 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You glanced up at him before he urged you to slide off the bed to kneel in front of him. You knew it’d just be one night, he did say that after all, so you figured you’d get this one night over.

He stood in front of you, ridding himself of his clothes. He was naked in front of you and you felt your face heat up at the sight of his aching cock.

“Open,” he directed.

You bit on your lip, hesitantly holding your hands against your chest before you did as you were told and he rested the tip on your tongue, you instinctively wrapped your lips around him, one of your hands reaching up to wrap around the base of his dick.

Glancing up at him, you decided to move, the feel of his length pushing past your lips was interesting. It was strange that he was your best friend but at the same time, you pressed your thighs together for some friction.

You tried to take things slow but he wasn’t patient, instead, he pressed a hand to the back of your head, forcing the rest of himself down your throat. You gagged, feeling his balls press against your chin and he chuckled above you.

“You’re so adorable,” he smirked as he pulled back slightly before he pushed himself in again.

You reacted the same way, this time tears formed in your eyes. Your saliva pooled out of your mouth and you tried to swallow which earned a moan from him. His hands gripped your head, holding you in place as he began to fuck your mouth, the sound of your gagging filling the room mixed with his groans shouldn’t be making you wet but it was.

Pressing your hands against his thighs, you tried to push away, hoping to breathe through your mouth but he kept you there.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, moaning when you swallowed again, pressing your tongue against him. “You’re doing so good,” he groaned.

Digging your nails into his skin, he hissed and with one more thrust, you felt as he came down your throat, your face scrunching as you attempted to swallow it. He finally pulled away, leaving you to gasp for air followed by a fit of coughs. Your hands were pressed against your chest as you heaved.

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing his lips against yours. The force of his hand on your jaw urged you to stand, his other hand framing the other side of your face as he deepened the kiss. You placed your hands on his arms, feeling weak and he was your only support.

His tongue slipped past your lips and he groaned at your taste. You felt lightheaded but thankfully he sat back on the bed, pulling you into his lap. He moved away from your lips, allowing you to glance up at the ceiling, your hands on his broad shoulders as you caught your breath.

Your eyes closed when he sucked on the skin behind your ear, one of your hands running up the back of his neck, your fingers curling over the soft buzz of his hair.

He undid the button of your cardigan, slipping it off your body and throwing it on the floor somewhere. Then he reached to the side where the zipper sat and undid it as well. He slid the spaghetti straps down your shoulders, pushing the fabric down to release your breasts.

The cold air hit your nipples, causing them to harden. He moaned at the sight, his hands cupping each in one, squeezing them, and rolling your hardened buds between his fingers.

You arched your back, pressing your chest further into his touch. You felt him lean down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking gently. You felt hot to the touch, your nails running along his body wherever you wanted. 

Shifting in his lap, you felt him poke at you, his tip brushing with your clit and you shivered.

He switched to the other, doing the same and earning another trail of moans from you. He let it go with a pop, kissing back up your neck and along your jaw. “See how good we are together? Most friends aren’t even compatible, but we are,” he breathed against you. 

You stayed quiet but at this point, he wasn’t looking for an answer, this is how it was always supposed to go.

He guided the dress over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room before he moved you to lay on the bed, your head resting against the pillows. You allowed him to pry your legs open, your hands at your sides as you watched him settle between your thighs.

Realizing he didn’t have a condom on, you opened your mouth. “I’m not on birth control,” you stopped him.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” he grinned.

You hesitantly let go before you rested back on the bed, nodding slightly.

He lined himself up at your entrance, his hands on your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest. Slowly, he pressed himself into you and you scratched down his forearms at the feeling. 

“Shh, relax,” he encouraged. 

You took a deep breath in, it’d been so long since you had sex, the familiar pressure building between your legs as he pushed further in. Soon, his hips were pressed against yours and you felt his balls resting against you. It was a new feeling, being connected to somebody completely bare–raw. 

It was odd. But that didn’t stop you from clenching around him to urge him to move.

“See how perfect we fit?” He asked, reeling his hips back before he snapped forward, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure flourished around you.

You whined, tracing your hand around his neck, pulling him down so his forehead was resting against yours. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he inhaled, continuing to fuck you. It was pure bliss, your thighs resting on his hips, spreading wider with each thrust, just like he always wanted. The noise of your wetness was heard in the room, the feel of your walls pulling him back in. It was so pleasurable, that he dropped his head down, running his nose along your neck. “Always been, always will,” he smiled. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, locking your legs together around his waist, your hands running down his back, your hips beginning to match each of his thrusts.

He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. “Do you see now?” He rested his forearms on either side of your head, framing your beautiful face. 

You gulped, hands resting on the curve of his back, your eyelids heavy as he fucked you deeply. 

He chuckled, knowing you were too dazed to answer. “All the times I’ve called you pretty, hot, they all went over your head, didn’t they?” He tipped his head to the side, a hiss escaping him when you squeezed around him. “Even now as I’m fucking you and your creaming around my cock, it still hasn’t stuck, has it?” His eyes shone brightly under his bedroom light, so blue they had you entranced.

That’s all you focused on as you came again, throwing your head back, your toes curling and, your nails leaving scratch marks on his back. 

Your orgasm fueled his, his body stilling against you as he came, releasing into your slick walls. You knew you’d have to worry about it tomorrow, part of you was scared for what was to come, but your body was so relaxed in the pleasure it experienced.

“This is how it was always meant to be,” he whispered, slowly pulling out of you and watching his release slip out of your cunt. “And I’m gonna fuck you until you understand,” he said and you were half-asleep that you didn’t even feel as he pushed it back in. “Thanks for the best birthday”.

~

Reblogs and comments are what keep writers writing so make sure to do so!

[skteezcursed]

❝DEVIL LOOKING ANGEL❞ — p.sh & l.mh

PAIRING. park seonghwa x fem!reader x lee minho.

SYNOPSIS. Seonghwa and Minho both have a crush on you, and one day they decide to share you with each other so everyone wins.

GENDER. smut. tiny bit of fluff.

AU/TROPE.friends to friends with benefits. non idol au. uni au (implied).

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WARNINGS. mean dom hwa. mean dom minho. brat sub reader. normalization of drinking. oral (f and m receiving). face fucking. tongue fucking. fingering. edging. overstimulation. slight voyeurism. pussy slapping. spanking. praises and degradations. dacryphilia. pet names (pretty, slut, whore). sir is used to refer to both minho and seonghwa. unprotected sex (please don't). double penetration. aftercare is also important.

WORD COUNT. 9k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. sorry for the 9k, i got caried away, also, this is way more filthy than I originally planned. first smut ever so bare with me, please. thanks @cybrsan and @straykidsholicleigh for believing that i could write smut, hope it lived up to the expectation, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

                 You’ve always knew Felix was rich, both him and Changbin had always been the richest of the group, which was why whenever there was a party or any type of celebration, their places would be the first ones to be considered, so there was little to no surprise when Felix called everyone to his family lake house for a start of the summer celebration.

                 As a magnet, your eyes searched for the two men that have been living in your mind rent free since they joined your friend group. Park Seonghwa and Lee Minho. You have seen many gorgeous men in your life, hell, your friend group could be considered the one with the hottest guys around, but there was something about Seonghwa and Minho that always drawn you to both, although you never actually acted on it, but flirty comments and moments had always been a constant presence in between you three.

                 In all truth, you couldn’t choose and the fact they are friends – even prior to be in your group – it made it even harder. Your fingers and toys being the only companions whenever the situation got to a certain extreme, especially when both became extremely flirting with you in a row, as they never did really get close to you if they were both in the same room, which didn’t help the choosing process. If you could ever choose.

                 There was no surprise when your eyes met with both of them near the infinite pool of Felix’s lake house. Minho still had his shirt on, dealing with the meat, but Seonghwa was already shirtless, arms stretched on the edge, eyes fixed on you, as if he could undress you and you were barely there for five seconds. Minho’s eyes noticed Seonghwa’s and finally found your figure at the entrance, talking to Felix. Feeling both eyes on you, eating you, didn’t help with the butterflies on your stomach.

                 “Minho is almost done with the first batch, Chan is in the kitchen with Ji and Joong making snacks, you wanna drink something?”

                 “Whatever you guys are having,” your voice was met with a can of beer in front of you as a hand landed on your lower back, feeling the water wet your shirt, meeting with Seonghwa smirk, “Hwa, this is yours I-”

                 “It’s okay, I was about to get Minho another one, I can get two more on the way while you finish this one,” his lips met with your cheek as the pads of his finger digged a little on your side, the clothes probably helping with not leaving a mark. “I’ll be right back, go be a good girl and keep Minho company while I get us something to drink.”

                 You felt hot through out your body, resting on your cheeks and in your lower stomach, holding yourself not to brush your thighs together at the pet name and what Seonghwa was asking, trying to ignore how his fingers still lingered in you, even through the shirt. The beer came right to your mouth and you drank down the liquid, needing a little bit of liquid courage to go through that party. Minho already had his signature smirk in your direction, and you drank the rest of the beer, throwing your can besides his near the lawn.

                 “Hey pretty, how is it going?”

                 His left hand extended to you as you held his hand in yours, feeling the pull towards him, as he wrapped his left arm around your waist, his hand still entangled with yours as his lips met with your right cheek, you felt his thumb caress slightly your back, but never unlocking your fingers.

                 “I’m good, and you? Is anyone helping you out, can I do anything?”

                 “I’m okay, Hwa has been helping around, mostly bringing me drinks,” he laughed lightly, but never really leaving your hand, “you can keep me company if you want, wouldn’t mind at all to have you around.”

                 Before you could answer, Seonghwa voice could be heard, and you slipped your hands from Minho, missing the way his eyes fell slightly on his hand before exchanging looks with Seonghwa, as you were too busy getting both yours and Minho’s drink. Both boys exchanged quick looks as you opened Minho’s can before handing it out to him, grabbing yours and opening, looking at both raising your can, being followed by both with a small smile.

                 “Lix said you almost done with the meat.”

                 “Yeah, hold on, let me give you a piece and you tell me what you think.”

                 “You can tell the truth, he’s a big boy,” Seonghwa said with a sly smile while you drank more of the beer as you saw their eye exchange, “I think he can take a pretty girl saying his food is bad.”

                 “I can take a pretty girl saying anything to me as long as I have her attention.”

                 You felt your cheeks burn and you lowered your head, but noticed the exchange of glances between the two this time, not missing the compliment that both said. Your mind going a hundred miles an hour, only getting worse as you felt his hand on your forearm squeezing slightly catching your attention and giving you a piece of the meat he had just taken out of the grill.

                 Ignoring the best you could the way both pair of eyes were staring at you, how their eyes lingered on your lips, how Minho’s thumb went to clean the grease that was falling from the corner of your mouth before he brings his own thumb to his lips, how Seonghwa’s eyes lingering a little longer on you at that, the sly smile always present.

                 That should have been warning enough for what that day held for you.

                 The party had been full on throughout the day. You were going from group to group, few beers here, a bit of food there and you knew you were hitting your limit to some extend as you joined some of the people at the pool, taking the rest of your beer before going to the other edge, while mostly still stayed closer to the lawn as you headed to the infinite edge.

                 The sun was setting on the lake, making the rays of sunshine dance across the calm waves, your arms rested on the pool edge, a bit of the water falling through as the tips of your toes hit the bottom. You thanked that the lake was empty that day, most families still organizing to wander to that area, which meant you and your friends could have one of those parties.

                 Hands grabbed your waist as you felt a hot breath on your ear, your head turning slightly finding Seonghwa right there behind you, if he reached closer you could feel his perfect body against yours, and there was nothing you wanted more than that at that moment. The alcohol in your system quickly reaching the part of your brain that was in charge of morality, clouding it as you allowed your body to move a little away from the edge, your head resting on his shoulder slightly as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, hands resting on you lower belly.

                 You tried your best to ignored how close his hands were to your core, how his hot breath reached your ear, how his abs felt against your back, but most importantly, the slight poke you felt on your ass. There was no way he was actually hard, the alcohol was definitely messing with your mind.

                 “What you doing here by yourself?”

                 “Just felt like watching the sunset at the lake, I like it when there’s no one but us here,” he sensed how your breathing hitched as his lips touched the tip of your ear slightly, a light chuckle coming out of his mouth as you felt a small caress on your belly. “Why you here? I thought you and Minho were organizing some of the drinks.”

                 “Just didn’t feel right to leave a pretty girl alone,” a small kiss was placed on your neck, followed by a small bite that made you suppress a gasp, but not the jolt that your body made, bringing you more in contact with Seonghwa’s body. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you?”

                 “Seonghwa…” a plea leaved your lips as he kissed your neck again, one of his hands roamed at your side, as the other pulled you even closer to him body, allowing you to feel everything, “Please… Someone… Someone can see it…”

                 “I’m sorry pretty, but I’ve controlled myself too much and just like you said, there’s no one but us here and I’m sure everyone is too busy or drunk to notice us, right now.”

                 His right hand kept wandering around your body before resting on your thigh squeezing the inside of it, forcing you to open slightly.

                 “But what if someone approaches?”

                 Although his body never left yours, his mouth did, slow breathing right next to your ear. His right hand making small circles on the inside of your thigh, so close to where you wanted them, and yet, you two were still around everyone.

                 “Just say the word and I’ll stop,” you knew he meant it, mainly because he stopped with the caress at your silent, his hands moving to rest on the front of your thigh, a small whine leaving your lips as your right hand quickly found his, trying to keep him from straying too far away from where you needed them, a small chuckled was everything he gave you as a respond. “I knew we weren’t seeing things.”

                 “We?”

                 Seonghwa’s hand went back to where they were, but raising slowly closer to your core.

                 “You were never the most discreet person, you are a starer,” the pad of his middle finger finally meeting your clit still hidden from the swimwear, but sensitive nonetheless, making you bite your lip as he slowly and tortuously made circle movements with random points of pressure, “not that we have been the most discreet ones as well.”

                 “Hwa -”

                 “And now you are letting me touch you while all our friends are here,” you whined as he increased the moments of pressure on your clit, your right hand holding the edge of the pool, your waist moving to make your ass press against his bulge, “ah, and eager as well, but would you let me fuck you right here, in front of everyone?”

                 You held a moan at the thought, trying not to actually picture how badly you wanted him to do it, how badly you had imagined his hands roaming your body just like that, his fingers on your clit and inside of you, trying to ignore the outline of his cock against your ass.

                 “It’s not like you are not eager as well,” you wiggled your ass against his bulge and felt his grip tightens around your waist, while the other palmed your front, you turned your head trying to ignore how you could feel the tips of his fingers on you clothed core. “Like you said, it’s not like you have been discreet as to how you look at me.”

                 The sly smile you gave him was received with a smirk and a raise of eyebrows.

                 “Minho was right, you are a brat,” before you could gather the words that came out of his mouth, you felt him swiftly moving your bottoms to the side, feeling one of his fingers start to enter you, but not deep enough, “no words now, pretty?”

                 “So, you and Minho talked about me?”

                 Without warning he entered with another finger, deeper this time as you felt his palm press slightly on your clit, making you bite your lip repressing a moan.

                 “Oh pretty, we did more than just talk about you,” he curled his fingers inside of you before tortuously and slowly take them out and in again, as you rested your head on his shoulder, thanking for his broad shoulders to hide you two from everyone behind you, “you have no idea how many times we fantasized about your cunt? How many times we jacked off at the thought of you?” You clenched around his fingers, making him chuckled. “Oh, you like that pretty? The thought of us thinking about you? Sharing you?”

                 A whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers again, his speed increasing considerably.

               “Couldn’t wait I see,” at that, your eyes opened finding Minho on your right, looking at you and Seonghwa with a sly smile and raised eyebrows, your right hand quick to hold Seonghwa’s forearm, but Minho’s hand were quicker holding your wrist as Seonghwa worked his fingers inside and out of you, his left hand leaving your waist making you lose your balance, as Minho was quick to stand in between you and the glass of the pool, left hand still holding your right wrist as the right held your waist, “can’t say I would have waited if I was in Hwa’s place.”

                 Seonghwa’s left fingers quickly found your swollen clit and started to rub circle figures with random pressure points as his fingers nimbly went in and out of your core, your left hand finding his left forearm but Minho was quick to take it and hold both wrists in front of you with his left hand while the right held your waist in place. You could feel the pressure of his fingers, knowing they would probably leave a mark, but you didn’t care, specially after you moved your hip up to feel Seonghwa’s bulge again while also trying to release the pressure he was doing on your clit, receiving a raise of eyebrows from Minho as you felt his fingers deeply on your waist before finding your hip and putting back into place, seeing as you bit your lip trying to repress a moan.

                 “You were right, she’s a brat.”

                 “So, I’ve gathered,” Minho answered, as his eyes wandered across your face, at how you would close your eyes and bite your lip, but both noticed when your body started to shake, a small exchange happened and Seonghwa’s fingers left your core, but his left still circling your clit slowly, as you whined in frustration of the stolen orgasm, “what is it? You’ve always wanted our attention, now you have it,” Minho took a step closer, Seonghwa’s fingers lazily playing with your clit as you felt yourself clench at nothing but the pool water, your wrists hurting from the hold Minho had on them. “You think you can handle our attention, pretty?”

                 “I thought I’ve always had it, what you talking about?”

                 Your voice cracked a little as Hwa’s fingers pressed a bit harder at your clit, but you didn’t miss the spark in Minho’s eyes, not holding back the smirk that showed, quickly vanishing as you felt Seonghwa’s fingers leaving your clit and covering everything back with your bottom part.

                 “Oh don’t worry, this is just the start,” Seonghwa quickly held your hips in place, pulling it up a little so you can clearly feel the outline of his cock against your ass as Minho got closer, lips mere centimeters away from your own, but you noticed how he held your hands as you felt the shorts he was wearing touch your fingers, before he pulled your hands lower and you extended your fingers, feeling the outline of his cock, he released a bit of the pressure on your wrists as you eagerly touched his covered cock. “We are gonna have so much fun with you tonight.”

                It wasn’t like no one knew about the sexual tension between the three of you. Hell, everyone had a bet on who would break first, who would be the one you’d choose, if the three of you would become a throuple, when it would happen, if you would be with one while the other watched… In all honesty, the three of you have heard all of them and would be lying to not admit that all those options had never crossed either of your minds, yet, here you were, entering the room you knew it would be for the two of them, their colognes entering your nostrils and clouding your judgement more than the alcohol in your system.

                The feeling of their hands on your skin, of Seonghwa’s fingers inside of you, the denial you received, the thought that finally you would be able to have what you were craving, by not one but both… That was exhilarating. The warmth that went through your core at the thought of both of them, of feeling Seonghwa’s fingers, to have Minho hold you down even if that left marks on your body, just the thought of having them close.

                “Daydreaming pretty?”

                As the door closes behind Seonghwa, you find yourself mere centimeters away from Minho, noticing how he has one shot glass on each hand. The lock of the door is heard as you also noticed Seonghwa with a bottle of tequila and another shot glass of his own in hand. Both with a sly smile and primal look, the type of look a predator would look at its prey, making a shiver run down your spine as both caged you, their little prey for the night.

                “Not so talkative now, are we?” Minho purred as his right arm snatched your waist making your lower half find his, the outline of his cock still could be felt, even more with the soaked in shorts. “All talk and no fun?”

                You felt as his nails dig into the skin of your waist, Seonghwa quickly behind you, making you feel his own clothed cock against your ass.

                “I thought you had a smart mouth from all the things you said at the pool,” his head quickly lowering into your neck as you felt his lips lingering on your sweet spot, you could feel both getting harder of the situation, “thought I would have to find a way to shut you up.”

                “It’s not like you guys gave me anything to talk about,” the smirk made them raise their eyebrows before a quick exchange and you feel the loss of Seonghwa’s warm while Minho’s face became closer to yours, you could feel his lips feather like against yours. “Guess someone else is all talk and no fun, right?”

                At that Minho’s eyes focused on yours and you waited for the crash, for his lips to be on yours, but instead, the smirk reappeared on his lips as you heard the clack of the glasses as Minho’s hand went for the back of your neck meeting your hair and pulling it down making your neck all open for him to mark it as he gladly started kissing every little part of it, hearing as you moaned when he bit into it, allowing you to feel the smirk on his lips.

                His hands roamed all over your body, but always pressing you against him, so no part of your front was too far away. Your hands were quick on his shoulders and hair, pulling it slightly whenever he bit down your neck, but his hands never touched where you wanted them most, until you pulled his hair stronger this time, getting a small groan out of him, bringing a small smile to your lips before you went in for a kiss, getting his cheek in response.

                “You think it’s that easy?” He laughed leaving you completely, joining Seonghwa on the bed. Although the room had two single beds, as you saw when you entered, at some point they were connected creating one big bed, as each seated on one, the tequila right in between the sheets, each with a glass in hand. “Prove it you deserve it.”

                “You say that as if you weren’t just as crazy to have my lips on you.”

                Your giggle made their expression change and so you remembered some of the comments your friends had made, the small fame both had around campus and you felt another shiver down your spine, but you wouldn’t back down. If you had to work for it, so had they.

                “Oh pretty, we will have your lips on us,” Seonghwa’s voice was husky as he drank up the tequila, barely a reaction on his face from the alcohol, “preferably with them wrapped around our cocks as you choke on them,” you pretended that phrase didn’t make a pool to form at the space in between your legs, trying your best not to brush your thighs together, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. “C’mere pretty, have a taste.”

                You were quick on your feet and ignored how both men smirked at your reaction, but instead of heading for one of them, you grabbed the bottle, pouring some of the liquid in each of the three glasses, but instead of handing to them, you put each glass on their legs, which they agreed to allow it. You quickly brough your glass to your lips, the liquid burning on your throat as you turned to Minho, your knees finding the ground, you in between them.

                As your hands roamed around Minho’s thighs you held eye contact as your mouth got closer to his crotch and, even though he looked unfazed, you could feel the twitch of his thighs under your palms as your mouth took the hem of the cup, finally breaking eye contact as you took the cup, your head fell back and the liquid quickly entered your throat as one of your hands took the glass from between your lips, putting it on top of Minho’s crotch, the tent even more visible after your little act.               

                Seonghwa was just observing, waiting for his turn. His hungry eyes landing on your chest, and for a second you thought about taking the top of the swimwear off, but not yet. Yours knees moved closer to the man still waiting with his shot glass in between his legs, but this time your hands wandered a little bit closer to the man’s crotch, the glass a little closer than where you remembered putting it in, bringing a sly smile to your lips as you moved your head forwards, your nose touching the outline of his cock that twitched at the small contact, making you giggle before taking the glass and repeating the same thing you did to Minho, only this time, part of the tequila fell from your lips as you took the cup from your lips.

                Before you could react, Seonghwa’s right hand grabbed your jaw, pulling you to him making you lose balance and your hands land on his thigh. His eyes were dark and hungry and you knew what awaited you, you wanted whatever they would give you. The smile that creeped your lips making Seonghwa annoyed enough for a scoff to leave his lips as he pulled you closer, your breathings mixing, but none averted the eye contact.

                “Don’t play games when you can’t win them,” you felt Minho’s breathe on your ear, his fingers tracing every part of your body as Seonghwa held you in place, “I believe you’ve heard stories,” your body answered for you as you felt Minho’s fingers trace the outline of the swimwear on your ass, going down until it make a light caress on you clothed core, the whimper that left your lips bringing a smile to the other two. “And yet, here you are begging us to fill you up, to treat you like the whore that you are,” he forced one of the pads of his fingers in your core and the other found your clit, making you clench your thighs, trapping his hand, “ah, you like when we call you a whore? A slut? Or at the thought of you being shared by the both of us?”

                His finger on your clit makes small torturous movements making you move your hips and your nails to dig into Seonghwa’s thigh, a chuckled left their lips at your body’s response.

                “Talk slut.”

                The pressure of Seonghwa’s fingers on your jaw made you try to jerk away, only for his other hand to meet the back of your neck holding you in place. Minho worked his legs to meet between yours and force them open so his hand would be free to play with you.

                “Yes,” you choked, “yes please, jus-just please touch me,” you cried as you felt Minho’s fingers nimbly pull you bottom to the side and play with your folds, “God please, just fuck me.”

                At that, Minho entered two fingers at your soaking cunt, making you gasp as Seonghwa took the opportunity to put two fingers of his left hand inside your mouth, his right fingers still holding your jaw open as his face got closer to yours, hot breath mixing as you felt the familiar warmth at the pit of your stomach as Minho’s finger skillfully played with your cunt.

                “So wet already, and all for us?” The mockery on Minho’s voice made you moan against Seonghwa’s fingers, a chuckled left Seonghwa as his fingers left your mouth, his right thumb caressing your bottom lip as you felt Minho curl his fingers inside of you. “How about we put that mouth use?” You moan loudly as his moved his fingers inside of you, but at your lack of response, a hard slap was felt on your left ass cheek, making you jolt forward, left hand on Seonghwa’s crotch. “Speak when spoken to slut.”

                “Then stop moving your fingers like that and I might,” as soon as those words left your mouth regret filled you up as his fingers left your core making you clench at nothing and a hard slap was felt on your right cheek before Seonghwa’s hand found your neck, tightening just enough to make you gasp for air. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.”

                “Such a lying whore,” Seonghwa was now mere centimeters away from your face, “guess I should shut you up this time, no?” Minho’s hands griped your waist pulling it slightly back making your torso lower itself, a harsh slap at the same spot on your ass made you whimper as your eyes were still fixed on Seonghwa whose hand was palming himself through the shorts. “All I wanna hear is you gag around my cock, you hear?”

                “Words, slut,” another slap and you jolted forward, lips touching Seonghwa’s but he made no effort to move closer, “sudden out of words?”

                “You’d much like to hear me moan in your ear, wouldn’t you?”

                Another hard slap and you whimpered, feeling your legs tremble.

                “I think you are a little too dressed up for this, don’t you think Minho?” Seonghwa’s fingers played with the upper part of the swimwear, fingers gracefully moving on the edge of the cloth before fixing on your hardened nipple under the fabric, pitching it painfully as he held your neck, forcing you to eye him as you felt Minho taking your bottoms off, a muffled moan escaping his lips as he saw your glistering cunt. “Bottoms down, now upper part off.”

                Seonghwa’s hands promptly took your upper part off, briefly letting go of your neck as Minho skillfully teased your wet folds open with his fingers, laughing as you pushed your body back trying to make his fingers get inside before a hard slap meet your ass before you feel him spread your legs wider, giving him all the access he needed. His fingers lazily going around your folds, teasing your entrance as you turned your head finding his hungry eyes already on you, drunk on your reactions.

                “Time to put that mouth to use slut, try not to enjoy yourself too much.”

                You felt his hot breath against your cunt and whimpered closing your eyes, anticipating the contact, but Seonghwa pulled your face back to him, and you met with his hard, red, leaking cock in front of you, making your mouth water. His left hand on his shaft as his right tangled on your hair pulling you towards his dick.

                “Time for your first meal, slut.”

                You didn’t need to be told twice as your hand went to the base of his cock the same moment Minho’s lips found your pussy making you moan against the tip of Seonghwa’s cock. His hand on your hair pulling you to his cock, as the tip met with your cheek and you took the message as Minho’s tongue ravish on your juice, you kissed the tip of Hwa’s cock, squeezing the base just a little before twirling your tongue around the top, but he forced your head down his shaft making your hand go for his hip as you gag trying to breath, feeling him twitching inside your mouth.

                As Hwa pulled your head back, Minho’s face left your cunt, a hard slap on your ass before three fingers entered your dripping cunt and you closed your eyes before feeling a sting on your cheek before a Seonghwa make small caresses on your side, pushing your head back to his cock as your right hand skillfully started to stroke his length as his left fingers entered your mouth.

                “That’s it, such a dirty slut, you love having your holes filled, don’t you?” The moan that left your mouth was answer enough as you felt Minho’s other hand reach your clit as the same three fingers kept going in and out, his mouth finding your third hole, kitty licks being left there as you tried to say something, making Seonghwa’s fingers leave your mouth. “Oh, you have something to say?”

                “I want your cock, let me have your cock.”

                “Beg for it.”

                “I’m better at showing, let me show you,” your hand squeezed his length before your thumb go over the tip, taking pre cum as more lubricant, making your movements faster, “let me make you feel good sir, let me prove it with my mouth.”

                “Keep talking like that and you’ll get a reward,” his thumb went for your parted lips as you wrapped it around it, “such a dirty slut.”

                Minho left your ass at peace as he speed his fingers and circle movements around your clit make you whimper before taking Seonghwa’s cock on your lips one last time, taking him full, only stopping as you felt his tip on the back of your throat, howling your cheeks as you moved your head up and down his shaft, his fingers tangling around your hair, dictating the speed as you tried your hard not to moan as you felt Minho’s fingers curling inside of you.

                The shaking of your legs being enough to tell him you were close and you prayed for them to allow you to come this time as Seonghwa started to also jolt his hips up, hitting the back of your throat harder, your nails digging into his thighs but he didn’t care and in all honesty, neither did you.

                “Such a cock drunk whore you are,” you felt Minho’s teeth sink into your ass as his fingers curled heavenly inside of you. “Clenching so much around my fingers, can’t wait to use this hole for my cock.”

                You clenched at his words, feeling your legs tremble harder and the built up increasing.

                “That’s it, take it like the fucking slut you are, take my cock down your throat.”

                Too much, it was too much, so damn good.

                Until Minho’s warmth left you, at the same second you were about to cum, and you cried around Seonghwa’s cock that fucked your face mercilessly, ignoring how hard your nails digged into his thigh, but then you were free, your head was lifted by the hair, your eyes meeting Seonghwa’s gaze, he hadn’t cum yet, but he was close, you knew it, so you took his cock in your hands and started to stroke him again, seeing as his grip tighten on your hair.

                “Get her on the bed,” fingers digged into your sides as your lower body was lifted by Minho, you could feel his three wet fingers on your skin, whishing they were back into you, curling inside, “I wanna fuck her mouth.”

                As Seonghwa’s fingers left your hair, Minho tossed your body on the bed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there on your own, your legs still weak for the second denied orgasm.

                “I’ll take her cunt then,” Hwa got on the bed pulling your lower body closer to the edge as he got on his knees, “enjoy her mouth, is just as heavenly as we thought it would be.”

                “Fuck-” you said breathlessly as you realized that they had jerked off at the thought of you, “You two are just as perverted as I thought you’d be.”

                “Don’t pretend you are an innocent angel and never touched yourself at the thought of us,” Minho said cynically, the tent on his shorts clearly an inconvenient, even if he looked unbothered, yet all you wanted was to see his cock, “or are you gonna pretend you never called us out while your fingers were deep inside of you?” Seonghwa pulled your hips lower, spreading you open, having a clear view of your swollen clit and soaking core. “You may look like an angel, but you were definitely a work of the devil.”

                You clenched at nothing at those words, hearing Seonghwa curse under his breath looking at you all stretched and open in front of him, but all you could focus was the tent in Minho’s shorts. You liked your lips receiving a scoff, Hwa’s breathe still close to your core, but never close enough making you jolt your hip slightly, receiving a slap on your swollen cunt, making you scream as your eyes finally met Seonghwa’s hungry ones, his fingers lazily caressing the swollen organ, teasing you all over again.

                “You can’t stop looking at Minho, have something to say?”

                “I just-” another slap on your clit, making your hips jolt and you close as your eyes as his fingers lazily play with your folds now, teasing the entrance making you roll your eyes, “fuck, please.”

                “Please what slut?” Minho got closer to the bed, both hands on his pocket and you could see the movement there, he was stroking himself through the shorts, your mind wandering to how red and leaking his dick was, making you wet your lips as your eyes focused on his shorts. “What’s so interesting in my shorts, hun?”

                “I was just wondering, because my toys are pretty big, maybe even bigger than you,” a hard slap on your cunt made you cry loudly pulling the sheets with your hand, “if you are gonna do something than fucking do- AAAH FUCK!”

                Two of Seonghwa’s fingers were soon inside of you as his tongue finally found your clit, kitty licks teasing you as he curled his fingers inside as you tried to close you legs around his head, finding two strong hands on both your thighs forcing them open, bringing them closer to your chest. Minho’s fingers sank into your skin and you found his dark look, you had pissed him off you knew that, but you didn’t care, as long as you could have his dick you didn’t care.

                “Keep them open, whores like you know how to do that,” with a slap on both legs he released them, eyes fixed on you as your hands went to hold them open as Seonghwa started to suck on your clit, fingers nimbly in and out of your cunt making you see stars as the previous stimulation Minho made you through. You heard the bed creak, but you couldn’t open your eyes, only doing so once you felt something wet on your cheeks, meeting with Minho’s leaking cock inviting you to take it. “Now let’s keep that fucking mouth shut and suck it dry, and don’t you move your hands from your legs.”

                You felt yourself clench against Seonghwa’s fingers, feeling his groan reverberate from your core up. You parted your lips leaving a moan mixed with a curse before looking back at Minho, his hand at the base of his angry leaking cock, God you could cum right there as you kissed the tip of his dick feeling the bittersweet taste on your mouth. Kitty licks were placed at the tip of his cock, small kisses in the mix as you saw how his dick twitched slightly from time to time as you teased him, only looking away as you felt Seonghwa back away from your cunt, finding his glistering lips and nose as his three fingers went to his mouth.

                “Such a sweet cunt for such a filthy whore.”

                Before you could answer, Minho’s hand held your head turning you to his cock.

                “Now open.”

                And so you did as he said feeling his hands around your head as his hips started to move slowly ahead, his cock filling your mouth. As his tip hit the back of your throat, Sengohwa’s lips were back at your cunt, his tongue heavenly going in and out of you, his nose hitting perfectly your clit as his arms held you in place as he tongue fucked you. Minho’s dick furiously getting in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat every time, making you gag as you dig your nails into your legs that were already shaking.

                You felt your throat and eyes burn and you knew you tear would soon fall, specially if they denied you another orgasm. You heard Minho grunt as his trusts became sloppy, you could tell he was close. The hum that Seonghwa would occasionally drop also said he was painfully hard as he stuffed his head against your cunt, nose making a sweet pressure on your clit as you felt his tongue inside you, thanking heavens for giving this man such an incredible and versatile tongue that could reach places you never thought it could.

                Minho quickly let go of your face at the same time Seonghwa took his face from your cunt, denying for a third time your orgasm making you cry and let your legs fall, clenching around nothing as you saw Minho stroke his dick lazily and breathing heavy, as you waited for his cum, but it didn’t come, instead you were found with a cocky smirk as he controlled himself exchanging quick looks with Seonghwa who was now standing, cock red, leaking, begging for a release.

                Your legs were failing you and they noticed as they caged you again against the mattress. Seonghwa predatorily hovering above you as Minho went behind you, feeling his hard wet cock against your back, his legs going under your arms as his hands roamed around your waist, slowly going up to meet your breasts, nipples hard and sensitive as his hands squeezed it harshly making you cry again, your head resting on his shoulder as Seonghwa stayed between your wimbling legs which he put on tops of his as he took your right breast in his mouth as your other one was receiving Minho’s left hand attention.

                His right hand went to your throat squeezing just a little as he buried his face on your neck leaving open mouth kisses all over it, small bites here and there. Seonghwa’s right hand went back to your core making you move your hips for more contact, crying at how sensitive you were already but in search of your release nonetheless. You heard both chuckle at how eager you were. Minho’s left hand leaving your breast to hold your waist as Seonghwa started to give your left breast attention while his left hand took your right breast in, pinching your nipple from time to time.

                “Should we mark our little whore?”

                You cried at the comment and at Seonghwa’s fingers curling inside you, Minho’s teeth giving small bites against your skin, helping make your body shivers at the already three denied orgasms, the fourth already building it up.

                “Let’s make sure everyone knows to whom this whore belongs to.”

                At Seonghwa’s response, both focused on sucking and biting at your skin, Minho’s fingers making slight pressure at your neck as Seonghwa’s fingers worked in and out of your core, his palm pressing occasionally on your clit making you jolt your hips in desperate search for your released. You didn’t hold back any sound that came out of your mouth, their names slipping it along with a few cuss words, your body shaking uncontrollably as they try to hold you down, you could feel tears falling as they both stopped.

                “Are you fucking kidding me?”

                You cried as your body shook, hot and desperate. Minho took your face to his, cleaning some of your tears before pulling you to a hungry sloppy kiss, his tongue entering your mouth with desperation, his fingers pressing against your skin. Minho’s lips were just like you imagined, you could kiss him for ours, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands explored your body holding you in place as he pulled away from you before turning your head to Seonghwa who held your face to him, his lips quick to crash against yours, tongue quickly exploring your mouth as you felt Minho step away from you, as his hands held your waist up, making you stop kissing Seonghwa for a second.

                “Time for your reward slut,” he laid on his back and you quickly straddled him, thankful for Minho’s strong hands helping to keep you up, Seonghwa observing everything with his hand slowly stroking his dick, “it’s time to bounce.”

                Your hand was quick to find his hard angry cock, lining it up with your throbbing entrance. You torturously and slowly sank down his shaft, feeling his every inch coming inside of you, filling you up so good that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he was finally full inside of you.

                “Thank fucking God,” the desperation in your voice made both laugh at you, but you honestly didn’t care anymore, as you ignored your wimbling legs as you started to bounce up and down in Minho’s length, his fingers sinking and helping you bounce on his cock, you knew you’d have marks the day after. “Hwa, please.”

                Your hands quickly found his cock as you took it in squeezing a little before use the precum to help the movement, his hands grabbing your face and moaning against your lips as you felt Minho hold you up and start to thrust into you as Seonghwa stuck his tongue inside your open moaning mouth as you stroke him shakingly before he groan against your mouth and start giving kisses against your neck as Minho kept burying himself inside of you.

                “So fucking beautiful my pretty little whore,” he bit your neck as you let out a small screaming moan as Minho kept hitting your cervix at every trust. “You gonna cum on Minho’s cock, you gonna let him fill you up nice and well?”

                “Yes, fuck, yes ple-please!”

                “Fuck you clenching so much around me,” Minho groaned and you felt his nails dig into your flesh deliciously as you squeezed Hwa’s cock, “Imma fill you up so good, you gonna keep my cum inside you, you got it?”

                “Yes, yes sir, please fill me up, jes-fuck!” Your whole body shook uncontrollably as you felt Minho let you down on him, his whole length inside you and you whimpered desperately rocking your hips back and forth trying to finally get your release. “Please let me cum, please, I’ll do anything, please fuck, please!”

                Minho slapped your ass holding your hips down as Seonghwa slapped your face taking your hands away from him, ignoring his aching cock as he cleaned some of the tears that dripped down your face, his tongue licking them away and you clenched around Minho feeling his fingers sink into your skin.

                “Minho, we good?”

                The groan made both you and Seonghwa chuckle as you felt his hands push you up, making you irritably accept that, feeling empty as Minho’s dick slide off you, sitting straight caressing your waist slightly.

                “Think you can handle the both of us? Be a good little slut for us?”

                Although Minho’s words where filthy and hit your core directly, the slight caress on your waist catching a little off guard, yet you caught yourself nodding eagerly.

                “Words slut,” Seonghwa said with his thumb caressing your red face still from the slap he gave you, “we need to hear you say you want us to stuff you up and fuck you dumb like we know you want and like.”

                “Hwa can take your cunt and I take your ass,” Minho’s teeth bit your shoulder making you shiver while Seonghwa’s hand found your nipple, playing with it, “and after he fill you up, I’ll take your cunt again and shove it right back into and mix it up with my own and you’ll keep both our cums inside of you.”

                “Yes sir, I will.”

                “Such a good whore for us, I think she deserves a reward no Minho?”

                “You ready to cum, pretty little whore?”

                “Yes, please.”

                Swiftly, Seonghwa held your waist pulling you in as he laid back on the other bed, his feet founding the floor as you straddled him, quickly taking your hand and finding his hard cock and placing it at your entrance as you sank down. He was longer than Minho, but thinner, making it easier to slide into your aching core, you bounced a few times before he held you down, pulling you in against his chest, to make it easier for Minho to slide into your ass.

                The tip of his cock at the rim of your ass and you close your eyes in anticipation. You felt the stretch and bit down your lip, but Seonghwa made you eye him and spread your lips open, a silent demand for you to not hold back, so you hid your face on the crock of his neck as you felt Minho stretch you out slowly and deliciously painfully as you felt both their cocks fill you up entirely.

                “That’s a good whore, such a good whore taking both our cock on your holes,” the tips of Minho’s fingers caressing your back before landing on your ass with a hard slap making you jolt and feel both cocks move inside you, letting a moan escape against Seonghwa’s skin, “gonna fill you up so good you won’t be able to walk.”

                Minho was the first to move as you sank your teeth into Seonghwa skin, hearing his groan in your ear, but as soon as your body relaxed, both boys held your body as they started to move in different rhythms. As Minho’s cock was coming out, Seonghwa’s was coming in, you were never fully filled and never fully empty.

                Seonghwa’s hands were quick to find your ass cheeks spreading them as both thrusted relentlessly into you making you see stars and become a moaning and shaking mess. Minho pulled you up from your shoulders, one hand around your waist holding you up as the other played with your breast, allowing Seonghwa’s fingers to find your clit as the other squeezed your ass cheek oh so painfully.

                The overstimulation was sending you skyrocket to the edge of the universe. Incoherent speech left your lips as both kept thrusting deep into you. Your moans started to become little screams as you felt your whole but heat up and tremble under their hands, you cried out trying to get away as the overstimulation became too much.

                “Stay put slut, we gonna fill you up good and you gonna take like the pretty little whore you are.”

                “You squeezing me so fucking good, guess you are indeed a whore, taking both cocks so well, begging to be filled up.”

                “Gonna cum slut? Gonna cum on Hwa’s cock?”

                “Can you even take us both? You think you can handle Minho after I fill you up, hun?”

                “Yes, yes I can, please sir, please fill me up, please make me cum, I promise I can take both cocks, please.”

                You cried out clenching around them as you screamed one last time before feeling the so denied wave of pleasure rush through your body, crying even harder as they didn’t stop, searching for their own release. You were now their personal fuck toy, and you weren’t even mad at that.

                “Fuck she’s clenching so much!”

                “Take our cum slut, take it all.”

                Minho took his dick away from your ass and released your body that was quickly embraced by Sengohwa who thrusted harder into you, helping build up another orgasm on the way as you cried against his neck.

                “Fuck just like that, take my cock you filthy slut.”

                “Hwa plea-please…OH FUCK!”

                You felt his seed spill inside of you the same moment your second orgasm hit, but not even a second later and Minho pulled you out of Seonghwa, turning you on the back, the mattress sinking in between your legs and you feel the small stretch of Minho’s girth in your gummy walls and moaned in pleasure again, your hands quickly finding his forearm that held your waist down.

                “Time to fill you up for good.”

                “Yes please, please Min, fuck me please, fill me up.”

                “Such a cum and cock slut,” he finally thrusted into your swollen cum dripping cunt, his movements fast as his free hand went to slap your tits as he used the one on your waist for balance. “Fuck you take me so good, such a good whore with such a nice pussy.”

                “Yes, just for you, just for you and Hwa, fuck-fuck- FUCK!”

                You cried as you sensed fingers playing with your clit and you knew it was Hwa as Minho’s hand had not left your waist and were still playing with your tits.

                “Just like that, cum for me, I know you can do it again, cum on my fucking cock you filthy little whore.”

                His movements became sloppy, and you knew he wouldn’t last long and, the way they were both working you up, you knew you wouldn’t either. Your toes curled as Minho’s fingers twisted your nipple while Hwa’s pinched your clit and you cried out loud as you felt Minho thrust you one last time before collapsing on top of you, barely able to hold his own body weight, although you couldn’t complain as it has kind of comforting after everything.

                Your eyes were shut, you could hear movement around the room, Minho’s body lifting it up just enough to look at your face. His free hand was quick to take your hair away from your face, both breathings were heavy, neither could hold a small chuckle at the situation you were in.

                “You okay?” You nodded and he smiled leaving a small kiss on your lips before pulling it out, receiving a complain from you. “I’m sorry pretty, were we too hard on you?”

                He laid on your side, his fingers feather like against your skin, lingering a little longer on the more visible marks bringing a smile to your lips.

                “I’m okay.”

                “I’ll be gentle, promise,” Seonghwa’s voice was concerned, they both were as they realized the state you were in. “We were too rough with you, pretty, I’m sorry.”

                “I’m not,” you said quickly using your elbows to lift your upper body, hissing as you felt the cloth Seonghwa was using to clean you up against your sored lower body, making him be even more careful, “I had fun, you guys don’t need to be sorry for anything.”

                “Well, you did beg us a few times,” Minho chuckled and you rolled your eyes noticing how he started to move his body upwards, Seonghwa handing him the cloth before coming up on your other side of the bed, “but we should have been less… eager with you.”

                “That’s a word I could use,” you laughed as you felt Seonghwa touch your arms, indicating for you to move up with them. “I didn’t wanna be the one to ask, but -”

                “This is something we’ve been talking for a while,” Seonghwa cut you off as your back found the wall, both boys eyes on you and you suddenly felt aware of yourself, which didn’t go unnoticed by them as Seonghwa continued talking and Minho pulled some of the covers up on your body, “we can’t deny we are attracted to you, we also know you are to us, we don’t mind sharing you if you take us.”

                You stopped for a moment observing both of them, searching for any type of bad reaction to the idea of you being shared by them in any way.

                “So, what does that makes us?”

                “Whatever you want it to be, pretty,” Minho’s hand found yours playing lightly with them, intertwining your fingers as Seonghwa’s went to your face and neck, taking in your features. “So, will you take us?”

                Your only answer was kissing them. Minho first, Seonghwa second. It was a different kiss this time, it wasn’t rushed, it was light, careful, tender. Both kept observing you, expecting anything, searching for any type of rejection just how you were looking for it a while ago.

                “Do you guys mind if we sleep for now?”

                You sigh and they chuckled laying beside you. Minho was quick to turn on his back as you wrapped your legs around his, resting your head on his shoulder, your hand quickly found Seonghwa, pulling him close as you made him hug you by the waist. It felt right, whatever you three were to become.

                Sleep found you fast as Minho’s left hand made small circles on your knee around his hip and Seonghwa caressed your hand and left small kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. A smile plastered on your face.

general masterlist here ♡

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[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Price and the kinks he likes to indulge in

Pairing: John Price x Top Male Reader

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, SDH, cock cages, exhibitionism, oral sex, dom! Male reader, sub!price

Thinking about Price with a tiny cock who loves it when you coo at it, when you easily clasp his small length between your thumb and index finger while he’s perched in your lap and riding you, who loves it when you go as far flicking it or having to beg and plead for you to touch him until he cums from the sheer humiliation of it.

“Please please please” he stutters out, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed and drool dripping down his chin as he desperately grabs onto your wrist.

“What do you want pretty? You say trying to suppress the smile on your face as you allow him to lead your hand between his legs.

“Please please touch my dick” He sobs out, eyes squeezing shut and head lolling back.

“Your dick? But there’s nothing to touch here,” you say still trying to suppress the smile on your face before you continue speaking “oh you mean this little thing?” You say, going as far as clasping his small length between your thumb and index finger. “This what you wanted huh?” All it takes is a couple of strokes for him to reach his peak, body slumping in your embrace while repeatedly thanking you for being generous enough to touch his little cock.

Thinking about Price with a tiny cock, who you force to wear cock cages under his uniform. Price isn’t really one for indulging in his kinks while in public but the cock cages he wears are so small, barley noticeable. You love riling him up by whispering suggestive things into his ear or brushing a hand over his crotch just to watch him flinch. You’ll even go as far as suggesting unlocking it for him, have him be fully hard in public knowing no one will even bat an eye at it because who would even notice a cock of such small size.

Eventually you’ll whisk him away to some private quarters, sprawl him out on a mattress with his cock in your hand.

“Look at you pretty” you whisper into his ear “aren’t you embarrassed to be acting like this?” You say referring to the way he’s shuddering under your grip and sobbing into your neck while you’re stroking him. “All I have to do is make fun of your little cock and you’ll cum, isnt that tight angel?”

He doesn’t respond but you can feel his body going taut, blunt nails digging into your hip as he inches closer to his release. “Cum for me pretty, wanna see how good I can make this little cock feel” and really that’s all it takes before he’s spurting pathetic ropes of cum all over your hand.

Thinking about having Price down on all four, and sucking you off. You’ll be condescendingly stroking his hair with a look of faux worry painted up on your face as you watch the way tears roll down his flushed cheeks, lips stretched around your dick doing his best to take your entire length down his throat.

Every once a while you’ll be dropping a comment like “of course this is hard for you” you say while stroking his hair before your fingers dig into the thick mane and yank on it, “you’ve never done anything like this before, never seen a cock this big since yours is so small isn’t that right?” You say through a shaky laugh, hearing the way he chokes as you shove your cock further down his mouth and God he loves it so much, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head as he pathetically ruts down onto the floor in desperate search for friction while choking on your dick.

[cocogrrrl]

HIIIIIII ugh ur writings are so freakin good and so fun to read it makes me AHHHH could I request kyle, stan, and kenny (separate) with a f!reader that can’t control her facial expressions at all so she’s pretty much an open book? Maybe have the reader be an artist so when she’s drawing she’s like 🤩😙🙁😋🤨😱😐 THANK UUUUU

expressions

(headcannons + drabbles!) the main three's separate reaction to their artist gf who is very expressive whenever they draw (requested!)

main three (separate) x female!reader no cws wc: 1007 overall

an: omg its my first time writing in an hc listed format also the drabbles are a lot more artist gf than the expressive thing sorry huhuuu (also i forgot to reply to the ask last time i took up a request LMAO)

🍀 k. broflovski (wc: 330)

He really wants to comment on it, but doesn’t wanna bother you

I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just think that he finds it entertaining to see your mood and facial expressions shift around a lot

Like okay imagine you two parallel playing, both of you off in your own worlds

Kyle looks up at you to see you go from happy to frustrated to upset to shocked all in the span of a few seconds

He definitely finds it adorable and just basks in it by the side

Completely forgets what he was doing cause you’re just so gosh darn cute awwww

You were lying face down, arms holding you up, on his bed. You were tasked to make landscapes of any place but from different perspectives and views. To be honest, you were struggling a little bit. Backgrounds and scenery aren’t quite your strong points, but that didn’t mean you weren’t trying! You were lying down there, tongue poking out as you focused really hard to get the drawing looking at least a little bit realistically correct. You were real deep into it that you didn’t even realize Kyle was watching you until you heard a soft giggle in the back, which immediately made your head whip up. “Hmmm?” You hummed, questioning what he was laughing about. “Ah, it’s nothing.” He smiled at your curiosity. The look of amusement on his face was still there, so you had a hint of what was going on. “You’re just really pretty." You felt your cheeks heat up, giddily smiling to yourself as you felt your legs kicking back and forth in happiness. “Thank you…” You hummed. He only laughed more in return. “Don’t thank me.” He said, lifting your head up by the chin with his fingers as he placed a little kiss on your nose.

🍁 k. mccormick (wc: 360)

FINDS IT SO CUTE

but definitely teases you about it like

“You should take up acting, YN. You’re really good at changing emotions.”

Do you know how some people make facial expressions and random body movements for reference while drawing?

When he sees it for the first time, with no context whatsoever, he thought you got possessed or something CAUSE YOU WERE JUST FLAILING YOUR ARMS AROUND WHILE LOOKING INTENTLY AT THEM

I can just imagine him lying down, watching you drawing, while he’s kicking his feet in the air HEPL

You and your boyfriend, Kenny, were sat slumped against a wall in the back of some alleyway, spending your time together in the quiet where only sounds of passing cars, footsteps and chatter of pedestrians, and the soft winds blowing every now and then. You were getting into your drawings on your little sketchbook, moving from one doodle to the other and leaving many unfinished. Every couple of minutes, you’d revisit the other, but that was only if you were still up to it. Other than that, you had new ideas pulling you away from your drawings every other second. Kenny was playing with the hair that fell by the side of your face as you were doing your own business—twirling, braiding, and unfurling it over and over again. You stretched out your hand and formed it in a reached-out, grabbing motion, shifting it every so often to get a better view of what it looked like. Kenny watched you observing yourself in intrigue as well, resting his chin on your shoulder. As soon as you were done and about to get back to drawing, he lifted himself back up and started to play with your hair once more. While you were drawing out the hand same hand you motioned earlier, you felt a soft kiss on your cheek, which caught you off guard. You turned your head in Kenny's direction, giving him a look that asked, ‘Why?’ Not in a bad way, just out of curiosity. He shrugged in return, cupping your face in one hand with his fingers resting on both cheeks as he squeezed them. “Cutie.”

🎸 s. marsh (wc: 317)

He doesn’t pay much mind to it honestly

He sees it for the first time and thinks it’s kinda silly, but not much after that

He brings it up sometimes though like

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s funny how you’re really expressive.”

But really its not something that bothers him

If anything, he finds it really adorable sometimes, especially when you get a little too into the zone and you’re just changing expressions every millisecond

Honestly, I think it’s a neat little dynamic since you’re probably really bubbly while Stan’s more aloof

You and Stan were in your favorite corner of the world—Stark’s Pond. Okay, technically, it’s one of the farthest things from a corner, given that it’s a whole landscape, but it was a special place unbeknownst to many, especially people who aren’t from the small town of South Park. You two were sat on a bench by the pond, Stan playing the guitar cross-legged, and you were leaning towards it while drawing on your tablet. You hummed along with the songs he was playing, familiar to you as it was your relationship’s self-declared theme song. Your face was twisted in a pout, trying to get a small detail, but important (to you), correct. You clicked your tongue, flipping your canvas every so often to make sure it looked right or physically possible. You sighed, resting your body weight on Stan as he paused to look at you and your art’s progress. “Frustrated?” He hummed, putting his arm down so that it was more comfortable for you to lean onto him. “No,” you clicked your tongue. “Just need to get around this little part. Like, I can’t  draw feet for the life of me.” You sighed, tipping your head a little further as you ground into Stan's shoulder. He found himself giggling at you, patting your back, and giving you a little kiss on the cheek.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!!!!! I just got into good omens and this hyperfixation is going ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. Ive been reading so many fics from yall thank u ❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could req some lesbian/wlw aziraphale ? :P

Hello! You can check out our #ineffable wives tag for fics already recommended. Here are some more to add...

wanna witness your eyes looking by izzyhandsgf (E)

"How could someone so unbearably holy commit such sins in the most beautiful way?" ----------------------------- Or, Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the 1930s, fem-presenting, and both are slightly overcome by their feelings for one another...

I stretch out the time (and now I know why) by Nix_Nihili (T)

I should pull back, Crowley thought. She should pull back because she was the one with the fork in her mouth that Aziraphale was holding. Aziraphale wouldn’t pull back because that would be rude so Crowley had to pull back. Pull back. Crowley swallowed the cake down and pushed herself away because that was what she did. Push and pull. Six thousand years of pushing and pulling. God, did it ever end? - Crowley finds Aziraphale on a fateful night for the first time since 1941. They haven't seen each other since but something has changed in the past two decades. or Something definitely happened between 1941 and 1967 to warrant the "You go too fast for me, Crowley" comment.

“I thought that I was getting better.” | Setbacks by die_traumerei (T)

Aziraphale is already having a rough time of it, when her new neighbour Crowley's cats trip her up and the inevitable happens. She and Crowley becomes friends, though, and more than friends -- and a good thing too, as Aziraphale faces one setback after another.

Herefordshire Pomona by Eigon (T)

I was reading Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (which is excellent, btw) and also thinking about the advice to "write what you know", so I started daydreaming about how the goat farmer meets literature professor scenario would transfer to Herefordshire. Aziraphale was easy - a bookseller in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of Books. I've put her shop where Green Ink Books is now, which used to be a multi-level shop, with a flat above. Crowley - well, that became obvious pretty quickly, too - instead of goats, apples. Herefordshire has a lot of old orchards, and I used to know a lady from the Marcher Apple Network, which identifies old apple varieties, and works to preserve them. And I wanted it to be Ineffable Wives, because I had so much fun writing the Old West story Secret Friendship (which is a boring name, but I couldn't think up a better one).

strange workings of fate by skyflyerr (E)

Aziraphale sat down gently and let her feet that didn’t quite touch the floor dangle from the stool. “Would you spare enough time for one glass with me?” Aziraphale watched her turn and look a little taken aback at the notion of her being here. Maybe this was a bad idea. “With you, darling? I can make the time. I’m a woman of my word, if anything.” *** Crowley is a bartender and Aziraphale is still figuring out the bookshop. Both are utterly lonely and winter is coming quick. Maybe they could keep each other warm.

Dance Me to the End of Love by Black_Bentley (E)

In general, Crowley would very much like to see the ones who hurt her grovelling at her feet, experiencing her pain and fear. But Lucifer’s plan is... well, it far surpasses what she considers ‘getting a revenge’ falling wildly into wreaking complete havoc and destroying innocent lives as collateral damage. Most importantly, that puts her dearest friend in danger. And she is to bring the proverbial cuckoo into the Celestial nest. OR: Aziraphale is a ballet dancer for the British Celestial Ballet Company, which grooms its perfect 'angels' from childhood Crowley used to dance for them too, but after they literally kicked her out, she took on pole-dancing for the Nine Circles of Hell Nightclub Its owner, who used to be the Celestial Ballet's star, is ready to take his revenge on the company's Director (referred to by its 'angels' as Mother) and chooses Crowley to enact it by forcing her to deal a brand new drug among the ballet dancers.

- Mod D

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love chapter 9

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter ten ♥ summary: just some cute interaction shit, him references the beginning paragraph of chapter four. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (now it's in the stage between queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.1k ♥ pinterest board ' it has outfit inspo in it now ♥ notes: alastor picks up reader, the ending is ambigious but THEY DON'T HAVE SEX THEY DON'T HAVE SEX I SWEAR. ♥ also: i wanna thank the two ppl who actively comment / reblog my posts bc you keep my motivation up and on tumblr for someone who does niche shit like me sometimes it's like posting into a void of people who don't gaf so I'm grateful for you two, off topic but my sweetheart is incarcerated and i talk about this show/story so much he asked me to print it out and send it to him so in a few chapters i'll show his review LMFAOOOO

"You look so handsome," you sign before running your fingers across his poofed ascot and feeling how his chest moves as he breathes. The flicker and yellow hue of the fireplace stretch over the walls and against your body. He steps forward and looms over you, gaze downwards, hands crossed behind his back. He lets you pamper him so.

You tilt your head, getting a good look at the outline of his angular face, and he mirrors your movements, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Alastor," you tap your thumb against the side of your head, "if you swear your loyalty to me you're going to let me dress you like you dress me, but only for today. Let me humiliate you just this once."

But to you, it's not humiliation. The white lace ascot is tucked into a button-up similar to the one he already wears, hidden behind a brown vest. Instead of his red overcoat, you've fitted him into brown, as you call it, "morning coat." He shouldn't be so stubborn; it's still a tailcoat. The floral vest makes him want to vomit, especially since there's no single breast pocket. He's lucky you didn't force him into shorts.

Still, his hands remain locked behind his back, putting no effort into responding. Your face has an unforgettable expression; you're pretty proud of yourself. The switched roles are having you giddy, whether or not he decides to wear the outfit outside this room. You dress modestly to your living self, as he intends to with himself, but if he tried to warp your sense of style into his generation, you will return the favor. He's dressed as modest as he prefers, with a dash of upper-class flare.

"Look, we're matching decades. It's not that bad, is it?"

The silent treatment is the most childish thing he's pulled in a while.

"Is it the vest?"

He shivers when you touch it, no matter how light your fingers press into the thick fabric. Are you doing this on purpose? Testing your luck?

He half-listens, half-focuses on the look in your eyes. He's lost himself, truly. There's an undeniable eerie similarity: 'You had lost your mind' is how he described you—how hypocritical. There's something else keeping him locked in your eyes.

His outfit does not fit his aesthetic but perfectly matches your outfit. He's scared that if he looks down at the two of you together, the word love will be truer than he originally intended.

Your late-18th century scooped neckline, lace outlining every curve, how dare you, is more appealing than he ever imagined. Every portrait he's seen in museums could not portray how gorgeous the intricately silky dresses look on a woman as exquisite as you. The coffee-colored fabric with deep green layers on the hips screams royalty. Is this your ideal appearance or how you appeared when you were alive? A special glow emanated from the dress when the fireplace's glimmer reflected off the pale flower pinned next to your collarbone. You were born for compliments.

Consideration is what keeps you two from clawing at each other.

You turn away, ultimately giving up on trying to garner a reaction from him, pulling open one of the drawers on his bookshelf, already far too comfortable in his room. He relaxes his arms.

You pull out a hairbrush, turning to him. Did you hide that when he wasn't looking? Your cocky smile answers his internal question.

"I'm making myself at home," you tilt your entire body by the waist when you sign, your smile remaining its tone. The intense conversation the two of you had nights before had boosted your confidence by an unmeasurable amount. You now enter his room without him, folding your night clothes and placing them in the corner of his desk. A few pairs of your shoes stay next to his door. The pins you use to keep your hair up when you dress closer to your generation sit on his bedside table. And he allows all of it.

The red dress stays draped over his lounge chair.

He palms his hand towards you, waiting for you to give him the brush. You keep it in your grasp, signing. "It's not for me."

His spine straightens. "No."

"Let me."

"No."

"We can make a deal."

Though sparking his interest, he still shakes his head and keeps his fingers in the same shape. "No."

You put the brush handle in your mouth, using both free hands to scold him. "Don't be such a baby, Alastor, come here. I doubt it will even do anything to your hair, it'll just be fun."

"And what makes you think I would ever let you do that?"

"Because you like me, and I'm serious, I feel as if the only way I can get you to agree is if we make a deal, you selfish man. So let's make a deal. What do you want me to do?"

His head tilts slightly. His eyes circle your face, landing on the brush still between your teeth. His cheeky smile widens. "How about this? You get to brush my hair, and in return, I get to ask you a question. Simple enough, wouldn't you say?"

You bite down a bit, your eyes blinking with uncertainty. Your emotional response gets pushed away. "Fair. I do love these games you play. Now come here."

You motion him to approach the bed, striding over. He waits until your hand stops moving before stepping closer, looking down at you before sitting in front of your body. "Be gentle, my dear."

That's his last response before you climb on the bed behind him. If you scoot any closer, your knees will straddle him. Your eyes fall to your thighs, where you genuinely consider being so close to him. Not now.

Your fingers find their way to the back of Alastor's head, the coarseness of his nape leading to a softness. He jolts, mind going to calm himself with a deep breath. His eyes narrow, flickering around his room, trying to find something to cling to. He lets out a quiet huff of air.

The bristle goes through smoothly. There's nothing to this activity except you trying to conclude why he likes sitting you down and doing the same. You avoid his ears, knowing well his distaste for them. You've never wanted to touch them, and you aren't going to start now.

Seeing him in the position reminds you how much you adore him from behind. He seems so vulnerable. It takes everything in you to not run your hands across his shoulders and down his back. You've only touched his shoulder blades while hugging, so what do they feel from this angle? Your eyes explore his body while your hands stay working.

You don't notice when he reaches behind him, bending his hand to run his knuckles next to your thigh. When you don't react, he presses his nails against the bottom of your leg, a warning, and your hands stop.

Chest to back, you peek your head over his shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, nose close to yours, meeting your eyes in a side-eye. From this close, you can see the individual hairs of his eyelashes and the deep shade of his eyelids.

"You're very pretty, Alastor." The signs come absentmindedly, hardly visible to him. You don't even look at his eyes when you say it; your gaze goes from his face to the front of his hair. His smile wavers.

As if you hadn't said anything, you slide off the bed and stand before him, altering his bangs and seeing more of his face.

When you finally meet eyes again, you're brought back to reality by his sly gleam.

He puts a finger on your speaker, pushing you back just a bit, giving you room to see his hands. "You're flattering me, my dear. Careful, or someone might think you have a crush."

"How horrible that would be," you just give him a casual grin. The hairbrush goes back in your mouth while you manipulate his hair from the front, aimlessly adjusting his locks, simply fidgeting. A part of you wants to stay here, your hands on him, standing over him. He's so docile sitting in front of you. When you take a small step back, his stare follows your face, his bright red eyes gaining your attention. He has to look upwards to meet your eyes.

Without an ounce of self-control, you reach forward and place your hands on his cheeks, thumb brushing against the soft fuzz on his cheekbones. The tips of your fingers are lost in his hair, and your palms' temperature gets corrupted by his warmth.

His eyes widen. You hold his face with a firm grasp. You're holding The Radio Demon with a firm grasp. He should kill you for this. But instead, he takes a steadying breath and tries to smile wider. "What are you doing, my dear? Trying to make me lose my composure?"

Your hands fly back, teeth piercing the handle of the hairbrush. You step away from him. "Don't be weird, jeez." And with a racing heart rate, you tuck the brush back into his drawer. Not even a few seconds go by before he places a hand by yours, making you jump. He leans his body into your vision.

Both of his hands lift, fingers loose, his signs smug. "But we're not done yet, remember? I get to ask you a question."

You calm your face, your demeanor slipping into an overlord's professionalism. You turn to him fully. "Right now?" You've both returned to normalcy: him looming over you, staring down through his monocle. He is hovering so generously that it's hard to think.

You give him a slow blink. "Yes, go ahead. I promise honesty."

For a second, he considers asking a more invasive question, something personal. But he decides it would be unfair to catch you off guard. "Darling... I'm curious. Did you know you sing when you sleep?"

Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls open. Sing? You've never been told that before. He continues before you can find words, recognizing he caught you off guard anyway.

"It comes through here," he taps on the speaker. "I can hear it clear as day."

When you still don't lift your hands, he shrugs with glowing eyes, taking up the space for conversation with his own signs. "Oh sweetheart, you looked shocked! Are you surprised by that information? Were you not aware? Isn't it strange~? What do you possibly dream about?"

"I haven't the slightest clue." And then you look away, tired of the interrogation, leaving him by the dresser as you approach his bed again, sitting down before falling backward. Your feet dangle off the edge by your knees. What can you even make from this information? It's been so long since you've been alive that you have no recollection of any details. Perhaps you were a gorgeous singer, or perhaps you were still Deaf but dreamed of fame. There's not even a way for you to find out. It is hardly surprising you would acquire any emotion other than peak uncertainty.

If he was trying to respond, then you couldn't tell. He made no effort to get your attention. But by the slight bounce of the mattress, he sat down hard enough to let you feel his presence. He stares at your fingers, how the rest limply against the mattress, and fights a battle in his head to not touch them. He loves your fingers, the beautiful way they wiggle when you sign something teasing, and how they grip his hair whenever he wraps his hands around your waist. Very enticing, welcoming.

You only look over when another bounce comes, and Alastor is lying by your side, on his back, just like you. His eyes flicker over your softened gaze.

You can almost read his mind as you interlock your fingers with his, only loosely, enough for him to pull away if he wanted to with a mere flex of his hand. But he stays there, not tightening the grasp and not inching away.

You give him a small smile, lifting your other hand. "Do I sound good at least?"

"Sweet like honey."

"That's good," you say, wanting to end the conversation by looking back at the ceiling, but something in you tells you to stay looking at him. His hair spreads across his blanket, almost blending in with the shade. The back of his head will definitely need brushing now, and your smile grows at the thought.

His claws wrap around the joints of your fingers delicately, and his rough gloves prickle your skin. Fingers with remarkable penmanship are fingers that would tear you apart without hesitation.

You lift your other hand again weakly, signing with the ghost of your second. "That means a lot coming from you."

His smile grows, other hand lifting, and with the purest form of fluency, "What does that mean, my dear? Surprised that the Radio Demon can be so honest?"

"Definitely. Darling, you're a pessimist."

His fingers grip your wrist, pulling you closer to him by the hand. With one hand pinning yours, he puts his weight on that elbow to prop himself up. "A pessimist? Me? I beg to differ, sweetheart. I'm just a realist, I see Hell for what it is."

You let him grip your hand, holding you in place, and you hide a laugh. As if you'd run away.

"Every pessimist says that." Time slows. The two of you had plans for today, but they seemed to melt away. You'd rather spend eternity in this moment, him wearing clothes from your era, leaning over you, hand on yours. "So cliche, my love."

Alastor gives you a roll of his eyes. My love. You've called him that before, but with you laying so close to him, the words strike his heart. He doesn't overlook the twitching in the corner of your lips, the teasing amusing you more than him. He mentally prepares to grab your face but fights the urge and pulls away to respond. "Ah, but says the one getting close and personal with a man like me, using words like 'my love' and 'darling.' You're the cliche one."

You let out a childish laugh before you can stop it. You wiggle your wrist, getting your hand free enough to wrap your fingers in his. "That's fair, you win."

He pauses. He lets out a deep hum. Seeing you laugh and knowing your happiness affects him sends waves of contentment through his entire body. With a few deep breaths, he pushes the biased feeling aside, playing it off with a purposeful flicker of his ears and a bend of his neck. "What can I say, my dear? I always win."

"How I've always loved your charisma."

He finds himself unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. He takes a few seconds to cherish your features. The position you both find yourself in is casual, and though he struggles with the emotional pull, he doesn't leave your touch. His signs are small. "My charisma? You flatter me, my dear."

There's a comfort in his eyes that is foreign to you. It's a bit terrifying. How is somebody so evil finding such peace with you? Alastor feels his breath catch in his throat when your eyes cushion against his stare. Something within him aches in response to your affection. He wants to look away but can't tear his vision from yours. He squeezes your hand almost automatically. He doesn't know how to deal with the sensations your kindness gives him. You are practically perfect and here with him, tolerating him. For once, words fail him. With a shaky breath, he simply looks at you with a bewildered expression.

"Alastor?" You whisper, almost to yourself, before you return to signing. His breathing had quickened, his eyes locked on yours as if he couldn't look at anything else. You furrow your eyebrows. "Do you want to sit up?"

His pupils dilate at the sound of his name. He nods mutely. "Uhm... yes. Yes, I do."

His eyes never leave yours as he sits up, wholly memorized by the sight of you. The fact that you are willing to be so close to him and that frail tone of voice screams weakness in a way that he loves. But you are bolder than most, which will always remind him of your status. He can't name a time when you've openly feared him.

You sit up with him, nervously keeping your eyes on his, put off by his adamance. Throughout the years you've known each other, he's always offered you kindness, but this is different. This is sensual, personal. Your heart rate increases.

You pull your hand back, trying to gauge whether he wants you to stop touching him.

He watches your hand slip away, and a quiet panic sets in his stomach. He doesn't want this moment to stop. Not this sudden. The thought of losing the feeling of your hand in his breaks him. As if on instinct, his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist. His eyes widen as if surprised by his own action. It takes him a second to remember how to sign.

"Wait... wait a minute, darling. Please, just stay close."

"Okay..." You fingerspell. Your eyes widen. The desperation in his bewildered eyes provokes nothing but caution. Is he just touch-starved? Or does he want this touch from you? You make sure to stay close, to not pull away. The warmth of his body gives you goosebumps; he's much warmer than you are. He had taken your wrist in his hand. What is he doing?

You are so close. Almost unimaginably so. Alastor doesn't dare move a muscle, afraid he will ruin the moment. He swallows, gathering every ounce of courage he has. Slowly, gently, he pulls your wrist forward, moving your hand close to him. "Stay here. Please."

"Alastor, are you okay?" Your eyebrows furrow. Your hand stays in the air while your brain searches for a follow-up question. What happened? Did I do something? "Do you... want a hug?"

What a strange question. A hug? Are you pitying him? His ears threaten to fold back, but he holds his breath. If he wanted a hug he would have taken one from you. But his hands move before he can stop himself. "Yes... yes, a hug."

With another okay, you pull your hand away from his grip and wrap your arms around his torso. He knows immediately where your hands are going to find themselves. You grip between his shoulder blades, head laying against his chest. Your head rests against his silky ascot. His breathing moves your upper half. His hands tremble when he gingerly wraps his arms around you, keeping you secure against his body. He has to resist the urge to press his chin against the top of your head and hold you with all his strength. He closes his eyes, imagining how pliable your body would be if he broke all of your bones in his grip.

After a few seconds of glancing around one side of the room, you press your chin against his sternum, looking up, eyes only able to capture the edge of his jawline. Your music gives you away. Should you wrap your arms around his shoulders? Run your fingers through his hair? Those thoughts go ignored as you stay in place, waiting for him to move.

But you don't have to wait long.

He can hear your quiet breaths, feel your face against him. When you move your head, even though the movement is small, something in him breaks. Without thinking, he adjusts his arm to grip your waist, the other finding its way to the back of your head. He pulls your head back so he can look you in the eyes. Your lips part, and your breathing quickens. Your body language shatters all your composure. You can practically collapse against him and give your life to him. In this moment, if he asked for your soul, you'd say yes without hesitation.

You're so kind, so sincere, so vulnerable in his arms. You trust him and look at him with such intense eyes. His claws dig into the fabric of your dress, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline. He refuses to remove a hand to say anything.

But you wiggle a hand between the two of you, signing with only three motions. "Are you going to kiss me?"

The words hit him like a truck. Heat flushes in his chest. He almost forgets sign language; his eyes are locked onto your fingers as you touch them to your lips. You had asked if he was going to kiss you, to kiss you. The thought is almost too much. Without a second thought, he removes one of his hands, not caring for the little to no space between you two. "Yes, I am... may I?"

And with a bright smile, "You may."

Your hand rests on his cheek, he leans into your palm. He wants to say something witty, or clever, or charming but instead he just presses the smallest of kisses on your lips, multiple of them, each equally experimental. Once he pulls away, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips.

The feeling of a pair of lips against his is new, but not unwelcomed. His mind tells him to push your body into his and ravish you right then and there. Instead, he focuses his mind on your chest as it moves up and down, your music drowning his senses. The people outside will surely be able to hear it. An explanation will be needed. He presses his forehead against yours, and you lean forward, practically nuzzling each other like cats. He doesn't dare to shut his eyes, even though you close yours. Your smile is addicting and beautiful; it would be lovely and stitched into permanence.

The soft moment is broken when he grips your chin, pulling you to meet his gaze. His signing is low but obvious. "You're going to be the death of me, my dear."

"Then we shall die together." You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss, trapping him in. There's no reality where you continue fighting the urge to press yourself against him. Though not sexual and not perceived to be, you have been daydreaming about this moment for decades, and you won't let it go to waste. He makes an unheard, involuntary noise when you pull him forward into another kiss. You're maddening. He reciprocates, interlocking his fingers around your waist. Your nails pull at his hair, and he clenches his fingers. He's positive you can feel his heart, just as he can feel yours through the pulsing of your speaker. An almost embarrassing shiver courses through his body.

When his body starts to tense, and his hands grip so hard that he causes himself to bleed, he pulls away, fighting against your grip. His fingers release, and he takes a quick step back. When your eyes misjudge his actions, his hands lift. "My apologies, I'm afraid I need some air."

You place a hand on your chest and feel your beating heart. "That's okay."

He slackens the knot of his ascot, pulling it loose with one movement, releasing his neck and removing it from his body. You think he will grab your hand when his claws reach you, but he pulls your speaker out of you, silencing the giveaway. With it being tossed on the bed, his hands go to your thighs as he lifts you, your dress puffing up around his arms. You gasp, hands reaching his nape again, and he lifts his head and presses kisses against your neck.

The breath you release is loud, giving away his actions more than your music ever could. His ears even wince at the sound. How salacious of you.

With his tongue dragging up your skin, he gets a good taste of you. Perhaps one day, he'll make you his meal, and the two of you will be together forever. But that thought will be put on the back burner.

"Oh, my dear," he whispers into your neck. "Aren't you a special one?"

When your fingers tug tighter, he lifts his head, meeting your eyes.

Without speaking, your lips mouth four words. "I love you, Alastor."

His open-mouthed smile widens, tongue dragging across his teeth. His following words go unread by you. "Good girl."

.

.

.

.

anyway wedding day outfits from her culture but it's them. my friend said his fav thing about them is that "alastor is with someone whose titties are out 70% of the time".

[fentibeauty]

━ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭.

summary- you walk in your dorm with a serious limp after dance practice. your roommate and girlfriend notices and offers to help by stretching you out.

a/n- this randomly popped up in my head while i was listening to brent and i had to write it down before i forgot it lol. otw to my cruise so this may be the last fic i write until next month lord

warnings- mentions of sexual activity , profanity, shuri being an amazing girlfriend. shuri also being a little sneaky thang.

tags— @melodykisses @shuris-whore @saturnville @haechvn @ppawmpkin @cherios @vargskelegore @angeliquebones @szalipcombo @shurireigns @rxcently (comment if you wanna be in tag list)

*. * · ݈ hbcu! shuri ✗ black!reader *. * ·

you unlocked the door and slowly limped into your dorm. your girlfriend shuri was laying on her head reading a book she has to write a report on.

with small groans you made it to your bed with a loud “hmph.” shuri put her book down, “are you okay, my love?” there was a tone of humor in her question.

“everything hurts.” you mumble. even though what you said was a bit incoherent, shuri was able to hear you. “why does everything hurt? you’re a pro at dancing. you do everything with no effort.” she asked as she got up from bed and sat on yours.

shuri started to rub your legs, “do you need help?” she asked quietly. “how are you going to help me, ri?” shuri got on her knees and positioned herself in front of you.

“let me stretch you out.”

“let me stretch you out.”

you won’t lie, when those words left shuri’s mouth your mind took a left and thought of other thinks you knew she wasn’t referring to at the moment. shuri soon caught on and held a sly smirk before laughing. “not in that way, you nasty girl.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you smiled. shuri let out an amused scoff and looked down at your legs.

“okay, let’s see what we’re working with here, shall we?”

shuri was now between your legs, started off by using the pit of her hands to massage your thighs. you let out a noise of discomfort but also relief. shuri looked down at you, the face you had on your face reminded her of previous events.

“this position is fairly familiar, no?” shuri teased as she continued with what she was doing.

“but i was the one with my mind in the gutter.” you commented. shuri let out a smile laugh.

she rubbed over this one particular spot that was the most tender causing, what sounded like a moan leave your lips. you realized it was a bit too much for shuri when she paused her movements.

“oh, i’m sorry. it slipped out.” you let her know, shuri looked into your eyes before continuing, it seemed as though she was fighting something within her. “no need to apologize, love.”

shuri then grabbed the pit of your knees and spreaded your legs apart. you winced and hissed in pain, “it feels like you’re hurting me on purpose.” you whined.

“never love, you’re just very tense i can feel it in your muscles.”

shuri got closer, and made herself taller. she looked down at your crouch before looking back at you with a smirk. “shuri! be focused.”

“so very sorry, i can’t help it. she’s looking right at me. she wanted to say hello.” she tried to reason. “oh please, it seemed like you want to say hello.” you looked up at her with your legs still in the air; in her hands.

“i do want to say hello.” she leaned down and became face to face with your pussy, “hello, good to see you again.” she joked as she left a kiss on the top of it making you squirm just a bit.

“will you stop??!” your cheeks heated up, even with your chocolate skin, shuri could still tell you were blushing. “distracted aren’t i. that’s just what you do to me.”

shuri watched you once more, “god i love your thighs baby.” she complimented. you were indeed a very thick girl, you grew up with your greens and cornbread. it was bound to happen!

as you walked around campus with shuri, people wondered how shuri could handle someone like you. the girls you danced with swore you would break shuri as easy as a twig but they were wrong.

most nights after sex, you would be the one limping and needing to be rejuvenated. shuri on the other hand would be just fine.

shuri is definitely stronger than most people think but that’s not any of their business, they can think what they want to think.

anyway.

shuri bent your legs back as much as you allowed it. your legs very much did go to your head and boy was shuri amazed. “jesus, you are so damn flexible.” she gazed at how she had you folded like a pretzel.

shuri couldn’t help it, she couldn’t.

she brought her front and pressed it against yours. “oops.” her tone with two octaves deeper. you knew shuri wouldn’t be able to control herself.

“s-shuri.” you said in a warning tone, yes you were sore but you’ll never decline any sexy time with your lover. “sh, sh. let’s continue.” she went on like nothing happened.

she put one of your legs down and focused on one leg. she straightened it and bent it back. another moan left your mouth, this time it was far more clearer to shuri’s ears. she tucked her bottom lip and stared directly into your eyes.

“okay yeah, maybe we should stop before i make you sorer than what you are now.” she was deadass.

shuri was dead fucking ass.

[happi-tree]

don't kiss and tell

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

Or: After a long, tiring concert set, Lincoln helps Taylor backstage. One thing leads to another, and he gets a little more than he bargained for.

ao3

Hi, guys! Guess who's back with one more Swiftli fic to finish off 2023! I've had this idea kicking around in my docs (and my wip posts lmao) since July and figured it was high time to polish it up haha. Enjoy some very, very self-indulgent idol au Swiftlis below the cut!

“Liiiiiiincoln,” A familiar voice whines behind him.

Lincoln hums questioningly without turning around - he’s a bit preoccupied with tidying up their group’s shared dressing room. 

Sure, they’ll be performing their set here tomorrow night as well, but it never hurts to make sure everything is in its place so he can at least attempt at mitigating the chaos that is bound to unfold. That, and he doesn’t want to cause the staff any excess trouble.

“Liiiiiiiink,” Taylor prods again, and Lincoln can hear the exaggerated dragging steps his groupmate is taking toward him. “I’m all sweaty and you’re all sweaty and I will not hesitate to lean on you if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Do, it, then,” Lincoln mutters, slightly hunched over to fluff up the throw pillows on the couch and inspect it to make sure nobody’s spilled their half-caff coffee (Normal) or energy drink (Scary) or needlessly complicated boba order (Taylor) or sports drink (himself). “Busy.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Taylor says, draping himself across Lincoln’s back like an overgrown cat, hands hanging limply over Lincoln’s shoulders. In his peripheral vision, Lincoln notes that one’s holding a container of makeup wipes. “You’re so grumpy when you’re exhausted nowadays! Seems like a certain someone’s rubbing off on you.”

“Or, you know, using my back as a chaise lounge.”

“Well, I had been referring to Scary, but you’re not wrong!” He crows, stretching a little as if to emphasize all the points where their bodies make contact. 

(It’s uncomfortably warm and a little gross with all the sweat from their concert, and it’s a lot less bothersome than Lincoln would like to admit. Even in the afterglow of a performance in the earliest hours of the morning, voice hoarse and body crashing from all the adrenaline and mind dimmed with the promise of late-night room service and sleep, Taylor still has a way of making things a bit more bearable. Even when he’s acting anything but.)

A grimy finger pokes him lightly in the cheek, breaking Lincoln from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes and makes to fold the little blankets the staff had set out for them. 

“You’re so cute with your brows all furrowed like that,” Taylor teases. “Li-Wilson, our very own pretty boy, all angry and frowny. What would the press say?”

There’s a very, very stupid fluttering that happens in Lincoln’s chest whenever Taylor strings his name together with words like “cute” or “pretty” or “handsome”. And it happens annoyingly often, considering how much the four of them will play up their affections for their fans. Lincoln knows it’s not untrue - the internet surely agrees with what Taylor’s saying, if the endless amounts of comments he probably shouldn’t get sucked into reading are anything to go by - but sometimes… he still wonders if it’s all in his head, the way Taylor drops flirtations like he means them.

That’s a thought for later, though, when he’s in their shared hotel room fighting off the wonderful combination of jet lag and insomnia.

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

“Cute,” Lincoln says out loud, because he calls Taylor that all the time in public, and he has no reason not to voice it now. Unlike the countless interviews and livestreams they’ve done together, though, he has the pleasure of watching red crawl its way across Taylor’s cheeks, which only further proves his point. 

“B-be that as it may, I have you effectively trapped until you do my bidding, you tall, unfairly handsome boy.”

Lincoln is so fortunate that he doesn’t blush easily, a fact which annoys both Taylor and the rest of their group. 

“Why can’t you remove your own makeup, huh?” Lincoln complains halfheartedly even as he takes the wipes offered to him and Taylor wriggles happily in celebration.

“Don’t have any mirrors,” He argues (which is clearly a lie - there are no less than eight in this room alone in case of last-minute touch-ups, not counting their phones), “and I’m so tired I can barely stand!”

“Oh, are your legs acting up? I can carry you if you want,” Lincoln replies, all pretense of grouchiness forgotten as he carefully straightens up, making sure that Taylor can still lean on him without throwing him off-balance.

“I mean, I’m probably fine. Just a little shaky, is all.” Taylor laughs a little, a short, breathy, half-nervous sound that Lincoln feels against the back of his outrageously complicated blouse. 

“You sure?” Lincoln asks, shooting Taylor a look of his own - his “princely protector” look, as he’s seen their fans call it - and Taylor’s expression softens a bit before breaking into a teasing smirk. 

“I mean… I am pretty tired, if you’re still offering, and I’d hate for those strong arms of yours to go to waste -”

“Alright, then, just let me…” Despite the awful clinging feeling of his sweaty clothes and the daunting task of even a little bit of physical exertion, Lincoln can’t help but grin as he rearranges their limbs to lift Taylor. It’s a familiar practice, borne from their years as training partners before they ever made their debut alongside Scary and Normal, and one Lincoln can find himself enjoying even in his drained, slightly sluggish state.

(It’s hard not to enjoy the feeling of Taylor in his arms, even if it’s just for a little bit.)

“Up we go!” Lincoln says, scooping him up into a bridal carry and spinning the two of them in a lazy circle. Like the many times they’ve done this, Taylor slings his arms around Lincoln’s neck and laughs, joyful and unrestrained and slightly hoarse from a night of singing. Like the many times they’ve done this, Lincoln wishes that he could bottle the sound, hollow out a hole in his heart and place that in it. 

(Like the many times they’ve done this, he wishes he could stop going a little braindead every time Taylor’s hot breath fans against the side of his neck.)

“O-okay,” Lincoln announces, hoping the stutter in his voice can be passed off as some sort of vocal strain. “Where do you wanna be?”

“There!” Taylor shifts in Lincoln’s grip, pointing to a black leather swivel chair in the corner of the room, tucked away behind some sort of support column. 

“Alright,” Lincoln says, swooping over and then allowing Taylor to carefully extricate himself from Lincoln’s torso. 

As gross as they both are right now, Lincoln finds himself missing the contact. 

He has a job to do, though.

Lincoln kneels down on the worn, carpeted floor before Taylor, trying not to think about how his body aches, grabs a makeup wipe from the pack, and assesses the boy before him. 

Taylor sits still and pretty - the distinct lack of fidgeting is a sure sign of how absolutely exhausted he is. His face shimmers from a combination of sweat and the glittery pink-peach pastes his makeup artists use to draw attention to his eyes. Thin, smoky eyeliner swoops from the outer corners of his eyes, a burgundy so dark it’s nearly black. The heavy blush that was placed on the apples of his cheeks has faded to a mere suggestion now, but Taylor’s lips are still stained a deep cherry-plum, the corners defined with small strokes in a way that makes his smile appear more cat-like, somehow. 

The stylists did a very good job with him, Lincoln thinks.

Lincoln makes slow, gentle work of removing every last bit of makeup from Taylor’s face, stroking with just the barest of pressure across his forehead, vaguely registering the way that the fibers stain with shades of peach and beige and concentrating on unearthing the soft skin beneath. 

With every swipe of his hand, Lincoln can feel Taylor’s eyes on him, slightly glazed over and staring shamelessly. Lincoln doesn’t blame him for spacing out this late at night, and if Taylor’s not spacing out, if he’s looking at Lincoln just to drink him in amidst the peace that comes after a long night of song after song - well. Lincoln would be lying if he said he wasn’t using this as an excuse to look at him, take in and admire each and every one of his features as if he hasn’t committed them to memory a hundred times over. Map out the slight dip of his temple with his fingers, trace the curve of his cheek, stare right back into those dark, faraway eyes while removing his eyeliner and risk falling into them…

“Close your eyes,” Lincoln prompts, and that temptation is removed as Taylor’s eyelids flutter shut, obedient. Somehow, it doesn’t help with the lump of emotion building like phlegm in the back of his throat. 

Lincoln isn’t good with words, not the way Scary is, with her effortless lyricism and smooth-sounding syllables, phrases that bludgeon with the force of a sledgehammer or pierce through with the precision of a surgeon’s knife, depending on what is needed most.

But when Lincoln looks at Taylor like this, sometimes he finds himself wanting to be. He wants to write out everything trapped somewhere between his ribcage and his mouth, press the stain of it all into hotel memo pads, onto crumpled-up napkins from restaurants in cities he’ll never see again, tuck them into his pockets and let his chicken-scrawl attempts weigh him down twice as heavily as before. 

He’s tried, before, tried so many times, but they never come out quite right, toeing the line between being trite and far too strange. 

There’s just this… undeniable gravity about Taylor that defies any description. He’s got this magnetism to him, and they’ve been circling each other like opposing poles, like binary stars, ever since their first near-collision. His presence is real, undeniable - and not just onstage, where every staccato sound tumbles past Taylor’s lips with the strength and grace of a percussive rainfall, where every eye is drawn to him. 

Taylor is far more than that.

It’s in moments like this where Lincoln feels his pull the strongest, when the lights fade and the curtain drops and Taylor’s features are softened by the encroaching shadows yet still radiant from the high of their performance. When Taylor’s taken out his fancy lenses and Lincoln can see the onyx depths of his eyes, dare to lean closer to see if he can map out the place where his irises meet his pupils in the lowlight, all framed by dark, short lashes. When he presses a hand to Taylor’s cheek and strokes gently, watches as the sweat and foundation and blush give way to olive skin, wishes that the makeup wipe wasn’t in the way and he could hold Taylor like this for real, whenever he wanted. When he finds a clean section of chemical-soaked cloth and carefully touches it to Taylor’s lips, when he hears the way Taylor’s breath hitches near-imperceptibly in the quiet of this tucked away green room in this two-night town. 

“Does it sting?” Lincoln hears himself ask, searching his face for any discomfort. After so much silence, the question sounds louder than when their voices echoed off the stage, more amplified than any microphone could ever make it.

“N-nope,” Taylor rasps, and Lincoln knows it’s probably just rough from overuse but maybe there’s also something more. “Keep - keep going.”

“Okay,” Lincoln says, leaning in a little closer (he has to make sure he gets everything). “Let me know if it hurts?”

“Mm.”

Lincoln sets aside the makeup wipe, grabs a fresh one, and focuses on removing Taylor’s lipstick. 

Taylor has very nice lips. Like, objectively. They’re a little on the thinner side, but his cupid’s bow forms a heart shape and the edges turn up naturally at the corners in a way that makes him look perpetually mischievous.

As Lincoln gently swipes away at the lip liner, he thinks (not for the first time) about what it would be like to kiss him.

Taylor’s kissed Lincoln before - on his forehead, on his shoulders, on his cheek. Lincoln has kissed Taylor before, too - the crown of his head, his temple, and on one memorable occasion, the corner of his mouth. It’s practically to be expected at this point. He’s kissed Normal and Scary, too, and they’ve kissed him, but with them, it’s something easy, rote, platonic, entirely performative.

Kissing Taylor has always felt different. Maybe it’s because the soft press of Taylor’s lips against his skin always leaves him with some sort of endless pit in his chest, something that threatens to consume him whenever he meets Taylor’s black-hole eyes.

And it drives Lincoln absolutely crazy, the way he constantly finds himself wanting more - wanting to know the way that their mouths might slot together, to see if Taylor’s lips are as soft against his own as they feel against the back of his hand. 

Lincoln presses the wipe to Taylor’s top lip, runs his cloth-covered finger over the divot of his cupid’s bow, and fails to stop thinking about the way his groupmate might taste - fails to stop thinking about kissing the boy in front of him until they’re both rendered completely breathless. 

Taylor’s breath stutters, and Lincoln can feel the fluttery inhale-exhale against his face, and he glances upward to see Taylor’s eyes open, now, free of shadows and glitter. His gaze darts lazily between Lincoln’s eyes and his mouth.

Taylor can read Lincoln’s expressions like a favorite book. It’s only natural, having lived and worked in close quarters for the past five years together. He knows the way the light glances off Lincoln’s eyes when his mind is elsewhere, knows his fake smiles from his genuine ones, knows the way his eyes crinkle at the corners whenever he’s truly, exuberantly happy.

Taylor knows exactly what Lincoln’s thinking right now. 

And for the same reason, Lincoln recognizes the look in Taylor’s eyes for exactly what it is. 

Tiredness. Longing. Affection. Want. 

It would be easy, so easy to lean in those final few inches, to close the distance between him the way that he’s wanted to for years, the way they’ve both wanted to. But what they desire and what they can let themselves have - those have always been two very different things. 

But it’s late, and most of the staff have cleared out, and Normal and Scary are probably hanging out on the empty stage like usual. Even so, there’s always a chance -

Lincoln’s eyes flick toward the ceiling.

“There’s one camera on the other side of the pillar,” Taylor says, and Lincoln’s eyes snap back to him immediately. A suggestion of a smirk plays at Taylor’s lips.

“Did you…” Taylor’s smile grows, something secretive and almost shy. Predictably, Lincoln’s gaze follows the curve of his lips as he trails off.

“You’ve been staring a lot tonight,” Taylor teases, and god, Lincoln can’t take the low, lilting timbre of his voice right now, not when he’s close enough to feel his breath against his face, not with flashes of berry-stained lips and white teeth taking up so much of his vision. “Do you wanna -”

“Yes,” Lincoln cuts him off, sounding much more desperate than he intended.

With no foundation left to hide it, Taylor’s face colors bright red remarkably quickly.

Lincoln swallows down the embarrassment, and Taylor’s eyes track the constriction of his throat.

He drops the makeup wipe, absentmindedly brushing his hand on his trousers, letting it hang in the empty space between them.

There’s not much of it left. Lincoln can feel the last of his resolve crumbling in the wake of Taylor voicing the truth that’s lived trapped in their lungs for years on end. His heartbeat, previously sluggish with the promise of rest, pounds faster in his chest, a marcato drumbeat that seems to chant almost, almost, almost.

Lincoln has lived through years of almosts, sustaining himself on the briefest of intimacies that they allow themselves, and everything he longs for is right in front of him, coalesced into the shape of his closest friend. 

Lincoln is tired of almosts. He wants a finally. 

But he’ll reach out and take it only if Taylor wants it, too. 

“Are… you okay with this?��� Link asks, the question barely a murmur, because even though the answer is spelled out in the way Taylor’s hands are shaking in anticipation, he needs to make sure before their closeness becomes something more.

“Yeah,” Taylor breathes, a whispery sigh of an admission, and Lincoln’s heart jolts in his chest as Taylor reaches out to cradle the curve of his jaw, to drag him in further. “Yes. Please.”

And it is with that last murmured plea that Lincoln feels his resolve break. He shifts upward, inward, bracing his hands on the armrests of the makeup chair (he doesn’t trust his own legs to stay steady even as they kneel before him, and like hell is he going to let that ruin the moment he’s been dreaming of for years), and Taylor’s hand curls even more perfectly around his jaw, and finally, they meet in the middle.

Kissing Taylor is both nothing and everything like Lincoln had imagined.

Everything, because the feeling of Taylor smiling slightly against his lips, the subtle warmth of his mouth, the supple, pliant give as Taylor slots their lips together, is almost exactly as he had dreamed.

Nothing, because Taylor kisses him sweetly, gently, slowly, more kindly than Lincoln had ever thought possible.

Taylor has always been insatiable. Lincoln knew this from the moment he first laid eyes on him, from the moment he had bound up to him. He had been newly seventeen and starry-eyed, then, flagging him down from across the company practice room and asking if he could teach him how to dance. Taylor is fiery and headstrong and brightly-burning in his ambition, and everything he does, he does with an intense passion.

Now, in the half-lit almost-quiet of the green room, Taylor mouths at his lips so tenderly - almost hesitantly - that Lincoln feels like he could melt. The hand on the side of his jaw carefully, worshipfully maps out the planes of his face, traces along his cheekbone, behind his ear, guides him to tilt his head for a better angle. Lincoln makes a strange, whining noise in the back of his throat that Taylor takes from him, swallows down with a satisfied hum that sends vibrations through to Lincoln’s very soul, like the thrumming pulse of a bass-line in his chest.

Lincoln leans further into Taylor’s gravity, kisses him with the quiet desperation that’s been pent up, building and building in a wordless crescendo within him for years on end. He tries his best to pour the vast depths of his devotion into this moment, every admiration and affection and confession, every brush of Lincoln’s lips against his an I adore you, every exhaled sigh an every love song we’ve ever sang made me think of you. I love you, he thinks as he presses Taylor flush against the back of the chair, as his hands let go of the armrests to tangle in shiny, dark hair and Taylor sings into his mouth in response. Taylor is beautiful and warm and sweaty against him, and Lincoln presses their lips together again and again, an unending chorus of thank you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Taylor, for his part, responds in kind, arching his body into Lincoln’s hold, warm hands unhurriedly searching for purchase and finding it at the nape of his neck, at just above the small of his back. Lincoln registers the way Taylor fists at the expensive fabric of his shirt, the way his blunted, neatly-manicured nails scrape against the base of his scalp, and Lincoln shivers a bit in his embrace, though he feels wonderfully warmed through, more alive than when they performed for hundreds of fans just hours ago.

Taylor tastes like sweat and the chemicals from the makeup wipes. It has no right to be as addictive as it is to him. Maybe it’s because Taylor’s lips are every bit as soft against his own as they look on the monitors.

Lincoln’s sure that his lips are thoroughly chapped, but judging from Taylor’s delicate gasps and the eager, greedy way he leans further and further into him, he’s also sure that Taylor doesn’t mind.

Lincoln holds the last kiss for as long as he dares, drinking in the feeling of satisfying all of his favorite dreams and his wildest hopes. He commits the shape of his groupmate in his hands to memory, basking in the euphoria of carding fingers through show-mussed hair, of Taylor’s hand twisting in the fabric of his blouse. A smile threatens to pull at his lips as Taylor’s feathery breaths ghost against his cheek, measured and slightly shaky, an orchestration coming apart at the seams.

They stay like that for a long moment, and there is synchrony, harmony in the way Taylor melts into his touch. He's trying to capture this moment, too, Lincoln knows, impressing every bit of it into the corners of his mind, the backs of his eyelids, the hollow of his ribs. 

Eventually, they break apart, and Lincoln opens his eyes to see Taylor smiling slightly, angelic, still leaning inward like he wants to chase his lips. It’s such an adorable image that Lincoln nearly goes to kiss him again, but then Taylor looks up at him through his lashes, blinking slowly, and Lincoln is awed into stillness. 

Taylor’s always been very charming, expressive in a way Lincoln envied, able to make their fans fall for him with nothing but a camera and a simple glance. 

But Taylor isn’t acting for anyone here. The affection that warms his deep, dark eyes is for Lincoln and Lincoln alone, something raw and unscripted and intimate enough to steal the air from Lincoln’s lungs, and he can only hope the open adoration is reflected in his own gaze.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Lincoln touches his forehead to Taylor’s, exhaling unsteadily.

Taylor’s hand smooths over the back of his neck, and he gasps a little, drawn in by his touch, his magnetism, his care.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Lincoln admits softly into the shared air between them.

Taylor grins, a secret, clandestine thing, eyes half-lidded in a heady concoction of exhaustion and exhilaration and wanting.

“I know,” Taylor murmurs back, barely above a whisper, and Lincoln can hear the smile in his voice, all his sharp edges softened and heat tempered just for him. “Me, too.”

And it really is that simple. They’ve been dancing around each other for years on end, every bit of longing telegraphed like choreography through every minuscule gesture and fleeting touch. Every fragment of it is magnified by the glances they allowed themselves, reflected in the way their eyes meet, yearning painted in countless shades of onyx and bronze and ebony and sepia. 

Lincoln knows it, and Taylor knows it. 

And quite suddenly, the world has narrowed down to the two of them and nothing else.

“Yeah,” Lincoln responds dumbly, breathless from the proximity and the weight of years lifted from his shoulders. His eyes flick down to Taylor’s lips, at the red stain his own mouth has left there, at the delicate curve of them, love-drunk smiling and slightly puffy. 

He wants to kiss him again, wants to feel that smile pressed against his, wants to lean in and close the distance. And so he does, because nothing on this earth can stop Lincoln from chasing after Taylor in every stolen moment he can get, from tilting his head just the right way, from shutting his eyes and following through -

Except Taylor does stop him, pressing the pad of his index finger to his lips. 

Lincoln makes a confused sort of hum, opening his eyes to find Taylor giggling incandescently, and it almost makes up for not kissing him.

“It’s late, Link,” Taylor murmurs conspiratorially, though he has no need to when nobody else is here. “Norm and Scary’ve gotta be wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says, disappointed - or, well, he tries to say it, but Taylor’s finger is still in the way, so it comes out a little odd. After considering for a moment, he places a kiss to the tip of Taylor’s finger instead, blinking up at him.

“God, put your pretty eyes away, I’m already embarrassingly in love with you,” Taylor responds, his bare face flushing noticeably darker even in the dim lighting. 

Lincoln smiles against his finger, and Taylor sighs, eyes darting elsewhere so he can focus better.

“Anyway. They’ve gotta be waiting for us to get into street clothes so we can get the fuck out of here,” Taylor continues, pointedly not looking directly at him.

Lincoln kisses his finger again, just to be a menace. Taylor’s breath hitches the slightest bit, and Lincoln grins. 

“Listen, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get to the hotel. And the sooner we get to the hotel,” Taylor finally looks at him - looks at all of him, eyes dragging slowly down his still-kneeling form - “the sooner we can pick up where we left off.” 

He makes eye contact then, smirking and smug as he pushes lightly at Lincoln’s shoulder to give himself space to stand. “Sound good?”

Holy shit.

Lincoln has the sudden, distinct thought that they’re going to need to cancel the rest of their tour, because Lincoln is going to die at Taylor’s (soft, beautiful, warm) hands if he keeps saying things like this. Lincoln will die, and their group will disband, and everything will be ruined because Taylor is every bit as cruel and conniving as he is beautiful and Lincoln is in far too deep. 

“Uh, you okay, dude?” his groupmate (boyfriend? partner? something else?) asks. 

“Great!” Lincoln says at an octave he didn’t know was possible, numbly pulling himself to stand and ignoring the way his knees ache. 

Taylor follows suit, and Lincoln makes for his change of clothes - though not without ducking down to place a quick kiss to Taylor’s temple, feeling more awake than he has in hours as he darts away from him. 

Taylor barks out a one-note laugh, startled and disbelieving.

“Race ya!” Lincoln yelps, laughter coloring his own voice as he quickly grabs his street clothes, leaving Taylor sputtering behind him. 

“Oh, you are so getting payback when we get to the hotel,” Taylor seethes not-so-darkly, grabbing his own go bag of clothes.

“I’m counting on it!” He replies, cheeky and giddy with energy despite the late hour.

Lincoln knows it’ll be hell not to hold Taylor as close as he wants out in public, not to kiss him beyond the bounds of manufactured flirting for the cameras. They’ll need to talk about what they are now, exactly, he thinks, as he starts to pick apart the series of crisscrossed, mazelike fastenings of his stage outfit. He has to remind himself to be a bit more patient so the fabric doesn’t rip at the seams in the wake of his excitement. 

But, as he finally extricates himself and pulls on the SPDRBZ hoodie he had snatched from the merch booth a few stops ago, Lincoln can’t help but feel optimistic. 

It’ll be worth it, he thinks, to hold Taylor, kiss him, shower him with praise until his skin flushes red, to be held and kissed and praised in return away from prying eyes. To have something just for them, even if it means they’ll need to work hard to keep this under wraps.

They’re no strangers to hard work. Lincoln’s groupmates are about as diligent as they come, Taylor included. Surely, this won’t be too difficult.

“You coming or what, slowpoke?” Taylor asks, pulling him from his thoughts. He’s changed into a simple tee shirt and cargos at the doorway, cane in hand and fondness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says, stumbling into his shoes as he meets Taylor, wanting to sling an arm around his waist before correcting himself and draping it across his shoulders instead as they head out. He beams regardless, giddy and hopeful, and the feeling in his chest burns brighter than the stage lights. “Let’s go.”

[sapphire-weapon]

Hi, I just wanna share that I ship Ashley and Leon since the original RE, and I ship them even more now more than ever. I just wanted to say that I’m glad that I saw your blog. You defend them from hate comments. I could never do that. All I do is hide the fact that I ship them because people online (and IRL) can really be mean when I say that they have a good potential together.

I just think that their relationship can be wholesome and built on trust. It is without ill intention and born out of care & adoration. Which I think are the some of the foundations of having a healthy relationship, that’s why I love the idea of them together. I know this may be cliche to say this, but I think they can complete each other in some ways.

Is it wrong to want a potentially healthy relationship for Leon? I don’t get why people hate on the idea of it so much. I mean people can not ship it, and that’s fine. I just don’t get it when others start attacking because I mention that I ship them. It’s like I feel like I’m about to get executed whenever I say that they have a chemistry together 😆

Also, I apologize for talking so much about them. I just have no one to talk to when it comes to them. I just wanna share it to someone.

Lastly, I wanna say that you make deep analysis on not just their relationship and dynamics, but also on other lores on the RE franchise which I enjoy reading. It really gives a lot of new perspectives & insights on a lot of things that I don’t notice when I play the game. Thank you for this, really!

aw, anon

I also went through a period of very many years where I wouldn't say out loud that I shipped Leon and Ashley, because there was a stretch of a very long time in fandom where you got tarred and feathered if you dared have a Leon ship that wasn't Cleon or Aeon. Even shipping him with Chris was considered taboo back in the day (and, wouldn't you know, I do that, too).

And I was scared that people wouldn't take my (completely unrelated, mind you!!) meta seriously if they knew I shipped Leon/Ashley, so I just kept quiet about it. I even tried to pass it off, for a while, that I had no RE ships at all. It was just easier to say that than be dodgy about it.

It was actually kind of funny. For a while, a not-insignificant portion of the fandom went to me, specifically, for all of their Leon things, and I just had to kind of laugh at how ridiculous it was that these same people would've just stopped agreeing with anything I said about him -- things that they agreed with and had been relying on for their own interpretations -- if they'd known I shipped him with Ashley. It's all very, very stupid.

But now I'm in my 30s and I don't give a fucking shit anymore. I don't care about being an authority on canon anymore. I'm happy to be a reference if someone needs it, but I don't care about being the central hub of information. I don't need to try to make people feel impartially about me anymore.

But, authority or not, I'm still a story analyst at heart before anything else. I look at Leon's character first and then think about any possible ships second. And, yeah. After analyzing him for so long, I've noticed that Ashley brings out a side of him that isn't shown at any other point -- and it's in a positive way that's absent when she's gone. So, naturally and logically, in my head, it stands to reason that there's something to that.

Some people seem to be under the impression that Leon's character arc lives and dies by Ada's involvement, and boy is that just not the case. There's a lot of different moving parts when it comes to Leon's character arc, but he's primarily defined by the striking lack of agency he has, despite being one of the main characters of the series. Ada perpetuates and exacerbates that helplessness, but it would still exist without her. In Leon's own words: "nothing ever changes" and THAT is what's at the center of his character arc.

But even beyond that, Leon is a character who needs to be needed; it's something that's shown over and over and over and over again. So, as much as people like the idea of a "partners" type ship (like Chris/Jill) and so they ship him with Claire -- or as much as people like the whole cat-and-mouse will-they-won't-they thing that Leon has going on with Ada -- neither Claire nor Ada need Leon, so it would never really work in the long-term.

And as much as Leon doesn't want Ashley to need him... he still needs her to. Because he doesn't realize that Ashley can both need him emotionally because that's what romance is you fucking stupid idiot, Leon -- and also be her own independent person living her life to the fullest at the same time.

And you know what? I like queen/knight ships, and that's exactly what Leon and Ashley are. So I just embrace it.

This isn't to discount other people's tastes or ship preferences. Ship whatever the hell yall want. But Leon/Ashley has always existed, will always exist, and it's just as valid as any other ship. Thankfully, the remake seems to have made it more "acceptable" -- which really just tells me that the only reason why we Leon/Ashley folks were blacklisted for so long is because the vast majority of the fandom was just bad at RE4 and took out their impotent gamer rage on Ashley, as though it was her fault they sucked at the game. (If you got annoyed at Ashley screaming for help in OG -- or in remake, even -- it's because you let her get grabbed. It's player error.)

Just sayin.

[elfboyeros]

Favorite Subjects

Wanna Read More or start from the beginning: Hallows Academy Masterlist @karaboutmyart @jj-pines @lerenee

⚠️This chapter contains references to sexual assault/rape ⚠️

Within the dorm room of Amora and Loki, an alarm goes off. Loud and obnoxious Amora, groans out of her slumber, rolling closer to the wall as if she trying to get away from the sound, hugging her red octopus plushie closer to her chest. Before she fell back asleep, she could hear movement, damn, Loki gets up early.

After what felt like only a few minutes, Amora gets hit with something hard, “Jesus!” she yelled.

“Sorry, but I’ve been saying your name for the past five minutes,” Loki replied before Amora opened her eyes seeing a pillow in her head as she stood at the side of the bed.

“Lovely or my actual name?”

“Both,” Loki answered, “As your roommate, I am responsible for getting you up and off to your classes.”

“Are you just saying that because I am new?” Amora asked rubbing her eyes.

“Pretty much, it would be really odd if you were late for your classes, and I wasn’t because we are roommates.”

“You’ve got a point,” Amora groaned, finally sitting up as Loki left for the bathroom, “I guess.”

Stretching, before getting ready for the day wearing a light blush button-up top under a spaghetti stripped, dark rouge, ankle-length dress with a pair of Mary Janes.

“Well, don’t you look stunning,” Loki commented exiting the bathroom.

She wore a band t-shirt that had a pair of scissors to it, at some point, to make it shorter than the original, plain high-waisted gray jeans and a pair of worn olive green Chucks.

“You look nice too,” Amora mumbled, blushing and she ran a brush through her hair.

“They always have some kind of muffins or donuts in the commons if you are a person that enjoys eating breakfast,” Loki commented, gathering her things as Amora did the same.

“You say that like you’re not that type of person,” Amora replied.

Loki shrugged, as she opened the door, “My last few roommates didn’t like having breakfast,” she remarked, as Amora left their dorm room, “or maybe they just didn’t like having breakfast with me.”

They had only known each other for a weekend and Loki hadn’t done much talking about herself. No, she was spilling all kinds of information about the school, the classes they shared (which was most of them), the people to stay away from, and the one story about how the dean’s husband went missing, in addition to asking Amora questions about herself. However, the question of why she was here never came up.

Loki can be abrasive, yet she is obviously respectful, Amora had made a nonverbal line in the sand, the day they met, and Loki noticed somehow and respected her.

“Martha Wise,” Amora stated as she walked out of the Osmanthus hall with Loki.

“Huh?”

“You asked me which serial killer I was most interested in last night and my answer is Martha Wise,” Amora answered.

“And why is that?” Loki questioned.

Amora shrugged, “She poisoned 17 of her family members after they forced her to end a relationship, it seems oddly romantic in a way.”

“Mhm, romantic,” Loki muttered.

“Sorry if that’s weird.”

Loki shook her head, “Not at all, I asked you a question and you gave me an answer, a very interesting answer.”

Amora nodded, as they walked into the commons filled with peers all enjoying conversations with one another and muffins.

“LOKI!” The voice of Euphrasie yelled, grabbing Loki’s and Amora’s attention, they stood behind the common area’s kitchenette counter with the other dorm residents, muffins upon muffins in front of them.

The roommates made their way over to the sunny senior, “I saved you a chocolate muffin,” Euphrasie remarked quietly, before presenting Loki with the chocolate chip-filled muffin, “Don’t tell anyone I did that though, because I’ve been telling a bunch of people we were out.”

“Thanks, Euphrasie,” Loki muttered.

“We’ve got a ton of Banana Nut Muffins,” Euphrasie commented, looking at Amora, “Plus, cream cheese stuffed, blueberry, mix berry, strawberry, raspberry white chocolate aka my personal favorite, pumpkin spice, cherry, and maple ones.”

Amora thought for a moment before Euphrasie added, whispering, “If you want a banana nut muffin, I literally will bring a box full of them by your dorm later.”

“I don’t like bananas so I’ll pass,” The blonde teen replied, “Can I have a cream cheese-filled muffin, please.”

“Sure thing,” Euphrasie retorted before digging in a box in a chair behind them pulling about the muffin Amora wanted and giving it to her, “I’ll find someone else to give all the banana muffins, eventually.”

“Luther likes banana nut muffins,” Loki remarked opening her muffin of how it’s wrapped prison, “Then again, he will eat anything. He’ll take them if no one else wants them.”

“Sweet!” Euphrasie exclaimed, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Amora waved as she and Loki left for the exit.

“Do residents give out food like that every day?” Amora asked attempting to make conversation as they walked toward the main school building.

“It’s normal for treats to be out for anyone who wants a snack, but there are only a few times a semester,” Loki explained, “Although now that Euphrasie is the head RA this year, that might change.”

“She’s very involved,” Amora commented.

“I’ve been here for the past four years, and I’ve known Euphrasie for that whole time, she sees the world like a primary school playground. She must make friends with everyone, and if she doesn’t it’s a bad day.”

Amora giggled at the thought of Euphrasie pouting about not making a friend, and Amora’s laughter made Loki’s cheeks grow hot.

“You, okay?” Amora asked, seeing Loki’s cheeks a bright pink color as if she had just been hit with cold winter air.

Her pear-colored eyes were big and doe-like when they looked over at the British girl. Loki’s flushed face only became darker as Amora continued to glance over.

“I-I’m fine, lovely,” Loki’s voice cracked as she tried to recover and clear her throat “Don’t worry about it’s simple Rosacea.”

Amora looked at her a little confused before entering the main building. The halls filled with students as the two girls walked to their first class together. On one of the upper floors sat their classroom for their first lecture, an AP Gothic Literature class. The class is a smaller size, with three rows of long tables taking up the most space in the room, and only a few people sitting in the classroom with no teacher in sight.

“Oh my god, is that Loki Holloway early to a class,” a boy sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the class exclaimed.

He has a darker complexion with a box fade, and he’s of the mystical variety given his elf-like ears. He wore a mask over his mouth and a skater-street-style of dress of very feminine colors.

“Oi’ I’m always on time,” Loki replied, making her way over to him while Amora followed.

“Last semester you were late to Mrs. Viloria’s class for half the year,” the girl beside the boy who had just spoken said in a monotone voice. She was white and a natural redhead, her hair large and curly. Wearing a purple jacket and a simple pair of jeans with her nose in a sketchbook

“People can change,” Loki replied, sitting down near them, “These two are Iphigenie and Odysseus.”

“Hi,” Amora commented before sitting down between Odysseus and Loki.

“You’re the American,” Odysseus remarked.

Amora let out a little sound, “I see I’ve been a hot topic.”

“Eurphrasie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been the only thing we’ve been talking about,” Loki retorted.

“We get a lot of American tourists but not a lot of American students, I thinks that's why we find you so interesting,” Odysseus explained.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Iphigenie commented, before focusing on her drawings.

“So, do you play D&D?” Odysseus questioned.

“Uh, no, sorry. My best friend is really into it, but I don’t play,” Amora replied. Odysseus nodded, “Well if you ever wanna give it a shot, I’m more than happy to go over the basics with you.”

Amora can tell even with the mask covering his lips he is smiling, “Thanks.”

The classroom soon filled with students, yet the instructor was nowhere in sight even passed the start time for class, there was no adult with the formal education to begin teaching.

“How long has it been Odis?” Loki questioned.

“Uh,” Odysseus sighed checking his watch, “13 minutes.”

“15 minutes and we get to leave,” Amora joked.

Loki chuckled, “Are you actually a troublemaker, lovely?”

“No, but I am willing to skip class if the tea—”

There is then the loud clicking sound of heels against the porcelain floor, making everyone shut up their little conversations, while, who they can only presume is their educator, enters the room. She had a fairer complexion, with white bangs and black hair, and wore a simple national colored bulse and dark striped wide-legged dress pants.

“My apologies, somehow I lost track of time this morning,” she clarified as she pulled out many things from her carry case.

Her voice was similar to Iphigenie, monotone yet more tired, “I’m Mrs. Helvetica Davidson, this is Gothic Literature,” the instructor remarked before beginning to pass out syllabi, “I’m sure you are aware you will be doing a lot of reading in this class there are digital copies on all of the reading material we will have in this class on the school’s Learning Portal.”

“Learning Portal?” Amora asked Loki quietly.

“I’ll show you later this afternoon,” Loki whispered back.

“I don’t like the normal “get to know you” questions, I rather cause violence,” Helvetica commented approaching her whiteboard. Her remark made the class confused, “Not actual violence obviously, just some debate violence,” she added as she began writing on the board.

“My husband and I often have mini-debates, and recently this one has come up.”

Helvetica moved away from the board showcasing what she wrote, ‘Cold showers are better than hot showers.’

“Discuss,” she ordered, before sitting down at her desk.

“Well… a cold shower does help you wake up in the morning,” Odysseus observed after a few minutes of silence.

“That’s assuming everyone takes a shower in the morning,” a student mentioned.

“Taking a hot shower right before bed is the best,” another student said.

“And the steam can help clear the sinus when you take a hot shower,” Amora uttered.

“You have to admit a nice cold shower does jolt you awake,” Loki alleged, “Ice cold water ensures I am awake better than any alarm!”

“You are insane,” Amora muttered.

“Everyone here acting like they take a shower every day,” one student huffed.

“You don’t?!” Another gasped.

“No that’s insane,” Loki joked making Amora giggle, before the class erupted in a loud debate about showering and personal hygiene.

Once class ended Loki walked with Amora to her next class, “Don’t forget we have a break after this class,” she said, stopping at the class door.

“Ya’ know it’s odd, in America we don’t get breaks in the middle of our class periods, I won’t know what to do with the extra 20 minutes,” Amora verbalized.

Loki smiled slightly, “Well you could spend it with me, I can show you one of my favorite places to hide on campus.”

“That sounds like a date,” Amora replied with a smile, making Loki blush a hot pink.

“I-I’m going to go to Algebra now!” Loki almost shouted before leaving Amora to enter her next class, Fashion Studies.

Loki must have bad Rosacea if her face is always red. Nevertheless, Amora looked around the room, seeing an open seat next to a blonde girl around her age, she was wearing a dark red coat dress, with her curls waterfalling down her shoulders.

“Can I sit here?” Amora asked.

The girl looked over at Amora almost turning up her nose in a way, “I guess,” she scoffed.

Amora sat down, getting out a folder for the class, “I’m Amora,” she remarked.

“Cassiopeia,” the girl in crimson sighed.

“Try and stay away from Cassiopeia… she’s will... if I’m an acquired taste, she’s not even tastable.”

Loki did say some things about Cassiopeia, but it’s not up to Loki who Amora does and doesn’t talk to, and who she does and does not get along with.

“Wait… you’re the American,” Cassiopeia gasped.

She said it like a slur, Amora giggled, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being known as ‘the American’ but yeah.”

“You killed someone. Didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“To be friendly with Loki you must have done something terrible to gain her favor,” Cassiopeia chuckled, “So did you kill someone, giving someone a good beating with your little hands?”

“I-I didn’t—”

“You-You? HA, you, an American, do not come to this school out of the blue for your last year of schooling,” Cassiopeia explained in her own twisted way, her voice is so light and soft, yet she speaks in such a way that makes her sound so intimidating.

Amora was left unable to speak, she only watched the classroom fill with students. All of them were seemingly more friendly than Cassiopeia who she sat beside.

“I bet you hurt someone!” Cassiopeia exclaimed softly, “I bet you have beaten the ever-loving crap out of so many people that your parents didn’t want to put up with you. HA, dressing all cutesy in pink doesn’t just magically make you a good person, like you think it does.”

It’s so childish, everything down to the words being said. So stupid and plain, movies and TV have made better bullies with more interesting insults!

And yet Cassiopeia’s words hurt all the same. Mostly because it’s true!

Amora’s lucky that it’s the first day, the amount of information she retained from her Fashion Studies teacher was far and in-between, which sucks when she saw she could take the class she was excited for.

“Amora?”

She looked down the almost clear hallway, Loki approached as she stood outside the classroom, she was just in.

“Amora, you okay?” The British girl asked.

“I… I met Cassiopeia…”

Loki formed a scowl on her face, as she looked at Amora who looked unbelievably dejected. The brunette grabbed the blonde’s wrist pulling her through the halls, before arriving at an old dark stairwell with a window looking out to the front of the main campus.

“No one is going to come here. We don’t have to talk, we can just stay here,” Loki mentioned, standing on the landing between the two set staircases, looking out the window and watching Helvetica greet someone on a motorcycle with a kiss in the parking lot.

The two girls fall silent for what feels like the first time since they met, there is a sense of comfort within the silence, yet the gloomy look on Amora makes Loki’s stomach turn as the blondie sat on the steps, her knees in her chest.

“If I tell you something,” Amora began, “will promise not to tell anyone?”

“Promise,” Loki replied quickly, “I may like to talk, but I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

Amora smiled at her joke before sighing, “Back in July… there was this pool party at this rich guy’s house, and Bellamy and I got invited. It wasn’t like a stereotypical party - I mean some people were drinking – but we weren’t. Everyone was outside, and Bellamy said she was going inside to get something to drink, and this guy Reese followed her.”

Loki cringed already putting the puzzle together as Amora attempted to make herself smaller, “I heard Bellamy scream, but even though it was loud outside I know my best friend! And he was on top of her and trying to pull off her swimsuit on the kitchen counters! And that’s my best friend! I grabbed the first thing I could find which was a knife and I… I stabbed him, and then I didn’t think that was enough so I punched him in the face a few times… then someone called the police because I stabbed Resse, which I mean I would have done the same thing if I saw someone stab a guy!”

Loki attempted to speak, yet Amora continued, “Cassiopeia was being a bully, and I mean it’s so stupid now! She didn’t even have good insults, she just scoffed and me being friendly with you basically, as if hanging around you makes me a heathen! But she called me a monster and say some crap that was too accurate and… it bothered me because I haven’t told anyone what happened that night!”

The brunette nodded before humming and saying, “Do you of the Gloucester Executioner?”

Amora moved her gaze from her shoes to Loki, who stared out the window with her lips in a thin line, “I think so, Sullivan Holloway, right? He murdered 35 people off and on for 26 years while he was a nurse, it was a big thing like 10 years ago because he was finally arrested.”

“He’s my dad.”

Silent again before Loki spoke up, “Everyone around here knows it, that’s why Cassiopeia says all that shit. I doubt if she knew you were hanging around me, she would been more friendly. She has her ass so far up her own ass that she thinks Lance Luther and I are all going to be crazed murderers. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing,” Amora scoffed, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I—”

“No, she’s stupid,” Amora replied, making Loki snicker, “Whether I am hanging around you or not shouldn’t matter, it’s not going to make me a horrible person if I’m friends with you.”

“I don’t know,” Loki chuckled, “It might, I could rub off on you.”

Amora giggled a little, “That will never happen, and you are an acquired taste I don’t wish to acquire, remember!”

“Right… Lovely~”

The nickname made the blondie blush in the darkness of the stairwell, “I’m sorry about your dad,” Amora sighed softly.

“I mean that’s why I want to get into psychology and criminal justice,” the brunette shrugged, referring to a past conversation they had the night before, “I want it an idea of why he did what he did, without having to ask him directly.”

Amora hummed, standing up from the stairs, “Thank you for listening… and sharing.”

“No problem… I have to go downstairs for Chemistry, but I’ll see you in Home Economics, okay?”

“Okay,” Amora replied with a slight smile.

There is a moment where they stare at one another, as if something is supposed to happen, yet nothing does and they go in opposite directions, to head to class. Amora to the 3rd floor for Trigonometry and Loki to the first for Chemistry.

She sat at a lab table close to a window with her larger brother, Luther, dressed in a retro gentleman style sitting to her right, and her nerdy brother, Lance, dressed in a more academic style sitting across from her with Odysseus sitting next to him. The teacher had already gone through all the first-day normalcy and allowed his students to chill before their next class. Leaving everyone to chit-chat with one another at their four-seat tables.

“Sis?” Lance asked as Loki stared out the window.

She didn’t respond, still staring out the window her chin resting in her hand as she was lost in thought.

“Loki,” Luther stated elbowing her in the side lightly.

“Huh? What!”

“What’s wrong?” Lance questioned.

“Nothing—”

“Liar,” Luther scoffed, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about Amora,” she sighed.

“Worried how?” Lance asked.

“Cassiopeia was a bitch to her basically because of me,” Loki answered.

“Okay and?” Luther sighed, “Cassiopeia is a bitch to everyone.”

“But she’s being mean to Amora because she is roommates with me, because she is nice to me, and I don’t want to make her life even more horrible just because she’s roommates with me.” Loki exclaimed, “I like Amora, she’s… ha… lovely, I don’t want her to suffer because I exist.”

Loki also felt horrible about all the stuff that Amora told her, but it’s not her place to repeat that story to anyone even her brothers.

“If I can interject,” Odysseus remarked softly, “If Amora didn’t like being around you, she would have already done or said something to infer that.”

“She’s already not like your other roommates,” Luther commented.

Loki nodded, “I’m just worried about her…”

Luther scoffed, “Don’t fall in love too fast, menace.”

A soft pink blush appeared on her cheeks, “I think it’s too late for that.”

The day went on without issue, Amora went on to discover Iphigenie was in her Trigonometry, and even though they didn’t speak to each other that much as being in the class together, it was not that Amora wanted to do much talking. She met Cassiopeia’s twin sister Calliope in her Home Economics class (a class she also had with Euphrasie and Loki) she was much kinder, shyer, and quieter than her sister dispute looked a lot like her. The American girl went on to formally meet Luther and Lance at lunch then followed Loki and Lance to European History that they then had with Odysseus, who she then had Latin with.

Even though the day ended at two o'clock in the afternoon, it had been a long day and all Amora wanted to do was go back to her dorm room and hide in between the sheets of her bed.

When walking back into the dorm hall with Loki the two of them were stopped by Euphrasie.

“Hey, Loki, do you have an Ouija board?” they asked.

“No,” Loki replied, “Lance might, he likes collecting all kinds of board game stuff.”

“Okay, thanks!”

“Why do need an Ouija board?” Amora questioned her voice laced with a tired tone.

“I wanna get a bunch of us together and talk to the ghost on campus!” Euphrasie exclaimed extremely animated, “As soon as I find one we’re all getting together in the storage room and talking to the ghost!”

Loki and Amora watched their classmate run off to find an Ouija board before laughing, “That sounds interesting,” Amora commented as they started walking to their dorm

“Really?” Loki scoffed, “It sounds like a lame excuse to make us all get along.”

“But if there are actually ghosts, it would be cool to communicate with them,” Amora replied.

“So, I guess if we are going to the ghost club?” Loki asked.

“You don’t have to, but I am going whenever it happens,” Amora replied.

“Oh Lovely, if you’re going that gives me more of a reason to go,” Loki responded with a slight smirk. 

[mushiewrites]

Still not over your Lee sapnap fic, it made my face go bright red whilst reading it🫠 have you got any more ideas about dream and George tag teaming sap?

When they're all gaming and he's on a winning streak and getting cocky, them trying to watch something and sap being a menace, Sap in a Lee mood and running away from them(😵‍💫)

oh elliot....you have no idea how many fic concepts I have sitting in a google doc rn revolving around lee!sap and then dream and george being the lers.........

anyways, here are my thoughts on these and some of my own concepts 👀🥰

let's talk about your ideas first though....

when they're gaming and he's on a winning streak and he's cocky - dream and george would absolutely knock him down a peg (or 4). they'd be in the living room, all playing the game seriously to try and win but sap taking it Way Too Seriously. he continues to make comments through 4 rounds before dream and george get sick of it and decide to do something about it. it would be in the middle of the fifth round; sap would make a comment that finally sets them off. dream would come up behind sapnap and wrap his arms around his chest while george takes the controller from his hand and then not 2 seconds later georges hands are in the space between his ribs, determined to teach him a lesson about being a sore winner (hehe own fic reference). dream also takes this opportunity to stick his hands under saps arms and helps george make him shriek until he's apologized 😵‍💫

sapnap is an absolute menace while dream is trying to watch football. of course sap is sometimes interested, but on the days he's not he makes it his mission to piss dream off. this is where your third situation comes in - he's lee, and when dream finally snaps and lunges towards him, he takes off sprinting up the steps towards his room. he may be faster, but dream is bigger and tackles him to the ground in no time. tkling sapnap to tears soon follows 🫠

I currently have a fic in the works for @an-inkling-of (from a prompt from LAST JULY SORRY SEAN) that initially starts off with george and dream holding sapnap down and taking turns giving him raspberries. but then ....someone.... comes to help sapnap get them back 👀

another one im in the process of writing is sap goes live and the other two are sitting on the ground on either side of him because they're supposed to do a dream team stream as a surprise. but instead of coming up when they were supposed to they decide to toy with sap instead because they're out of view and wanna see how long sapnap can last pretending like he's not being tkled to bits 😖

some other concepts and ideas I have for dream and george to team up on sapnap:

in the home gym when sapnap lifts more than both of them and gloats about it (similar to the video game thing)

when sapnap lays across the couch and stretches himself out like a cat even though he's like 4 feet tall and refuses to move

when sapnap hides their stuff

sapnap just being a menace and not listening to the other two and being stubborn (he's SO STUBBORN my lil baby brat)

sap gets george really good and george whines until dream agrees to tag team the youngest boy

and literally just sapnap sitting himself between them on the couch and being clingy until the other two get the hint ):

anyways........i could go on about lee!sapnap for hours and hours so.....i hope this wasn't too much oops 😎

[todayisafridaynight]

So I was going to comment I don’t know your favorite Yakuza character then I remembered it was Jo and I have to ask what specifically about him makes him number one?

if you're referring to my baddie baddies tier list, then that wasn't a tier list of my favorite yakuza characters it was a tier list specifically of how hot i found each antagonist to be unless you're coming from my DB blog where i said he was one of my faves but this/that amirite

regardless tho i will talk about why i love jo cause he genuinely is one of my fave charas in general and the reason for that uhhhhh he's neat :) and hot.

But In All Seriousness i unno, it's hard for me to explain why i like characters sometimes. i'll try under the cut tho cause It Gets Long

for jo, a big part of it is how he is as a father- or trying to be a father anyway. he didn't think twice about giving aoki up as a baby- he didn't even really care if he died or not. it was only thanks to masumi that aoki got that chance at life, and if it weren't for the fact he accidentally walked by masumi and aoki that one day jo probably would've gone the rest of his life without having a second thought about it

but thats the thing: they did cross paths that day, and jo's forced to confront the fact his actions did have consequences. he was forced to grow up out of that mentality he had as a kid- that if you don't look at the problem, it'll go away. evidently, they didn't: his actions had consequences, consequences that affected not only his or ikumi's life, but aoki was ultimately going to be the one to shoulder the burden the most because they couldn't be bothered to just give him to someone and tried to leave him in a locker of all places. it's what heightens jo's quote to ichi about taking responsibility as a yakuza all the more impactful in retrospect as well, and it's details like that that make revisiting the game all the more fun

but back to jo, he fully realizes what he did was fucked up, and that there's no conceivable way he can ever make amends or right his wrongs. joining the yakuza would be the next best thing for his goals, not like he saw much of an honest future for himself anyway. at the very least, he can try to support his son anyway he can no matter the cost- or at least, anyway he can for the most part.

jo's inability to kill masumi despite it being a direct order from aoki himself is also such a telling part of his character that makes me weep a little. he entered the yakuza with sole intentions of looking after aoki and taking care of him, nothing more or nothing less. ergo, it would be up to masumi to decide how much jo gets to be involved in his son's life

but that's the thing right: masumi would be the one primarily taking care of aoki. we know masumi tries to keep in touch with aoki via the beginning of the game where he laments his calls don't get returned, and masumi seemed to spend whatever time he could with aoki growing up based off of ichi's brief flashback.

being a yakuza boss be damned, jo got to see first hand how much masumi loved his son despite his circumstances that would've made a lesser parent quit or despise him- that despite his status as a yakuza boss, he would be there and be an active presence in aoki's life enough to annoy him and think of him as nothing more than a helicopter parent. i'm willing to bet that despite jo trying to brush off the sentiment that masumi was anything more than a patriarch to him, he probably did harbor genuine respect dare i say adoration for him. how could he not? even if masumi didn't know aoki wasn't really his son, he took care of him as though he were, complications and all.

if we wanna stretch it, then based off the RGGO iteration of sawashiro, he got his tattoo in direct honor of arakawa: if we're to believe that bits of RGGO sawashiro made it to Y7 sawashiro, then it's fair to say sawashiro's dedication and respect to masumi were immense (though we can make the argument that Y7 sawashiro might not have the same tattoo, or that his tattoo now could be dedicated to taking care of aoki instead- BUT this is speculation at this point, its just something i think of and i figured i'd add it).

which what makes One Of My Favorite Yakuza Scenes all the more meaningful: the day masumi is found dead, that's when we get to see jo really lose it and gives us one of the bloodier moments in the franchise. us getting to see jo actually puncture someone's eye in really heightens his anger with the circumstances at hand- i concede that jo was genuinely frustrated with how the yakuza were being toyed with, but i also dont doubt for a second he was sincere when he told ishioda he wanted to maim whoever took out masumi ishioda was probably thanking the stars tendo was the one to do him in amirite LMAOO. whether it's because of yakuza honor or having lost someone he cared about, jo's dedication is palpable and frightening when it's allowed to flourish

its weird to say tho someone said it a long time ago on one of my tags, but jo's sentimental for a yakuza, even if he wants to be a hard ass about it. he's made his life's purpose trying to right a wrong that can never be fixed (hell, his manner of fighting can be translated as "shame style" reaffirming that despite the years gone by and aoki's actions and disregard for him, he can't quell his guilt. never mind he was ready to take off ichi's finger based on the assumption he took aoki's money from him with his permission), and along the way i'm Hopeful in saying he found SOMEWHAT of a confidant in masumi to make his burden a bit lighter.

jo's by no means a good guy- not even by a long shot. he IS however an incredibly compelling character, and i'm glad that we get to see him somewhat again in LaD8 for however long they'll keep him around in that.

also his theme fucks 11/10 brutality's a fucking banger

[frostcorpsclub]

“Done mama! Almost done!” James phrased his question as a demand as per usual. 

Suzy was putting the finishing touches on the corset top she had crafted specially just for him. She saw it at a ballet once and knew that it was made for her little boy. 

His father’s birthday was coming up soon!

She knew he would have something to say about how flamboyant it looked but all James would have to say is, “See Daddy! I got all special for your special-est day!” Jack would be wrapped around his little claw. 

Suzy put the final stitch in place and trimmed the excess thread with her claw, pulling back to allow James and herself to admire her handiwork in the mirror.

“Come now.” She said with a refined pride.

James giggled sweetly as he spun around, doing different poses to test out the boundaries of the top. He may have loved fashion but he was still a little boy who would want to frolic and play. There was plenty of time to fix any rips and tears before the big day. 

“Very well done.” She said, scooping him up in one arm and gathering her sewing supplies in the other. “Mommy will get you out of it in a moment.” 

He was outgrowing her more and more by the day but this undead form gave her the strength to coddle him as much as she liked. As much as he’d demand it. 

“Mommy?”

As he pondered her bobbins and pins he thought back to all the clothes she had made for him and his sisters to play dress up.

“Yes?” She wasn’t looking at him but she was listening, mastering multitasking was a skill she had to develop very quickly.

“Are Mommies the only ones who make clothes? I wanna dress up all on my own, I could even do better than you.” He tugged on a loose strand of her hair to make sure she was listening. 

Of course his condescension didn’t phase her, it was something she and her husband had instilled in him, it was his curiosity. How could she resist a chance to talk about herself! 

A lightbulb went off in her head as she realized this was a golden opportunity. James was a smart boy with the soul of a killer, it was in his DNA, he would understand. 

With her trademark smile stretching her cheeks she sat down and held him tightly, undoing the corset from the back as he rested his head on her core. She realized it was going to be time for one of his many pre-snack naps soon. This would be a perfect bedtime story. 

“It is expected that you will be better. I once thought that cooking and cleaning were only for servants to do, though as you very well know I have seen the light on that matter! It is important for a lady to have skills that can improve her home and that her family can benefit from, take pride in. You are proud, right?”

James hung on her every word, he didn’t always understand the things she told him were objective truths but he knew he had to believe them. So he nodded with a fervor.

“How pleasant,” she moved some hair aside to kiss his forehead.

“As for you, I simply think it would be insulting to your father and I to waste your creative talents. Do you want me to tell you how I learned how to sew?” 

James pushed away from her breast and looked up at his mother with longing, uncharacteristically soft eyes. “I won't, Mommy, I promise! Please tell me!” 

Patting his back and shushing him with a firm comfort, she off her shoes before scooting back into the bed. Getting comfortable under the covers with him she made sure he was resting his eyes before she continued to tell the story.

She set the scene, telling James of her childhood manor, neither aware that he would get to see it in person someday. Suzy explained how she lived, surrounded by a horde of nannies and tutors and maids and so on. 

Of course, slipping in a comment about how having a present mother and father was something he should be ever so grateful for.

“My Daddy-” This was an unusually informal term for Suzy to use in reference to herself, something that James caught onto and found quite worthy of his giggles. 

“I didn’t just come out of thin air! Sh! As I was saying, my Daddy had been gone for a little more than a year and a half at this point in time. I was attended to by strangers even more than I was before. My mother threw herself into her work, as it was essentially all hers now. I remember, as it was such an important day to me, that I was being cared for by the Tuesday/Thursday nanny.” 

She then proceeded to take James through her whole day. Meant to keep Suzy out of her mother’s sight and to ensure she had any chance of growing up to be a woman who wouldn’t embarrass Eloise. 

Breakfast, morning study, playtime, language class, lunch and a daily constitutional, free time, violin class, bathtime, dinner, then finally bedtime. 

Suzy felt it was important that he get the full context but James was clearly getting bored. 

If he was older he’d probably have said something along the lines of, “get to the fucking point woman,” but he was only 5 so he just wriggled. 

“We had just come back from our-” She stopped again to shake him awake a tiny bit. “-do you remember what a constitutional is?” 

“A walk that you go on every day.” James said through a yawn.

“We had just gotten back from our daily walk and on that walk I had slightly undone one of the bows on my beautiful designer dress. I wore these shoes with little heels and ended up stumbling.” 

Suzy let out a sigh of contentment. There was really only one big issue with her childhood, well one presence and one absence. Besides that, Suzy attempted to emulate it as much as possible in her adult life and to recreate it for her children.

“This would happen quite frequently you see, she was one of my favorites as she had an expert hand at repairing my clothes as good as new. Except….”

She purposefully drew out the pause in an almost theatrical way, knowing James would just eat it up.

“She thought it would be best if I did it this time!” 

James furrowed his brow in response to this, a sense of righteous indignation bubbling up inside him. Suzy held his sides as he stood up in her bed, imposing for a creature his age but still only 3 feet and change tall.

“What did you do ‘bout it! Who does she think she is!” 

“Oh my love I know, Mommy is getting to that. I was only a little girl and she was to be my only guardian for the day until I saw my mother again at dinner. There wasn't much I could do if I wanted sweets and treats. Another thing you will have to learn."

Her tone shifted in her final sentence, making James sit back down on his bottom and return to her arms.

"I huffed and I puffed but she continued to encourage me and before I knew it I had done it, all on my own. It was not the first time I felt accomplished, no, but it was thoroughly pleasant and pleasurable. Would you believe it, I had the same thought process you had.”

She reached over to him and began letting his curls dance around her fingers.

“It was a near possibility that I could have the dress of any princess at my fingertips. Even though I never thought much about her I was impressed by the things she could do, I would not need her any more would I?”

Moments like these were when she truly reveled in being a mother. She didn’t have to hold back what she was thinking. Children figure out how to process whatever you tell them. 

James offered up his brain to be washed without question, it wasn’t so easy with some of the others.

“I asked her to show me more and she did, starting with some basic stitches and working our way up. Before I knew it I was on my way to making something beautiful. Perfect. Far beyond expectations.”

The entire time she was explaining this James just got more and more giggly as though she was pulling faces at him. 

“Like me!” He finally blurted out, pulled into his mother's arms and mauled with kisses.

“Are you even paying attention to a word I am saying?!” Suzy shook James vigorously but kept her wide loving smile, her action only meant to make him laugh even more. 

In jest, she hoped that despite his excitement giving him some brain damage would help him fall asleep once she was through. 

“Yes, like you! However, you and I both know I did not start making corsets right as soon as she left. What did I have to do?” 

“Mommy had to practice!” Her golden boy answered without a second thought, not wanting to get too comfy as something told him the story was just starting to get good.

“She allowed me to keep some spools of thread and a sewing needle since I promised to be very very careful. I hid it away from my mother for a whole day until the next time my nanny would come back. All throughout that Wednesday I thought about the pretty dresses I wanted to make, I had set my mind on showing her what I could do.”

It wasn’t as though Suzy wanted to impress her nanny. No, she assumed that she could build off the trust she had previously earned by suggesting that she planned to use the materials she was given for their intended purposes. 

“When the day finally came I got busy right away! No sane person would want to tear up their own dresses for practice so I grabbed scissors from the kitchen and crept into my mother’s closet-” 

James was a smart enough boy, he got the sense that she didn’t want him to emulate her to a tee. He was as attached to his clothes as she was hers after all.

“-You would find it quite humorous. Your grandmother had this repugnant gucci dress that made her look like a spinster. I mean it! I was 6 years old and already had much more genteel taste.”

Her young son had a devious mind of his own that was growing worse by the day, he could only predict where she was going with this but he knew that he approved. He nodded with the self assuredness of an adult. “You did her a favor, mama? Did you?” 

“Why yes. I knew I could put together an ensemble that my mother would thank me for, that my nanny would have been desperate to make first, but it would be all mine!” Suzy’s voice was becoming as childlike as James’, she hadn’t thought about this day in such a long time and it was making her giddy! She truly and sincerely could not remember a time where she didn’t take any opportunity possible to make Eloise suffer. The nanny was just collateral. 

“She was so mad when she caught me! I wish you could have been there! It was like I bashed her puppy! Ooooh she was furious!”

“What next! What next!” “She asked me ‘what the hell I thought I was doing,’ so…”

Suzette leaned in close to James as far as she could, consuming the little boy in a pink shroud.

“You have not forgotten what my nanny said to me, have you? She wanted me to take accountability for my mistake so I made sure she did the same.”

The room rang out with raucous laughter that leaked into the vents, dripping down the walls of the house like mold. All the while Suzy went on and on about the storm of hell her mother rained upon that poor, kindhearted woman. 

Eloise wasn’t stupid. She knew a grown woman wouldn’t go and tell a little girl to ruin the possessions of the woman paying her salary. Then again, just what the fuck was she paying her for?! Everything would have gone smoothly had she not tried to bond with Suzy and make some kind of an impact. There was one thing grandmother, mother, and son all agreed on; who did that bitch think she was?

As the story drew to a close Suzy slowly slid James to lay where she was so she could get out of bed. 

Tucking him in, she really hammed up the parts where her nanny begged Eloise to consider the family she had to provide for at home, he loved those parts the most. Just like his Daddy. 

There was one thing her nanny had taught her that day that she was truly grateful for. 

There was a great big world out there with so many people to play with.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

4.23.24 Tuesday

1:35 am

I still have windblow... I'm having left chest pain, hopin God to extend my life...

I need adjustment but I don't have budget now....

7:29 am

Kuya Bong is here the worker of Uncle DD...

My left chest pain is somehow aching and I did a lil stretching on my neck and some bones are cracking.... I badly need to stretch everyday for my S-bones pain and other pain in my body... Hoping I can remove this "FUPA" ( fatty upper pubic area or lower abdomen fats or puson) but I need some healthy and energy food.

Just for realization of what happened yesterday about that particular screenshots and family relationship and some other friendship relationship. A family will not win if other members can't understand how to protect and support each other.

Protect and support not only on physical thing but being knowing how to be supportive emotionally on your family member or to your trusted friends...

In fairness, I didn't mention any particular name on that phrase... That I said "there are many ugly faces that having ugly character as well". I made it on a general thing meaning there is no particular name, my motive if you are guilty or not but it was just a phrase that I sent to my friends...

As my blood related younger sister, Maco dropped me on the spot even my biological mother....It is a big minus point for my winning position... Our winning position as a group or as family...

It means I can't trust Maco and Biological Mother in times of my defeat or they wanted me to be defeated??? ( Probably, jealous or envious of me ).

Like what I said before the SMART one will see things beyond and see things on a HOLOGRAM way...

9:11 am

Uncle DD is here....Still a mystery...

9:23 am

Thank you Lazadah group...

9:34 am

Thanks Caroline!

She is my home work-out coach... Thanks!!!

I know this can remove the FUPA... This is my main exercise..

10:06 am

This Uncle DD seems making a comment on Kuya Bong saying "We will kill it" but it sounds that he is referring or talking about me... But I'm not sure...

I still wanna leave Cavite, will tell them that I'm masturbating and I have needs to get a bf...

I wanna get away from here and go back to my gym routine... I need a lift here.

10:26 am

I still need a life and I need money angels... I need a lift from here... I wanna leave Cavite.

12:47 noon

Uncle DD is so cheap on his assistance... I don't like him....I don't know his mystery....He just gave coins to buy a canned goods....

Thankful in a way...

8:50 pm

Here in Ely's house.... I ask a favour on Ate Eden to link on their wifi just to download a movie coz we have no wifi but I have data but dead spot on our house...

11:09 pm

I'm in here in my nest since 9:30 pm....Awhile ago while downloading, Ely went home from their drinking session with Jessie...

It is weird coz we have "dead spot time" here in our house.

Done,cleaning the floormats of my son-dog somehow tiring... But I love my dog so much... I said awhile ago before washing his floormats, "John I'm your slave forever"... I love my baby-John so much...I miss having yaya or assistant.

I hope Pilot Garret will give me an assistant if I get pregnant or I need a 2 washing machine, one for cleaning mats and the other for washing clothes machine....This is a serious dream... It is somehow hellish here washing floormats manually but with gloves but it is tiring...

I need an assistant again coz I have a son-dog and I can't really leave him here, I hope Pilot Garret can understand this... If I get pregnant, my tummy will be big and who will brush John's teeth? Who will bathe John? I will have my 2nd baby on human form... First human baby... This is a serious dream, aside from my serum, frownies and botox.

Hey! PILOT GARRET! Hope you can read this....

Let's get the future???? Is he ready??? I'm ready these days coz I'm 44, I just don't want to be ugly... You know the frownies,serum and my botox and blah2x...This is a serious dream...

Human should progress and get a cycle???? I can't progress here and I don't like anyone... If ever I want to have a baby, I want someone that I like....

Whew! I have windblow... For sure it will be beautiful baby with YOU!

[falcqns]

Kahdiwjsksj the HM reference killed me lmao but yo hear me out: C. Evans brings out my size kink and I’m not ashamed 💀 if you can do a one-shot about that I’d love u forever (no need for it to be smut unless u wanna 😳)

smaller

pairing: chris evans x reader

warnings: SMUT!! daddy kink (mentioned once), size kink, dirty talk.

a/n: hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!! i’m glad you like the hannah reference lol. i was cackling while adding it 😂 but gurlll!!!! i wouldn’t be ashamed either if this man brought out my size kink ☠️☠️

you swore he was doing it on purpose.

your lovely boyfriend had decided to put all your belongings way higher up than you could reach, and you knew that he was just trying to rile you up.

it was slightly your fault. slightly.

you had been on facetime with your best friend, when you let it slip that you loved how much bigger Chris was than you. it wasn’t a dramatic difference or anything, but it was noticeable.

you didn’t realize he had over heard until two days later when your favourite friends soup mug that you ate cereal in was no longer where your left it, on the second shelf. instead, it was on the fourth shelf, where Chris put the food that you couldn’t eat due to you allergies.

you groaned, and had to ask him for help. he came into the kitchen with a smug smirk on his face, as if he knew what he was doing. but the thing was, YOU didn’t even know what he was doing.

he handed you the mug, and he walked back in the direction he came, mumbling something about you being funsized. he obviously meant for you to hear it, but that didn’t stop you from growling and rolling your eyes.

the next time it happened, the two of you were in the store.

you were trying to reach your allergy safe cereal, and your fingertips were barely brushing the plastic price sign on the shelf.

instead of grabbing the cereal for you like any normal boyfriend would, he decided to lift you up like a child so you could reach it.

when he put you down, you thanked him, and gave him weird look when he said “it’s my job as your big strong boyfriend.”

you visibly blushed at that, wondering still what he was doing.

the next few times were subtle, such as grabbing your hand and comparing the sizes before commenting on the difference, or picking up a box that he deemed too heavy for you to carry. no matter how big or small the gesture was, you couldn’t stop your body for heating up, and arousal pooling in your panties, especially when you watched his back muscles move an flex while moving the couch to get Dodgers toy that you could have easily gotten if you’d put your hand under it.

you finally realized what he was up to when he had you on his cock the next night.

he was laying on one of the pool chairs by the newly opened pool in his LA home, and you were on top of him, moving back and forth on his hard cock like your life depended on it, and to you in that moment it did.

he had worked you open with your fingers, and making small comments.

“can barely fit one finger inside of you, how will i fit my whole cock in there, huh?”

“gotta stretch you out, don’t want your little pussy getting sprained.”

you didn’t even know if the last scenario was possible, but you didn’t even care because of how much more wet it made you.

you finally clued in to what was happening when you were teetering on the edge of total euphoric pleasure, when he blurted out the sentence.

“you just love daddy’s big cock, huh?”

you immediately came at his words, and he followed seconds later, shuttering and crying out.

as you settled down onto his chest, you heard his voice say a sentence that would totally embarrass you.

“i knew you had a size kink.”