#I’ve tried different litter. I have more than one litter box. I’ve tried putting it in different places

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so…. SO tired of my cat peeing everywhere

[l3irdl3rain]

can you list everything you’ve done to try littertraining arthur? i sometimes see people suggest things you’ve already done, which unfortunately isn’t very helpful, but maybe a crowdsourced solution Is possible … .. teamwork ….

Clay litter, pine pellets, newspaper in a litterbox, puppy pads in a litterbox, puppy pads on the floor where he likes to pee, a completely empty litterbox, covered litter boxes and uncovered litter boxes, different size litter boxes, litter attractant, putting him in the litter box when I catch him going in the corner or the sink. I have 5 litter boxes in my house, each room has at least one litter box.

Also I’ve tried putting all these kinds of litter boxes in his pee spot and then he stops peeing there and goes somewhere else instead.

Also important to note that he has used the litter box on occasion. But I haven’t been able to figure out any rhyme or reason for why he suddenly decides to try peeing in the box and then not again for ages. Like I could probably count on one hand how many times he’s used the litter box

Like I’ve said before, it’s not the end of the world for me. If I could figure out how to make him pee in a litter box I obviously would do it. But as it is he pees very reliably in the same corner and poops very reliably in the sink. It’s annoying but the clean up is pretty easy for both of them. Honestly more than anything it’s embarrassing bc I feel like people hear that (and the amount of pets I have) and assume my house is dirty or smells bad or something.

[punkbakerchristine]

we thought this was going to be a new venture for us as it’s initially a bit cheaper than hellofresh, but as it turns out, the second week is twice what it is for hf 😅

we go back to hf next week, but let’s see how this week goes? something new and different the next few days, including fish (which i’ve been craving for months now).

okay, first observation is the prep time. it’s basically just: take off protective packaging, pop into the microwave for a couple of minutes/put in the skillet for a bit, done. one thing that hellofresh has done to me is made me a stickler for fresh ingredients and also using my hands. i like prepping veggies and proteins. i like getting the pasta or rice or couscous started and letting it cook. i’ve always liked using my hands and working with them, and it’s really picked up the pace since i got into cooking and baking.

i will say this: it is really healthy food, which i love and makes me feel better (i’ve been wanting healthy food lately, and it’s good for my mom, especially). it’s good to know that i’m eating food made from genuinely fresh ingredients and i again know where it’s coming from. it’s not the cheap garbage filled with preservatives and shit that you get from the frozen food section at the grocery store.

we had korean barbecue chicken tonight, which i was looking forward to (because i love asian barbecue). korean barbecue chicken with rice noodles and pea pods.

second observation: i guess i’m just acquainted with seeing fresh vegetables and packs of spices, rice, and things, but look at this packaging.

something about it says “food for soldiers”, or “food for astronauts” to me. i can’t explain it but there’s something off about it. it gives me the same feeling a person of my caliber would feel walking into a whole foods market, or how we felt walking into the dermatologist’s office last week: these almost feel… i want to say “out of place”? like i’m a poor bastard who gets her hands dirty, what the hell am i doing with this classy stuff from the health food section?

i see these noodles right next to the kosher section (i see them next to the egg noodles). this is like a $7 box of noodles here.

next observation: the box came with more stuff. we’re talking snack food and some breakfast things (compare this to the mere bonus item that we get from hf). my mom and i tried the packs of tiny cookies that came with the box yesterday: i actually really liked them (well, i’m a fan of cookies, crispy or not; she likes soft cookies by comparison), but i knew right away that this wasn’t going to last.

next: the instructions.

you’ll see that i have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening here. “2-3 minutes”, well, okay, how are the peas supposed to look? that’s what i like about hellofresh’s instructions is they tell you what to look for, like if the veggies are supposed to be slightly browned and softened (especially if you’re like me and you never really got a taste of how to cook until you were 18/19).

set aside… on a plate?

oh, and the chicken was like this big block of pre-cooked chicken. i had hell of a time trying to break it up with my spatula, too (i had to use the tongs and the kitchen scissors to cut it up in this odd awkward maneuver that made me miss the simplicity of my little blue spatula or the wooden spoon).

and again, akin to how the packaging looked: this is the sheet of directions for the week:

“cooked.wiki/“ works for recipe websites utterly littered with a shitload of videos, gifs, ads, and meandering blog text to the point they’re unwieldy and crash about 50 times in 10 minutes, not physical recipe cards. again. “food for soldiers”.

next is the taste.

the peas were the best part. i got lucky with the peas.

wasn’t a fan of the noodles, and i don’t have a clue if it was because they were rice or that i couldn’t salt a pot of water to cook them in.

the chicken, even though the package said it was seasoned and there was the bulgogi sauce on it, was weirdly bland.

and the whole time i was eating, i just kept thinking, “this is missing something, and not just salt or candied peanuts or something.” i’ve had food like that before, food from people who were absolutely miserable and hated their lives: something is missing and you can’t really explain what it is.

i’m glad this is only lasting until friday because there’s no freaking way.

[minisugakoobies]

Cheap Wine & Second Chances | JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (just a lil'), friends to lovers, the one that got away, non-Idol!AU, Valentine's!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, dirty dancing, thigh riding, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), rough fucking

Word Count: 8K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Valentine’s Day has brought Hoseok, your best friend from college, back into your life. Is this your second chance to get the one that got away?

A/N: Written as part of the To All the Folks I’ve F*cked Before Valentine’s Day 2022 collab! Hosted by the amazing @dntaewithluv and including 7 different Valentine's Day stories in a choose your own adventure-style collaboration!

Unbeta'd as usual. I would love to hear what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

READ THE INTRO FIRST

His hair is darker now, and the years show more on his handsome face since the last time you saw him, the laugh lines around his eyes a little deeper. But you’d know that smile anywhere. It’s him. Jung Hoseok.

Your Hobi.

He bends to scoop up the box of chocolates and hands it back to you, and you stare at the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips as a laugh slips out. It takes you way too long to smile back, stunned as you are to see a ghost.

“Hobi?” you finally utter, barely registering that he handed you your chocolates.

“Hey Cinnamon,” Hobi replies, warm eyes crinkling. “Long time no see.”

That’s putting it mildly. It’s been years. More than a few. But that smile, that bright burst of sunshine, it hasn’t dimmed one bit. Even standing here in this dingy parking lot now, surrounded by grimy litter and rusty cars dripping oil onto the pavement, it hits you with as much joy as the first time you ever saw it.

Anthro 110, Human Origins. First day of classes, freshman year. Ever the eager student, you sat near the front of the room, laptop at the ready for note-taking.

As your classmates started to trickle in, you saw him. Clad in a hoodie and joggers, with fluffy chestnut hair, he sauntered in cheerfully, flashing the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen. So beautiful, in fact, you nearly stopped breathing for a moment, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes followed as he climbed the stairs before you realized you were basically staring and forced yourself to look away.

After briefly mentioning the syllabus, the professor wasted no time in getting right down to business. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as she began her lesson.

“Pssst. Hey. Excuse me?”

Typing furiously as your professor droned on, you first tried to ignore the gentle voice hissing behind you, but finally gave in. Turning, you looked over your shoulder, and were greeted by a sweet smile from the gorgeous hoodie guy.

“Sorry. But could I get a piece of gum? I saw you chewing some.”

You nodded, sliding the pack out of your pocket. He took one look at it and frowned. “Cinnamon? You don’t have any mint?”

“Are you seriously criticizing the free gum that you asked me for?” you retorted, slightly annoyed.

He blinked, lips twitching, and quickly took a stick. “Fair. Sorry. Thanks.” He smiled again, shining that brilliant beam on you to full effect, and your irritation quickly faded. You nodded, going back to your laptop.

You weren’t sure what was faster - your typing or the beating of your heart.

His name was Hoseok, you soon learned. And he was just as interested in anthropology as you were, constantly asking questions and engaging in fascinating discussions with your professor. One day after class, he asked you to join a study group he and a few other students were starting for midterms. Of course you said yes. The chance to spend more time with your crush sounded like a dream, even if you wouldn’t be alone.

The group only lasted long enough for you to ace your exams. But Hoseok kept showing up to the library at the agreed-upon time and so did you. Your conversations drifted from the origins of humanity to your personal lives. He told you to call him Hobi, and he insisted on calling you Cinnamon, because of your gum of choice, but also because you were a ‘little spicy’ - his words. The comment rolled off of you as a dumb joke, nothing more.

After all, Hobi was madly in love with his grade school sweetheart. She was one of his favorite topics of discussion at your one-on-one study sessions. From the sound of it, the two had been attached at the hip since they were toddlers, pushing each other over on playgrounds. Whenever he returned from a weekend trip home, he’d gush about her, telling you all the wonderful things she’d said or done, and you did your best to keep your crush buried deep, hoping your head bobs and well-timed laughs would be enough to keep him from knowing.

As winter melted into spring, the two of you spent most of your free time together, in the library, in the cafeteria, at so many parties, telling each other everything. Hobi was incredible, so open and caring that at times you found yourself wondering if you’d dreamt him up. How could someone that gorgeous also be so kind and so funny? Surely the cosmic balance had to be out of whack somewhere.

Parties made you wish you could blur the lines a little. Hobi loved to dance, and you were his favorite partner. To your deepest shame, you were never much of a dancer, but it never mattered because you had Hobi leading you.

God, the way he moved, flowing around you, guiding you with every step. You let him mold you, moving your arms, your hips, with his deft hands. Like a rock being worn smooth by running water, you became graceful under his touch.

You were never more jealous of his girlfriend than in those moments. Did he dance with her like that? Hold her the way he held you? That line of thought always inevitably led to you wondering if any of those slick moves of his found their way to her bed, so you tried to stop it before it could go too far.

Hobi took a dance class in the spring which culminated in a student showcase at the end of the semester. Naturally, you went to cheer him on. When the music for his routine started, all traces of your happy-go-lucky friend disappeared. The fierce look on his face as he performed sent goosebumps racing down your arms. As the audience roared their approval, that radiant smile you cherished so much returned. So it came as no surprise to you when he said he was adding dance as his minor.

At the beginning of your second year, Hobi and his friend Hyunwoo got an apartment together at the edge of campus. The tiny place was cramped, but that didn’t stop them from throwing parties there as often as possible. The best thing about the apartment was that Hyunwoo had figured out how to access the roof. Many nights were spent up there, side-by-side on the sagging cushions of an old couch they’d hauled up, drinking soju while laughing under the starry sky.

The roof was also the best spot to be alone if either of you needed to be consoled about your various woes. Like a week into the semester when Hobi mournfully announced that he and his girlfriend broke up.

“She just kept asking me, ‘Why study dance? What are you going to do with that?’” Hobi sighed, sneakers scuffing the rough surface beneath his feet, shifting uncomfortably with the memory of the break-up fight. He took a swig from the bottle of peach soju you were sharing.

“Uh, did you tell her you don’t have to ‘do’ anything with it right now?” you replied, shaking your head.

“She was only thinking of the future. As in money. She doesn’t expect me to make a living that way. I mean, fuck, I don’t even know if that’s what I want to do. But… I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me, you know?” He shrugged, and the need to wrap him up in your arms became unbearable. You clutched his arm, giving him a half-hug as you rested your head on his shoulder. Hobi sighed again, pressing his cheek to your hair.

“I say this not as your best friend, but as a person with two eyes and a brain, Hobi. You are incredibly talented and intimidatingly passionate. With those two traits, you’re unstoppable, no matter what you choose to do. She’s a fucking idiot if she can’t see that. She’s also a fucking idiot if she’s only worried about your financial worth.” You paused. “Actually, I’ve got a whole list of reasons why she’s a fucking idiot, if you have the time.” Yanking out your phone, you swiped through an app. “Let me pull up my notes.”

Hoseok laughed. “Not necessary,” he declared, grabbing your cell and tossing it onto the couch next to him. “I don’t want to think about her anymore tonight. Let’s just enjoy the view.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, tipping your head back to peer up at him.

The city lights reflected in his eyes shimmered as he gazed back. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

This was it. This was the moment. The moment.

The one where you confess your crush, reveal your feelings, and maybe even share your first kiss. The moment you’d dreamt of over and over.

Or, that would’ve been the moment, if it were still freshman year.

But it was sophomore year, and you’d met someone. Over the summer, while staying on campus to rehearse with the marching band, you’d become close to a classmate named Kihyun. He was smart and sexy and you had a lot of fun together.

Dating him didn’t stop you from hitting the dance floor with Hobi like you always did. No one else could ever measure up to your favorite dance partner.

Kihyun only lasted so long as a boyfriend, though. After him came Jooheon. Another cutie who made you swoon. You spent several weeks with him, too. But he had the same fatal flaw as Kihyun.

He wasn’t Hobi.

By the time you realized this and ended things with Kihyun, Hobi was in a relationship of his own. Same with Jooheon. Each time, that crush of yours stayed rooted right where it was, buried in your heart.

The year flew by. Hobi spent more and more time dancing, locking himself away in the practice rooms. Some nights, you’d pick something up from the cafeteria and take it to him, eating dinner together on the dance studio floor. In the spring, Hobi went to his advisor to discuss double majoring and was told there was no way he could do so and hope to graduate within four years. A gray cloud seemed to hang over him after that, causing you worry.

You tried your best to cheer him up, but your words couldn’t change the facts. When you saw the brochures on his desk from other schools, you knew what was coming.

“I’m transferring,” he finally blurted one night as the two of you laid on the couch on the roof.

You sat up immediately, feeling like you’d been socked in the gut. Predicting this moment didn’t make it hurt any less. “To where?”

To a university with a special program in cultural anthropology that allowed him to merge his majors. The fact that it was in another country gave him no pause. It was exactly what he wanted.

“Joy dumped me,” he informed you suddenly, bitterness creeping into his voice as he mentioned his latest girlfriend. “She flat-out said she doesn’t want a long-distance relationship. Even though we don’t live in the Stone Age and can still see each other thanks to that little thing called the internet.”

As much as you loathed the way she broke Hobi’s heart, Joy’s reluctance seemed… understandable. Plenty of your friends struggled to maintain relationships when their beloveds were in a neighboring city. Even with the incredible technology that could connect you, could it truly be the same when the person you loved was half a world away?

Hobi fell silent as he waited for your response. The uncertainty in his eyes surprised you. Was he afraid that you would protest, try to convince him to stay? How could you do that, when this was what he wanted? You couldn’t be that selfish.

“I’m so happy for you, Hobi,” you finally stated, smiling to sell it as best you could. Maybe if you smiled long enough, you could trick your heart into believing it, too. “Not about Joy, sorry that ended. But… you found a way to follow your passion. That’s amazing!”

As Hobi threw his arms around you in a relieved hug, you sighed. At least you sold him.

The rest of the semester came and went. Hyunwoo announced he was throwing a bon voyage party for Hobi after finals ended. Hobi made plans to head to the airport from the party, intending to spend a few weeks getting a lay of the land in his new home before classes started again. The thought of going from a party directly to a red eye flight to a foreign country filled you with anxiety, but to him, it sounded like a fun adventure. Besides, as he loved to tell you, he never wanted to be the last one to leave a party.

A horrible sadness settled over you the day of the party. A heavy weight, dragging you down. It rained most of the day, which you appreciated, the gloomy weather perfectly matching your mood.

Since you were staying on campus again for band, you’d picked up a job at a department store across town. Near the end of your shift, a coworker called out. As much as you didn’t want to risk missing Hobi, you were also dreading that final goodbye and needed a distraction, so you didn’t refuse the request to stay late.

Eventually you headed home, just enough time to get changed before the party. Traffic moved a little too slowly for your liking. Then it stopped completely. Unable to turn around, you were trapped, watching each minute tick by in a panic. What if you got there too late?

You frantically texted Hobi several times, letting him know the situation, and he replied in his typical soothing manner - no worries, I’m not leaving yet, I’ll see you when you get here. Trying to keep you calm, no doubt. It almost worked.

Once the cars in front of you began to move again, you changed direction, heading straight for Hyunwoo’s. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, you ran up several flights of stairs, panting by the time you reached his door. Catching Hyunwoo’s eye, you didn’t even have to say a word before he pointed to the ceiling.

Hobi stood alone near the edge of the roof. His jaw dropped as you burst through the door, probably at your disheveled appearance. But you didn’t care. You were just relieved that you didn’t miss him.

“Cinnamon! I told you you’d make it.”

“I almost didn’t,” you huffed slightly as you joined him. “What are you doing up here alone?”

Hobi gestured around him. “Enjoying one last look at the city.”

It was a beautiful view, for sure. All of campus stretched beneath you, verdant and majestic, stately buildings standing quiet in the night air, and beyond it, the bright neon glow of downtown blazed. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes as you took it all in. At least, he was taking it in. You were trying desperately to figure out what to say.

How do you tell someone everything you’ve been feeling for the last two years in only a few minutes?

“Have I ever told you my theory, about what makes someone a dancer?” Hobi spoke suddenly.

The question came out of nowhere. Caught off guard, you shook your head.

“Passion is important. So is commitment.”

“Flexibility,” you add, thinking of the many complicated moves Hobi could pull off with panache.

“Yeah, that too. But you can have all of those things and still not be a dancer if you don’t have timing.”

“Ah, I was just gonna guess that, but you beat me to it.”

Hobi smiled at your quip, but unlike his usual sunny grin, this one didn’t reach his eyes, and that terrible sadness crashed back down onto you again.

“Timing is everything. You can feel the music with your entire body, but if you can’t find the beat, sync to it, become one with it, then you’re not dancing. You’re just… flailing. You have to get the timing right.” He reached out and brushed a stray hair from your face. “We never got the timing right, did we?”

There was no need to try to sum up what had been locked in your heart for the last two years. With that simple question, Hobi told you that he felt the same.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head.

“No,” you cleared your throat a little, hoping to keep the waver out of it, “no, we didn’t. And now it’s too late. You’re leaving in… how long now?”

Hobi glanced at his phone. “My ride to the airport should be here in ten.”

You’d cut it even closer than you’d thought.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he stated, repeating something he’d told you over and over since the day he said he was leaving, and you nodded, but you already knew it wouldn’t be the same. He’d move on to his new life, and you’d go on living yours. “This isn’t the end.”

“Right.” You grabbed his hand, squeezing a little. “I know we will. But… I’m still going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he admitted, voice a little rougher than you’d ever heard it, and he slid towards you. “Can I…” he trailed off, eyelashes lowered as he peered at your lips, “can I have a kiss goodbye?”

Before you’d finished whispering, “Yes,” he was kissing you, one hand holding the back of your neck as the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The cry of surprise that left you dissolved on Hobi’s tongue as it slipped into your mouth.

It’s been years since you’ve thought about that kiss, but staring at Hobi now brings the moment back with startling clarity. You can smell the petrichor in the air, feel the softness of his lips and the sharp bite of his teeth, even taste him on your tongue, a faint peach-tinged sweetness that lingers as you remember.

All too soon, Hobi broke away, and you followed him down into his old apartment. No one said a word about you seeing Hobi to the car waiting for him at the curb, and no one said a word when you came back alone, tears on your cheeks and a fading warmth on your lips. But Hyunwoo threw an arm around your shoulders and handed you a beer and the rest of the night faded from alcohol-soaked memory after that.

Both of you did stay in touch, for a while. There were phone calls and texts and even a few long video chats, despite the horrible time zone difference between you. But life went on. You focused on your studies, trying to figure out what your post-college life would look like now that you were merely two years from graduating. He devoted himself to his new program, embracing the opportunities he didn’t have before. The messages back and forth slowed until they stopped completely.

Every now and then, something would remind you. A song playing in a bar, conjuring up memories of a frat party and his arms holding you tight. The scent of peaches wafting from a bakery, calling to mind the couch on the roof and his joyful laughter.

Usually, it was a post shared by someone you knew on social media, bragging about how their ‘famous friend’ Hoseok was performing with a well-known dance troupe or traveling the world choreographing. You didn’t follow his career closely, but from what you caught here and there, it seemed like he was successful. Transferring to that other school was clearly the right decision. No matter how much it hurt.

And now here he is, smiling fondly at you as you juggle an armful of cheap wine and chocolates in a grocery store parking lot, bringing all those old thoughts, all those old emotions rushing right back like they never left.

“Long time’s a bit of an understatement,” you finally respond.

“Yeah, I guess it’s… fuck, how many years now?” He eyes the packages threatening to slip out of your hands again.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt abruptly, skipping the pleasant small talk, needing to know what summoned him to this very place at this very moment. “I mean, last I heard, you were on tour. Are you in town for a show?”

“Actually, I’m living here. Temporarily. I’m running a workshop at the university - it’s a collaboration between the anthropology and dance departments, a series of lectures and performances.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Like an adjunct lecturer? That’s fantastic!”

Hobi laughs, rubbing his neck. “An adjunct professor, actually. On account of my PhD.” He grins, and your heart swells a little, whether from learning that he’s had more achievements than you’d thought, or simply at the sight of your old friend beaming with pride, you’re not sure.

“Wow, okay, I think I may have missed a few things.”

“I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on,” he agrees. “Maybe we could reconnect while I’m here? I’d love to know what you’ve been up to all these years.”

“I’m sure it’s nowhere near as interesting as the stories you can tell!” you scoff. “But yeah. I’d love to get together sometime.”

“Well… do you have plans tonight?” He glances at the Valentine’s Day paraphernalia in your hands and bites his lip. “Stupid question, you’re clearly on your way to meet someone.”

“Ha, yeah, no, this is… this is all for me,” you admit sheepishly. “I can’t resist a good deal.”

Hobi cracks up, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed that boisterous laugh of his until right now. “Fair. Okay. Do you want to have dinner with me, then? I’m running a dance practice in a few hours but I’ll be free after that.”

Absolutely, you do. But….

“Sure. Might be hard to find somewhere to eat without a reservation, though…” you trail off.

“Oh damn, Valentine’s day, right,” he replies. “Kinda forget it’s a thing when you’re single.”

True, you’d rather forget about this holiday, the loot currently in your hands excepted.

“Okay, how about this - you grab us some takeout from somewhere and meet me at the studio? We can have dinner there, or anywhere on campus. It’ll be just like old times.”

Phone numbers are exchanged and Hobi promises to text you the details for the dance studio. You watch him walk into the grocery store, still slightly in shock. Hobi is really here. He’s in your city, and you’re having dinner with him. Tonight.

Banner shopping day for you - cheap wine, decadent chocolates, and a date with the one that got away.

**********

Is it a date?

The question smacks you on your way home from the grocery store, bringing you back down to earth. You’d automatically inferred that it was, but just because Hobi asked you to have dinner with him doesn’t mean he has any intentions other than hanging out.

It’s hard to believe that Hobi is single after all these years. He was rarely solo while you were at school together. Then again, maybe he’s enjoying the perks of being unfettered while traveling the world for dancing or lecturing or whatever combination of the two he’s currently doing.

After debating for a while, you officially decide you shouldn’t make any assumptions about tonight. But you still doll yourself up a little, pulling one of your favorite dresses out of your closet, taking the time to do your makeup, making sure you don’t have a hair out of place. Even if tonight’s just a chance for two old friends to catch up and nothing more, there’s no reason not to look good for it.

And if you also took the time to shave your legs, well, that’s between your deity of choice and you.

Despite the looming spring, there’s still a bit of a chill to the air. Throwing a cardigan on, you head out to pick up dinner. Hobi left the menu up to you, so you chose a few dishes from your favorite noodle shop, figuring it couldn’t go wrong.

Walking across campus with bags of takeout in hand gives you a wicked sense of déjà vu, even if the campus in question isn’t your alma mater. Doesn’t matter. There’s still that familiar awed hush to the buildings as you wander through them on your way to the arts hall.

Unsure how long it would take you to find the place, you’d left a little early, and now find yourself arriving at the practice room while practice was still occurring. Hesitating at the door, you don’t have to ponder for long what to do, because Hobi waves you in.

The dancers are standing in groups, working on some choreography. A few curiously eye you as you enter. Hobi grabs the takeout bags from you and leads you to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” you apologize as Hobi motions for you to sit.

“Nah, it’s fine. We’re just wrapping up. You can just relax here and watch me dance like old times.” He grins. “Let me know if I’ve gotten rusty.”

He resumes his place, turning to face the mirrors. Dressed in a brown t-shirt and baggy white sweats, headband holding his raven black locks back, he stands at the front of the pack and claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. The dancers slip back into formation.

The room is warm, windows fogging from the dancers’ body heat. You peel your cardigan off and drape it over the back of your chair.

“All right, let’s run through it one more time,” Hobi commands. Someone cues up the music, and with a wave of his arm he counts them in.

It’s like a switch has been thrown. Your friend immediately flips into dance mode, his entire demeanor shifting. Gone is the easygoing vibe, the relaxed smile, replaced by that focus that you remember so vividly from school. That awe-inspiring intensity.

As a hip-hop track thumps through the speakers, Hobi leads the dancers through a series of intricate steps that you couldn’t in a million years attempt, even if you had Hobi himself pulling your limbs like a marionette.

It’s like you’re back in college, sitting in a practice room as your friend dances. He even looks like his old self in that outfit. Only the presence of the other dancers keeps you from believing you’ve gone through a time warp.

He hasn’t lost any of his fluidity, flowing through the choreography effortlessly. If anything, he’s gotten even better, his movements cleaner, his transitions so smooth that you find yourself literally shaking your head in astonishment. His talent still mesmerizes you.

Hobi rolls his body, chest and hips undulating, and his shirt rides up a little, giving you a glimpse of his v-line peeking out above the waistband of his sweats. Enraptured, your jaw goes slack.

Catching you staring openly, completely lost in the way he moves, he grins, the tip of his tongue sliding between his teeth as he winks at you. It’s playful. It’s teasing.

It’s hot as fuck and you involuntarily whimper. Thank god the track is loud.

It does occur to you that you’re in a room full of strangers, though, so you quickly close your mouth and sit up, scanning the other dancers. They’re all watching Hobi, thankfully.

They hit their final marks and several of them whoop as someone cuts the music. Hobi claps his hands again. “All right, you’ve got it down. Go enjoy your Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you next week.” Grabbing a towel from his duffel bag, he dabs his face as the others slowly drift out of the room, stopping to say a word or two as they pass.

Eventually, it’s just the two of you left. He saunters over, towel hanging from his neck, a soft smile on his lips. “Well?”

You sigh. “Good thing you have that PhD to fall back on.”

With a laugh, he takes your hands, pulling you to your feet. “Do you know what I was thinking about today, after running into you?”

He leads you over to where his phone is hooked up to the sound system. With a few swipes, he cues up another song. An R&B track, something much older than what he and the others were dancing to.

“I was thinking about all those parties we used to go to. Do you remember?”

He wraps an arm around your waist as you nod, and grabs your other hand, threading your fingers together. Slowly, he spins you around in front of the mirrors.

“I thought we were going to have dinner?” you giggle.

“We will, we will. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Will you just humor me and let me have another dance with you?” He smiles sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Just one song?”

As if you could say no. “I have to warn you, I haven’t danced in years.”

“Good thing you have me, then. Just follow my lead.” Hobi pulls you closer, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you fall silent, listening to the music.

The two of you could talk right now. You could tell him about your life, your career, what those last two years of school were like without him. Ask him to explain how he ended up here after all that time traveling the world. But you don’t, and he doesn’t say a word, either. It doesn’t seem to matter. With his arms around you now, it feels like no time has passed at all. It’s just you and Hobi, dancing again. Only….

“You know, this isn’t quite how I remember it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head, you grin. “Wasn’t a lot of slow dancing at those parties.”

Hobi’s eyebrows wiggle. “Oh, I see. You want something different?” He fiddles with his phone for a moment and the song changes to something more uptempo. “More like this?”

You nod, and he twirls you around before pressing his chest to your back, resting his hands on your hips. As he steps to the beat, the two of you begin to dance.

Again, neither of you speak, losing yourselves in the music as one song becomes two. His arms slip around you, hugging you to him.

Déjà vu hits hard for the second time this evening. The pulsating bass, the warmth of him against you, the earthy scent of his sweat-flecked shirt mixing with his cologne - your eyes slip shut for a moment, and it’s so easy to believe that when you reopen them, you’ll find yourself back in some crowded dorm room, surrounded by drunken classmates partying the night away.

But instead you find yourself here, in this practice space, staring up into Hobi’s handsome face as he gazes back at you in the mirror.

He’s watching you with that fierce concentration normally reserved for when he’s performing. The intense look in his eyes flusters you and you lose your rhythm, hips bouncing off of his awkwardly. Embarrassed, you turn away. “Shit, sorry. Told you I’m out of practice.”

Hobi chuckles quietly. “It’s all right. Just gotta get you back on the beat.”

Taking your hands, he wraps one of your arms around his shoulders and urges you to place the other on his back. Then he slots one of his legs between yours. Placing his hands on your hips, the two of you begin to groove again.

“There. Just like that,” he encourages you as you roll your body into his. “You’ve got it now.”

The rhythm returns. You move in tandem, bodies flowing together as one. Like old times, but more relaxed. Before, you always held yourself back a little, not wanting to enjoy too much, since one or both of you was always promised to someone else.

But there’s no reason to hold back tonight.

His arms slide around your waist. “Trust me?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, but you do, so you nod.

“Hobi!” you exclaim as he suddenly dips you extremely low, bending you so far that you’re practically upside-down. He pulls you up into his arms, and you giggle, a little giddy from the rush.

He’s laughing, too, beaming. “You know, for someone who claims she’s not a dancer, you sure move like one. Always did.”

“That’s all you. I’m like… clay in your hands. If I look like a dancer, it’s because you’ve shaped me into one.”

“Really?” His eyebrows lift. “That was kinda poetic. You sound like a writer.”

“Funny that,” you smirk, “I am a writer. Published, even.” His eyes go wide, and you laugh again. “We still have so much to talk about, don’t we?”

“I guess we do.” He glances at the takeout bags. “We can stop for dinner, if you want. Are you hungry?”

You are. Not for dinner. You want his hands to stay on you. You crave more of him, his touch, his attention.

“I’m good. Unless you want to stop?”

Hobi shakes his head. He hums a low note as you roll into him again, and your arm tightens around his shoulders, bringing him a tiny bit closer to you.

His

Another song. Then two. Again, there’s no talking, just the melody drifting through the air as you continue to move as one. The tempo picks up again. Hobi’s fingers dig into your hips a little as he guides them down on his thigh more, letting you grind against him, and you gasp as the friction hits you just right.

“That’s it. Keep moving just like that.”

The deep timbre of his voice surprises you as much as the way his hands grip you, pressing you into his leg. You glance at where you meet, struggling to suppress a moan as he glides you down his thigh again. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now?

“Don’t… ah… remember this step,” you finally manage to say. You’re so wet, you’re seeping through your panties. If he keeps this up, his leg will soon show the effect he’s having on you.

“Never got to this one. Timing was always off.”

That word. Your head snaps up at it, remembering. He remembers, too - you can see it in his face as clearly as you hear it in his tone.

“I think maybe tonight, we’re in sync?” he asks, dark eyes staring intently into yours.

“Yeah.” You slide your hand around Hobi’s side to lightly rest on his chest. “I think… ah… we are.”

“Thank god,” he sighs as he captures your lips in a fervent kiss.

How many times have you recalled that last night on the roof? Thought about that goodbye kiss, replayed it in your head over and over? Maybe you owe Hobi an apology, because none of those reimaginings came anywhere near capturing just how electric it feels. Your entire body thrums as he tilts his head, licking at your lips until they part to let his tongue slip inside.

Your back hits the mirrored wall as Hobi pins you with his mouth, his hands, his legs. Touching every inch of skin available to him, fingers and lips trailing all over you. He whispers against your neck, “You taste sweeter than I remembered, Cinnamon.”

You’d say the same, if you weren’t too wrapped up in him to speak.

He lets go of you long enough to pull the blind on the door and then lock it. “Don’t want anyone wandering in here.”

Back in his embrace, your hands roam over his chest and shoulders as you grip at him, his thigh settling between yours again. He kisses you like he’s desperate to make up for all that lost time. Swept away with desire, you kiss him back just as impatiently.

He’s hard against you, sweats doing little to hide the massive bulge rubbing your leg. His hands drop under your dress to discover how slick you are.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, and you nearly purr with satisfaction at the pet name, “you’re gonna get me all wet, aren’t you? You’re soaking.” He tenses his thigh muscle underneath you and you keen, grasping at his shirt. “You wanna make a mess on me?”

Fuck, you’re ridiculously worked up, the delicious tension inside you already close to snapping. All those years of longing have you wound so tightly, it won’t be long before you pop.

“H-Hobi, please…”

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending your Valentine’s Day evening on a college campus humping your old best friend’s leg, you would’ve asked them whether they were going to use a hot tub or a DeLorean to take you back in time. But here you are, sliding away shamelessly, movement never ceasing as you seek your end on his thigh.

Hobi grabs your ass, rocking you against him, and as he slips his tongue into your ear, urging you to let go, you mewl loudly, body rigid as your orgasm sweeps over you. He holds you, whispering you through it, until you go completely limp in his arms, head falling to his shoulder.

You mumble something into his chest.

“What was that?”

“I said, Happy Valentine’s Day!”

His laughter drowns out the music. Then he shifts, and suddenly the only thing on your mind is the stiffness pressing into your thigh.

“Hobi,” you murmur, brushing your mouth against his briefly, “you’ve been on your feet all night. Do you want to take a seat?” You gently walk him backwards towards the chair, kissing him the entire way. As he sits, you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Baby,” he husks as you run your hands up his legs, “what are you doing?”

“Writing a novel, Hobi, what does it look like I’m doing,” you retort with a smirk. “You sounded so nice whispering in my ear when you were getting me off. I wanna know what you sound like when you’re cumming down my throat.”

“Fuck, Cinnamon, you can’t say things like that.” His hips lift so you can tug his pants to the ground. His dick springs free, hard shaft velvety under your hand as you wrap your fingers around him.

“I can’t? But I think I just did.” Before he can respond, you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock. He groans, arching up into your touch. As you continue to lave, you dip lower and lower, wetting more of him before finally taking him in your mouth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he sighs as you start to bob. His cock is thick enough that your jaw is going to be sore tomorrow, but you don’t care. You suck, hollowing your cheeks, and he gasps your name.

Sitting back on your heels as you lick the sensitive skin around the head, gazing at him the entire time, you bat your lashes as you ask, “You good?”

“Fucking amazing,” he sighs blissfully. You stroke him a few more times before taking him in again, and quickly match the tempo of the music, working your mouth and hands together to the beat.

Fingers cup the back of your head and you moan around his cock, enjoying the way he urges you down in response to the vibrations. Your mouth floods with more saliva as you suck him off, and you swallow around him, earning another gentle push.

“Baby,” he hisses, and you hum, not stopping, which makes him hiss even louder. “Baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up, holy shit.”

You pull off him with a pop. “Yeah, that’s the idea, Hobi.”

“Another time,” he rasps, but before you can think to ask what that means, he launches himself from the chair, pushing you onto your back as he hovers over you. “Please, I wanna be inside you now.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a sloppy kiss as he ruts against you.

“You wanna fuck me?” you ask and Hobi moans in anguish, flinging his headband to the ground before peeling his shirt off.

“Damn it, stop saying these things!”

“Okay,” you grin, laughing as Hobi drops his head to your breasts, kissing you through your dress. “You can fuck me if you want, Hobi. I want you to.”

He kisses you roughly, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you whimper in delighted surprise. “What did I just say about that?”

“So it’s okay for you to say dirty things, but not me?”

“Yes!” he huffs petulantly, and you giggle at the wounded look on his face. “I’ve been dreaming for years about the things I’d say to you, the way I’d touch you, if I only had the chance. You’re ruining it with that filthy mouth of yours!” His lips collide with yours as his hands snatch quickly at the hem of your dress, yanking it up your body. He practically rips the rest of your clothing off too, so eager to see all of you.

“Didn’t seem like my filthy mouth was ruining things when I was sucking yoahhhhh,” you moan as Hobi immediately tongues one nipple in a frenzied hurry as his fingers pinch the other. “You know, I’ve dreamt of this, too!”

He nuzzles his face between your breasts, kissing along the valley there. “Oh yeah?”

“God yes, so many times. Especially after parties. When we’d say goodnight. I’d go back to my room and make myself cum imagining you were there touching me instead,” you confess. “I always wanted to know if you’d fuck like you dance.”

Hobi goes completely still, face buried in the crook of your neck. “Do you have protection?” he asks, voice so low it’s practically a rumble.

“No, but I have an IUD and I’m clean. If you’re… ?”

“Clean,” he answers. He crushes his mouth to yours, and his cock rubs through the wetness between your legs before he pulls away. “On your knees, baby.”

Not what you were expecting, but okay. You roll over and push yourself onto your hands and knees. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch him line himself up, coating the head of his cock in the wetness gathered between your legs. He moves slowly, reveling in the feeling, and you whine loudly, needing him inside you.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he tells you as he thrusts shallowly, head just slipping between your folds. “Fuck. Wanted you for so long, baby. Always thought I’d take my time with you, if I had the chance. But I don’t think I can go slow right now.” He pushes in a little more, and you drop your head as you feel him beginning to stretch you. “What do you want, baby?”

You want it all. But given the choice right this moment… “Fast and hard, please.”

You feel him laugh at your courteousness as he finally bottoms out. He presses against your back as you adjust to the sensation of him deep inside you and drops a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Fast and hard it is,” he whispers.

The music is lost in the mix as Hobi fucks you, hips slapping against your ass with every quick thrust. Panting, you struggle to hold yourself up as Hobi sets a relentless pace.

“Holy ah ah fuck ah Hobi!”

Fuck, he feels so good. Every thrust fills you like you’ve never been filled before. You toss your head back as he finds the perfect angle, his long fingers gripping your hips tightly, and you catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

An absolute wreck stares back. Sweat rolls down your face in the humid air, breasts bounce wildly, mouth hangs open as Hobi rails you. His breakneck tempo never falters. Your gaze travels to the man behind you.

Golden skin shimmers under the fluorescent lights. His hair, slick with sweat, is pushed back from his handsome face. The muscles in his torso flex enticingly and his hips roll as if he’s dancing as he snaps into you.

And the look in his eye, fuck. It leaves you gasping as much as the thick cock stroking your inner walls. That intense, focused expression again. Sharp. But there’s something else, too. Passion and desire, blazing bright.

Just like you always suspected. Always dreamed. He’s a fucking sex god.

Hobi catches you watching him. He smirks. “You enjoying the show, baby?”

His tongue snakes out again. You’re so distracted by the lewdness of that long pink wetness that you don’t even realize one of his hands is winding towards your clit until you feel it caress the sensitive nub.

Reeling, you slam your hips back onto him. “God, Hobi!”

“Did you dream about this, too? Me fucking you in a practice room? Hmm?” Hobi’s hand continues to fondle you as he speaks. “Making that ass bounce while you watched us in the mirror? Was it just like this?”

“Yes, ah ah ah fuck, like this!” As his lithe fingers stroke the swollen spot between your legs, you feel the familiar stirrings of your coming climax, faster than before.

“I wanna make all those fantasies come true,” he moans, and his hips start to stutter. “Fuck, I wanna fuck you every way you’ve ever wanted to be fucked, ah, shit, I’m, fuck,” he sputters, and as you start to clench around him, his tempo falters. “Fuck!”

Your orgasm rolls over you so hard, it knocks your scream from you. Dropping onto your forearms, you make no sound at all, eyes slipping shut as you savor the euphoria spreading through you. Hobi thrusts erratically a few more times, finally losing his rhythm as he comes undone, brokenly choking out your name.

You stay like that, half-collapsed and panting, Hobi lying on your back, for a few moments. Eventually, he pulls away. You’d love to lie down, but you’re suddenly acutely aware that you’ve just fucked on the floor of a busy college practice room. So you grab his towel and sit on it instead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the takeout bags.

“Fuck. Bet dinner’s cold now.”

Hobi blurt laughs. “I forgot all about it.” He tugs on your towel, bringing you closer to him so he can wrap his arms around you. “Did I mention I’m subletting a place on the edge of campus? Why don’t we take dinner there?” His lips brush your cheek. “We can eat and finally catch up.”

There’s no hesitation in your answer. “Let’s go.” You dress quickly, starving again. For food this time.

Hobi adjusts his headband in the mirror as you check your reflection to make sure you’re decent enough for another walk across campus. He catches your eye and grins.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring.” He slips his arms around your waist again. He doesn’t seem to want to let you go.

Like you mind.

“Admire me as we walk, I’m hungry.” But you make no move to leave, and he doesn’t either. Your gazes meet in the mirror again, and his smile is shockingly shy for someone just got you off twice.

“You gonna hang out with me while I’m here?” he asks softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “After tonight?”

The delicate note of hope in his voice cracks your heart open. Something blooms.

“Try to keep me away,” you challenge, and he spins you in his arms to face him. “Besides, I know you have more moves to teach me.”

His low laugh hums through you as he kisses you. “Oh, I promise you I do.”

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[thotsforvillainrights]

May we pls get Geten, Chimera, Spinner, and Hari with an S/o who likes to leave lipstick kissmarks on them?

(I think I got an ask like this recently but I formatted it differently! I love these kind of asks! If you ever need a more detailed one then feel free to let me know!)

(after I reopen the box WHICH WILL BE SOON)

~Give me a Kiss~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

~Geten~

-Do enjoy doing this to him? Making him flustered and frustrated? It feels like you do. Every single time he’s trying to enjoy his alone time by sitting on the couch and relaxing, here you come into the room yet again. Each time he’s got to leave for MLA meetings or training, you put those lips on him. Even when he’s trying to hold his composure with you his resolve crumbles into nothing when you approach him pouting those plump lips and preparing to litter his skin in fresh kiss marks over and over again. His face gets cherry red every single time. He pushes you away and grumbles, muttering to himself as he desperately tries to wipe his skin clean with both hands. “Fucking stop it!” He shouts as he tries to get burning cheeks back under control (and the rapid beating of his heart too). If you were to ever stop doing it then he’d complain even worse about you not doing it than how he complains when you do it now. There’s no way to win with him lol. 

~Chimera~

-”Huh? Again?” Chimera realized his fur was stained with yet another kiss mark from you when Mummy suddenly points it out one day. He just shrugged and wipes it off as best he can before going back to drinking his beer and chatting with the others over dinner. It doesn’t make him a difference whether you leave marks on him or not. To him, it’s perfectly normal. He’s in love with you (though he won’t talk about it often), and with a relationship sometimes there will come kissing depending on the type of person you’re with. He’s a grown man. What the hell has he got to hide anyway? He’d walk outside with a full blown hickie or two if you gave it to him. Besides...he’s kinda proud of being able to show off the marks. It almost like some kind of trophy for him really. Hell, it’s an equal exchange anyway. He’s got a thing for biting you so give him as many as marks as you want and he’ll do the exact same.

~Spinner~

-I’ve said it before and I will say it again: you can pry the shy Spinner headcanon from my cold dead hands. He blushed once from being complimented canonly, and I took that and ran with it. This man is easily flustered with his lover. You can just look at him a certain way and he’ll quickly turn away from you, rubbing the back of his head and choking on the air around him. “D-don’t look at me like that, damn it!” He’s butter for you, he’ll melt when you show him a ton of affection. Leaving kissy marks all over him will leave him just about incapacitated if you needed him to be. He’ll sit there and soak up every little bit of attention that you have to offer him. He’d skip out on a couple of league get togethers if it meant having you there marking him up instead. Spinner would drop an online game and lose the match just to have to kiss him for minutes on end. He’s a sucker for you. However, he tends to try and hide those marks when around the others. One day he slipped up and let them show and Dabi ripped on him until he was red with annoyance. (Dabi still teases him about it btw)

~Chronostasis~

-You better be prepared to get whatever you dish out right back. Behind closed doors he’s a little bit friskier although he draws the line when work is involved. Litter his neck in kisses and he’s going to try to litter your ass in hand-prints (or at least the sensation of stinging depending on whether or not the reader get’s handprints easily or not [skin tone]) For every mark you leave on him, he’s going to try to retaliate. So often something sweet can get turned into something rather steamy instead. Now when work is involved he’s different. He’s definitely not big on showing up to work with any type of marks on him so he’s going to try and wipe them away beforehand. It’s not like he’s scared to be teased by the others or anything. He’ll just turn it around on them if they try it. “Well at least I’m getting kiss marks. What are you getting? Oh yeah, nothing. Sorry I forgot.” It’s just that Hari is trying to remain professional in his line of work. Can’t head to a shake-down and threaten for money when you’ve got cute little kissy marks on your neck. What kind of gangster would have kissy marks??? Aside from this, he loves your marks and he’ll take as many as you give him depending on the situation.

[holdinbacksecrets]

hello! if it’s not too late could i please request boyfriend things with a prompt of when things get hard/life gets in the way/misunderstandings/growing pains lol i hope this makes sense i’ve never requested anything before

i just finished watching 25 21 and now my heart is absolutely shattered… it got me thinking how this concept would be like with the boys. you write so beautifully and thought you would capture these feelings sooo well with your writing!

thanks for all that you do and always bringing me comfort with your blog 💕

hello! thank you for sending this request. i enthusiastically watched 2521 until the second to last episode, made it halfway though, read spoilers for the finale, and i’ve yet to finish it… so i can imagine how you were feeling. 🥺 i hope i did your request justice! thank you so much 🤍 knowing you feel that way and your kind words are heartwarming💌

an: college au vibes going on with some of these warning: jealousy

namjoon: you don’t really care.. about what people think of you. maybe it’s because your mother never has. she puts money on a debit card, tells you good morning on sundays, and that’s about it. so you’ve adapted, and learned to be ok with what you’ve been given. you never let yourself think about more, or yearn for it. you stay away from the romcoms and YA novels, littered with hope and shining eyes and i love yous at midnight in open doorways. what happens if you start to change your mind? what happens if you want to see what it might be like? what happens if you start to care? because you feel yourself caring about him. you’ve started stopping by the record store he works at, perusing the rows of vinyls and buying one every once in a while. and you didn’t care, not until he mentioned knowing you from somewhere, recognizing the bracelet on your wrist, and the charm on your bag... you weren’t supposed to care

jin: you haven’t been sleeping. it’s been a couple days, and you can’t be bothered to try. maybe it has more to do with the emptiness and the cold, than a lack of exhaustion. everything happened in the bedroom. you loved. you laughed. you ate. you learned. you grew. you changed. cried. tried. became electrified. and now, the colors he brought to white walls and a spotless duvet have been taken away. so you stay awake. you drink coffee and set reminders to eat, and you hope, eventually, you’ll love again. you’ll open the bedroom door and see something special, whether it’s all you or someone new 

yoongi: “do you want breakfast?” “no. i’m not really hungry.” how could he expect you to eat after sharing such horrible news? news that should have you smiling and leaping for joy because he got the job, but shit… you’re just thinking about yourself, the distance and the time change, and the idea of him turning into someone completely different. maybe you won’t recognize him when you finally visit. “do you… we should probably talk about this.” “should we?” “we’re dating and i’m getting ready to move to a new country, so yes, we should.” “but you’re not going to say it” “say what? please, you know i hate this beating around the bush bullshit.” “saying it is humiliating. if you haven’t said it yet then you’re never going to.” his eyebrows raise, and he takes your hand, peeling it away from the mug. “of course i want you to come with me. that’s all i want, but how can i ask that of you when you’re still in school? isn’t that selfish?” “i don’t know. either way things are going to change. we’ll change. you know how i feel about change” i fucking love you, and if i lose you? shit…

hoseok: he’s known her his entire life. they have the photo albums to prove it and a box of old christmas cards because the pictures were too cute for his mother to throw away with the tree and torn wrapping paper. she’s known him for her entire life. she knows more about him than you, and you want to like her. you truly do, but there’s something nauseating about everything she’s seen, everything she’s come to know. you kept it far away- you keep your relationship with him for yourself, for private moments and safe spaces, but now she’s here because it’s his birthday: she wouldn’t miss it for the world. and it’s not that you don’t trust him. it’s not that you think she’s in love with him either. it’s just that she knows him, while he’s the only one who knows you

jimin: “i don’t understand why you’re being so quiet. it’s just me.” he’s laying beside you in the darkness of your bedroom, and his words are right. it is just him, but he told you he loves you, and something changed. it didn’t change because his feelings aren’t reciprocated, it’s because they are. it’s because you’ve suppressed all the desires that consume your mind when he’s around. it’s because you’ve told yourself the two of you aren’t right for each other to guard your heart. you’ve spent too many days as friends, with enough space between yourselves to allow room for other people: for romantic relationships that never outlast what your share with him. “i’m not trying to be quiet.” “are you… i shouldn’t have said anything, right?” “i don’t know. i really don’t. let’s just get some sleep” 

taehyung: whoever told you about college growing up left out a whole lot of shit. no one said that love is hard, and you’d probably end up wanting someone who doesn’t know your name or graduated already and spends his nights out with friends after work. you show up and look like a little kid with your backpack and reading glasses. you wonder if it’s worth it: staying together. he tells you it is, says he doesn’t understand why you’d want to throw it all away. “i’m only a year older than you. you’re acting like our lives are on paths moving in opposite directions or something.” “maybe i’m just insecure” 

jungkook: “you know i got my license for you in high school, right?” “you’re kidding… why?” he scoffs, taking the bottle of beer from your hand. “i was in love with you, and i wanted to take you out.” “we could’ve walked.” “sure, but i wanted to open your car door, and touch your thigh if i had the confidence to.” “you didn’t.” “oh come on! i got there! i made a move eventually” “you made a couple moves… i’m pretty sure a lot of firsts happened in that car. i guess i should be thanking a younger you. where would we have been without your lovestruck, hmm?” “we would’ve ended up here eventually. we’re fated.” “gross. get that hopeless romantic shit away from my beer” 

[clairecrive]

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

[writing-in-april]

Soured Nostalgia

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When Reader moves their stuff in to Spencer’s apartment they find photos that he kept over the years. One photo of the past springs up memories of Spencer’s precious relationship with Elle.

A/N: hey heeeyyy everybody- here’s a fic I’ve been really excited to share with everyone. It’s my eleventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! This was the original request (I made it a little different lol I hope you like it)I had a fun time with it mostly cause I totally think Spencer and Elle had something going on at some point 😉 Plus I got to incorporate older angsty post prison Spencer and mention how he used to be a little baby ☺️ I’m curious to hear y’all’s thoughts about the Reidaway ship, or really anything so feel free to drop an ask to my inbox here. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Joking about being jealous???, Reidaway in the past, Spencer being sad about the people who’ve left him, Sub Spencer, Only a bit of dry sex, Masturbation, Unprotected sex, Use of a belt to restrain, A few taps on the cheek, Reader’s hand is around Spencer’s throat for a second

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2k

Reminiscing on the past was difficult depending on how the story had ended. Memories that may have been happy could turn too painful because of the ending result. Age turned the memories into unreliable accounts as well, unable to truly remember how things had been back then and how you had truly felt.

Memories were still something to hold onto and cherish even though they got twisted with age and opinion. Nostalgia, a sentimental or wishful affection for the past, was an addictive feeling even if it made you cry. It remained addictive even if most of your past memories had hurt you with no sentiment attached. Everyone always chased the euphoric feelings they had when looking at the ghosts of their past. Sometimes even when looking back you can find something that had once soured had turned sweet again.

Spencer had many memories that he was no longer able to look back upon for a host of reasons. Most often it was because he could no longer bear to look back on a memory of someone who had left him. Whether it was his Dad, Gideon, Hotch, Blake, Elle, and many others, looking back at them just made him often feel like everyone in his entire life had left him.

That wasn’t true of course, he still had his Mom- and you. Even with his Mom there were still many of his memories with her were still stained with guilt, though that had gotten better with time and with your help.

You had begun helping him find the benefit in looking back, trying to make the soured nostalgia a bit sweeter again. It was getting easier as time ticked by for him to open up to you about everything in his past, the good and the bad. At first you had been staring at a wall that he had been building higher and higher throughout the years, it was daunting how tall it was. When you helped take a sledgehammer to it, making it crumble beneath your effort, he pulled away for a while. He felt comfortable by himself behind his own Great Wall until you showed him the benefits of sharing the secrets he held behind it. But, you still stayed, helping him as much as you could until he was willing to open up.

It had been many months since you started your effort to help him break it down. At some point in the last months you had both fallen into a relationship, a romantic one. What had once been a platonic relationship forged from shared interests evolved into a romance emerging from the rubble of his wall.

He had even given you a key to his apartment at one point, which he had never done with anyone except the bureau. Emily was the one that really had it, but that was strictly for work reasons. This was a show of trust which was much more helpful than his wall that had reached the heights of a skyscraper.

A simple key soon turned into you staying at his place more often than at your own. You had casually mentioned one day while watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries that you basically lived here now. It was a true statement, most of the clothes you wore on a daily basis had been given a spot in his dresser and the toothbrush you kept there was not the one you used for travel- that one was at your place. You had begun to put your mark on Spencer’s life in a more permanent way than before.

When he had spontaneously suggested the next day that you should move in with him, you knew that your small comment had stuck in his brain. It was easy to agree to, you had said you basically already lived here, plus living with the love of your life sounded like a dream. You only had a few things that you wanted to bring over and it was mostly decorative stuff that you could’ve let go if Spencer hadn’t insisted that he wanted you to make the space your own.

While turning the space that was once solely Spencer’s into something for you both, you had found a small clear box with a blue lid, filled with pictures. Spencer didn’t have a lot of personal pictures framed, there was one with you and him by the bed, one with the team by his desk, one with him and Morgan on the living room wall, and one with you two and his Mom also hung up in the living room.

When you had shown him the box he could tell you were curious, letting you look through it without a moment of hesitation. In the past Spencer would have been wary sharing his memories with you, but now he’d let you look. If only you could get him to look at the box with you.

You weren’t surprised he didn't want to look with you once you saw the people littered throughout the snapshots. Varying people that had left were in most of them, even some you never met.

Ones with Hotch and Gideon- even one from a long time ago with his father buried at the bottom. As you browsed through them you were glad he was able to hang up that photo of him and Morgan, at least they had parted with some closure. It also helped that he still saw him regularly, he had never fully left like some of the people from his past.

One picture in particular stood out to you, it was another team photo, they seemed more carefree in this one compared to now. There was baby Spencer, before you had known him, in a birthday boy hat smiling with the rest of the team. You guessed it was around his 23rd or 24th birthday, going by the slick back gelled hair he had sported in his earlier years. He seemed so much more different back then, perhaps more carefree compared to now. But, he also seemed much more unsure of himself, maybe a bit self conscious. In the photo you could tell he was nervous, just by the look in his eyes. He still had that same look in his eyes whenever he felt nervous.

Then you looked closer at where his eyes were focused on, there was a clear line of sight from him to Elle. Elle was way less nervous in this captured moment compared to Spencer, though from what you had heard she had always been like that.

Your gaze on the photo was broken when Spencer then came into the living room where you were sitting on the couch.

You decided to test the waters to see if he might want to take a look at the photo with you, “Why do you look so nervous in this photo?”

He stopped the path he had been taking, then stood still for a second before deciding to sit next to you on the couch. Straining his neck he gazed over at the photo you were holding in your hands. It was silent for a while as he looked over it, stopping to look at his old team. Some of the team still remained intact, namely JJ, but she wasn’t the same as she had been all those years ago. You let him take it from your hands, so he could look at it closer. He cleared his throat a little, though his voice still came out slightly raspy when he spoke, though he didn’t answer the question you had asked him,“It’s the only picture I ever had taken with Elle…”

“I know you guys were- close.” You didn’t ask your previous question again, sensing that it was still too much to talk about in specifics. What he was telling you right now was even more than what he told you, only telling you that she was his first, everything. Any supplemental information was from talking discreetly to JJ about it one night because you were somewhat curious.

Tiptoeing around the relationship you knew that they had previously was like walking through a minefield. You tried the best that you could to avoid making him too upset. When you got him to open up, it wasn’t by forcing him to talk all at once. Busting the wall down was done brick by brick, not all at once.

“I’m glad you aren’t jealous of her.” His comment was said with less sadness than before. It was nice to see a glimpse of the weight coming off of his shoulders, even if it was just for a moment.

“What? Do you want me to be jealous of her?” You teased, lightheartedly so he wouldn’t dwell on the sad aspect of their past relationship. He smiled softly which deepened when you playfully stuck your tongue out and crossed your arms.

“No- you’ve got nothing to be jealous about…” Any playfulness in his voice was erased as his sentence trailed off. You didn’t say anything for a moment in case he wanted to continue his thought. And, after a moment of silence he did, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left…”

“I know- I was just joking about being jealous. I know how much she meant to you…” His eyes moved away from you, at first you thought it might be because he was still feeling the pain of losing her all those years ago. But, there was something else in his eyes, it naturally made you curious, “What are you thinking about?”

“If you were jealous- what would you have done?” His mind must have shifted away from thinking about the ending of his memories with Elle, which was a step in the right direction. At least he wasn’t avoiding the topic all together, he was still talking about her in a sense.

You bit your lip, thinking about what direction you could take this in. You weren’t going to lie, your mind had gone straight into the gutter at his suggestion and by the look on Spencer’s face so had his.

“Hmmm…” You pretended to ponder while you moved from where you were sitting on the couch to sit on something better, Spencer’s lap. Straddling him then with ease you looked down at his face tracing his cheeks with your fingers. His pupils were blown wide now, almost completely devouring his iris that had become a small ring. He didn’t say anything yet, waiting for you to continue your thought obediently, “I think I would do things to you that I suspect she never did.”

He gulped hard, hard enough that you could hear it. You continued to trace your fingers along his face, sometimes picking a lock of his hair to twirl, waiting for him to say something else like you knew he wanted to. It only took a few more seconds of your touches and your eyes staring into his own before he asked, “C-Can you show me?”

You stopped your movements, pausing for dramatic effect before crushing his lips onto your own. He squared into your mouth at first, clearly taken off guard by your sudden kiss. Before he had processed what was going on enough to let you, you forced your tongue into his mouth, earning you a delicious moan from him.

When you moved again suddenly, separating your mouth with his for just a moment, he tried to chase your lips. Pushing a finger to his lips you then used that to push him back into the couch, then answering his question, “Gladly.”

You kept your finger on his mouth to seal them shut. He could have opened it easily to respond to you, but he wanted to see what you might do next.

Instead of going back to kissing him you started to pull his belt off of him. It was difficult with one hand, taking much longer than it would be with two. But, you still kept your finger rested in the position most people use to shush someone.

Once the belt had finally been pulled from the belt loops of his slacks you finally removed your finger from his mouth. He still remained quiet, his eyes following your every move intently. You then went to work, pinning his hands above his head, then beginning to restrain them with his belt.

“Did she do this to you?” Goading him while you looped the belt around his hands. You made sure to go as slow as possible while you restrained him just to make it last longer until you gave him what he wanted. You even began to grind down on his cock a little bit, it obviously ached to be free from its confines in his trousers by how strained the slacks were getting.

“No!” His voice was broken and breathy, exactly how you wanted it as you tightened the belt around his hand a little more.

Once you were satisfied that the belt was tight enough you got off of him to remove the shorts you had been wearing, along with the rest of your clothes. Normally when you were naked and Spencer was clothed it would be when you were underneath him as a sort of power play. In this position, where he couldn’t move without fear of consequences while you restraddled him completely naked was almost even more empowering.

To play with the dynamic even more you had him remain confined in his slacks for a while longer, while you touched yourself. You were already quite wet from seeing Spencer in this position and exerting that power by pumping your fingers in you while he could do nothing had you dripping onto his slacks.

Spencer’s jaw had gone slack while watching you moan above him, completely speechless from your actions. It was almost comical and entirely too easy to tease him about, “Close your mouth you might catch flies.” His mouth clenched shut at that. It soon fell slack again at your next words while you brought yourself closer to the edge with your fingers, “What? Did she never do this for you?”

All Spencer could do was sit there and take it, shaking his head side to side, only a little so he could keep his eyes on you. You decided to be merciful, pulling your fingers out of you just before you orgasmed. You wanted to finish at the same time as him anyway.

Finally, you pulled his aching cock out of his slacks. It was throbbing in your hand as you spread your wetness with the fingers that had been inside you. Because you had edged yourself earlier, you couldn’t take teasing him any longer. You lined the head of his cock that was red and weeping up to your entrance, sinking down as fast as you could take him. While you sunk down you rubbed your clit in slow circles, not enough to make you orgasm, but enough to make it easier to take him.

Once you had fully taken him you wasted no time, immediately beginning to build up a fast pace. And, of course you couldn’t help but goad him again,

“Did she make you feel this good?” Your pace you had chosen was rough, bouncing and rolling your hips with reckless abandon while he had to take it without being able to move. He could have thrusted up into you even without the use of his hands, but he had one too many of your punishments in the past to be willing to break the rules so explicitly. Now if he ever broke the rules now it was him subtly bending them. Though, you could tell by the way his eyes rolled back into his head that he had no intention of doing that tonight. It felt too good to be used like this by you.

He still had not answered you though, not on purpose, but you still needed an answer. Tapping his cheek a few times, just hard enough to get his attention. It caused him to whine, but he still didn’t give you an answer. Since that didn’t work you decided to ask again, “I asked you a question. Did she make you feel this good? Did she use you like this?”

To add an extra edge to your words filled with a deadly tone you reached one of your hands forward to grasp around his neck. To make him look at you directly you forcefully tilted his neck, eyes once again trained on yours. He finally found it in himself to answer, “It felt good with her, but it feels best with you! I love you!”

“Good.” You simply stated and dropped your hold on his neck so you could return it to its place on his chest, using it as leverage to help you continue your fast pace. Your orgasm was fast approaching, his cock hitting you in the perfect spot, all you needed was a bit more stimulation. When you brought your hand down to run fast circles onto your clit, you soon fell apart above him. Spencer couldn’t help but look up at you in awe, speechless at how beautiful you look while you writhed on top of him.

Your own release pushed Spencer close to the edge and he started to beg, “I’m gonna cum! Please, can I?”

His hands had tightened into fists above him, knuckles going white over the effort of keeping them right where you had placed them originally. You were pleased with the way he had begged, glad that he had asked permission before even thinking about cumming. You still left him in suspense for a bit longer as you continued to work yourself on his painfully hard cock. Pressing a few kisses to his exposed skin under his collar was admittedly just to torture him a bit longer before you finally gave the command.

“Cum for me then.” Spencer followed your command eagerly, taking only two more of you bouncing on top of him to release inside you with a groan. While he rode out his release his lips captured around one of your pebbled peaks, sucking hard to get one last moan out of you.

Slumping forward after you had both finished and you had taken the belt off his wrists with the promise you’d lotion them up after you cuddled. You rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to stay as close as possible for a little while longer. He started tracing his fingers up and down your spine, relaxing you even further, almost to the point of falling asleep.

Before your eyes closed shut in post coital sleepiness your mind wandered a bit back to Elle. Elle had been an important figure in his life, his first real connection with someone special. Sure you teased about being jealous, but you thought it was important to tell him that you were ok with him thinking back on her. You knew he loved you. It most likely would take time till he was able to think or talk about her without a sharp pain in his chest, reminding him of how it all ended.

He hadn’t told you exactly what had happened, but it wasn’t hard to fill in all of the gaps. You turned your head, eyelashes fluttering when you nuzzled into his hair. Then you spoke quietly just enough so the sound could travel the short distance to his ear, “You should frame the picture, you look cute in it. And, I meant to say it earlier, I love you too.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie

[citrinesparkles]

cat part two.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,052 words. notes: part one here! (edit: part three here!) jason's having a really long night, okay. kids and crooks are one thing. cats are another. warnings: food is sort of discussed?

honestly? he felt a little stupid thinking anything was strange at this point, given the whole 'been dead done that' thing, but even he had to admit that running around cradling a jacket full of too-thin cat felt a little odd.

he'd walked the kids home, hearing the whole way about how clever and sweet cat was and how it liked tuna and chicken but do not give it turkey because it will walk away without eating and their mom said that onion was bad for cats, so none of that either.

when they made it to their apartment building, jordan ran upstairs and gathered up the last of their tuna leftovers in a little plastic baggie, bringing it back with another 'thank you' and a joke about finding a different park. then he'd scooped jazz up and disappeared back inside. jason caught something about sesame street reruns- which, if he was being honest, sounded pretty good right about then.

he took off with cat wrapped up neatly, tucked carefully against his chest.

and it meowed the entire way up to the convenience store three streets over.

it didn't seem to want to stop meowing inside the store, either, immediately catching the attention of the worker behind the counter.

"do you guys carry- uh," he adjusted cat carefully, "cat food?"

her eyes were bouncing between him and the bundle of yelling, and he was really starting to feel the absurdity of the whole situation.

"uh-"

she was interrupted by a particularly indignant meow that made him groan and hold the jacket out to look the cat in the eye.

"what do you want, huh?" he asked tiredly. "i'm doing my best here."

it meowed again.

"is... that your cat?" the cashier asked quietly.

"no." another meow. "but it is my problem."

"o-kay," she stood up and made her way around the counter, giving jason plenty of space as she passed him. "what kind of cat food?"

"the kind that will get this thing to stop screaming at me."

"have you tried, y'know, not calling it 'it' and 'thing'?"

"listen- i've had a long night, okay?" he pulled cat back to his chest- met with yet another meow- and tucked it into one arm, dropping the other hand to dig into his pocket. he emptied it, glancing down at the contents briefly before putting it on the counter. "i've got twenty five bucks and a wendy's coupon, a cat that somehow became my responsibility and just will not shut up, and- as i'm sure you'll be able to relate to, considering your customer service job- a desperate need for a nap that is growing by the second. will you, please, get me whatever cat stuff you can sell me and let me worry about what to call it?"

she leaned back around the endcap, raising her hands in mock surrender. "whatever, bat guy."

"bat guy?" he repeated incredulously.

she nodded at his chest, making him rolled his eyes. "the name's red hood."

she stared at him for a moment, squinting at his head. "that's not a-"

"i know! i know it's not a hood! why does everyone feel the need to point that out tonight! it's- it's symbolic!"

she scoffed, disappearing back down the row of merchandise. "symbolic of what, your childhood dreams of becoming a racecar driver?"

"you'll forgive me for not giving you my whole tragic backstory in the middle of a corner store at three in the morning while cat is still screaming?"

he heard rustling, and the sound of tin hitting tin. "did you just call it cat?"

he took a deep, slow breath and squinted up at the ceiling tiles. "are you really back to giving me shit about it?"

"yeah. that's not a name."

"it's not my cat, so i don't care. besides, you're one to talk- shouldn't you have a nametag on or something?"

"i used to. it got buried somewhere." she reappeared, arms full of cans. "you're so good at names, why don't you come up with something? cashier has a nice ring to it."

"very clever."

she nodded smugly with a barely noticeable eyeroll, turning towards the back room. "i do that sometimes. look, wait here, okay?

"i don't really have time-"

"i gotta get my manager, okay. trust me on this. two minutes, tops."

she was gone before he could respond, ducking into a back room with the cat food.

he reluctantly decided to give her sixty seconds before he just left and hoped the tuna from jordan would be good enough.

she came back with an older woman in tow about forty five seconds in, which was more frustrating than relieving.

he just wanted to be home.

"you were serious," the older woman muttered incredulously, staring at him before zeroing in on the bundle in jason's arms- which meowed immediately, as though it felt her gaze. "this isn't your cat?"

"no. it is not my cat. can i just get my-"

"do you have a litter box?"

oh, duh. "no."

she nodded thoughtfully. "how much did you say you have?"

"twenty five. look, not to be rude, but can we hurry this up? i have somewhere to be."

"twenty five," she repeated, leaning over the counter. "alright. run and grab a box and some litter for him, and-" she turned back to him- "are you on foot?"

this was getting ridiculous. "how does that-"

"one of those pool bags, too, the one with the long strap."

it took about five minutes for the two women to pack the bag full of a plastic bin, a box of litter, like twenty cans of food, and three different toys, before passing it- and his money- to him.

"you helped tony up the street last week, didn't you?" the manager grinned at his protests. "call it even."

if the money ended up on the counter anyway, that wasn't any of her business, he figured.

--

"alright, cat," he muttered as he shuffled through the window awkwardly, "we gotta be quiet."

which, obviously, earned a loud meow.

he sighed and slid the window back down with his elbow, balancing cat and the large bag in the other arm.

"so," your sweet, entirely-too-awake, way-too-amused voice called behind him, "your jacket meows now?"

so much for being quiet.

[maddiwrites]

Beauty is Pain

Pairing: Mostly Platonic!Pogues, mentions of JJ Maybank x reader 

Summary: You and Kie try to wax your legs yourselves for the first time and accidentally get yourselves trapped in a sticky situation that gets you locked in your room with JJ and Pope while you listen to Sarah and John B fight outside your door. Routledge!Reader.

Note: I got this idea from a Friends episode. If you watched the show, you’ll know exactly which one I’m talking about. Mostly wrote this without the intention of doing a JJ x reader pairing but then I got an idea(: Hope y'all like it!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: Language, maybe angst?? 

For her birthday, Kie was gifted a hard waxing kit. At first you thought it was odd, a Kook like her was better off going to a professional to get evenly waxed brows or a perfectly clear bikini line. But when she asked you to try it out with her, you were intrigued. 

You invited her over to your messy home everyone calls the Chateau. Your brother had a date with his Kook girlfriend, Sarah Cameron, which meant you had the house all to yourself. Even though it was just Kie, your best friend of four years, you decided to clean up the place before she got there. Your house was littered in empty beer cans and ends of JJ’s rolled blunts. You noticed John B was drinking more, smoking JJ’s weed, and even sleeping in later than usual. He’s called out of work two times in the past two weeks, and if he does manage to a say hello to you, it’s a grumbled mumble of words you can barely understand. You chopped it up to him just being moody, but there was also a small part of you that wondered if something serious was going on you didn’t know about.

You tried questioning your friends about it. Kie said she had no clue but noticed his change of attitude too. Pope would get nervous when you brought up John B’s name and claimed he didn’t know what you were talking about. Before you could question him further, his dad whisked him away to clean up the store and run a couple of last minute groceries. JJ, your boyfriend, tried to tell you it was probably nothing, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with you when he talked. He busied himself with rolling another blunt or folding the tossed laundry on your bedroom floor. When you called him out on it, he got snippy and frustrated, which just led you to drop the topic because you didn’t feel like dealing with a second moody teenager. 

Kie showed up right when she said she would with the boxed waxing kit in her hand. You raised one brow up at it as you tossed the filled trash bag out the door. 

“This it?” You said.

“Yes. You haven’t shaved your legs in a while, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been two weeks like you said. JJ says my legs are looking hairier than his. He’ll barely even touch them. One time he called them monkey legs.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Boys are such hypocrites. If they had to do half the stuff we did, they wouldn’t be complaining at all. They shouldn’t even get to complain about what women decide to do with their bodies.”

Kie continued ranting about how pain is beauty and men will never understand it unless they lived in a woman’s body for a whole month, including the week a woman’s period started, as she set up the kit. 

You worked in your room because there was more space for both of you to try your best to be comfortable. Kie plugged in the warmer on your nightstand and mixed the pink wax pellets with a flat wooden stick until it turned to a warm goo. 

“Okay,” Kie sat up against your bed’s headboard and patted her thigh to motion for you to give her your leg. “You’re up.”

“Why do I have to be first?” You asked.

You’ve never waxed your legs before. Only your brows and sometimes bikini line and even then, you usually just pluck and shave. Getting your hair professionally waxed was expensive and you tried to prioritize your purchases as much as possible to stabilize the life you and John B still had.

Kie sighed. “Fine, we’ll do it together. Let me just put the wax on you.”

You gave Kie your left leg and she slathered the warm wax up the left side of your shin. You watched as she did the same to her own leg and grimaced nervously when you felt the wax hardening against your skin. 

“Ready?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

“On the count of three?”

Kie nodded. “One.”

“Two.” “Three.”

At exactly three, Kie pulled the long waxing strip from your leg and you did the same with hers. A searing hot pain ran up you leg as Kie ripped the wax off, making you bite down a scream. 

“Fuck!” Kie screamed up into the ceiling. You looked down at both your legs. There was a thick line of red from where the wax was. “That shit hurts.”

“Let’s try it again,” You suggested. “Maybe we’ll get use to it if we keep doing it.”

Kie nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s try again.”

This time, Kie slid two long strips on both your left and right leg. The warm wax felt soothing. You almost wished you didn’t have to rip it off in the first place. 

“On three?” You said.

Kie nodded.

On three, you each ripped one strip off your own legs. You cursed against gritted teeth from the pain. You were wrong about getting used to it. You didn’t think you would ever be able to tolerate this pain. 

“What the hell? This has never hurt this bad.” Kie said.

“I think whoever gave this to you secretly hates you,” You said to her.

Kie sighed and looked down at the hardening wax still left on your legs. “Well, we have to finish. We’ll just rip them all off really fast.”

“Okay.”

You ripped three out of the four strips that were left at rocket speed, but they all hurt exactly the same. It felt like you were ripping more than just the hair off your leg. You wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down and saw half the layers of your skin ripped off. 

You blinked back the tears at the exact same time Pope and JJ busted into your room looking around frantically. JJ was holding a baseball bat and Pope a pan you just washed and placed on the drying wrack an hour ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Pope yelled.

“What the hell is going on?” JJ narrowed his eyes at you, surprised he wasn’t looking at you being attacked by an intruder or covered in cuts and bruises. When he first heard you screaming when he and Pope walked into your house, his heart raced a million beats per minutes. His mind wandered to all the different things that could have happened to you. He swore he was going to make you lock your door every day and night now. 

But here you were, safe and sound and laying in bed with Kie. Although he could see your labored breathing and clouded eyes, he knew you weren’t in any imminent trouble. His eyes traced from your face down to your legs where a pink strip of wax was still waiting to be pulled off. 

“We’re fine. We’re just waxing our legs.” Kie said.

“What are you doing here?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Pope said Kie was here so we came to hang with you,” JJ said absentmindedly. “I thought you were being murdered.”

“It sure felt like it,” You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered from JJ’s protective side.

JJ scoffed. “It can’t hurt that bad.”

Kie tutted her head forward. “Oh yeah? Come here.”

“What? No.”

Kie ignored him and grabbed his arm from across your body and slapped on another slab of wax. JJ hissed from the heat then visibly relaxed.

“Y/N, wanna do the honors?” Kie smirked at you.

You glared at her. “I’m not volunteering to hurt my boyfriend.”

Kie scoffed at you. “What did he call your legs again?”

You clenched your teeth together and nodded once. Kie made her point, and you remembered everything she said about how men will never understand the pain women go through to please not only themselves, but their lovers too. 

“Oh, yeah,” You said within a split second and ripped the wax off JJ’s arms. He flinched away from you, rearing his arm back far away from your reach. His mouth was opened in an ‘O’ shape and his brows pinched together. “Monkey legs.” You smirked at him.

“Fuck,” JJ shook out his arm as if you physically lit it on fire. 

“It can’t hurt that bad, right, JJ?” Kie mocked him.

Pope laughed at his blonde friend and shook his head. “Stupid.”

“Y/N, you have one left.”

“Shut up, I know,” You rolled your shoulders back like you were getting ready to run a marathon. 

“Want me to do it for you?” You nodded. JJ came up next to you and offered his hand for you to squeeze. “Okay. On three. One, two -” Before Kie even said the word three, she ripped the wax off. You closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand hard, until his knuckles rolled in your closed fingers. 

“Shit, baby,” JJ crouched next to you awkwardly, trying to mend his fingers back together.

“Sorry,” You huffed. You weren’t that sorry. He called you monkey legs.

You heard the screen door open and close. Figuring it was just John B back from his date, you relaxed against your headboard again and made a promise to yourself to never wax your legs again. Beauty wasn’t worth this pain. You’d rather be monkey legs than go through that again.

Or just simply shave. 

“ - And that’s supposed to make this all okay?” Your eyes opened when you heard, not JB, but Sarah Cameron screaming right outside your room. Pope quickly closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible and held up his finger to you and Kie to be quiet. “That’s your excuse?”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and you looked at your boyfriend for some kind of answer. This was the first time you ever heard Sarah raise her voice at your brother. As far as you knew, the couple never fought.

JJ was looking down at the ground and avoiding your stare. His hands were wracked through his blonde strands and resting on the top of his head. He and Pope didn’t look as surprised as you and Kie.

“What the hell is going on?” Kie asked in a hushed whisper.

“I - I was scared. I’ve never done this before -” John B stuttered.

“Here’s some advice. Rule number one. Don’t cheat!” Sarah yelled. You swore you could hear the pain behind her voice.

You gasped in surprise and snapped your head in JJ’s direction. He wouldn’t look at you, which mean he knew about this long before you did. You put the pieces together. No wonder John B has been acting miserable. Who knows how long he’s been holding onto this. 

Well...apparently JJ and Pope know.

“What the hell...” Kie sits up straighter. “Is she serious?”

“Did you know?” You asked your boyfriend. This time he did look at you. And he looked guilty as hell.

Your eyes snapped back to the door when John B yelled back at her. “That’s gold coming from you. Did Topper use that same line when you got together with me?”

You physically cringed at the mention of Topper’s name. It may have been a low blow, but John B had a point. 

“Shit,” Kie cursed and sped walked towards the door.

You followed in her footsteps and pressed your ear against the door. One thing was for sure, you couldn’t leave your room now. You couldn’t walk in on that. But at least you could be nosy and eavesdrop.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t love him. I loved you. I left Topper for you!”

“You cheated on him.”

“Because I loved you, John B! You cheated on me because you were scared because...why? Because I’m a Kook? I’ve always been a Kook and you’ve never had a problem with that! Not until now!”

You and Kie crouched on the floor so JJ and Pope could hover over you and listen. It sounded like John B cheated on Sarah a couple weeks ago with a Pogue from your school because he got scared of his feelings for Sarah. Rafe got in your brother’s head, telling him how he will never be enough to care for Sarah when she’s no longer reliant on her father’s money. He became insecure and looked to someone who wouldn’t ever think of him like that - someone who would understand him.

John B was in the wrong and your heart cracked for the couple you once swore was going to be the first to get married out of your group of friends. Although you and Sarah had a rocky start, she quickly became the sister you never had. You got along just as much as you and Kie did. Sometimes John B would find it annoying when Sarah would come over to hang out with you instead of him, but the other part of him loved that the two most important people in his life were as close as he was with JJ. You couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. Not even another Pogue. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sarah asked. She sounded broken and her voice cracked with exhaustion. You wanted to walk out of the room and hug her tightly while yelling at John B for being an absolute idiot. 

You heard John B sigh. “I was going to. I regretted it the second it was over and I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave me over some stupid mistake. JJ and Pope said -”

“JJ and Pope knew about this?”

You and Kie looked up at your boyfriends with the deadliest glare either of them have seen out of both you. JJ took a step back and held his hands up in surrender as if you were holding a loaded gun to his head. 

“I can explain -” JJ said quickly as Pope’s mouth moved silently to come up with an excuse.

“I didn’t know what to do! They said telling you would only hurt you -” John B weakly tried to explain.

“Of course it would fucking hurt me! You’ve been lying to me for weeks. You had sex with another girl!” 

You heard something shatter before a deafening silence. You waited for John B to say something, praying he was smart enough to say anything that could salvage what little of a relationship he had left.

You didn’t want to make this about you, but you wondered how many times JJ didn’t tell you something because it would hurt you. You wondered if he did anything just as detrimental to your relationship and didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would break up with him.

John B and Sarah continued to fight for another hour. You wondered if John B was worried about where you might be. If you go somewhere without telling John B, you usually text him later in the day to tell him where you are. It’s something both of you started doing ever since your father disappeared. So that if something were to happen, you would know where to look first.

You thought about jumping out your window, but your window frame was rusty. Even if you moved the window up a little bit, the wood would grind against each other, and your cover would be blown. You were getting hungry and JJ was getting antsy, probably afraid that John B would say something more to push him in the dog house. You’ve barely looked at him since John B threw him under the bus.

“Baby...” JJ said quietly to try to get your attention. “Come on, baby, let me explain.”

You glared at him and continued braiding Kie’s hair with your back to the door. 

“We had good intentions,” Pope tried to save his own ass but Kie’s look mirrored yours. “We just didn’t want them to break up.”

“Shut up, Pope,” You said for Kie. 

“We were wrong,” JJ said, making you advert your attention from Pope to your boyfriend. “I was wrong. It was my idea for John B not to tell Sarah. But the more time I spent with you, I knew I’d never be able to do that to you. It would eat at me inside, and that’s exactly what it was doing to JB. So yesterday I told him he had to tell her. Or else he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.” Your eyes soften under his ocean blue ones and your hands fell from Kie’s hair. “I know I would.”

The corner of your lip twitched up into a lopsided grin, and just like that, you were entranced by the blonde Pogue all over again. JJ had his way with words. It’s gotten him both into certain situations and out of other bad ones. But you knew JJ like the back of your hand. You knew when he was lying. He wouldn’t look at you and if you questioned him on it he would get angry. Looking at JJ, you knew he was telling the truth. 

“Yeah, what he said.” Pope said, pointing at your boyfriend.

You and Kie rolled your eyes playfully. Pope, on the other hand, wasn’t so great with his words. That’s why it took so long for him to score Kie as his girlfriend. 

“Where are you going?” You heard John B yell. He sounded defeated.

“I can’t be here. I need...I need space.”

“Sarah...”

“Please. I just need time to think. Okay?”

Your front door slammed shut and you held your breath, waiting for John B to run after her or break more shit in your living room. But nothing like that ever came. Instead, you listened to John B cry to himself probably somewhere on the couch. 

And just like that, you didn’t care about being caught. You didn’t care if he screamed in your face for eavesdropping or calling you nosy and inconsiderate. Your brother needed you, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to you that he was the one in the wrong. At the end of the day, he was your brother. Your blood. Your family. And you’re the one who will always be his rock. 

Kie stood up with you and watched wearily as you showed yourself to your brother. John B looked up with wide eyes, surprised to see not only you but the rest of the Pogues hidden away in your room. 

He wanted to be mad, but he didn’t have the energy to be. Instead, he cried harder because he hated that you of all people knew what he did and that he was now being weak by crying about it in your living room. He wanted to be the role model you could always look up to, especially now that your dad was gone. And he thought he failed at it. 

John B was pleasantly surprised when he felt a pair of gentle arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a side hug as you sat on the couch next to him. Kie sat on the coffee table in front of you and rubbed John B’s knee comfortingly. Pope and JJ knew the girls were better equipped to handle John B’s emotions, so they busied themselves in the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers and pretzels and setting them down on the table next to Kie. 

Even though John B cheated and created a big mess in not only his life, but the rest of yours too, you were family. You would never leave him on his darkest day and play the blame game. You’ll help him get control. You’ll help him fix it. You’ll help him live his life to the fullest. And that’s what John B loved about you. You never turned your back on him, even when he deserved it.

The five of you spent the rest of the night drinking beer, ordering pizza, and watching comedy movies to get him to forget. Later in the night, you and Kie left to comfort Sarah. You admitted that you two heard the whole thing and would support her with whatever she chose to do about her relationship. You and Kie slept over her house and discussed the pros and cons of her staying with John B. You ate popcorn and applied face masks while Keeping Up With The Kardashians played in the background. 

“You know, Kie’s waxing kit is still at my house,” A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips. “We could cause a lot of damage while he sleeps.”

Kie encouraged the idea and Sarah laughed, feeling grateful that the two of you would even come to see her when you both had loyalties to John B. She really did love you guys and would be devastated if her relationship with John B drove you guys apart. 

In the end, Sarah ended up taking John B back. It took a while for them to get their relationship back to the way it was, but they loved each other enough to salvage it. John B worked his ass off to prove how much he loved her and Sarah appreciated every second of it.

And as for you and JJ...well you made sure to give him one really good reason as to why he should never cheat on you (;

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl. 

rating: mature wc: 1.8k 

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?” 

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs. 

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name. 

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

*

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be. 

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

*

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact. 

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.” 

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince. 

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself. 

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company. 

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long. 

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

*

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!” 

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder,  “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

[sxdmoonchxld]

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming. 

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva.  Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other.  You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts.  The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.  

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Adoption Day

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 2089

For: Covers the Animal Shelter square for @adarafaelbarba 's fall moodboard bingo

TW: very brief mention of past childhood abuse and animal abandonment, but other than that, it's mostly fluff

Dedication: This is for the world's best cat mom, @madamsnape921 ,because it's her birthday! Go send her some birthday love today!

Author's Note: Jumping back a little in the Cat Daddy Frederick timeline to cover Buttercup's adoption story. Per my previously established continuity, this would take place in January, right after New Year's, and prior to "Not According to Plan"

Tags: @itsjustmyfantasyroom @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @welcometothemxdhouse @raulesparza4eva @teamsladsandgents @rosequcrtz

The winter wind howled outside the window and snow drifted across the windowpanes, but inside Frederick Chilton’s ornate home you were safe and warm. No, our home, I live here now, you thought to yourself. You were still getting used to thinking of it as your home, too. You were unpacking the last of the boxes from your recent move. A fire was roaring in the living room fireplace, giving the room a cozy, comforting glow. You inhaled the aroma of the hearty vegetable stew that was cooking in the crockpot in the kitchen, and your stomach growled. You were going to need to take a dinner break soon, and as if he was reading your mind, Frederick entered the room and came over to where you were placing your books on the expansive built-in shelves.

“How goes it with the books? Do you need more shelf space? I can always move somethings into my office if you need more.”

“Thank you, Frederick, but don’t worry; I think I have more than enough. I am, however, getting rather hungry. I think it’s time we ate dinner, don’t you?

“I couldn’t agree more, my love, shall I set the table?” he asked, taking your hand, and helping you to your feet.

“Thank you, Frederick, that would be lovely.”

*****************

“This stew is fantastic, my love! We’ll most certainly have to use this recipe again.”

When you didn’t respond right away, Frederick started to worry and reached for your hand. “Darling?”

“Oh! Sorry! I zoned out for a moment, must be more tired than I thought; Thank you, Frederick, I have a whole slew of crock pot recipes that are perfect for cold winter days.”

“Y/N, are you alright? Have I done something wrong? Is it the house? Is there something you’re not happy with?”

“What? Oh, Frederick, no!” You squeezed his reassuringly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love, and the house is perfectly fine. It’s just…” you paused, not sure how to broach your thoughts.

“What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it! Cost is no object!”

You took a breath and tried to collect your thoughts. You loved cats, but your previous apartment had not allowed pets. You had promised yourself that when you eventually moved you would be a cat mom again. It had been far too long. But it was something that you and Frederick hadn’t discussed yet, and you had no idea what his feelings were on the subject.

“What did you think about getting a cat?” You blurted out, bracing yourself for what you were sure was going to be an argument.

It was now Frederick’s turn to go silent, taken aback by your unexpected query. He mulled it over in his head before answering.

“Honestly, my love, I’ve never thought about it before. I never had a pet of any kind growing up. My parents did not allow animals in the house.”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” In theory, you knew you probably should have guessed that. You knew that Frederick’s father had been a hard, cruel man, and had been abusive toward Frederick and his mother. Frederick’s mother had been so worn down by it that she eventually shutdown, mentally and emotionally, and neglected to protect her son when he needed it the most. Of course, they hadn’t allowed pets, they hadn’t even allowed their son to have a normal childhood, or an ounce of happiness.

“My darling, you have nothing to apologize for,” said Frederick, placing soft kisses on the back of your hand. “If it’s a cat you want, then a cat you shall have. I’ll do some research after we finish here. Cats need supplies, right? Food, litter, toys, those fancy cat trees, cute little sweaters?”

****************

After dinner you and Frederick sat side-by-side on the couch with your laptops, him researching what kind of supplies you going to need to buy, and you were looking at your local SPCA’s website.

“Good god, I had no idea how many different types of cat litter there were!”

“Oh, Frederick, if you think that’s bad, wait until you see how competitive the cat food market is. Hmm…that’s interesting…”

“What is it?” asked Frederick, looking over at your laptop.

“This listing here,” you said, pointing at a blank gray box. “There should be a picture here, like there is for the other listings, but it’s blank. It says it’s supposed to be a 2-month-old black female…. hang on; I have an idea.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and scrolled through your contacts until you found the name you were looking for. You hit “Call” and waited.

“Hello?” A voice finally picked up on the other end.

“Joanne! Hi! It’s Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you? It’s been ages since the last time we hung out.”

“I’m good, and you’re right; it has been too long. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure! What’s up?”

“Do you still work for the county SPCA?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Oh my god, are you finally in the market to adopt?”

“Yes, I am, and I have a question about one of the cat listings on the website. The one that’s missing a picture?”

“Yes, I just noticed that a few hours ago. Our website person put that up prematurely. The kitten was just spayed, and normally we wait until the animal has had adequate recovery time before we add them to the site, but accidents happen. Last I checked, the little one is recovering nicely and should be ready to interact a couple days. She’s the sweetest thing. Someone dumped her in a cardboard box at our front door. She had a leg injury, but that’s also healing up. She loves to play, loves to cuddle, and I’ll think she’ll thrive in a good home. Would you like to make an appointment to see her?”

“Yes, I would! What time slots do you have available?”

*******************

A few days later, you and Frederick walked arm in arm into the county SPCA. Frederick had rush-ordered all the supplies you thought you’d need and then some. You both excited and nervous. You’d already taken a huge step by moving in together, and now you were adopting a pet. You looked over at Frederick and noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. He also seemed leaning on his cane for support. He always seemed to do that when he was unsure about something. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and kissed his cheek.

“It’s going to be okay, Frederick, you’re to be a wonderful cat dad. I believe in you.”

Frederick blushed and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, my love, I appreciate your faith in me, even though I’m still not sure what’s done to deserve it, or you.”

Before you could respond to that, Joanne came out her office and rushed toward you.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Joanne.” You enveloped her in a big hug and then motioned to Frederick. “Joanne, this is Dr. Frederick Chilton, my Frederick.”

Frederick gave you the most loving of looks, and nearly melted into a puddle at your feet at sound of you referring to him as “your Frederick.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Chilton,” said Joanne, extending her hand.

“And you,” he replied, shaking hands.

“Well, I suppose you want to meet the little one; right this way!”

You and Frederick followed Joanne to cat section of the shelter. You walked past several cats, each one trying to get your attention from their enclosures. If you had your way, you’d take them all home, but you didn’t think Frederick was quite ready for that yet; but maybe one day…

“Here she is, “announced Joanne, stopping in front of one of the enclosures. A tiny black, fluffy kitten was inside, and her eyes lit up when she saw you. She was immediately on her feet, and you noticed she still had a slight limp in her injured leg, but she was full of energy and mewing incessantly. Joanne opened the door and carefully lifted her out. You reached out to take her, but the impatient kitten leapt out of Joanne’s hands and into your waiting arms.

“Oh! Hello! Hi baby, hi sweetheart,” you cooed.

“Mew, mew, mew!”

You looked into her eyes, and it was love at first sight. You did your best to hold onto her, shifting and adjusting your arms to accommodate her constant movement and attempts to climb up your shoulder. You gave her a little scratch between her ears and kissed her head. She was perfect.

“Mew! Mew!”

“Yes, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Frederick stood there watching you with the kitten, completely dumbstruck. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall anymore in love with you, you had to go and surprise him. You were a natural cat mom, cradling the tiny ball of fluff and talking to her like she was a human. He saw the kitten rub her nose against your chin and looked like she was giving you kisses. He also saw the look of pure love and joy on your face, and he lived for that, wanted to see that every day. He didn’t know anything about raising a cat, but for you, he would try.

**************

Joanne led you to a visitor’s room so that you and Frederick could spend some quality time getting to know the kitten. Frederick removed his coat and offered to take the kitten so that you could take off yours. You demonstrated how to hold the kitten and then handed her to Frederick. He held her close to chest and sat down.

“Mew?” the kitten looked up at him, confused as to who this new person was.

“It’s alright, little one, I’ve got you,” he tried to reassure her. A lock of his normally perfectly quaffed hair suddenly flopped in his face, and the kitten’s eyes grew wide.

“Mew?” she raised a paw and tentatively batted at Frederick’s hair. “Mew…”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you said, plopping down next to them on a bean bag chair. You saw the smile on his face and nudged him with your elbow. “See? She likes you. And I think she wants to play.” You looked around the room and saw the toy boxes, filled with various dog and cat toys, but then something else caught your eye. “Frederick?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Hand her back to me and take off your scarf, please.”

He did as he was told. You carefully placed the kitten on the carpet and proceeded to dangle the scarf in front if her. Her eyes went wide again, and then she crouched, wiggled her backside, and pounced. Her little paws batted at the scarf, then she would roll around kick at it with her hind legs.

“It certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Frederick chuckled. “So, what are we going to call her?”

“I was thinking ‘Buttercup”,” you said matter-of-factly.

“I am not the least bit surprised,” he replied, immediately picking up on your reference. He looked at the kitten. “Well, what do you think about that little one?”

“Mew?”

“Your name,” you told her, “Buttercup, do you like it?”

“Mew, mew.” She forgot about the scarf and crawled into your lap, kneading you with her paws.

“I think she likes it.” You threw Frederick a smile.

“Yes, I quite think she does. I have an idea, how about a story? Would you like that Buttercup?”

“Mew.” She replied with a yawn,

“Darling, if you check your bag, I believe you’ll find a book there.”

You checked your purse, and sure enough, in the largest section was a children’s book, one that you instantly recognized from your own childhood.

“If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?”

“It came highly recommended by the lady at the bookstore.”

“It’s perfect, Frederick.” You handed him the book and leaned your head against his knee. As he began to read, Buttercup curled up in your lap and shut her eyes, she was soon fast asleep, purring away. When he finished reading, Frederick caressed your cheek with hand to get your attention.

“So, shall we go find Joanne and make it official?”

“Yes,” you replied, gazing down at Buttercup, “If we don’t take her home today, I think I’ll cry.”

“Then let’s go fill out the paperwork and bring her home.”

[solomonish]

things my heart used to know (solomon x reader)

You find yourself stuck in an unusual contraption with Solomon, where the only way out is to take a trip through his memories that he was not prepared to take.

Based on Once Upon a December

Ao3 link: here!

With a spectacular grunt, you rammed your shoulder against a suspicious spot in the wall, hoping that just maybe you could bring the whole wall down or convince someone to help you out or something. Chances of that were low: you and Solomon had been alone when the mysterious magical device activated, trapping you both inside. Trying to shove the more hopeless thoughts of never escaping away, you continued to push at the wall, as if one spot would give and open up to let the two of you out.

Solomon was behind you, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked the picture of calm, a small smile playing with the corners of his mouth as he listened to your struggle. When you looked at him with the intention of giving him a glare, you saw the dim light in the box had turned from white to gold. With a cocked eyebrow, you pushed away from the wall as you felt it morph from stone to something smoother. “What’s…”

“It’s deciding which form to take,” Solomon answered as if that told you anything. Met with silence, he chuckled and pushed himself off of the wall to make his way over to you. “We’re in a memory box.”

“A memory box?” Inadvertently, you stepped closer to him, only stopping when your arm brushed gently across his. The sensation of the walls changing beneath your hands put the horrible thought of your hands getting stuck in a partially-morphed wall, and you wanted to stick next to him in case that really did happen.

Clearly amused, Solomon looked down at you, the teasing smirk on his face making him look much more condescending than he normally did. “Yes. They require a strong magical energy to work, and typically only work once. They’re especially popular with those of us who...have a lot of memories to sift through, but they can be used by anyone. I’m surprised this one lasted so long without being used...” 

As he talked, he walked forward, noting how you stuck close to his side and looked around nervously. The darkness was slowly dissipating and the focused light began to expand into a broader golden glow. The box transformed into a long hallway, the end opening into a room you couldn’t quite see into. Curiously, the walls around you started to shine, taking on their own gilded form. Intricate shapes were carved into the gold, reaching tall like palm trees. In front of each carving stood a gold pedestal, each with some artifact on it that looked to you like they belonged in a museum. 

Finally pulling apart from his side, you ran your fingers over one of the trees. The walls seemed stable, thankfully. “You seem to know a lot about these memory boxes. Have you used one before? Oooh, or did you create them?”

He picked up a small statuette, his gaze darkening for a moment as he stared at it absently. “I...am familiar with how they work.”

He placed the statuette down with a solid clink, drawing your attention from the wall and stopping you from commenting about how utterly unhelpful his response was. Had you said something wrong? His footsteps were faster than before as he made his way down the hall, barely glancing at the walls as if he had seen them before. Well, actually, he probably had. As far as you were aware, you didn’t have an intricate temple in your memories, so this must be coming from him.

Scurrying after him, you followed him through the shadowed doorway and stepped into a room that was just as ornate but not at all connected to the hallway you were just in. While the hall looked like some temple from the first century, the ballroom-like space before you seemed much more recent, if not still at least a hundred years old. You were standing on a high landing, having emerged from an archway several feet taller than you. You weren’t an architect or archaeologist, but you could guess the style of the architecture was different. Maybe...more European? Of some sort? Cringing, you tried to push the image of your humanities professor scowling at you out of your head and slowed your own steps, choosing instead to look at the high ceilings around you.

“I’ve never seen a place like this before…” You murmured in awe. Though the room was dark and clearly abandoned, you still felt a still kind of magic around you, different from what you normally felt around Solomon. He was a few feet to your left, looking at a separate old artifact and standing before a table littered with them. If you squinted, you could see what looked like wings stretched across a long serving dish, the paint chipped and faded. You couldn’t tell if it was an angel or a bird - the pinched expression on Solomon’s face didn’t give you any clues, either. A chill settled in the room, but only you shuddered, suddenly realizing that you were an intruder in these unfamiliar rooms. The thought had you awkwardly kicking at the worn rugs beneath you, the threads dirty and torn yet somehow still looking expensive.

Without a word, Solomon dug around in the bag he was carrying with him, hastily looking for something. You watched him drop it unceremoniously on the ground, bringing up a cloud of dirt around it. In his hand was the notebook he used to teach you different runes, a faint glow coming from the page following the stroke of his pen. The sound of the page being ripped from the binding seemed to fill the room, followed by his steady footsteps as he made his way to the grand staircase. You watched him go, only turning your head so as not to draw his attention.

After he passed, you cautiously sauntered over to the table Solomon was standing at, stooping to pick up the bag he left behind. Slinging the long strap across your chest, you picked up a bear figurine gilded in chipping gold, turning it so that it caught the light. All of the figures before you seemed to be masterful pieces of craftsmanship, regal things to be envied yet somehow seeming personal.  You were almost afraid to touch them for fear of offending the unknown owner.

Your hand fell to your side, bumping a cool metal box on the way and nearly knocking it off the table. Thankfully, you caught it and brought it to your face. Opening up the small lid to reveal another bear, this one standing up as if dancing one half of the tango, you gently turned it around to find the crank. It was old and a bit rusty, but still you turned it gently once, twice, three times until you could feel the springs coiled so tightly they might break. For a moment, you held your breath, then - 

Nothing. No sound came out of the box.

"Hmph. That's a shame," You murmured, tapping the side gently with your finger. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work and you set the box down on the table again. Turning over your shoulder, you called out, "So, what is this pl- ack!"

Just as you turned, a small display of glitter resembling fireworks shot out from Solomon's hand, the shimmering ash eating away at the paper that hovered in midair. Your shout of surprise didn't stir him, his back rigid and still facing you.. The quiet fizzle that caught you off guard became a visible stream of magic curling around him and you before spreading to the far corners of the room. 

You watched as the shadows were pushed into the walls before entirely disappearing, the magic gilding the ballroom and mending the disrepair it had fallen into. Tapestries unfurled to hang on the wall as the vibrancy of the old portraits returned. Overhead, empty arches found themselves holding large, crystalline chandeliers that bathed the room in a welcoming glow. Behind you, the music box started playing, the tune sounding like a full orchestra even if you knew it should only be a dissonant metallic tin. The extravagance caught your breath, nearly distracting you from the way the paintings began to shift and colors bled together.

With another wave of his hand, Solomon drew figures from the painting, hundreds spilling out as if a day had been broken. A few emerged from the floor, entering the ballroom the same way one would step out of a lake and onto the shore. Some of the figures wire masks, hiding their identity with the facade of thespian comedy. Others came as they were, wearing the same face in a variety of expressions. Despite the period clothing and many different hairstyles, the face was eerily familiar.

You watched ghoulish duplicates of Solomon traipse around the floor or mingle, talking to invisible counterparts animatedly. The figures that were not identical were faceless, aside from the occasional partner that seemed to exist in greater detail than any version of Solomon. The figures never stepped a foot on the staircase that was now covered in a rich red carpet - somehow, they were completely unaware of your presence yet seemed to know and respect that you and your Solomon lived in reality. They were citizens of the mindscape, figments of the past, and the barrier between what is and what was should not have been breached.

So caught up in your shock were you that you failed to notice Solomon head down the stairs, as if in a trance, and breach that barrier.

Once you saw him slipping between the ghostly figures, expertly sidestepping them as if he had studied their waltz for years, you called out to him. But he did not answer, too focused on the people milling around him. Maybe your voice was drowned out by the faux chorus around you. With a huff, you gripped the strap across your chest and followed him, walking down the stairs so quickly you almost tripped.

The moment you reached the foot of the stairs, you felt as though you had stepped into a bubble. With a close eye on the figures around you, you picked your way through the crowd with significantly less grace than Solomon. You never lost sight of him in his dark clothes, the dancers only distorting his image as if you were looking through water or a warped mirror as they passed in front of your line of sight. One pair accidentally passed through you, sending a harsh arctic chill down your spine. You watched that Solomon, his hair slightly neater and sporting a ridiculous frilly neck accessory you might have made fun of under different circumstances, pay no mind to you and instead look down at his companion. His expression was mischievous, scheming, but the woman he was dancing with had a face of static, barring you from reading her reaction.

Clutching tighter to the bag strap, you hastened your pace and tried to maneuver through the spirits, occasionally brushing your elbow or hip through the people around you. Each time it sent a different shiver through you, some icy while others were warm and tingled your skin. Surrounded by phantom Solomons only made you more eager to find your place next to the real one again, but the static shock you got from passing through the hurdles made you all the more careful in your steps. Who knew finding your way through a crowd you could walk right through would be harder than finding your way through a collection of solid bodies?

Near the center of the room, you found yourself in an open area with Solomon, your Solomon, standing in the middle. It seemed the translucent versions of himself knew to steer clear of him. You watched, standing just on the edge of where the crowd seemed to circle around him, watching as he took in his surroundings. Then, slowly, Solomon turned to you as if realizing for the first time that you were there.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. All your words tangled together, the confusion only growing when Solomon reached a hand out to you, palm up. The gaze he held you in was unfocused, his expression the closest to unkind you had ever seen. Even if there were no right decisions, rejecting his offer to dance seemed like the absolute wrong one. With the same timid air as a schoolgirl at her first dance, you placed your hand in his. For a moment, you felt vulnerable as you untucked your arms from your chest, only to feel at ease once Solomon pulled you in. His hand fell to your waist with a practiced ease. If he had been focused, maybe you would've felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, or maybe you would've laughed nervously. His far away gaze kept the joy down, and instead you pressed your lips in a tight line, watching him closely and allowing him to take the lead.

He fell into step with his doppelgangers, directing you through a path of the specters with the firm hand on your waist. Your time at Diavolo's party helped a little, but back then you hadn't been so worried about your partner. (Well, aside from the time Lucifer asked to dance with you only to threaten you - but then you were more worried about what your partner would do to you and not his emotional wellbeing.) It was all you could do to avoid stumbling over your own feet, barely missing his ties with your heavy steps. 

"Solomon…" You breathed out, noticing how his gaze stuck to the spirits for a moment too long before turning to you. Your questions died in your throat - Are you okay? What's happening? What memory is this? How do we get out of here? - but he could read your expression clear as day, even with his mind preoccupied. 

"These are all memories of me," He explained, leading you into a turn and  arely avoiding one of his copies. "I didn't have a specific memory in mind when we activated the box, so...perhaps it just started to play all of them in one."

"So you've been here before?" You asked, astonished.

"It's...familiar. I've been to lots of places. It's hard to tell."

A pair of dancers blew through you, sending a spark down both of your spines. You turned your head to see a version of Solomon look both ways, checking for onlookers that were nowhere to be found, before tenderly reaching towards the face of the man beside him. Before they could meet, Solomon turned you so his body was between you and the romantic scene, but you were able to catch a glimpse of the man's face. It was completely smooth, like an unchisled head to a statue. 

Solomon didn't make eye contact with you, a faint blush painting his cheeks. You squeezed his hand in the only reassurance you could give. "I don't mean to pry."

There was no answer, and you couldn't blame him. Even if you hadn't meant to peer into his memories, you were witnessing versions of himself he didn't tell you about, versions of himself he might not even remember. You didn't know if he was dancing with you to angle you away from the things he didn't want to see or just to keep you close, but the fact that you were even around to be swept up in the sea of Solomons was too personal for him to dwell on.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Solomon's attention was grabbed by someone on the other end of the room. His grip on your hand tightened and he tucked you slightly closer to himself, spinning you in order to turn your course. You couldn't keep up with his faster footwork, nearly tumbling to the ground and only saved by his firm grasp. Solomon wasn't paying attention to you, though; his focus was on whoever he was pursuing, his turns tight as he guided you into a small circle around the room. 

The fast turns were making you dizzy, unexpectedly jostling you every time his target moved from his sight. Feebly, you used the hand resting on his shoulder to push him gently away, asking him to stop. The more he spun, the harder you pushed, occasionally asking him to slow down. He wasn't hurting you, but you were hoping that if you could get his attention he might stop. The figures around you were whirling, spinning, disorienting you - was that how dizzy and overwhelmed he felt every day, or just now? 

Without warning, the figures around you stretched an arm out as their partners spun away from them, their fingers barely brushing past each other as they disappeared into thin air. As the remain figures turned to fade into their own memories, Solomon did the same to you. You tried to keep your hands connected, hoping maybe if you kept your fingertips on his he could you bring you back to him bring his thoughts with you. That didn't happen, and you felt your fingertips drag across his palm as you stumbled backwards.

Brushing your hair out of your face, you huffed and looked around. It was just you and Solomon in the room again, the Golden facade having faded back into the dim, abandoned ballroom from before. Solomon was staring at a blank space a few feet from the wall, his face scrunched as if watching the world rip something from him. Perhaps he was; perhaps he was watching one of the few faces he could remember beside his own, maybe one of the ones he loved, fade away from his grasp again.

This wasn't about you - clearly, none of the memories were for you to see - but you felt a creeping loneliness settling around you. Solomon was not only lost in his own world, but in hundreds of his own worlds, where details blurred and recognizable friendly faces were a luxury. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you noticed that the music box was now playing music, the kind you'd expect from such a dainty trinket. Now, the sound seemed hollow and eerie, far from how charming you thought it would be before.

Hesitantly, you took one step towards him as the song dwindled to a stop, but the click of your shoe echoed far too aggressively in the room. The walls were slowly returning to the non-descript box you were in before, but Solomon wasn't moving from his spot. The memories would always be swirling around in his head, you supposed. He had to take his time to bridge the gap between you - even if to you, it seemed insurmountable and ever-growing.

[writingsbychlo]

poker night | stiles stilinski

word count; 9320

summary; you and stiles have grown close since leaving for college, and the pack coming to visit is the little push you need to finally cross that bridge.

notes; this is teh second fic for my birthday week/7,000 follower celebration!

warnings; smut, drug use, underage drinking.

Excitement and pure joy were coursing through your veins as you watched out of the open curtains down to the street below, the sun just beginning to set as the late evening moved into early night, and you heard Stiles chuckle from across the room where he was tipping various chips into different bowls to lay out beside the poker table he’d rented that sat in the middle of the room.

“Excited, much?”

“Yes!” 

You turned to look at him, giving him a pointed stare as you dropped your hand from holding open the curtains to instead place both of your hands on your hips, giving him a wide smile as you rocked on the balls of your feet, and he returned the wide grin, crumpling up the foil packets and dropping them all into the bin as he deemed the room ready. He was lucky, he had a rather large dorm, and all to himself, far bigger than yours was but you were still convinced that the pre-FBI program gave each of their candidates far better university living than the rest of you got. There was plenty of space for everyone to cram in, some of them choosing hotels in the area and some of them choosing to stay with Stiles, it had been a squeeze to get everyone in, but it was worth it.

You hadn't seen your pack since the day you’d left Beacon Hills.

It was hard to be away from them all for so long, after everything you had all been through, and yet you knew you had it easier than most. Stiles had only been a fifteen-minute drive from your accommodation, and so the two of you had grown infinitely closer than you had ever been, relying on one another heavily to make the transition easier. Lydia had called you every day for the first month and a half, and you’d all had weekly facetime sessions, but it just hadn't been the same.

With the first year coming to a close and everyone being far too broke to be able to afford to actually go anywhere, you’d settled on a few days up at college together for a small but parent-free vacation before the journey home. 

It was the perfect opportunity for you all to get unnecessarily drunk, excessively high, and eat a lot of junk food, all while not having to worry about any oncoming attack that might strike, as the year-marker of safety was quickly approaching. Naturally, Stiles had decided to set a theme, and where was the place that drinking and gambling was the norm? Vegas. So of course, Stiles had gone all out with renting a poker table and set, and hanging vaguely Vegas-themed decorations around the place. He was even wearing a t-shirt with a tux pattern printed on the front, and had managed to convince you into wearing your party shirt with the flapper-style tassels on to match. 

“C’mon, Stiles, it’s been almost a year since we’ve seen anyone from the pack, why aren’t you bouncing off of the roof with excitement?”

“I’ve seen one person from the pack all year.” He prompted, shooting you a playful wink and laughing as you rolled your eyes at him, before throwing away all the wrappers and holding his arms out for you in an invitation for a hug.

Accepting his offer, you moved away from the window and let him wrap his arms around your waist, barely a sliver of space between your bodies as you looked up at him and sighed. “I’m nervous. It’s been so long since we’ve seen them all, and I love them all so much, but nothing bad has happened since we’ve all been separated but what if just when we all get together again, something bad happens, and we don’t even get to enjoy it an-”

He shushed you gently, using one hand to weave through your hair and tuck it away behind your ear, his eyes fixed on you carefully as the playlist you and Stiles had spent a whole week building was playing in the background, waiting for everyone to arrive to appreciate it. “Bad things don’t happen when we’re all together, bad things happened because we were in Beacon Hills. We aren’t in Beacon Hills anymore, and we aren’t scared kids anymore, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You wanna’ cheer up? Nobody can be sad in faux-Vegas!” He cheered, waving his arm around the room, and you chuckled, catching his face brighten even further as he watched the worry slip away from your features, his lips brushing your forehead before he was tucking you under his chin, and holding you tightly. 

You were only still for a second, the two of you swaying slowly before you heard the tell-tale signs of a car pulling up outside, the engine dying and doors slamming, and an excited gasp left your lips. “I bet that’s them!”

His fingers laced with yours and he was moving before you were, the two of you speeding over to the window to peer out, catching sight of Derek’s black car, the man himself leaning against it and waiting as Mason and Liam pulled their bags out of the trunk, Scott sitting in the passenger seat with the door open and his bag in his lap. Both yours and Stiles’ phone were chiming a second after he put his own away, notification in your group chat as he informed you both that they’d arrived, unaware of you watching on from the window with anticipation.

The group was on the move, the car locked and disappearing from sight as they entered the building's lobby area, and Lydia had offered her own ETA as the others all chipped in theirs, and just like that, your fears were gone as you swung open the front door and peered out into the corridor while you waited.

Within forty minutes of the Beacon Hills group arriving, everybody was here, and drinks had been cracked open, snacks dug into, and you were all lounging around and catching up on missed gossip and news, sharing photos and stories that you had wanted to tell in person and saved just for this moment.

Pizza boxes were piled high within two hours, and smoke was filling the air, giggles and laughs shared all around as the group simply rejoiced in being back together once again. Liam and Mason had told you all about the latest shit that Coach had been dishing out, and all the pranks that they had committed, as well as Mason, blushing when Lydia and Kira had pressed him about Corey. Scott and Derek had given a brief update about everything that had happened in Beacon Hills, which was surprisingly little with all things considered, and Lydia had tried to inform you all about the advanced placement work she had been doing in her classes, but had lost you all at some point as it became far too complex for you all to understand, and so instead had switched to telling you about the cute guy she had met at the coffee shop three months ago. 

Kira and Malis had been travelling, the pair had recently been all over Europe exploring, and had even visited Isaac in France and Jackson in London, before they’d finally returned home to see everyone. They dished out all the little souvenirs that they had bought, and shared them out with you all before showing you pictures and telling you the stories behind each trip. You had shared your own stories, all the funny ones you had of Stiles falling over or spilling something in public, and he embarrassed you just as much, teasing you until your cheeks were red and he was cuddling you into his side and ruffling your hair as everyone laughed. 

It was like nothing had ever changed, and you loved it.

The night had drifted on with natural progress until the music had been turned down to a lower level with the late hours, and the hazy atmosphere had everyone moving sluggishly and lazily as empty bottles littered the floor and the stubs of many dead blunts sat in the ashtray on the edge of the poker table, even the wolves having a little wolfbane laced treats to help them hit the mood just as much as all of the non-wolves had. 

You were currently lounging across both Liam and Malia on the couch, lay out over them as you continually brushed off your midriff, crumbs dropping down onto your top each time Liam took a bite of the chip dish that was positioned between him and Mason, the two absolutely gone as they laughed and giggled among themselves about everything and anything. 

Alongside their voices, and the conversation between yourself, Malia and the boys, was the rustle of cards and clinking of poker-chips, and you were itching for more physical affection than you were getting now, your inhibitions lowered and your need for physical attention through the roof from the substances racing through your bloodstream. Your sights honed in on Stiles, hair messy from playing with it and back facing you, your chair long abandoned from where you’d given up on cards when they’d started the real gambling, and you’d remembered just how crap you were at the game. 

Getting up onto wobbly legs, you made your way across the room, resting your hands on Stiles’ shoulder as you stood behind him, smoothing them down his chest and he placed his beer down, licking the excess of the bitter liquid from his lips and placing the hand on top of one of yours, squeezing lightly as he turned to look at you. 

“Hi, cutie. What d’you need?”

“Nothin’.” You sighed, slumping down further and resting your chin on the top of his head, used to the sweet little nicknames he fixed you with, and you relaxed against him as he leaned back a little further in the chair and pushed himself a few inches out front he table, seeming to predict your next words before you had even spoken them; “Was just feeling like I wanted some attention.”

“Hm, well c’mere, you can play cards, I’ve seen your poker face in the midst of some much more intense situations than this, I think you can handle it.”

You flicked him in the ear for his joke about all your supernatural struggles, but he held your hand and guided you around him to stand by his side, making space for you to sink down atop him and get comfy.

Slumping down across the boy’s lap with a deep sigh, your legs were slung across his at an angle, and his arms were quick to wind around your waist, one hand tucking itself under your shirt to seat on the heated skin of your waist, and the other held his cards limply in his hand, but his focus was no longer on them. You’d long since given up on the game, barely able to hold a focus as your mind spun from the hazy smoke in the air, and the taste of bitter-sweet alcohol still lingering in your mouth. 

Slightly sticky lips brushed your shoulder as he peppered the bare skin with sweet kisses, and you turned your head to give the boy a dopey smile, watching as his own face creased in a beaming grin in response. His eyes were blown wide, slightly widened and his hair messy from constant playing with it, the arm of yours that wasn’t sitting around his neck for support was lifting up so that you could weave a hand into the chocolate locks, and he sighed out softly at the contact, letting you twist in his arms to face him even more. 

“Like it when you play with my hair.”

“Mhm, I know.” 

Your words were mumbled in response and he chuckled under his breath as his eyes fluttered shut, tipping his head into your hand, before a voice coughed loudly and the two of your jumped, eyes snapping open and focus moving back to the poker table before you both, other members of the pack gathered around and smirking at you both knowingly, but you let out a deep sigh and only relaxed into the boy under you even further. 

“Stop looking at us like that.” 

“Like what, exactly?” Lydia all but purred out her words, and you shot her a pointed look, as the others around the table all tried to muffle their laughs of agreement. Derek was looking at his cards and trying to bite away his smile by nibbling on the inside of his cheek, Scott and Kira were pretending to discuss their hand at cards, but were shooting the pair of you small looks throughout their whispered conversation, and Lydia was staring at you with a challenging smirk. You could even feel the members of the others scattered around you watching on, the pack spread out around the smoke room, the funky smell hanging off of everyone and everything.

“You know what like. You’re looking at us like you know something we don’t, like it’s a joke only we aren’t a part of.” 

You felt a nose push at the underside of your jaw and tipped your head up to allow the boy more space to nose at the space under your jaw and by your ear, letting him just gain his own affections to his heart’s content, and this only spurred on Lydia’s piercing stare at the two of you. “You aren’t a part of a joke, and in fact, it’s incredibly unfunny. However, I do know something you don’t. We all do.”

“Care to share?”

It was the first night in almost a year that the pack had all been together. Lydia had finished her exams early, Scott had gotten ahead on his training with Deaton to create time, and Liam and Mason had ditched their last week. Derek had driven them all up here, and Lydia had come down from her college to see you all. Kira had come with Malia on the plane after they had recently finished their travels of Europe, and you had come across from your own dorms.

It was barely a travel, you and Stiles went to colleges that were only ten miles apart, and so you were hanging out regularly during the week, you were the only two that had seen each other in person since leaving for college and not just via facetime, and in this time, the two of you seemed to have grown even closer than you had ever been despite all the supernatural drama you had been through. 

“C’mon, you two have gotten so close since we all left for college.”

“So?” you and Stiles spoke at once, looking to Scott for his comment, before you were giggling and sharing glances in your utterly smoked out state, finding entertainment in your joint statement. 

“Nothing.. ‘sparked’ in that time?” 

You took a deep sigh, your eyes wandering around the room, flicking from Lydia to Malia, before back to the redhead who was watching you intensely. “Feels a bit weird to talk about this in front of two of his exes.”

“So, there is something to talk about!” Lydia shouted the words like she had suddenly realised the key to life, looking far more excited than someone who just discovered their best friends having feelings for their ex should look. “God, finally, I’ve only been staying with you for three days and the sexual tension is already too much for me to handle.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles questioned, breath fanning over your face from where he was all but mouthing at your jaw, dry kisses pressed there as he held you to his chest tightly, having put his cards down on the table at some point so hold you with both hands. 

“When I left, you two were friends who would hug, now you’re this pair who are all over each other without even realising it! I mean, the two of you are closer right now than Scott and Kira have ever been!” The couple that was involved against their will let out various noises of complaints, being waved off by the redhead and they comforted one another with small kisses, both you and Stiles shrugging languidly. “Listen, Malia and Stiles ended ages ago, and Stiles and I were barely a couple, we didn’t even sleep together, so don’t feel weird.”

“Way to boost my ego, Lydia.” The brunette under you sighed, but you only squeezed yourself around him tighter, feeling him reciprocate the emotions and push his hand even further up over your ribs. 

“Even I can smell the arousal and longing rolling off of the two of you in waves. Just admit it to each other already.” Derek muttered, shifting his cards before pushing some of his counters into the middle, and despite all the alcohol and weed in your system, your eyes went wide as you shifted to look at the boy underneath you, his lips parted a little as he gave you a nervous smile. 

“You’re longing? For me?” 

He grinned widely, his head tipping to the side, cheeks flushed with warm heat, before he licked over his lips and nodded slowly. “Yeah, since like the first month when you stayed that whole weekend to binge marvel movies with me so I didn’t feel alone and you did that dance thing while you were making pancakes on Saturday.” He paused, thinking over his words, before he was leaning in a little and bumping his nose with yours as your hand came out of his hair to sit on his cheek delicately. “You’re aroused? By me?”

Your breath hitched, and he smirked very lightly at your response, his lips brushing yours when you nodded. “Yeah, ever since the day you came over right after going to the gym and you were all sweaty and asked if I minded if you used my shower and then you walked around with your shirt off before dinner. I definitely didn’t mind.”

He laughed lightly at your statement, his eyes glazing over a little as he remembered the day. “Are you longing, too?”

“Mhm. Are you also aroused?” Your question hung heavily in the air and he let out a soft sound under his breath as you asked him.

“Of course.”

“Cool.” You both spoke the single syllable word at the same time, your eyes closing as your fingers dug into his jaw a little, your breathing as light and shallow as everyone else in the room seemed to fade away. It was simply the two of you, sharing breath and his tongue brushing your lips when it peeked out of his mouth to wet his own, and you whimpered under your breath so quietly only he would hear it, to which his hands tightened on your flesh as he picked up on the sound. 

“You want to go back to your place?”

“Oh, definitely.” You nodded rapidly, and he beamed shifting in your lap, taking a swig of his drink as he downed the rest of the glass, and slipped his hand into your back pocket as the rest of the group stared at the two of you with wide eyes, shock evident on their faces about how easy that conversation had really been, but you didn’t care, because Stiles was running the pads of his fingers very subtly over your ass and squeezing through your pocket, even as he stared down everyone else in the room, and your skin was beginning to feel hot from something entirely other than the atmosphere in his dorm that you had all created. “We need a cab.”

“We can call one and makeout in the doorway while we wait, go get your bag.” He pulled his touch away from you, placing a playful slap on your ass and grinning at the way you squeaked before scurrying away to gather your belongings, and he was grabbing his wallet, throwing down a handful of notes on the table, quickly booking an Uber with the app on his phone. 

When your hand slipped into his again the shocked looks had morphed into smirks, the only three teams still sitting around the table were reshuffling cards and setting themselves up to play, Stiles telling them all not to wait up for him to come home, before he was pulling you from the room and towards the door. “You booked a cab?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re going to make out in the doorway until it gets here?”

“Fuck, yes.” He tipped his head to look at you, slamming the front food shut and guiding you towards the stairs you were so familiar with, as the two of you set off on your quick and stumbling journey toward the main entrance to the building. 

“Will you grab at my ass again like you were before?”

“Do you want me to?” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, however, before his fingers were leaving yours and moving over your lower back to grab at your ass roughly, feeling your shake as he curled you into his side, the two of you inching down the lower staircase. “Like that?”

“Yeah?”

“Honestly, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“I’m going to remember that for later.” You punctuated your words with a nibble on his lower lip, glancing up into his swirling whiskey eyes through your lashes, and he groaned under his breath, letting himself nod slowly as he used his grip on your ass to pull your body flush up against his. His mouth descended onto your own once again, catching your lips in a fiery kiss, instantly parting as the lust took over your both, tripping and stumbling down the final few steps as he pressed you into the wall beside the door, uncaring for who may see the pair of you as his tongue tangled with your own, visible between your parted mouths whenever your heads twisted to the side for deeper access. 

It was sloppy and wet, and a clash of moans and whimpers as the two of you teased done another endlessly with a mixture of slow and ongoing kisses that alternated with needy and rushed ones, teeth clashing and lips dragging.

Hands roamed one another’s bodies, your palms tracing over the broad and hardened planes of his chest, the workouts he had been on for the pre-FBI fitness programs had done things to his body that lacrosse never did, and you were sure the day you’d seen Stiles do a pull-up was the day you realised rolling over guys may actually be a thing. The muscles twitched and tensed under your fingertips, and his hands were rubbing along you back all the way to your upper thighs, exploring your body as he pinched and squeezed in places that made your body jerk and twitch into him. 

His lips were working along your neck as your heart raced, your eyes closed and back arching up, chests pressed flush together, and the what around the two of you almost felt like it was too much. The fingers that were sitting low on your waist slipped even further, grazing along you covered pussy through you jeans, ad he pushed down teasingly on the spot he knew your clit would be, biting down on the joint between your shoulder and your neck when he heard you moan his name out breathlessly at the simple action.

He dragged his tongue over the spot, moving in to dip back down to kiss you, before the two of you were breaking through your haze at the sound of a horn honking, and the phone in his back pocket was buzzing. He was panting for breath as he pulled back from you, only one hand still touching you as his fingers laced with your own, a stark contrast from every part of him pressed to every part of you only seconds prior. 

“Good thing, one minute longer and I probably would’ve had my hands down your pants right here in the doorway.”

He gave you a sultry wink, before he was pulling you along to the car waiting on the edge of the road, ignoring your wide eyes and stuttering words, holding the door open for you and helping you inside like a gentleman, like he hadn't just threatened public nudity and a great orgasm only seconds prior. He was seconds behind you, confirming his identity and booking to the driver, and as the car took up motion on the short journey once again, he turned back to you.

“You okay, baby? You look flushed.” You turned to look at him, sensing the light tone in his voice that was playfully disguising the question underneath as to whether you still wanted this, and you nodded gently, taking his face in your hands and pulling his face down so that you could peck his lips. 

“I like it when you call me baby.”

“You do?” He dragged his nose along your cheek, brushing a kiss to your skin, the intimate and sweet touches making you blush hot and red under his touch, his chuckle so soft that only you could hear it. 

“Yeah. We could have been doing this for months, y’know.”

“Making out in a taxi and trying not to feel each other up to much before we get back to your place?” He joked, tucking an arm over your shoulder and you settled into his side, your hands playing with his other one as it sat on your thigh and squeezed lightly. 

“I was going to say being together, but sex works too.” Your words were whispered out, and he twisted until he was nuzzling affectionately into your hairline. 

“You want that? To be together with me?”

“Well, I wasn’t longing for fun.” You scoffed, and he shifted his hands to lace your fingers together, his arm squeezing you tighter to him. 

“I can’t say I always knew we were meant to be, or that I spent my whole child and teenhood pining after you, but I really think we would be special together, and I think we could go a long way together.” You rolled your eyes at his affections, but the alcohol and drugs in your body were making you emotional, and you sniffed away your feelings as you pushed your face into his neck, pressing a kiss to his skin in a silent acknowledgement of his statement. 

“Together, then.”

“Together.” He confirmed, and the scenery flashing by before you both was quickly coming to an end, Stiles confirming a payment to come out of his bank account, before he was thanking the driver and watching as you clambered from the car to stand before your own building, Stiles stumbling out behind you and pressing himself up to your back as the two of you giggled in your drunkenness. 

It was an awkward walk between the two of you, you back pressed to the wall of your elevator as you each tried to hit the right button for your floor, seeming to hit every single one but the right one, and the journey was filled with shared giggling ad little moans as you let him kiss and lick at your neck, marking your skin with red marks that would be dark by the morning. His hands had fished your keys out of your pocket, and he was holding them up before you as the two of you all but raced along the corridor to your room. 

The door slammed off of the wall as you made your way in, dropping the keys to the floor and kicking the door shut behind you as he navigated you on the path he knew so well toward your bedroom, the light feeling in the air gone as lust and heat replaced it, your mouths meshing together in urgent kisses that begged for more, wandering hands and tugs of material, your jacket pushed from your shoulder to the floor and your hands tucked underneath his t-shirt as you finally got to feel the abs that you had so often watched sweat run down when he’d taken you to do workouts with him, or showed up at your place straight after the gym or a run. 

Pulling his own shirt up and over his head, your hands were immediately drawn to the exposed skin of his chest. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on, but it was the first time you’d been allowed to actually look, to touch, and your fingertips were pressing into the smooth skin, palms flat to his flushed chest, pink and shining with a light layer of sweat from the heat forming between the two of you. “Damn, Sti.”

“What? Still thought I was the skinny kid with the buzzcut from sophomore year?”

“No, you’ve spent enough time wandering around without your shirt on while I’m around for me to know you’re hot, it’s just now I can actually appreciate it.” You flashed your teeth at him in a cheeky grin, and he gave a breathless chuckle in response, the muscles in his stomach tightening as your fingers dragged down over the taut flesh, until your nails were scratching at the trail of dark hairs below his navel, hooking into his dark jeans.

“I wouldn't have minded if you’d appreciated it before.” You tipped your head up, kissing along the underside of his jaw gently, licking at the smooth flesh from where he had shaved earlier in the day, and his breathing shallowed as you did, his fingers tightening on your hips. “Okay, no fair, shirt off, baby. I’ve been wanting to know what your tits looked like since you wore that red bikini to the pool party I took you to.”

You went almost the same shade as the aforementioned garment as he whispered the filthy words into your ear, and he pushed his hands up under your shirt, hands inching the flimsy material up until it was sitting just under your bra, his thumbs smoothing out over your skin and brushing at the wire of your bra. “You sure you want to do this? We don’t have to. I swear, I’d be more than happy to just cuddle with you and watch movies like we always do on Tuesday nights, just s-”

Your lips met his, pressing a deep and longing kiss to his lips, and he moaned into your mouth when the connection was made, your bodies coming up flush against one another as you moved your hands back up to loop around his neck. Your fingers weaved into his hair, one hand behind his head as the other cradled his jaw, and he tipped his head to the side, your noses bumping and brushing as his tongue dipped out to tempt your lips to open up for him. Instead of allowing that, however, you were pulling away, just enough until your lips were barely brushing his, letting him groan out in dissatisfaction. 

Pulling your shirt up and over your head and dropping it to the ground, his eyes widened as he took in the sight of your exposed chest, all other than the simple white bra you were wearing underneath, and your jaw dropped as you suddenly remembered the underwear that was clad on your body. 

“I wasn’t expecting this when I put my comfy underwear on today, I have way cuter bras than this.” 

He smirked, popping the button on your jeans so that they were loose enough for him to tug down softly, until they were tight around your thighs, your jaw hanging open as both of his palms slipped down to squeeze at your ass. “I was assuming you wouldn't be wearing the cute blue thong when you had no idea what would happen tonight. Besides, if you'll let me, I’d much rather have your underwear off and on the floor, with my head between your thighs and my hands on your tits instead.”

“How do you know about my cute blue thong?” You whined, tipping your head back with false-irritation in your voice, and letting him kiss down your neck as your hair fell back behind you. 

“You do your laundry with me every week, sometimes I’d see what was going into the machines, and that piece caught my eye, I always hoped I’d get to see it on you, and we have plenty of time for that. Besides, I’m wearing boxers with hotdogs printed on, so don’t worry about it.” His fingers moved one of the straps of your bra away, letting it fall away to sit on the side of your arm, exposing your shoulder to him, and you own hands found the clasp behind your back, undoing it for him and watching as his eyes focused in one your breasts, nipples already hard under the material, and he licked at his lips as he stared down at your chest. “Shit, you have such perfect tits.”

You took one of his wrists in your hands, dragging the limp limb up until his palm was pressing over your skin, a content sigh falling from your lips was beyond your control as his fingers twitched and he took control once again, squeezing at the fleshy mound you had given him access to. His thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple teasingly, rolling the taut bud between the pads, and your back arched up, pressing even further into him. 

Dipping down, he took the other between his teeth, pulling lightly before sealing his lips around it, his arm wrapped around your lower back so that he could tip you backwards, your hips pressing into his and the bulge in his jeans becoming obvious as you found yourself flush up against one another. 

“I really need to know what else that mouth can do, and what else you’ve got hidden, and then when we’re all fucked out, we can definitely cuddle and watch a movie. First, though, I want you to make sure I scream loud enough that my neighbours know your name.”

“And here I was thinking I’d be doing the dirty talk, huh?” He sighed out against your skin, pulling away from your breast with a ‘pop’, the skin wet and shiny and he moved back up to brush his mouth with yours. “You got it, princess.” 

His hands found your hips, pushing you backwards onto the bed, and he was pulling your jeans the rest of the way down your legs, taking your socks and shoes as he went, stripping you down to just the polka dot cotton panties you wore, and your hair fanned out around you on the bed as your chest rose and fell, mind spinning as you tried to gather yourself, the whole motion had happened so quickly. His hands were on your knees, pushing your thighs apart until he could settle on the mattress between them, and lick a long stripe up along your covered core, spit soaking you underwear, but the feeling of his hot breath against you was already making you tremble underneath him. 

“Can’t wait to taste you, I bet you’re sweet, hm? That okay? I’ve been dreaming ‘bout getting my head between these thighs, or having you ride my face, cum on my tongue, how’s that sound?” 

“Yes! Yes, to all of it, whatever you want!” Your words were promising for him, and he caught your eye as you propped yourself up on you elbows to look at him, his eyes blown with lust and dark as he hooked his fingers into the elastic of the waistband, tugging the material away from your swiftly, and he let out a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a moan as your glistening folds were put on display for him, with no barrier between. 

“Oh, fuck, you look so good. All spread out for me, dripping wet and blushing. You’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Stiles.” 

“You absolutely fucking are, and I’ll prove just how perfect I think you are.” His lips descended onto yours as he leaned over you, one hand holding him up as you shared a sloppy and heated kiss, the clashing of teeth and tangling of tongues, wet sounds audible in the room as the two of you frantically dove into one another's mouths, exploring and becoming familiar with new territory. The other hand snaked down between your body, cautious fingers dragging along your drenched skin as two digits parted your folds, swirling in the built-up wetness and bumping against your clit. “Shit, you’re so wet. All for me, yeah?”

“All for you, Stiles, you really have no idea what you do to me.”

“Mhm, I think I do.” He joked, grinding his hips down into one of your thighs, pressing the erection that was straining into his jeans into your thigh, and you both let out whimpers at the action. 

“Then fuck me, Stiles, show me I affect you like you affect me. Fuck me, now.”

“I will, I promise.” He cooed, grinning into your skin, his face buried in your neck as he sunk a single finger into you, all the way down to the knuckle, feeling your velvety walls clench around him immediately, coating his skin in your juices. “I gotta’ open you up first, get you ready for m’ cock, okay? And, I do just really want to fuck you with my tongue.” 

With that, he was slipping out of your eyesight and down your body, his arms wrapping under your thighs as he situated himself between your legs, letting out a shaky breath as he lapped at his lips and stared lustfully at your centre. You felt drunk on his touch, everything in your world seeming hazy and blurry as he pressed kisses up along the inside of your thighs, his teeth dragging against the soft skin, and you felt your breath hold in your lungs as he came to the apex of your thighs. That second-long pause felt like it dragged on for hours, before his tongue was finally dragging slowly along your core, a trail from your entrance to your clit, and a loud moan tore from you at the feeling of his mouth on you. 

His lips sealed around your clit, sucking harshly, and your back arched up from the bed as he barely did anything, and yet pleasure was already spiking along your entire body. He dragged his tongue, flat and warm, over the bud and made sure that he moved as slowly as possible, teasing you endlessly, despite how much you wanted more. You wanted to remember this moment and make the most of it, but you couldn't think about anything but the pure bliss Stiles was giving to you, the way he was drinking up every drop of arousal you made, the way he was sucking and nibbling at your core in a most delectable way that had a heat curling in your belly and your body somewhere between relaxed and tense. 

Once he was satisfied that he had licked up everything you had already given, his mouth closed over you, the tip of his tongue poking and prodding at your entrance and teasing the hole, before dipping his tongue into you, and he groaned out as his mouth was flooded with more waves of your juices. You clenched around the wet muscle eagerly, feeling the way your own body was reacting to him like you never had with anyone else, and your hips rocked up into his face, rolling in repeated motions to meet the thrusts of his tongue in and out of you. 

“Fuck, Stiles!”

His chuckle was muffled against your core, the feeling of it vibrating along you body though, and the upturned tip of his cute little nose was once again you downfall, though now instead of being due to making your heart race, it was instead form the way it was nudging against the throbbing bud nestled between your legs, and you felt the nerves in you body zapping and jolting with electricity each time he tilted his head or dove into you even deeper than he already was. 

His fingers were digging into your thighs, holding you close to him as you cried out his name, and he was moaning into your centre with each flick of his tongue and drag of his lips against your dripping cunt, slurping sounds that would make a pornstar blush, and you brought up a shaky hand to thread into his hair, tugging on the chocolate locks in warning. You felt the heat overwhelm you, your body tensing and back arching up until it was no longer on the bed and your legs clamping around his head as you came, his name leaving your lips as a sob when he bit down on your clit just enough to spur on your orgasm with a little more power. 

Your body was shaking and muscles cramping up, your skin shining with a sheen of sweat and he continued to greedily lap at your hole until you were oversensitive and pushing him away prying your own legs open to release him, and when he popped back into your line of sight, he was wearing own of the cockiest looks you had ever seen on him. His cheeks and chin were shining, and his lips were swollen, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in the strands and he kissed his way back up your body, smearing your sin with your own fluids, and taking his time in making sure he had kissed and licked at every bit of skin, until his mouth was moving across your cheek and back to your lips. 

“You tasted so fucking good, you want to try?” His words were deep, and seductive, and his voice was raspier than you had ever heard it, even in the mornings when the two of you had fallen asleep slumped against one another on the couch after marathoning a new TV show. You found yourself nodding before you even really processed the words, and he beamed down at you with a filthy smile, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down and opening your mouth just enough for his tongue to slither out and play with yours when his lips slanted across your own. 

It was a taste you weren’t used to, foreign in your mouth and unexpected and yet it was just a little sweet, like he had said. It was mixed with the taste of him, one which you much preferred but at this point every inhibition you had was thrown out of the window because right now you were drowning in the way his lips played with your own, his lips tempting yours into the interaction alongside his. For a few minutes, you just lay there, your fingers weaved into his hair as you made out, lazy and messy and hot in a way you couldn't even begin to explain, but each kiss left you breathless and craving more, and each flittering touch of his hands along your body as he moved them, dragging them over every limb and expanse of skin, had your body setting alight once again.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel fucking incredible.” You smiled up at him dopily, and he laughed down at you, the moment so incredibly intimate that you felt like your heart was swelling up, and his finger tapped the tip of your nose, before brushing over your kiss-bitten and pouted lips, letting you kiss the pad of his finger. 

“Yeah? That’s good, I like this. Us. I like us being like this, it sorta’ feels like one of those lazy Sunday mornings. Don’t you think?” Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you pulled up your legs to clamp around his hips, humming thoughtfully as you considered his words. 

“I do, but-” you paused in your words, flipping the two of you over, and he let out a sound of sunrise and shock, before he was staring up at you in awe and swallowing thickly as he found himself on his back, watching your tits bounce above him as you leaned down, hair framing your face and lips barely touching his. “-if this was a lazy Sunday morning, you definitely wouldn't be wearing jeans, and I would be able to ride you a lot easier.” 

To emphasise your point, your rocked your hips down into him gently, your eyes rolling a little and eyes fluttering shut as the denim he wore grazed against your sensitive core, a wet patch being left over the bulge of his jeans, the two of you watching between your bodies as trails of slick leaked from you, covering the front of his pants each time you rose up and pushed back down into his covered erection. “You are everything wet dreams are made of.” 

His words were groaned out, his hands coming down between your bodies, and he rose his legs behind you, bumping you up just high enough that when his hips lifted from the bed with you sat in his lap, he was able to push his jeans and boxers down to his mid-thighs. His cock was pulsing with need, skin hot and flushed and dripping with precum, both of you letting out squeaky and broken sounds of satisfaction when his cock rubbed against your folds. 

Grinding down onto him, his legs fell flat, both of you far too needy for a connection to even undress him properly, and you sat up, hands splayed over his chest for leverage and knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, giving you the leverage you needed to be able to rock your hips into him. 

The head of his cock pushed against your neglected bead each time, his cock and thighs shining with your arousal as you pleased yourself, whimpering at each strangled noise he let out as his hands clenched by his sides, chest rising and falling under your palms as your dragged your pussy up and down his cock, feeling him nudge against your hole each time, but you were enjoying the build-up a little too much, and you could tell he was too, from the way his face was scrunched up in pleasure and the way his lips were parted to let out short breaths. 

“Please, princess. I need to be inside you, I have been wishing for this moment for almost a year, don’t make me wait any longer.”

You nodded, lifting yourself up as he quickly took himself within his hand, pumping himself easily with all the slick on his skin, before he was lining himself up, his eyes finding yours and his other hand finding your jaw, bringing your lips down to meet his in a tender kiss as he felt you sink down onto his cock, gasping against your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip as you took him into your warmth, inch by inch until he was fully sheathed within you.

He let out a long and shuddering breath when your hips met his, your walls clamping around him and flexing experimentally, and he wiggled happily, his whole body deflating as a look of ecstasy and joy took him over. “Holy fuck, you feel incredible.”

You rolled your hips back, circling them slowly as you adjusted to his size, and you felt the breath knocked from your lungs as he dragged against every inch of your walls slowly. There was no barrier between you, and your forehead dropped down to press against his as you experimented with the swivels of your hips and the movements you made, trying to find a rhythm of what worked best for the both of you. His hands came up to your hips, holding on tightly and helping you move, and when his noises picked up in frequency and pitch at the same time that your own eyes rolled back and your skin erupted in goosebumps was when you knew you had found the best way to move.

You left a series of prolonged and loving kisses to his lips, feeling him lean up into it as best as possible, before your nails were digging into his skin scraping lightly as you moved yourself back to sitting up on his lap. He stretched you out, his generous girth and length filling you to the brim, and he was tapping against spots you didn’t even know you had, bringing you more pleasure than you could possibly have imagined, and you clenched around him tightly and rolled the muscles in your stomach. “Oh, God! Don’t do that unless you want me to cum in like thirty seconds, because that was fucking incredible, but I won’t last if you do.”

His words were wheezed out and you smirked, repeating the action and watching the way he writhed and squirmed underneath you, and he shot you a mock glare, pinching at your thighs and making you jump in a way that brought both of you a little jolt of electricity. 

“You are a hazard to my fucking health, princess.”

A needy noise left you at the pet name, and you began to bob up and down on his shaft, throwing you head back as you took what you wanted, the feeling of another climax buildings as creeping through your veins and making your vision flash with spots as your eyes rolled, and your lips were drying with each quick pant you took for breath. The angle changed when he pushed himself up onto his hands, and a cry left you, your legs tightening around him as he pushed against a certain spot.

“There?”

“Right there, Stiles! Fuck, please!” Your hands were in his hair, his lips on your tits and teeth grazing your skin as he tried to buck up to meet your movements, and you only sped up more and more as you found yourself becoming comfortable in your motions. The room seemed to fade away, nothing mattered between the two of you except the way his hands felt on your body and the way his cock felt every time it slid out of you almost entirely, before you were slamming yourself back or him and crying out his name. 

His own mumbles of praise and arousal were spurring you on, your body feeling like it was on cloud nine, and you no longer felt intoxicated on anything except the feeling of his body underneath you, the way he looked at you lighting you up and the way he kissed you making you feel like nothing would ever matter again. Stiles meant everything, he was made for you, and you could feel from the way the pair of you fit so well together that nothing would ever matter again, as long as you had him and he had you.

Your muscles were growing tired, your knees aching thighs screaming out, but your climax was so close that you could barely even speak sentences now, nothing but his name and your begs for more, and you could feel him twitching and leaking precum within you as he neared his peak. He fell back until he was laying down again, his legs still popped up behind you and you followed after him, a hand on either side of his head as his thrusts into you became easier for him, your jaw slack and tears lining your eyes as pure pleasure overtook you. 

He picked up his pace, chasing his own high as well as yours frantically and the press of your chest to his, the feel of the short hairs at his base tickling against your overstimulated clit was enough to completely drive you into bliss. He was pounding into you, never letting up as he kissed your through your climax, feeling you scream out into his mouth as he muffled your sounds and made sure to fuck you through until you could no longer take it. You were scratching at his chest, shaking as everything all when into hyperdrive, feeling like you were floating as he flipped you over, holding your legs up and open as he desperately fucked into your abused hole, wetness on your cheeks as a third orgasm built, straight off of the second one and it all became too much. 

His fingers on your clit, his mouth on your chest, his cock stretching you out wide and dragging against your rim with each deep and penetrating thrust, and your fingers tangled in the bedsheets as you thrashed happily under him. Nothing had ever felt this good, no orgasm you’d ever had with anyone else or alone, nothing you had even imagined, and every nerve within you was sparking and crackling with energy as you finally exploded for a third and final time.

You clenched around him so hard that you dragged him over the edge with you, his body collapsing down onto you as he went entirely boneless, spasming atop you as the two of you pressed together and rolled through your peaks. Spurts of hot and thick cum filled you up in ropes, spattering against your walls and filling you up, so much so that each time he shafted you could feel him leaking out of you and dripping down into the bedsheets below, and he pressed multiple soft and chaste kisses to the skin that he could reach, before letting out a deep and satisfied groan. 

“Oh, my God. That was the best sex I’ve ever fucking had.” He was crushing you, but you still managed to let out a small giggle underneath him, before he was rolling himself off of you and pulling out, a relieved sigh on your lips as he did. “You’re incredible, absolutely amazing, the best. Just the best. Fuck, I can’t wait to do that again, and just be with you. This is going to be great, an-”

You pressed up to push your lips against his, and he let out a soft sound when you did, before his lips were curling up in a smile and he was kissing you back as best he could.

“You were rambling. You’re even more affectionate after sex.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No! God, no, I love it.” You rubbed the tip of your nose with his, before you were sitting up and grumbling at the protests your body made as you did. “I like it when you’re all clingy and needy, it makes me feel less weird about it when I do the same to you.”

“I like it when you get all touchy, and now I can really do something about it, because let me tell you, all those cute time that you’d come over and just want to cuddle me while I was cooking for us or when you’d hold my hand when we went shopping or lean into me when you’re tired? I wanted to kiss you so fucking badly, and now I can.” Long fingers brushed sweaty and matted hair out of your face, and he pressed his lips to your forehead, before standing up and shucking off the jeans that were still pooled around his calves, kicking off all the remnants of his clothing. 

“I can’t wait, because a little secret would be that I wanted you to kiss me in all of those times, too.”

“Good to know, princess.” You hummed, accepting the hands he was holding out to you, and his eyes scanned along your naked form, swallowing thickly and averting his eyes when he caught sight of the mess leaking out of you. “We should get cleaned up, then you can have those cuddles I promised you.”

“Bath time, then a movie?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[notyetneedcoffee]

Stitches, Part 3

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut and cannon level violence

Stiches Part 1 & Stitched Part 2

The light of day began to be swallowed by the shadows of night as you walked behind the Witcher to the outskirts of town. You stared at the massive sword across his broad back, trying to remind yourself he would keep you safe. Yet, you were following him to the one place you found most terrifying.

“Keep up,” He grunted. “I want to have enough light to look around without starting a fire.”

You nearly ran to catch up with his long strides. Geralt looked over his shoulder, seeing the wide-eyed glances you shot to the darkest recesses of the woods. He paused, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand. You took a shuttered breath and tried to look brave. Nerves attempted to crawl out of your stomach.

“I won’t let it hurt you.” He leaned his forehead close to yours.

“But I’m still the bait.” Your voice came out small, little more than a whisper.

“A hym will only appear in the right circumstances, so yes, you are there to draw it out.” He stood to his full, impressive height. “Then I will destroy it.”

Geralt turned back to the road. The smithie’s old home and workshop could be seen just ahead. Brush and grass grew out of control with no one in residence. The door to the workshop appeared to be partially off its hinges, as if someone tore it open. You placed a hand on the Witcher’s back as he stepped inside.

Boxes and bins had been over-turned, ransacked for anything valuable. Rusted nails, twisted chains, and bent shoes scattered the floor. The forge was a black pit against the far wall. Geralt moved to the open door leading into the house. Darker inside, you stayed close as he moved from abandoned room to abandoned room.

Racoons and mice nested in furniture and corners. The sound of their movements made you twitch. Geralt kicked over a table in the main living area and pushed the top against the far wall. He shoved the broken chair and bench to the corner as well.

“Here should do.” He pointed to the interior corner of the room, furthest from the doors and windows. “Stay in that corner. Stay low.” He gripped your upper arm in a firm hand. His face leaned close to yours and spoke quietly. “Do not run, little dove. I will protect you. It’s only fear projected by the hym. Whatever you do, stay in the corner. Don’t get in my way. I need to focus on the hym, so I need you to stay put. Understand?”

You nodded. The anxiety and nervousness already churned your stomach and made your hands sweat. His golden eyes remained locked on yours until you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll stay in the corner. I trust you to protect me.”

His jaw clenched and he gave a single nod before turning you around and giving you a subtle push. You wedged your back into the corner and sunk to crouch on your heels. Beside you, the remnants of a chair littered the floor. You picked up a wooden leg. It wasn’t much, but it felt weighty in your hands.

Geralt drew his sword, balancing it easily in his grip with point up and the blade parallel to the back of his arm. He stood, relaxed but aware, as he waited. You could not see his face, but his head moved slightly as his glance shifted from the door to workshop to the door the outside. The room darkened as the minutes ticked by.

Your breath hitched. Something cold, terrifying, battered your senses. The need to run became overwhelming. You couldn’t see anything, but you knew it was there. A whine escaped your throat as you pushed backed into the corner harder.

Geralt’s head tipped, catching the change in your behavior. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. His breath slowed even more.

A shadow lurched forward. You screamed. A dark beast lunged. Vaguely humanoid in shape, with arms reaching the ground, hairless and skin like aged leather, it rushed at you with mouth open wide. You screamed again, seeing only the long needle like teeth.

A giant sword curved down in a blur. The hym dodged, catching the blade upon its shoulder. Its screeched, the sound making your ears ring. It jumped, bouncing off the wall and crashing across the room and through the door to the workshop, moving like a gigantic jumping spider.

“Don’t move!” Geralt shouted, running after the beast.

The crash of bodies against the wall, made louder by rattling chains and clanging horseshoes, left you shaking. A force hit so hard plaster flew from the wall. You closed your eyes against the dust. The hym wailed again. You covered your head with your arms, screaming.

Every instinct, every urge, insisted you run and get as far away as possible. Tears streamed down your face. The otherworldly terror made you shake. “He’ll protect me. He’ll protect me. He’ll protect me.” You chanted.

The wall gave way with a crash, Geralt and the hym tumbled into the room, black gore spraying along the wall and floor. With a roar, the Witcher swung his sword down to behead the beast. You scurried up and moved along the wall to avoid the flow of thick black blood.

Your keening whine dissolved to rapid pant as you stared at the head.

Geralt let out a heavy breath, rolling his shoulders back. With habitual movements, he wiped the blade before securing it to his back. He turned to you. Other than some hair pulled free of its ties and dirt upon his clothes, he looked no different than he had an hour before.

Approaching you slowly, as if you’d rabbit at a sudden movement, Geralt held out a hand. “It’s over.”

You focused on his face, eye glinting in the darkness. They softened, as he said your name. You took two quick steps and wrapped your arms around his chest. His hands gentle soothed your back. A tremor began in your stomach and it grew to fill your limbs. You couldn’t stop it.

“Shhh.” He breathed into your hair. “It’s the fear passing. You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

You lost track of how long you stood there. Eventually, you pulled back. “I need – Can we go outside? I need air.”

“Come,” Geralt led you through the dark to the road outside. The air smelled better. Someone nearby had a fire going in their hearth. The breeze blew the scent through the trees. After a few moments of breathing fresh air, your legs no longer felt like jelly.

“What now?” You peeked around his broad shoulder to the front of the abandoned home.

“Hym bodies turn to dust quickly. A day or two and it will be nothing by grime.” He gave you a rueful smile. “It’s not like there was a bounty on the beast.”

You rested your forehead against his bicep, clutched his forearm. “I cannot thank you enough.” He touched your head with his other hand, prompting you to gaze up to his eyes. “Is your wound alright? Should I check your stitches?”

With a wicked curve of his lip, Geralt rumbled. “You may have to take a very close look, just to be sure.” His tease brought out a giggle. You felt his strong hand rub along the small of your back. His low gravely voice brushed your ear. “We should return to the inn, I can hear the bath and bed calling.”

He led you past the few patrons in the dining room. Rulla, the innkeeper, looked up. You could see the concern in her eyes melt away to relief as you nodded to her. She knew of the night’s adventure. Geralt paused beside her, requesting hot water for the bath.

The fear and adrenaline left you in something of a daze by the time you found yourself sitting beside the large tub in the bedroom. Geralt stripped off his sword and armor, he knelt before you and took your left boot in his hand to unlace the ties.

You were vaguely aware of a tap at the door, but he reply with a gruff “yes”.

Rulla and two boys came in all carrying heavy buckets of steaming water. She asked the Witcher if you were alright, he nodded. “She had a scare, but did well…just needs a bath and a sleep without nightmares.”

“Good, good.” She patted Geralt’s shoulder. “Leave her in your care, then?”

He grunted an affirmative. As the door closed, he set aside you shoes and stood to strip off his own clothing. You watched, a lazy smile growing on your face. He pulled at your hands, prompting you to stand. “Like what you see?”

“Mmm, yes.” You leaned forward to rubbed your nose into the hair covering his muscular chest. He smell of sweat, and man, and your favorite rosemary mint soap. Your hands drifted along his sides, but he push you away enough to loosen your dress.

Geralt removed your clothes. He groaned a bit as he stepped into the tub. Hold out a hand, he drew you into the hot water with him. Arranging you between his legs, Geralt took up the soft cloth and your soap. He quickly washed away his own sweat as you rested your chin upon you updrawn knees.

“Come here.” He eased you back to rest against his chest. With careful strokes, he cleaned away the scent of fear. Soon he abandoned the cloth, to allow his hands to roam over your warm, wet flesh.

Rough, calloused fingers examined the length of your neck. Hands slid along your sides, to encircle you and pull you tight against the bulk of his body. His hot breath tickled your ear before his teeth grazed the skin. Giant palms covered your breasts, kneading and teasing your hard nipples.

You gave a deep sigh. It turned to a moan as his erection rocked against your ass. His mouth latched on to the conjunction of your neck and shoulder, sending a shiver down your body. Geralt rumbled his delight. One of his hand slipped between your legs to bury into your slick core, the other circled your neck to stretch your body along his.

“Mmm, little dove,” He growled. “I’m going to fuck you into a dreamless sleep.”

“Gods, yes.” You panted, already feeling the spiraling tension at your core. His thick fingers buried deep. Your legs spread as far as the tub would permit.

He pulled you up, tightening the hold on your throat, until you felt the head of his cock slip against your core. He guided you down on to himself, slowly a first. Your fingers grasped his arm and moaned, the stretch divine. His fingers danced across your sensitive clit, drawing mewls from you throat.

You were completely in his control. His hips rocked up, gaining speed and force, sloshing water. The vibration of his growl shot through you as he bit down on your shoulder. Your thighs shook. His hand moved to your hip as he slammed into you. Powerful, strong, fast. You orgasm hit you hard, stealing your breath, making you quake.

“Yes,” He growled, fucking you with brutal intensity, not allowing you to come down. Water sprayed. Bodies slapped. He planted his feet against tub wall, arching up and slamming your pliant body onto his cock. You moaned and cried, overwhelmed. His groans and grunts filled your ears. Your legs curled up, coming again, milking his cock and pulling him with you. His arms wrapped around you tight, pushing deep, and filling you.

Geralt moaned and collapse into the now cool water. He looked over the room and chuckled, you felt it through your whole body. Limp, you could only manage a quiet “hm?”.

“It’s a good thing we’re not upstairs and floor is stone.” His voice rumbled in your ear. “We would have flooded anyone below us.”

You couldn’t open your eyes enough to look, but smiled weakly.

“Are you alright, little dove?” His hands reverted back to their soft caresses.

“M’good.” You mumbled. Body limp, nerves tingly, exhaustion pulled at you.

He chuckled again and maneuvered you off of him. He smiled at your moan and small frown as his cock slipped from your body. Geralt sat you forward so he could stand. Then he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing back the covers, he stretch you both out naked to the warm evening air.

You curled against his massive chest, almost asleep immediately.

Geralt sighed, his eyes drifting closed. Tracing shapes on your bare skin with his fingertips, he whispered as he drifted off, “Sleep well, little dove. I’ll keep you safe.”

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