#They also had cool bleached orange hair and yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scorpiongrassfield · 1 year ago

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A Night at the Fall Fair

Alright everyone, I promised a fluffy short side story and uh. It's over 3k which is double the longest scorpion grass chapter soooo... here you go. This story is dedicated to @acertainmoshke, who gave me the idea for it, and helped me find some posts I needed to write it. Thank you Moshke~

Without further ado, here's the story:

"Alright kids, its costume reveal time!" Pat calls from down the hall.

You emerge from the room you chose to change in, as do Pat and Sylv.

Pat is wearing a floor length and rather form fitting black dress with flowy sleeves, a long straight black wig, and a black pendant necklace. Their makeup is also rather dark, their eye shadow in shades of deep gray, and their lipstick pomegranate red. They're holding a bundle of what appear to be rose stems.

"Morticia Addams?" Sylv guesses. He's also stepped into the hall.

"Ding ding ding, right on the money," Pat cheers. "I wanted to do drag, but I'm a little tall to be Gomez." They shrug.

"You're uhhh... That kid from that show, aren't you?" Pat guesses.

Sylv huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Um. He's a ghost, isn't he? His name is... Yukine?" You guess.

"Yeah, that's right," Sylv says with a smile. He seems surprised you got it.

"It looks good. Though I think you're right, blond doesn't quite suit you," Pat says.

Sylv shrugs. "I kinda figured. That's why I went with the wig instead of bleaching it."

The cartoon yellow of Sylv's wig is not quite blond and it is in stark contrast to his usual dark hair.

Also part of his costume are a green jacket with a faux fur rim to the hood, a white shirt, and some blue jeans.

The most striking part of his costume, even more so than the hair, is his eyes.

"Are those... colored contacts?" you ask.

Sylv snorts. "No, I just wished really hard and my eyes turned orange," he says. It's a bit sarcastic, but he's smiling and it lacks bite.

His shoulders hunch up a bit the way they do when he's annoyed. "They were a pain in the ass to get in though," he grumbles.

"I told you that contacts suck," Pat says in a sing song voice.

Sylv sighs in response.

"Anyway," he says with the careful enunciation of someone forcibly changing the subject, "Your costume is really cool too."

"Thank you," you say, returning the smile he gives you.

"You don't know what it's from, do you kid?" Pat says, nudging Sylv with their elbow.

"It's not just a creepier take on a sheet ghost?" He asks, nudging Pat back to get their elbow off his side.

"Nope!" Pat says popping the 'p'. "You wanna do the honors?" They ask, looking to you.

"Well. It's Charlie Brown's sheet ghost from. Um. Is it 'It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown?" you double check, looking at Pat.

"It is! Which is what we will be watching as soon as we get back from the festival, since someone hasn't seen it," they say, looking pointedly at Sylv.

Sylv rolls his eyes at them, but doesn’t say that he doesn’t want to watch the movie.

“That sounds nice,” you say.

“Excellent. These plans are now iron clad and inescapable. Now let’s get moving,” they say.

The drive to the fair doesn’t take long. Pat is behind the wheel. Sylv volunteered to drive home, since he doesn’t drink and Pat claims there is very good hard cider to be had at the fair.

It’s still a touch light out when your group arrives. This is perfect, because it will be much easier for you to select pumpkins for carving.

You make a beeline for the pumpkin patch right away.

“I’ll be over by the craft booths for a while. We’ll meet at the hayride atText if you need something,” Pat calls after you.

You give them a thumbs up.

Sylv follows along behind you at a more reasonable pace.

“You’re that excited for pumpkin carving?” he asks, sounding unconvinced of the worth of it.

You nod. “Yes. It’s a lot of fun. And it’s very different from a lot of other carving materials. I like it a lot.”

“Huh. Alright then,” he says with a shrug.

“Do you… not like pumpkin carving?” you ask.

Someone brushes past you, and you move more to the side of the makeshift aisle of the pumpkin patch. Sylv follows suit.

“I’ve never tried it. But I’m uh, not to fond of the idea of getting the guts out. I hear they’re slimy and I’m not too keen on sticking my hands into slimy things,” he explains, arms crossed defensively.

“Ah. That makes sense. Well. You don’t have to if you don’t want. But if I cleaned out the insides for you, maybe it would be more enjoyable?” you offer.

His mouth twists to the side a bit the way it does when he’s weighing the pros and cons of a thing. “Hm… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” he says with a shrug.

“Oh. Okay then. I’ll pick out a pumpkin for you too, then,” you say with a smile.

You think you see him smile back before you turn your attention back to pumpkin seeking.

You walk up and down each row, making a mental note of potential good pumpkins as you go. Sylv follows you like a shadow, silently observing you.

It takes quite some time to find truly good pumpkins, light dying in the sky by the time you select three. The pumpkins are a little hard to hold, what with your costume getting in the way of your arms a bit.

“Want me to carry one?” Sylv offers, hands hovering close to the pumpkin nestled in the crook of your right arm.

“Um. Sure. Here,” you say, juggling the pumpkins around in your arms so he can take the one he picked out for him. “That one is for you.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he says, taking the pumpkin.

The two of you return to the car to deposit the pumpkins in the trunk.

“So, now what?” Sylv asks, casually leaning against the car. You still can’t get used to the way blond hair looks on him.

“Well. We have an hour until the hayride. Want to go play some of the games?” you say, pointing over to the tents and booths that house the fair games.

“Sure, sounds like fun,” he agrees.

This time he leads the way. It’s much more crowded by the games, you almost lose him a few times.

The games are all pretty typical for a fun fair. There’s ring toss, gold fish cup, duck pond… but there are a few that have been reskinned for the season, like the bean bag toss has players throwing bags at a vampire rather than a clown.

You and Sylv work your way through the games, knowing full well that most if not all of them are rigged.

Sylv somehow manages to be consistently better at games involving luck than you, which is alright because you’re better at the ones that require throwing skill. It all evens out.

You manage to knock over the full stack of milk bottles at one booth, which nets you a Big Prize.

You don’t really have any need for a unicorn plush that’s almost as tall as you are.

You offer it to Sylv.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t really want it either,” he says with an amused grin.

The two of you make meaningful eye contact.

“Foist it onto Pat?” you ask, matching his grin.

He nods decisively, “Yep.”

Pat will never be able to turn down a gift from the two of you, no matter how impractical.

You manage to find Pat after texting them. They’re over at the picnic tables enjoying a drink and a snack.

“Oh no,” Pat says as they see you approach.

“What?” Sylv says, with a shit eating grin.

“You know what,” Pat says, giving you both a stern look. They seem to be trying hard not to laugh.

“We won this for you,” you say, offering the oversized plush with your sweetest smile.

Pat loses their battle and huffs a laugh. “Uh huh. I’m sure you worked very hard to get it for me, and definitely didn’t get it accidentally and then not know what to do with it,” they say, arms crossed.

“We would never,” Sylv says, faux-scandalized.

“Uh huh. I’m so convinced,” Pat says dryly. They stand up from the table.

“Alright, you two watch my stuff while I go take our new friend to the car,” they say, taking the unicorn from you.

“Will do,” Sylv agrees.

The two of you sit down next to each other, with Sylv taking Pat’s seat.

“This is fun,” Sylv says, smiling softly.

You nod in agreement.

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the cool autumn air and the lovely smells of the food and drink all around you.

Pat returns with a tray.

“Snack time,” they declare.

Sylv frowns.

“We’ve got some nonalcoholic hot cider for you,” Pat says, placing a tall styrofoam cup in front of Sylv.

“And… I wasn’t sure if you wanted a cold hard cider or not, Theo, so I got both. I’ll drink whichever one you don’t want,” they say, gesturing to the two remaining cups on the tray.

“I’ll take the hard cider,” you say after thinking it over.

Pat nods. “Nice, they’re pretty good. Though the other kind is also pretty good. Can’t beat fall-fresh cider.” They hand you your drink. You have to take the first layer of your costume off to drink it.

Underneath you’re wearing a yellow shirt with a black stripe and black pants.

The cider is pretty good. Crisp and tart, and it feels warm going down.

“And we’ve also got some mini-cakes to share. Pumpkin spice and caramel apple flavored,” Pat says, setting down the tray and sitting across from you. “Feel free to dig in.”

You take an apple cake. It’s very moist, and a little sticky to the touch, but pretty tasty.

Pat stares down Sylv until he takes a bite of a cake too, this one pumpkin spice.

You aren’t entirely sure what the story behind the cold war over Sylv’s eating habit is. You think it might be rude to ask, so you don’t pry.

Once Pat is satisfied that Sylv is eating, they dig in as well. They tell you all about how they found a really cool stall selling hand-woven baskets and ended up befriending the person who makes them, and also that they bought too much apple butter so the two of you will have to help them eat it.

In turn, Sylv tells them about how pumpkin picking and playing games went. You’re content to watch the two of them speak for the time being.

Ciders drunk and cakes eaten, your group cleans up and gets ready to go on the hayride. Sylv keeps his styrofoam cup with him, having not finished his cider.

The line for the hayride is a little long, since there are only so many people that can fit on one cart, even if they do have two carts in rotation.

Once your group is at the front of the line, it turns out that there are only two seats left. The next several groups behind you are groups of four or five.

“Alright, why don’t you two go on this one, and I’ll hop on the next one?” Pat offers.

You frown. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s all good. Maybe I’ll make some new friends,” they say with a smile.

You don’t doubt it. They could make friends with just about anyone they set their mind to befriending.

“Come on then. We’re holding up the ride,” Sylv says, not unkindly.

You follow him up onto the cart. The two of you sit close together, as the ride is a bit crowded.

Before the ride starts, Sylv whispers. “Do you want some of my cider? It’s still warm.” He holds out the cup.

“Oh. Um. Sure, I’ll try it,” you say, taking it from him. You try not to think any silly thoughts about all this.

It’s a very nice cider, well-spiced and not too sweet. You notice that the cup is still mostly full. “Do you not like it?”

Sylv shrugs. “It’s fine.” He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it anymore.

You hand the cup back as the ride starts to move.

The first jump scare does indeed scare you. The sound you make is a little too shrill to not be embarrassing. You can’t help but fold in on yourself a little bit.

Sylv leans in a little closer to you and starts telling you all about the history of scare rides in a hushed voice.

You’re more than happy to listen. You always like listening to him talk, but when he’s explaining something he’s passionate about he really lights up in a way that is terribly endearing to you.

He talks the whole way through the ride. You think this is probably more enjoyable than it would be if he were silent.

He helps you step down off of the cart once it’s over.

After everyone gets off the ride, one last scare actor jumps out at you, some sort of evil bloody scarecrow.

You yelp and grab onto Sylv reflexively.

He manages not to spill his drink. He looks pretty amused, but it doesn’t seem like he’s laughing at you.

“Sorry,” you say as you let go.

He makes a ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture. “It’s fine.”

The two of you wait for Pat’s ride to be done with in companionable silence.

Pat also yelps when the final scare happens, which makes you feel a little better about it all.

Sylv is stifling a laugh this time.

You suspect it’s more about how Pat’s outfit has straw bits stuck all in it. There’s even some in their hair.

“Wha- how the hell do neither of you have any hay on you?” Pat complains. “That’s just unfair,” they say, crossing their arms and frowning.

“Maybe the fabric of your gown is just more prone to snagging?” you offer.

Pat sighs. “That’s probably it. And you two jokers have short hair, too…”

You shrug.

“Anyway. That was fun, did you have fun?” Pat asks.

You nod.

“Yeah, it was a decent ride. The people doing the makeup and costumes here are talented,” Sylv says.

Pat agrees.

“Alright. Next up is to drink more hot cider. It’s getting pretty chilly out. Are you two warm enough?” Pat asks.

Sylv shrugs. He has the advantage of having a coat built into his costume.

You’re currently wearing the sheet ghost portion of your costume as a sort of cloak, which is doing alright to keep you warm, for now. You tell Pat as much.

“Right. Well, you two go have fun then. If you split up, we’ll meet back at the car at say… 10:30 if we don’t all see each other again before then, alright?” They say.

“Sounds good,” Sylv agrees.

You nod.

Pat waves as they head back to the food area.

“Do you want to split up?” Sylv asks?

You shrug. “I don’t mind staying together if you don’t.”

“Let’s stick together then,” Sylv decides with a smile.

The two of you wander around. You’ve already seen most of what there is to see. You find the craft booths, which are interesting. There are a lot of talented craftspeople and artists around. You end up buying some little flowers carved from wood. One each for Pat, Sylv, and yourself. You pocket them to give later.

After that, it seems like you might be done for the night.

“Is there anything else here to d-Corn Maze!” Sylv says, cutting himself off in excitement.

You find yourself being half-dragged along behind him, as he’s grabbed you by the hand.

“Ah, you like corn mazes?” you ask as the two of you enter. Sylv slows his pace once you’re ensconced in the endless walls of grain.

“I’ve never been in one before. Always wanted to try it though,” he says. He finally lets go of your hand.

“Oh, I see. Well. Hopefully it will be fun.

You let Sylv dictate which turns to make, since he seemed so excited about it.

He gets utterly and completely lost.

You have a fairly good grasp of where you are in the maze. You’ve always had a good sense of direction, and the little lanterns scattered about are in different shapes and colors, making for good landmarks.

“Theo,” Sylv says, plaintive, “We’re going to die in here. We’re going to die and then haunt this place as ghosts forever because we’re never getting out.”

You can’t help but smile. You’re pretty sure he’s being overdramatic for fun.

“Well, then it will be a much more authentic haunted corn maze, won’t it?” you say with a shrug.

“I can’t believe you want us to die here,” he complains.

Sylv’s phone rings.

“Yeah?” he answers the phone in his normal tone of voice. “The corn maze. What? No. We’re totally not lost… Oh, is it that late? Uh. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. See you,” he says.

“So Pat’s going to come find us. We’re supposed to say put,” he says with a sheepish smile.

“Ah. Then I guess we will stay here,” you say, smiling back.

“Help me finish this before they get here?J” Sylv asks, offering the cider to you again. You accept it and take a sip. It’s cold now, but still pretty tasty.

After you take a few sips, you give it back. “You have to drink some too,” you say.

His shoulders slump. “Okay,” he says, like he’s accepting a burdensome task.

The two of you do manage to finish the drink before Pat finds you, though it doesn’t take long for them to arrive.

“Oh good, you two haven’t died and decided to haunt the maze,” Pat observes.

“We came pretty close,” Sylv says with a laugh.

You nod in agreement.

“Right. Time to get out of here. If we take too long, we’re not going to have time for our movie before I fall asleep,” Pat says.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that,” Sylv says, sarcastic. His smile is genuine though, so you think he might just be giving Pat shit for fun.

Pat nudges Sylv’s shoulder with their own in a friendly manner, but doesn’t say anything else about it.

Pat leads the way out of the maze pretty quickly. You were right in thinking you knew the way out.

Once you’re out of the maze, you notice that Sylv is no longer walking next to you.

“Sylv?” you call out. You turn back into the maze. You hope he didn’t get separated and then lost again.

“Boo!” Sylv shouts, jumping out from around a corner.

You startle, not expecting it at all.

“Hey,” you say in a complaining tone, crossing your arms.

“That’s for not helping me get un-lost,” he says with a big grin.

Well. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he smiles like that.

“I suppose that’s fair,” you agree.

Sylv laughs goodnaturedly at your easy acceptance.

“Come on, let’s catch up with Pat before it’s past their bedtime,” he says.

The two of you hurry back to the car.

Pat is leaning against the back passenger side door, smoking a cigarette.

“Pat,” Sylv says.

Pat shrugs, but stubs out their cigarette in the dirt. “You two were taking a while. Just wanted to pass the time.

Sylv gives them a look, but doesn’t comment further. Another war between them, though this one is slightly less cold.

Sylv gets into the driver’s seat, and Pat into the back, leaving shotgun free for you.

“Did we all have fun?” Pat asks.

“I’d say so. We got you a pumpkin to carve,” Sylv says.

“And a giant unicorn plush. A night full of presents,” Pat replies.

“I also got some flowers,” you add. You turn to hand Pat theirs.

“Huh. Thanks,” Pat says, accepting it. “Y’know… When I pulled the nine of pentacles this morning, this wasn’t the sort of windfall I was expecting. Not gonna complain though,” they say, a smile apparent in their voice.

“Glad you’re happy with it,” Sylv says. Then, after a beat, he asks: “Did you have fun, Theo? I know I kind of dragged you around for a lot of it.” He sounds slightly apologetic.

“I did. This was a very lovely outing, and hanging out with you was nice. Thank you,” you say, genuine.

Sylv’s shoulders hunch up a bit, but he doesn’t sound annoyed when he says: “Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the drive is peacefully quiet.

Once back home, everyone changes out of their costumes and into more comfortable clothes.

Your costume is the fastest to remove, so you end up getting back to the living room first.

By the time you’ve found Pat’s dvd copy of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” your friends have both made their way out of their respective bedrooms.

“Perfect, thanks Theo,” Pat says as they settle down into their favorite chair.

Sylv sits down on the loveseat and echoes, “Yeah, thanks.”

Once you’ve got the movie playing, you sit down next to Sylv.

It’s a cute movie, and you’re happy to watch it again.

Though this showing is supposed to be for Sylv’s benefit, and he falls asleep about halfway through. He slumps sideways, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You don’t mind much.

Once the movie is over, Pat looks away from the screen to the couch.

They chuckle when they see Sylv.

“This is a strict no sleeping on the couch household. You have a bed, go get in it,” they say in a slightly raised voice.

Sylv stirs and shoots them a dirty look from barely cracked eyes. You notice that Sylv still has the colored contacts in.

“Sorry,” Sylv says when he realizes he’s laying on you. He sits up.

“It’s alright,” you say, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“Goodnight. See you tomorrow,” Pat calls as they head to their bedroom.

“G’night,” Sylv calls back.

“Good night,” you echo.

Sylv stands up and stretches. “Right. Time for bed,” he says, and starts towards his room.

“Don’t forget to take your contacts out,” you call after him.

He swears. “Ugh, thanks Theo,” he grumbles. You suspect he’s more upset about having to take them out than the reminder.

You head to bed yourself. Drifting to sleep, you think you had a pretty nice time tonight. You hope your dreams will be just as sweet.

#not an update #side story #this is an au where theo has not died and instead living with Pat and Sylv #just about everything else is the same #oh except i guess pat's house hasn't burned down yet either

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compassionatereminders · 6 months ago

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Yep really I think it's just my hair... my hair is greasy af I have to wash it every other day so I think this is why all my cool colors faded so quick -red, magenta, pruple, pink...

I tried all that was suggested for greasy hair over the years but nothing helped and my hair was always like this since I was a kid. Day 1 my hair is fine, day 2 a bit greasy but at the end of the day I have to wash it. Because the next day I look like I haven't washed my hair in over a week.

Also in some places my color faded more than other places so for example in front my hair would fade more than in the middle of my head and it was all just a yucky color very quick.

But I have dark brown hair so I had to bleach it before dying... maybe if I had blonde or light brown hair naturally then my color wouldn't was out so quickly??

But I doubt that because I was in my emo phase in 2008 I dyed my hair black & red (black at the top red at the bottom) and my black washed out too just not as bad like other colors. In 2 months you could see patches of brown hair in some places. So yeah idk what's up with my hair.

I have blonde hair now and only this color works for me... I don't bleach it anymore I just use that grey hair dye and my hair comes out orange then I use purple shampoo. So at least with blonde my hair is acting normal 🤣🤣

Yeah, that might all play a role! I'm not blonde, but my hair is light enough that I don't have to bleach it before dyeing it, and I never wash it more than three times a week

#chat with kat

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sevensevensevens-stuff · 1 year ago

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OC intro: Mercy

yeah im obssesed with my OCs so heheheheheheheheeheheh.

Powers: electricity, fire, some super strength, fast healing

Hair: bleached to platinum, Mercy uses toner and makes it grey. her hair is actually a very dark brown she has a fuck ton of hair so she never grows it pst her ears, its typically in a little pony tail or an extremely fluffy mess. she has very subtle waves but mostly stick straight hair

Skin: she has neutral undertones and her skin is a medium tan color

Eyes: one orange, the other blue

Body: Mercy is chubby, with godly muscular legs but low arm muscles. shes very short, with big honkers and a flat butt. every inch of her is covered in some type of scar, post rite!Mercy has many tattoos, but pre rite!Mercy has none because she heals to fast and her body rejects the ink. her tummy and thighs are covered in stretch marks and so are her hips and honkers

Personality: Mercy is a very angry person. her two moods (when not around Odysseus Imani or Ruby) are angry, and loudly angry. Shes not exactly mean on purpose, she just doesnt understand teasing very well or jokes. shes loyal as shit, and actually has quite the fragile heart once your in her inner circle. drunk Mercy is bubbly and happy. when around Ruby, Mercy is much more relaxed and tends to prank people quite a bit. she teases and gently pokes fun at the people around her, and enjoys helping.

Hobbies: Cooking, biology, murder, revenge, and cartoons. Mercy watches cartoons religiously and typically cant eat or fall asleep without them in the background

Mental illness: though its never explicitly stated, its pretty obvious Mercy has got some issues. Mercy has petulant BPD, she has massive abandonment issues and attatchment issues. at one point Mercy had an ED, and of course she has night terrors and depression. Mercy is also high masking autistic. (stormy! you look just like mommy baby)

(Mercy is kinda a self insert for me so hehe)

relationships:

Ruby: Mercy and Ruby are nearly inseperable. wherever Mercy is sitting, Ruby is just around the corner. wherever Ruby is causing chaos, Mercy is right alongside her with a small smile on her face and childlike joy in her eyes. Mercy hasnt had a bff before, so her relationship to Ruby is very important. Mercy comes to Ruby for advice on everything, and typically breaksdown in front of her. When Mercy splits, its typically Ruby thats called to help calm her down. Odysseus is normally not far behind, but Imani has found Ruby to be much more effective at talking Mercy through it.

Imani: Imani is a mother to Mercy. helping to free Mercy when she was older, and taking her in. Imani learned a lot of Mercys patterns just by simply watching her. Mercy has a fairly strict routine that Imani helps support. Imani help to make sure that Mercy eats, typically leaving bowls of cereal and milk out for her, checking in with her after missions, and at one point trying to put her in therapy. Imani isnt afraid of tough love. When Mercy fucks up, Imani deals with it herself. the two get in plenty of arguments, but at the end of the day Mercy would and has given her life to save Imani.

Crow: Crow is the ‘cool’ mom. She helps Mercy train, control her lowers, and also takes her for joyrides in the car. Mercy doesnt know how to drive, but that doesnt stop Crow from letting her take the wheel on an abandoned street. she took Mercy to her first club, and although Crow is the silent and gentle type, she has been know. to keep a tight watch over Mercy. Their relationship has been complicated, mainly from some of Mercys past actions against Imani. and at some points the two will not talk to eachother for days.

Andromeda: Being the wife of her bff, Andromeda is someone that Mercy is both weary and loving towards. She knows that Andy could hurt Ruby, and has made it clear that she wont tolerate that. Mercy and Andy bonded over Cartoons. The two can typically be seen silently watching them and eating bowls of cereal. Andy has a slight fear of Mercy, but only because shes -ahem- eccentric (Mercy has horribly tortured and murdered many people but they all deserved it)

Odysseus: Ah yes, our golden boy himself. The two got off to a rocky start. but thats kind of how it went for everyone with Mercy. though Ruby has become quite skilled in helping talk Mercy through breakfowns and splits, Ody is her safe haven for anything. Wherever Mercy is, you can bet this ray of sunshine is towering over her, beaming down at his beautiful girls face and holding her hand. hes not afraid to show his affection for her, and Mercy becomes quite embardassed by it. no one thought Mercy was capable of blushing until Odysseus simply held her hand in public. Mercy is typically calm and composed (or angry and composed) but when Odysseus is around she takes a step back. Mercy is all smiles and blushes whenever Odysseus is around. he brings out her genuine laugh, her genuine smile, and her genuine personality. Mercy is a chatterbox with Odysseus, typically sitting on his lap and talking about her day for hours on end, shes typically always touching him, wether its just holding his hand, to full on making him give her a piggyback ride, Odysseus gives her safety she never knew was possible.

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blush-and-books · 4 years ago

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here’s a lighthearted collab born of riffs with the one and only @lydias--stiles. warning: fluff. lots of it.

enjoy!!!

---

"It's decade day!" Julie hollers as she storms into the studio, Alex gasping in delight.

"Oh! Do a twirl!" She twirls with a giggle. Reggie joins in, excited.

"Do the worm!"

Just as she's about to go on the floor, she falters. One, because she can't do the worm. Two, cause she's wearing a dress and no shorts underneath. Sending him an exasperated look, her gaze falls on the third boy who's remained silent all throughout.

This week is spirit week for the LF Arts seniors, today being Decade Day. Obviously, Julie chose to go for the nineties. Not only does she have a lot of clothes from that era in her closet, but it's a nice homage to her beloved band members. It's a simple look. A flowy, floral dress, fishnets, Dr. Martens, layered necklaces and a bit more eyeliner than usual. Her hair, for once, is allowed to be as messy as possible.

And Luke? He is speechless.

"Uh," he stammers, a smile twitching between a grimace and a full on beam. It's as if he has no clue how to act anymore. In the end, he sticks his thumb up, eyes dopey and wide.

Awkward, Julie focuses back on Alex and Reg. "Okay then... so? Approved? It's 90s?"

"Hella nineties," Reg confirms, Alex smiling at her in that knowing way. She locks eyes with him, peering. He shakes his head and hums in agreement with the bassist.

"You look great, Julie." She lets it go. "Thanks. Then I'm off!" Casting one more look at Luke and hiding her disappointment - why didn't he compliment her? - she leaves for school.

Right as she's at the garden gate, Luke poofs right in front of her. Had she not been used to it, she would've screamed. Instead, a brow quirks up. "

You look rad," he blurts. "Like, really fucking dope. Like, girls I would-" He freezes, red tinging his cheekbones and then saluting at her, disappearing once more.

"Girls you would what?" she asks at the end of the day, during a songwriting lull. She doesn't need to explain, a soft smile playing on his lips as he tracks her outfit again. "

Girls I'd like in high school."

"Oh."

"Yeah." His eyes avert, scribbling an annotation in his songbook. "Don't sweat it. Kinda digging the 2020 aesthetic too."

Her smile widens, giddy, cause Luke has a million ways to say he likes her and she loves each one of them. Instead of calling him out for it, she nods and hums and places her head on his shoulder.

"Let's try that bridge again."

A week later, they're digging through some of his clothes. Julie promised that she would slip some of it in the laundry for them even if they don't sweat -- just for the gesture of it all.

But as they go through garbage bags, she comes across a starchy white shirt with neon orange letters across the front: NIRVANA.

"Luke, did you know you had this? This one is so cool!"

She's too busy turning the shirt over to glance at the dark purple SUBPOP RECORDS logo on the back to notice how quiet Luke is. He's just staring at the shirt - for what reason, she doesn't know.

"That one was from Bobby," he explains, voice suddenly quiet. Instantly, Julie drops the shirt to her lap and tries to gauge how upsetting the reveal is to him. It strikes her with guilt. "That's probably why it's here. I wore it around here all the time and left it here when I spent the nights just as much."

What does she say to that?

"I'm sorry," is all she can offer. But he still shoots her a smile.

"Don't be. It's sick. You should keep it."

"But it's-"

"Anything that's mine is yours, Jules." He nods his head towards the bathroom in the back. "Go try it on. I wanna see it."

Swapping her crop top for the vintage tee, she admires the cool way it drapes across her body in the grimy bathroom mirror.

The fact that Luke wore it a lot causes a thrill in her chest. Is this... him giving her his clothes? Like a boyfriend would? Or is she reading into things?

She probably is. Don't overthink, she emphasises.

A smile blooms on her cheeks and marches back into the studio. She stretches her arms. "What do you think? It's cute, right?!"

His smile softens, warmth glimmering behind the green. Slowly, he nods and walks towards her. "We don't tuck it in though," he mumbles, pulling at the fabric by her waist and letting it hang loose. "We all had to pretend we didn't care."

Laughing, she stays in place and hopes the red on her cheekbones isn't visible.

"Right. Looking sloppy."

"Looking cool," he bounces back. When he finishes the tugging, he doesn't move away either.

Even though she had done her best not to short-circuit when Luke's fingers lightly grasped the fabric at her waist and started tugging on it -- the current situation was not helping. Because now, he was just standing close, clutching onto the t-shirt like it's anchoring him to her orbit, and she's desperate to press his hands into the curve of her waist.

"Fine," she relents, a little breathless. "Looking cool."

Glancing down, it's apparent how far the material hangs from her body.

"But do I even need pants for this? Shorts, maybe, but it's more of a dress on me."

His eyes quickly flicker down to her jean-clad legs, but then back to her. "It's yours now. Whatever you want."

It doesn't take her long to dart back to the bathroom to try out the new style.

Yeah, Luke's kinda losing his shit, but he also kinda doesn't mind.

The shirt was nostalgic, but didn't hold any sentimental value. So sure, Julie could have it. Oranges and purples and whites looked good on her anyway.

Every colour looked good on her.

She's been saying she wanted some more grunge in her wardrobe too. He was doing her a favour.

A minor detail he forgot about was that Julie was, well, drop fucking dead gorgeous. If it looked nice on him back in 1995, it looked amazing on her now.

The fabric was well-worn (by him - he let her wear his t-shirt. God, he really didn't think this through) and hung on her body in that effortlessly cool way. His stupid feet had to bring him closer though. Had to thumb the fabric by her waist and feel the heat of her skin as he readjusted the tee. He could almost imagine her parading down the corridor; boots pounding on the linoleum tiles, music blaring from her headphones, fingerless gloves on her hands.

That t-shirt, loose or knotted up or bleached. She'd probably be the hottest girl in school. And then he stayed, cause of course he stayed, and let himself smile in ways that should be dangerous, and let her smile in ways that should get her in trouble. She said something about the length of the top and he replied something non-committal in return.

He realised his mistake a minute later when she appeared again - - - without her jeans.

Oh.

It was long enough as a dress.

Oh. Fucking oh.

His smile stuck, though it held a nervous edge. "Looking good, Jules."

"Thanks," she grinned. "I think I'll wear it to school tomorrow."

Head rolling back to the ceiling, he withheld a sigh. Yup. Hottest girl at school.

---

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @pink-flame @echocharm17618 @sylphrenas @futurearchaeologyprof @brightattheorpheum

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #juke fanfic #jatp fanfic #triad shit

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woodrokiro · 3 years ago

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Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 3 years ago

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hi there!! could i please request a haikyu and legend of korra match up please?

physically:

im a genderfluid pansexual that presents feminine. im about 5'3-5'4 and im on the chubbier side, which makes me a bit insecure. im very pale and covered in freckles. i have dark brown eyes and my hair is short and bleached to a light orange color, but im thinking of growing it out to about shoulder length and going my natural hair color (a dark brown.) my skin is pretty smooth except my hands because they're covered in bite marks from my two rats bruno and josé. i have prominent eye bags due to a lack of sleep and a small scar along my lips from my (late, he passed away a couple of days ago), budgie. i have horrid posture, scoliosis and asthma.

personality:

at first glance i can seem pretty calm and i don't really speak to anyone besides my friends and close family. when you get to know me, im very sarcastic and witty. im a good listener but i only let my closest friends vent to me. im a lot more sensitive than i let on but im quick to mask how im feeling. im interested in literature, astronomy, crystals, tarot, angel numbers, painting, violin, piano, flute, dancing, harry potter, manga, encanto, sketching, writing and ancient history. i mostly draw tattoos and im planning to get coco (the budgie i mentioned earlier) tattooed on my upper back, bruno tattooed on my left writst and josé tattooed on my right wrist when im eighteen.

fun facts:

-my brother was a volleyball coach and the reason i got into haikyu!!

-i have over 200 crystals in my room

-i cuddle with bruno and josé every night. they're extremely cuddly (now that they've stopped biting)

-i either want to pursue a science, writing or work in theatre (behind the scenes though. my anxiety would not allow me to go on stage)

take your time. sorry if its too much

Hello Sunnth! Of course, I'd love to do a match up for you!

Before we get onto it, I'm so sorry to hear about Coco. Bruno and José sound super cute!

Alright, let's go! Hope you like your match ups.

For Haikyuu!! I match you with...

First off, Daichi and your brother would bond over Volleyball coaching bigtime! Who should I ship? You and Daichi or Daichi and your brother?

But seriously, Daichi will be super supportive of you and will help you feel better about yourself when your insecurities get too bad.

This guy will love and support you no matter what. Plus, a personal headcanon of mine is the Daichi (despite loving people no matter what they look like), does have a preference for people on the chubbier side.

He finds them more huggable.

If you have an interest in learning the basics of Volleyball Daichi is ready willing and able to help.

Sugawara will also be a super close friend if you're with Daichi. He third-wheels a lot but does repect your privacy so if you and Daichi want some time just the two of you, Suga will make sure he had other plans.

The rest of Karasuno (and any other Volleyball friends you meet through Daichi (*coughcough*KurroandBokuto*coughcough*) all love you as well.

They think Daichi has found a wonderful person to be with.

For Legend of Korra I match you with...

This boy is a lovable bean who will support you in everything you do.

Music? Heck yeah! Painting? Woah, it's so cool what you can create! Dancing? The way you move while dancing is so interesting to him!

Bolin is also a bit on the bigger side. It's mostly muscle but I think he's always had a bit of puppy fat as well. Chubby baby Bolin? Yes please!

He loves all of you, even the parts you're insecure about. And he'll make sure you know that!

Team Korra loves you as well. Mako was a bit suspicious of you at first but that was because he didn't want to see his little brother's heart broken again. Now that he knows you two both truely care for each other, he's a lot more welcoming

Girls nights with Korra and Asami where you talk about your interests and just relax together happen all the time.

Bolin is occasionally invited as well. He likes having his nails painted. It makes him feel special.

#match up #haikyuu!!#daichi sawamura #legend of korra #bolin

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

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Longing - Roman Godfrey (Hemlock Grove)

Kay, so, I’ve been rewatching Hemlock Grove recently and holy shit...I’ve never wanted someone to literally eat me alive more than Roman Godfrey. I have issues™

It’s Roman Godfrey...18+

~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down the hall of the school, feeling hurt.

You genuinely felt like you and Roman had a connection, talking all the time and flirting with each other. But you were currently witnessing Roman sucking face with some bleach blonde Barbie at her locker.

Rachel, probably the sweetest girl in the whole town and kind of a suck up. She wasn’t the type of girl that Roman usually went for, but he had been known to never step down from a challenge.

It was fine...it was fine. But what you didn’t understand was ever since he got into a relationship with Rachel, he’d ignore you...after being friends for years.

You two knew almost everything about each other, even all the family drama. You just didn’t understand how the person who you’ve been closest to could just up and ditch you like that.

Maybe he just got tired of you...everyone else had. So, why would Roman be any different?

You sighed and closed your locker door, slamming it a bit too hard. It got the attention of Roman, who quickly noticed your sour attitude.

You ignored his questioning gaze and walked out of the front double doors of the school, trying to be excited about spring break.

You immediately went to your dealer after school, wanting to get fucked up and forget all about Roman and his new, perfect girlfriend.

Your usual order was a couple grams of weed, but you had a gut feeling that you were gonna need something a bit stronger than grass to temporarily soothe your heartache. It was stupid, really stupid...but you bought MDMA. Just a couple pills.

It was also kinda out of curiosity too.

You had heard of one of the other rich kids throwing a party to kick off spring break. Even if Roman was there, you wanted to go and have some fun.

You went home and quickly got dressed up.

You weren’t really the type to dress up fancy, usually just wearing casual clothes, sweaters, blue jeans and such. But you wanted to feel sexy, just once.

You decided on a short black dress that was flowy at the bottom and pushed up your girls slightly, some fishnet tights and your favorite platform boots that had some gems on the tips.

You curled your hair slightly and attempted to do a smoky eye. It was kind of a success? You hoped so at least.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you almost hoped that Roman would be at this stupid party.

You planned on heading to the party about an hour after it officially started.

You carefully made a couple joints for the party, putting the pills in a little container. Crushing up some more weed, you put it in your bowl that Roman bought for you. Sighing at the memory, you put your lighter to the bowl.

After taking a few puffs, you could already start to feel more relaxed and a little ditzy.

You smiled for the first time today, you fucking loved drugs.

An hour later, you were completely stoned, giggling at absolutely everything. But you started to walk to the party, stumbling along the way occasionally.

From down the road, you could already hear the booming base from the unnecessarily loud music and the chatter of drunken young adults.

To think, this might be one of the last high school party you’ll ever go to besides the probable end of senior year party. You suddenly felt old even though you still 18.

You chuckled seeing a couple people throwing up in the bushes outside front entrance. “Take it easy, lads!” You teased, earning a couple middle fingers thrown your way.

You quickly noticed the red convertible in the driveway, suddenly feeling the buzz of your high retreat back. “Great...”

Upon entering the house, your eyes trained on Roman and Rachel in the corner, her sitting on his lap on the crowded living room couch.

Roman saw you too, all dressed up in the fashion that was unusual for you to wear.

You rolled your eyes, heading to the alcohol bar and making your own cocktail of vodka and orange juice.

Chugging the first cup was a bad idea, the vodka burning your throat. But you made another cup anyway.

You took your first pill and it definitely didn’t take long for it to kick in. “Fuck...” You laughed, feeling happier than usual, almost tearing up at the feeling.

A song you loved came on the speakers, feeling the melody in you soul. You needed to dance.

You shoved yourself in between all the sweaty dancing bodies, letting yourself let go and sway to the beat.

You suddenly felt hands on your hips.

You looked back over you shoulder, seeing a familiar. Some guy from your English class. He wasn’t really your type, but you really couldn’t really care less. The hands on your hips slowly making their way south made you feel like you were on fire, despite it not being the hands you wanted.

Unbeknownst to you, Roman was watching intensely. His face felt hot with rage. He did not like what he was seeing.

The girl on his lap was kissing his neck, trying to turn him on. But all that was on his mind was beating the shit out of the guy who was putting his hands all over you.

He really thought dating Rachel would get you jealous enough to make a move, but apparently it didn’t work. He sighed, he had to do something.

The push it took for him to finally do that was when he saw the guy you were with lead you up stairs of the house. Roman could already sense the hard on that the piece of shit of a male had.

No.

He wasn’t gonna let you get manhandled by that nobody on his watch, didn’t matter if you wanted it. You were his and that was that.

Meanwhile, you were currently getting a hickey from this random guy in a spare room in this rich kid’s house. You felt nether regions heat up with desire. “Roman...” You accidently moaned out, then suddenly feeling the pleasure on your neck stop.

You opened your eyes to see the guy had been pulled off you harshly, being shoved to the floor by a tall man. “You heard her you shitheel, she wants me. Not you.”

“Roman?” You gasped.

“Get the fuck outta here.” Roman yelled at the fallen guy, who immediately listened and rushed out the room.

Roman turned around to see you glaring at him. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

You scoffed. “Where’s your girlfriend?” You spat.

Roman rolled his eyes. “What the fuck are you on, huh?” He asked, completely ignoring your pettiness.

“What’s it to you?”

Roman sighed. “Alright, let’s take you home.” He gently grabbed your arm, pulling you up from the bed.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Godfrey.” You pulled away, but you went along with him anyway, not really interested in getting carried to his car.

“MDMA, huh? Thought you only smoked weed.” Roman smirked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Rachel, huh? Thought you only went for cunts.” You retorted.

“I was trying to make you jealous.”

You swore your heat almost skipped a beat, but you tried to keep your cool. “Well, it didn’t work.” You crossed your arms. “You could’ve just told me, Roman.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Roman chuckled, scratched the back of his neck.

You sighed heavily, feeling the high coming down. It was bothersome, but you currently wanted to be sober.

Roman glanced at you, seeing your dress was slowly riding up your thighs. He licked his lips. “You know, when I saw you in that dress, all I wanted was to rip it off you.”

You felt shivers down your spine, already feeling that familiar desire fill you. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

Roman smirked. “You should be fucking’ ashamed, dressing that like. Making me feel all sorts of things. You wore it just to get me all riled up, huh? And those tight, fuck...”

You exhaled shakily when you saw Roman turn onto the road that led to his house. “Mm, please hurry Roman. I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you.” You chuckled nervously.

You almost jolted back when Roman sped up the car. He took one hand off the steering wheel, placing it on your thigh and kneading the meat. Slowly but surely trailing up to your inner thigh.

You opened up so he could have better access, and he put his fingers moved your underwear to the side, hastily rubbing tight circular motions on your bundle of nerves.

You moaned out his name, gripping onto the seat below you as he worked his magic. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, huh?” Roman chuckled, already feeling himself stiffen.

But your pleasure had to come to a temporary end when his large mansion finally came into view.

Roman quickly lead you into his house, making a snide comment to Olivia before leading you up the staircase with haste.

“You’re not gonna walk right for a month after I’m through with you.” Roman said lowly, making you even more excited.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry for the blueball, but I really didn’t feel up to writing a whole smut scene lol.

#hemlock grove #roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader

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mpfuro-station · 3 years ago

Text

Helping Hands (Savannah Fair)

“Thais,” Furo called out, “you’re in the science club, right?”

Thais looked up from playing with Jax. “Yes, I am! Why? Do you think it will help with something?”

Furo sighed, “My Gram is having some trouble crafting ointments in the healer’s tent. She can’t keep up with even the minor splinter right now. Could you help her?”

“Of course!” Thais agreed. She gave Jax a pat on the head before standing up and walking over to Furo. “Lead the way!”

“Thank you so much,” Furo relaxed their shoulders. They walked through the fair at a quickened pace. Furo rung their hands nervously. “Uh, if my grandma gets a bit...difficult, please let me know if she causes you any problems. She’s the matriarch and getting up in age, so she can get stuck in her ways.”

“I’m sure she isn’t that bad,” Thais optimistically said. Furo’s face did not hold a lot of hope.

They looked at the ground biting their lip. The put a hand on Thais’ shoulder and assured, “She won’t be outright rude, but either my mom or I will come check on you later. Just, tell us if you need a mental break or change of station all together.”

Thais gulped. So far, everyone in the family has been so sweet and welcoming! If Furo is this nervous about their grandma, just what is the matriarch like?

They stood outside the tent, and both let out a sigh. Furo entered first, and announced, “Grams, I brought a friend from school to help you.”

When they were inside the cool, enclosed tent and old woman sat in the corner. She had light skin dotted with liver spots. The wrinkles were focused on her face and hands. Wispy curls of light sun-bleached orange hair with tuffs of white sat on top of her head. She looked a bit surprised but welcomed them. “Oh, there you are Stria, you said this one is a friend?”

“I’m Mustela, Grams,” Furo lightly corrected her.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

Furo weakly smiled. “No, you said Stria. This is my friend Thais. She goes to school with me. She can help you around here.”

“Hello Ma’am!” Thais waved politely.

“Oh hello. Come here, child. Grab my basket that’s by the door while you’re at it,” Furo’s grandma already started delegating.

Thais looked to Furo and then around the area for a basket she could be talking about. Tucked almost underneath a cot, a large handwoven basket filled to the brim with knitting supplies and jars of unidentified liquid. Thais went to pick it up but was nearly toppled over. The basket weighed a ton of bricks.

“Mustela, come over here. I have things for your mother.”

“Yes, Grams,” Furo hastened over to their grandmother. While she kept talking to Furo, piling papers and other do-dads in their arms, Thais struggled to drag the large basket over to them. When she managed to get it to the family’s matriarch, Furo started to back away. “I’ll get this to my mom then Grams. I’ll make sure to tell her.”

“Good, good. Also, I heard about this one boy in the town next over. He helps your Great-Aunt Maggie take care of her farm. You would get along great with one another.”

“Haha, yeah probably Grams. Well, I got to go-”

“Or there’s this new girl in town. Miss Tiki’s apprentice, I think. Might be good to say hi.”

“I’ll see Miss Tiki later and-”

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you this hold on. Sit a minute,” she pointed to a chair for Furo to sit in. She rummaged through the basket Thais brought her. She scrunched her face as she kept taking things out. She looked up and motioned throughout the room, “Child, do you see a vial with some nasty thing in a green juice?”

“Um...” Thais began to search the room. She opened coolers and bins in search for an object that matched the description. She managed to pull out a giant jar that seemed to have...something preserved in it. “Is this it, Ma’am?”

“Yes, yes, bring it here.” she beckoned Thais closer. “And stop with all that ‘Ma’am’ crap. Miss Oaxa or Grams, pick one.”

“O-oh, okay Miss Oaxa,” Thais nervously handed over the jar.

“Mustela take this. It’s for you,” Miss Oaxa handed the jar to Furo’s already overloaded arms. “Mellivora said you liked this sort of thing. I got it from Uncle Bud’s girlfriend’s brother-in-law, he works in some sort of business like what you want to do, I think. Put it in your dorm room.”

“Thanks Gram, I’ll try and get it into my dorm,” Furo said as they examined it with great curiosity. “I need to head out now Grams. Mom or I will be back to see how things are going. See ya, Thais!”

Furo started to waddle out with their load. Miss Oaxa waved goodbye to her youngest grandchild before setting her sights on Thais. “So, do you know how to make cocoa balms for scarring?”

“I’ve never made it before, but I am willing to learn! Just tell me what to do!” Thais stood at attention.

“Calm down, Child. No need to be overzealous,” the old lady sighed. “I don’t use cauldrons, so we’re doing everything non-boiled. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, I can!”

“Okay, then get me a handful of cocoa beans, a smidgen of pelargonium - the ones that smell like peppermint - and a sploosh of milk.” she started rattling off ingredients. “Please.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Thais got to searching once more.

“What did I say about the ‘Ma’am’ bullcrap?!”

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

“Ugh, I still have a headache from staying out in the sun too long...” Blake groaned as he walked between the tents.

“THIS IS HORRIBLE!!” a screech came from the tent to his left. Blake pulled his ears down to try and cut the volume down. “OF ALL THE TIMES THEY COULD HAVE GOT BRONCHITIS IT HAD TO BE DURING THE FAIR!”

“Um, excuse me Ma’am? Is everything alright?” Blake asked.

She let out a small squeak. “Who said that?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m outside of the tent right now.”

“Please, come in through the front!” She called slightly worried. Blake did as he was told and when he got in the lady introduced herself as she got a good look at him. “I’m Miss Tiki. I run a bakery in town. Are you new to the Afterglow Savannah, young man?” She was a middle-aged human with ashy blonde hair. She had a few crow’s feet by her eyes and slight smile lines, but otherwise had no wrinkles. Her hazel eyes were warm and kind.

“I’m here to help my classmate Furo with the fair, although I spent more time trying not to pass out from the heat than helping. My name’s Blake. Blake O’Hare-Hill. Nice to meet you Miss Tiki,” Blake held his hand out to give her a handshake.

“YOU’RE ONE OF STELLA’S CLASSMATES! AWW~!” Miss Tiki cooed in excitement, bypassing his hand to give him a hug. The bunny-boy tensed at the sudden affection given by this stranger. She let him go and cupped his cheeks. “I’ve should have known! Stella never failed to find the adorable people and worm their way into their lives! I love that child dearly! They always came and got a giant soft pretzel with cheese whenever they could! So polite and adorable they are!”

“Hehe, yes...” Blake awkwardly agreed as he backed up a bit, removing his face from her grasp. “But is everything alright? You seemed very distressed a moment ago.”

Miss Tiki sighed as she sat on a crate with a smile. Looking around the tent there were many crates and what seemed to be props and set pieces. A rack of costumes lined the one side of the tent. On the other side sat three tree cutouts: one painted green, one gold, and the last silver. “Don’t worry about it, honeybunch. I just need to find some people to fill in for others for a small play I’m directing.”

“I can fill if it is something small,” Blake offered. “I did say I was here to help and haven’t found a place. If you need more help, I’m sure my dormmate Pip will be glad to help. She loves stage plays.”

“Really?” Miss Tiki perked up. “Aww, you’re such a sweetheart! Stella always attracts the adorable ones to them~!” She got up and pinched Blake’s cheek. “Right now, I need someone to be my new narrator! No memorization required. The play is a depiction of the legend of The Princess Who Lost Her Hair.

“Oh, Furo told us about that when we arrived! It sounded fascinating!” Blake enthused. “If I just need to read from the script, I can do that!”

“That’d be perfect! We perform with a different cast each year, and people can’t repeat roles until 5 years pass. But you aren’t from town, so I don’t have to worry about that! And grab this Pip girl you mentioned! I can always use the extra help if she is interested!” Miss Tikki giggled like she was decades younger than what she was.

“I’ll go find her then, Miss Tiki!” Blake smiled as he headed out of the door.

“Oh! And please send Stella my way if you see them! I haven’t had tea with them in months~!” she called after him.

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

“Yo, Anastasia!” Vormel called out as he caught up to her. “Are you feeling better? Heard you got hit by the savannah heat hard.”

Anastasia looked up at the second oldest Furo kid. She nodded with a soft smile, “Yes. I feel much better now, thank you.”

“That’s good to hear. Are you busy by any chance?”

“I’m not doing anything. Do you need help?”

“Yeah, I heard from M.P. that you’re in the Light Music Club. I’m in charge of the music that’s playing throughout the fair, but my mom keeps pulling me out to help my dad deal with security. Could you help me?” Vormel explained as he looked to the younger individual hopeful.

Anastasia seemed a bit hesitant, “I don’t know. I feel a bit uneasy performing in front of people...”

“Oh! You won’t be performing live! People come up and pay to request songs,” Vormel quickly cleared up the misunderstanding. “One of my cousins is already there working the playlist and DJ booth. You’d just need to help people put in their request and handle the money.”

“Oh, I can do that,” Anastasia relaxed.

“Great! We’re stationed this way,” Vormel showed her the way. When they came to an elevated mini stage that held a mixer, a computer, and speaker. Leaning in a corner was boy about her age that had a slightly desaturated skintone compared to Vormel, but had light freckles across his face. He wore thick rimmed glasses, and his hair had a fade on the sides and a tight tuff of curls on top that was orange to black gradient from tip to root. He turned to look at the approaching two and his eyes were bright orange with slit like pupils. He had a relaxed bored expression as he put a hand up in greeting. “Sup Brazza!”

Brazza came down from the station to meet the two. Vormel motioned to Anastasia, “This is Anastasia, one of M.P.’s friends from NRC. She’s gonna take care of taking requests so you can focus on being the DJ. Anastasia, this is Brazza. He’s our cousin Poechi’s oldest. You’re about the same age.”

“Nice to meet you, Brazza,” Anastasia held out her hand. Brazza took it and gently shook her hand with a nod.

“I’m gonna help Uncle Gullo deal with some people at the food vendors, Brazza. Take good care of Ana here! M.P. might come for you if you don’t, haha!” Vormel winked with a laugh.

Brazza rolled his eyes as he went back to music booth. Anastasia stayed where she was until Brazza looked back to her. He covered his mouth with a hand and said in a soft voice, “You can come up and hang with me in the booth if you want.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Anastasia followed him. He put his hand back down and took his place leaning in the corner again. Anastasia copied his posture in the other corner not occupied by equipment. She tapped her hands on her legs before asking, “So, where do people request music?”

Brazza leaned forward and handed her a clipboard with a pen tied to it and a sign-up sheet. He then walked back down the booth, ushering for Anastasia to follow. On the front of the stage was a list of songs tapped up. He then led her back up to the booth and pointed towards a lock box with a key in the slot. Brazza covered his mouth again and said, “Money goes in there. 5 Madol per song request. We have change.” Then he went and started a new song.

“Oh, okay.” Anastasia

“It’s close to mealtime, so people aren’t gonna request until after they eat. You can relax for a bit,” Brazza assured, hand still over his mouth.

“Understandable,” Anastasia nodded. It was awkward silence for a while after that. Neither said a word. Every once in a while, Brazza would change the song and mix a new beat. Eventually people came in groups to request songs. It got pretty busy actually.

In a small break from people coming up Anastasia sighed. “You’re pretty good at being a DJ Brazza. Do you like music?”

Brazza nodded. He covered is mouth and muttered, “Thanks.”

Anastasia quirked an eyebrow. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, why do you cover your mouth when you talk?” Brazza paused. He pressed his lips into a line. He just shook his head, with a look in his eyes that said enough. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to tell me.”

“Uh, have any favorite song? I can play it,” Brazza offered.

“But I didn’t pay.”

Brazza shrugged and put his finger to his lips like he was shushing her. He smirked before pointing to the system again.

#thais adamante #blake o'hare hill #anastasia alon #savannah fair event #brazza #vormel furo #miss oaxa

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years ago

Text

satori - park chanyeol

⇢ prompt Let’s make it forever.—sequel to greatest gift ⇢ pairing chanyeol x female reader ⇢ word count 14.3k ⇢ genre fluff & smut ⇢ warnings explicit sexual content, small dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (just 3 don’t get excited), unprotected sex, creampie, mild cumplay?, i think that’s all this is basically pwp but somehow 14k words ⇢ summary It’s been a little more than two years since you and Chanyeol started dating and you have never been so happy. Perhaps you are just blinded by love, but things are perfect and you cannot help but think it has something to do with having the love of your life always by your side. You also cannot help but think this kind of love lasts forever.—established relationship!au ⇢ a/n ok i really wasn’t planning on writing a sequel to greatest gift but then like 1 person asked me to & then i was inspired by 170727 kokobop chanyeol watch the fancam dudes that’s the exact outfit he wears in this & have been listening to forever religiously & really just wanted to write pcy saying ‘nice skirt’ so here we are. u don’t need to read greatest gift to read this but u will have more background info ab characters & relationships. ok that’s all from me, i really spilled my heart out into this one & am very proud so i hope u love satori as much as i do! ♥︎

In the midst of your monotonous Pinterest scrolling, the unlocking and opening of the front door tears your attention away from the video that so enticingly grasps your attention, no matter how badly you wish it to finish. Glancing up, you first look to the television, where your fourth episode of Property Brothers drones on, flickering light into the otherwise dark room. Then, it is Toben who catches your eye, head lifting from his position by your feet at the sound of the door clicking shut. So quick is he to abandon you, excitedly leaping down from the sofa to greet his human. In all honesty, you do not blame him; he simply is not as lazy as you are on this dreary Friday night.

Well, perhaps not so dreary anymore. Sure, the unremitting, hazy rain and grey clouds beyond the warm confines of your apartment beg to differ, but inside, the sun itself has entered.

“You know what’s sad?” You call out to him, lips quirked in amusement.

“What?” He answers from down the hall, followed by the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it onto the coat rack. The familiar deepness of his voice alone is enough to put you at ease; instantly, you feel like putty against the pillow propped beside you when you imagine his humored smile. At the sound of Toben’s nails scratching against the hardwood as he scurries back into the room, you take one last lingering glimpse to the video that has been playing on loop on your phone.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Making his way down the foyer, he laughs. Barely a low chuckle, mostly out of confusion at your out-of-the-blue statement, but this makes you crack a smile nonetheless.

“Why should you know how to tie a tie?”

You know he is finally here without having to look up. You can feel it, the way his presence beckons for your attention effortlessly, tugging at the strings of your heart and the cords to your soul. The way the room seems to instantly grow warmer, brighter, the way just seeing his frame, tall and regal in your peripheral vision, is enough to have your legs quivering with the need to have him closer. “I don’t know,” you snort, turning to look at him at last, “wouldn’t it be cute if I did your tie before we went out?”

“___, how often do we go places where a tie is necessary?” Chanyeol muses, though you don’t exactly pay any mind to his reasoning. It’s not that you are ignoring him, you’re just… taking time to engrave this image in your mind, just like every other day. He’s beautiful, you distantly note, the epitome of your dreams standing at the entrance of the living room like a beacon, blue light from the TV flashing against his oversized olive-green sweatshirt and hair falling in floofy curls over his forehead. His hair.

His hair.

Somewhere in between you slowly blinking at him in the dark and leaning forward to turn the light on, he asks how your day was. Now, this goes ignored, brain preoccupied trying to fully process the fact that his hair is pink.

“You— what? When?” Overlooking his question, you sputter, “I thought you were at work!”

Amused at your baffled astonishment, Chanyeol kicks his sneakers off near the shoe rack before making his way over, stifling a laugh at your rendered silence. “Do you like it?” He asks, scooping your legs up from the sofa so he can crash down close beside you, quickly laying them over his lap.

Pinterest ‘how to tie a tie’ video long forgotten, you toss your phone onto the coffee table and lean forward, grasping his face in both hands in order to lower the crown of his head to your nose. With only a single inhale, the accumulative scent of bleach and hair dye and everything salon nearly has your eyes watering before you drop your hands. At that, you lean back far enough to fully admire him in the light, cheeks and lips puffy from a long day, skin glowing with the remnants of misty rain, but the hair. Oh good God, the hair. A shade somewhere in between bubblegum pink and your favorite lip gloss, it has your insides alight with butterflies in seconds.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome,” you finally sigh, burying your face into your palms. The anxiety that had begun fizzing in his nerves from your scrutinizing is immediately extinguished, replaced with a fresh wave of pride to his ego and, well, absolute adoration for you.

“Is that a yes?” Chanyeol laughs, loud and boisterous as he bends to awkwardly lie against you, paying no mind to the way the furniture creaks as he wiggles his way into the small space. “Duh,” you scoff, moving your arm so he can better nestle his long ass self between your legs, “I thought red was my favorite, but now I’m not so sure.” When he laughs again, you feel it in your soul, the vibrations resonating within you and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer. Once he’s caught on that you desperately, always, crave for such proximity, Chanyeol instantly shimmies his way up, dimple prominent when you cup his face one more time to press a welcoming kiss first to his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “I missed you.”

“I bet I missed you more,” he replies once satisfied five kisses later, turning his head to rest against his favorite pillow, aka your chest. Knowing you will never win in any such argument like this with him, you bite your tongue and take to combing your fingers through the freshly colored strands of hair, cringing at the thought that it won’t be this soft after he’s washed it. “So, what made you do this?”

He shrugs, half of his attention paid toward the renovation reveal displayed on the TV. “Thought I’d switch it up for Easter, so I just went before heading to the studio.”

“What did Jongdae think?” You wonder with a laugh. Out of all Chanyeol’s friends, Jongdae was never one to go for the extravagant hair colors. Orange was the extent of his spectrum, and even that was short-lived. “Said he liked it, then called me an Easter egg, so who knows,” he grumbles, clearly troubled by his friend’s lack of an immediate, one hundred percent approval. This in itself is enough to make you laugh, but you choose to change the subject for the sake of Chanyeol’s immeasurable ego. “Speaking of,” you hum, enamored with just the sliver of his face you can see from this angle, “how’s the album going?”

“It’s good,” Chanyeol hums, chin digging into your sternum when he turns to look at you once more, “Jongdae is gonna start recording on Monday.” As he says this, he stretches his arms above your head before flopping them down by your sides, one cold hand sneaking under the hem of your crew neck to splay against the warmth of your back. Now, this is mutualism at its finest: with the two of you seemingly always running at an internal temperature too high, you both are feens for a cold touch once in awhile. So, as Chanyeol gets to warm his hands up, you, too, benefit with the coolness against your burning skin. It also may have to do with that time he had ice cubes against your—

You shake your head to rid the tantalizing memory.

“I’m so excited to hear it,” you whisper without meaning to, perhaps reduced to mush at your current intimacy, “with his voice, knowing you wrote the majority of the album. Ah, it’s gonna be beautiful.” Pushing his bangs back and giving his scalp a good scratch all the way to the nape of his neck, you add with a wrinkle of your nose, “I wish it was you, though.”

Chanyeol lets out an amused snort, one eye peeled open to glare at you for disrupting the drowsy daze you have cast him under. “But you already have my singing all to yourself, you don’t need an album,” he mutters, voice marbled with sleep and your fingers twitch with the need to trace the swell of his pouty lips. You do it, anyway, and receive a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb in return.

“How was the museum?” He asks nearly ten minutes later, stirring just slightly to stretch the arm not curled around you up and past your head. You were under the impression he was fast asleep if the shallowness of his breath was anything to go by. Perhaps not. “Slow Friday, as usual,” you sigh, aching to stretch, too, now that the weight of having a grown ass man on you has finally taken its toll, “had a live animal show with the barn owl and Branch, again.”

“Branch is the new opossum, right?” Chanyeol questions, suddenly pushing himself up enough to sit back on his heels. He must have noticed your stiffness. Offering him an appreciative smile, you lean up and fluff the now squashed pillow beneath you before flopping back down on your side. “Yeah,” you hum, pulling him down to rejoin you, “he’s cute. Imprinted, too, so he loves cuddles. Almost as much as you.” It’s awfully cramped with your back pressed up against the leather and Chanyeol flush against you, but you would never complain about having him so close. You usually can’t get close enough.

“I’ll never forget the raccoons. They were so cute,” Chanyeol hums, reminiscent to the singular time your boss allowed you to sneak him in to meet all of the museum’s disabled animals. With his hipbone pressed against the curve of your stomach, he slots one long leg between your own, surely building his nest even though he should eat and shower before getting comfortable. “That was fun,” you agree, pausing for just a moment when his hand, large enough to cradle half of your face, comes to do so. “They were hella messy though, ugh,” grumbling, you return his previous gesture and press a kiss to the palm of his hand when his thumb goes about running along your bottom lip, “I’ll never forget the time Lavender shit in their enclosure asI was cleaning it.”

Chanyeol frowns, brows quickly drawing together and the sudden change in his expression certainly throws you off guard. “Don’t talk about raccoon shit when I’m about to kiss you,” he murmurs, leaning up on one elbow to ever so slightly hover over you.

“Oh?” You chuckle, dragging your hands up the ridges of muscle in his arms to link behind his neck. “I didn’t know that was your plan.” Like this, you still can’t fight your smile at just how well the pink hair compliments the warmth of his honey complexion.

Lips jutting out in a deeper pout, Chanyeol slips his hand under your shirt to grab ahold of your waist. “That’s always my plan,” he sighs longingly, finally swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss powerful enough for the world around you to fall away.

When you wake, you come to realize three abnormalities.

First, your pillow is not where it should be. Flat on your stomach and limbs spread like a starfish, you raise your head just enough to catch the corner of said pillow staring at you sadly from the floor below.

Second, you are cold. This, you have no one to blame but yourself, having torn your clothes off in a hurry and fallen asleep soaked in the warmth of one another. Now, with the blankets only coming up mid-back, you cannot fight your shivers at the cold air against your bare skin.

And lastly, Chanyeol is still awake.

It takes several moments for you to come to your senses, feeling as if you have awoken from a season long hibernation, the haze and confusion of having abruptly awakened rendering you incompetent when it comes to gathering your wits for several moments. Finally, once you have realized where you are, you first take to wiping at the drool that has pooled directly onto the sheets and, consequently, crusted onto your cheek. Nice. Pausing just a moment to collect your disoriented thoughts once more, you then lean half your body off the bed to retrieve your pillow with a grunt, and, just a little further away, your shirt. On your way back up, you catch the time on your nightstand shining an angry 2:43 am at you.

“What are you still doing up?” You ask, voice groggy and thick with sleep once you have flopped onto your back, chest heaving with the unnecessary effort you just had to exert in the middle of your weekend slumber. Squinting past the shine of the bedside lamp he’s kept on and the bright screen of his laptop, you recline just enough to see that he’s… online shopping?

“Baekhyun showed me this really cool site for colored contacts,” Chanyeol explains, then, after turning to you with furrowed brows and a worried pout, “did I wake you?”

God, you’re confused, brain in no state to try and figure out why he’s looking at colored contacts at almost three in the morning when he had fallen asleep with you no more than four hours ago. “No, no… well, actually, I don’t know, I think I just woke up on my own,” you murmur, sitting up to pull the crew neck over your head, “why… why are you looking at contacts, again?”

The rasp of his chuckle is enough to draw you closer, rolling to meet his side and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Baekhyun said blue contacts with pink hair is a good look, so I’m gonna order a pair,” he whispers, lifting his arm despite your grumble of protest to curl around your shoulders and tug you close. The white light from his laptop is a bit too harsh on your eyes, but you manage to keep one half open to peek at the selection. Then, “You’re so weird. Go to bed.”

“I will, after I order,” he whispers for the sake of letting you fall back asleep, yet you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, whatever,” you grunt, turning onto your other side but still latching onto his arm, “get me a pair, too.”

For the brief time in between living with college roommates and then moving with Chanyeol, sleeping in on Saturday mornings in the comfort of your own apartment was always your favorite. No obligations, no work, and certainly no one to disturb you. Whether you finally rolled out of bed at ten, one, or four o’clock--- it didn’t matter. If you had plans at night, you still had plenty of time to get ready and you were in a much better mood to socialize than the other days of the week. Sleeping in on Saturdays till whatever time deemed sufficient simply brings about a whole new level of comfort and consists of several factors at the root of such leisure.

This list certainly became askew, however, once you and Chanyeol began spending nights with one another. Before, simply waking to a quiet apartment, ceiling fan humming and sunlight trickling through the bottom of your blinds was your favorite part of the week. But waking up with the love of your life curled into you certainly makes this experience all the better. And at this point, it seems as if waking up with the warmth of Chanyeol’s breath against the nape of your neck will remain at the top of your list forever.

So, for that to be absent is enough to startle you into an upright position only seconds after you have opened your eyes. Palm coming to slap against the deserted Chanyeol-indented space of mattress beside you, you stroke up and down the sheets, once, twice, before the lingering warmth on the pillow and sheets eases your nerves. Spinning to catch the time, you squint as if that will kickstart the drowsy parts of your brain to comprehend 12:37 pm and all the possible reasons why he is not here with you before tossing the blankets aside and rising with a much-needed stretch.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight seeping in from between the blinds, you first reach for your underwear tossed haphazardly by the window before half-shimmying them up your legs and half-hopping to the door. Perhaps he’s in the office, you wonder, stepping into the foyer but alas, the door remains open and the lights off. Just as you’ve wandered into the living room, scratching by the front door to the right of you is immediately followed by the lock clicking open and, seconds later, Chanyeol has returned.

You’re a little thrown off. Sweatpants, wrinkled t-shirt, moccasins, and a terribly cute case of bedhead, it seems as if he just rolled out of bed seconds prior. But in his hands, he holds two full grocery bags and Toben’s leash.

“Good morning,” he smiles softly, eyes puffy with sleep. Yep, definitely just woke up. “Mom called,” he explains, lifting the bags before passing them to you so he can unhook Toben, “said something about… someone else not being able to cook a main for tomorrow... so she asked if we could do the Easter bread and brought all the stuff for it.” He explains as you rummage through the groceries. Milk, yeast, a carton of eggs; all things you have here, but Mrs. Park’s kindness never fails to surprise you. “Ah,” humming, you make way for the kitchen counter to set everything down, “I was very confused.”

“Sorry,” joining you in the kitchen, Chanyeol curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to kiss your temple, “I didn’t want to wake you.” Lining all the dry ingredients up for later, you hand him the rest to put in the refrigerator. “Well, thank you,” flashing him an appreciative smile, you finally take to rubbing your eyes as it seems you won’t be going back to bed anytime soon, “do you want anything to eat? I can make eggs if you make pancakes.” Crust sufficiently wiped from your eyes, you lean against the cabinets and glance to Chanyeol, soaking in the way he seems to glow in the sunlight illuminating him and the messy curls of pink hair. Ugh. He’s the worst.

“Breakfast sounds good,” he agrees, gaze flickering down to your bare legs for hardly a second before taking two short steps closer and suddenly, you’re not so sure he means eggs and pancakes if the way his eyes darken is anything to go by.

“You should probably put some pants on, first,” Chanyeol rumbles with a thoughtful rise of his brows, one hand anchoring onto the curve of your waist while another dips into the waistband of your panties before letting it slap back against your skin.

Despite the burning desire that flares in your abdomen at the daring move, you jut your chin out, eyeing him contentiously. “Oh! You’re right,” smirking, you force yourself to avoid making eye contact in order to calmly slip out of his grip, “let me go grab some sweats.”

You’ve hardly made it to the dining table by the time he’s back on you, reaching for your wrist and spinning you to meet his chest. At the near growl that escapes him, you quite literally quiver from head to toe. “So funny, I forgot to laugh,” Chanyeol grumbles, gripping the back of your thighs to help you onto the wood before diving in to kiss you.

It quite literally sucks the life out of you, but then again, that’s every kiss with him. “I thought it was pretty funny,” you giggle before he really has you loopy on the taste of him, but it doesn’t take long for your jaw to slacken, allowing him further access. So quickly you fall under his spell, fingers curling into the hairs at the nape of his neck and legs coming to wrap around his waist when the kiss turns into nothing more than a clash of teeth and tongue. It doesn’t take long for him to rid you of your shirt, either, or have you lying back before him as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way down from your throat to the waistband of your underwear. Christ, this poor table.

Good thing this is the only such meal ever eaten here.

Out of fear that he would stop once you mentioned anything, you have never complimented Chanyeol on his shower singing. Sure, you have heard him loud and clear throughout your home and sometimes even when he’s secluded in his office, but something tells you singing in the shower is different. You wouldn’t necessarily call it an invasion of privacy considering no such privacy exists in your relationship by now, but you simply do not want to mention it because knowing him, he subconsciously will either sing quieter or amp it up knowing you are listening in. And you don’t want him to change what he’s already doing.

With your back facing the bathroom door, you remain in the same position Chanyeol left you in, on your side with your head on his pillow rather than your own. You should probably get out of bed soon, anyway, the colon between the ten and forty-three on the clock blinking at you in judgment, but listening to Chanyeol sing along to a fourth Radiohead song with the luxurious smell of him around you is a much better alternative. You have plenty of time to get ready, you tell yourself, nestling deeper into the pillow, only seconds before Chanyeol’s singing ceases as he turns the water off. Frowning, you take this as your cue to give up any possible five-minute nap and return to your side of the bed to retrieve your phone.

“Are you up?” Chanyeol calls from behind the door just as you have opened up Instagram. “Yeah!”

He opens the door at your confirmation, showering steam and light into the otherwise cave-like bedroom. “I’m gonna have to leave soon,” Chanyeol says once you have rolled over to look him, towel wrapped snuggly around his hips and Q-tip in ear, “Mom is in her usual panic and asked if I could help her out.” Frowning, you flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “What ever am I to do without you for two and a half hours?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he hums, making his way over and leaning over you, arms coming to rest at each side of your head. You twitch when a droplet of water running down his jaw falls onto your cheek. “G’morning, by the way,” he mumbles against your lips after coming closer and you graciously return the soft kiss he offers you. Of course, you pull him back for a second, much deeper one, smiling when he ever so slightly shifts when your fingers come to trail up the toned expanse of his stomach, hand coming to cradle his jaw.

You pull back with a sly smile when his tongue threatens to push past the seam of your lips. “Do you know what you’re wearing?” You ask, ignoring the betrayed look in his eyes when you sit up and nudge him out of the way. “No,” he grumbles, returning to the bathroom once he realizes he is not getting anything more than a kiss. Stifling a laugh, you swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the mattress, watching him comb product through his hair. After two showers, it already seems to have lost its initial pop of color. Sad.

Rising with a stretch, you head toward the closet and stop along the way to pull a pair of sweatpants up your legs—just so he doesn’t get any ideas—and flip the closet light on before opening the doors. At the sound of the hairdryer roaring to life, you take to sifting through the shirts he has hung up, trying to avoid the blacks as this is his family’s annual Easter get-together. It certainly is not as extravagant as Christmas, but Chanyeol is a man of style and you know he prides himself showing up as best dressed. Going something pastel would be a nice change for the spring season, but yet again… you linger on a navy button-up. The white decal means he could wear white pants, but it is a little casual, barely a step up from a Hawaiian shirt, but maybe he could wear a nice jacket with it.

Plucking it by the hanger, you turn toward the bathroom and hold the seemingly unworn shirt out to him as he moves to the last section of damp hair. “This, with white pants? Do you have a jacket this color?” You shout over the hairdryer, reaching to brush away a tuft of hair falling in his eyes. Chanyeol considers it for a moment, gaze flickering back to his reflection before nodding to you. “Yeah, in the other closet, though. Thank you,” you just barely hear him but smile nonetheless, stealing the dryer from him to direct the hot air toward the back where hair refuses to lay flat.

Passing it back to him when you’re done, he only does one more run through before switching it off and moving on to gel just to assure the hair he has combed back stays up and away from his forehead. “You look really handsome with it parted like that,” you compliment, staring up at him with wide eyes and you mentally slap yourself at how flustered you sound. Dating for over two years and you still can’t get a grip. The look on his face makes your embarrassment worth it, though. “I had no idea how the back looked, so thank you,” Chanyeol chuckles, rinsing residue gel off his hands before unplugging the hairdryer and ushering you back into your bedroom. Not without another kiss, of course. As a treat.

Hooking the hanger with his shirt onto the doorknob of the closet, you take to undressing as he does the opposite, tossing your sleep apparel to the hamper and only stopping to help him redo the buttons of his shirt he so kindly misaligned. “I’m gonna get in the shower,” you hum, goosebumps coming in waves when his hand comes to glide against your bare skin, starting at your waist, up the curve of your breast, over your collarbones and finally cradling your neck, “I’ll see you in a little bit?”

“Yes ma’am,” he affirms, ducking to peck the corner of your mouth, “I’ll get an Uber so you can have the car?”

“No! You drive, don’t you have to pick stuff up? I’ll Uber,” you offer, wrapping your arms around him and blinking up at him with your chin sitting on his chest. When he shakes his head you realize, as usual, there’s no point in arguing. “It’s fine,” Chanyeol grins, pinching your side, “no one else gets to drive my girl but me.” Rolling your eyes to counteract the heat that flares its way up your neck, you pull away, smoothing out the wrinkles you made in his shirt. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t forget a jacket.”

“I won’t,” smiling, he leans over to give you a proper kiss this time, “see you at two.”

Once the Park family, as well as distant relatives and close friends, found out you and Chanyeol were together, things certainly changed.

You were no longer simply Seoyun’s best friend. Everyone knew you at that point, sure, accepted the fact that where Seoyun went, you followed, but dating Chanyeol had all the stage lights pointing to you. You couldn’t necessarily understand why that came to be, but assumed that it simply had to do with how popular he is, even in his own family. For someone not nearly as outgoing as Chanyeol, the news came as a surprise to many on that monumental Christmas party two years ago. Others, however, apparently had their bets on when the two of you would finally crumble for years.

Chanyeol’s mother, for example, was one such person.

For as many things that went wrong this morning, from your straightener not heating past one-fifty, to having a breakdown over what to wear, and even messing up your eyeliner one too many times, you have somehow arrived seven minutes early. Before you left, Chanyeol had called, too, asking you to pick up two bottles of soju and a bag of glass noodles because 1) him and his cousins already managed their way through a bottle and 2) the noodle pack his mom picked up was half the serving she needed. This alone tells you you’re in for a long night.

Christ, it would have been nice if he was here to open the door for you, though. With a heavy grocery bag, wrapped Easter bread, keys, and handbag threatening to slip off your shoulder, it takes ample effort to safely hook your pinkie finger around the grocery bag so you can lock the car. Then, you manage to open the storm door with your elbow, seconds away from dropping the Easter bread in the endeavor. Chanyeol claims he forgot it on the counter. Luckily, the maroon front door with its pretty spring wreath has been left ajar, and it isn’t until you have finally slipped your way inside does someone realize whoever’s huffing and puffing out there needs help.

“Here, I’ll take this,” he offers in a rush, further opening the door to accommodate the two of you and taking the bread from your arms.

“Thank you,” you smile, wiping your boots on the welcome mat before looking up to your knight in shining armor.

Oh. Oh.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” you chuckle, squinting at the ridiculously attractive stranger. Phew. There’s no way you would have missed such a face in all your years with the Park family whether Chanyeol was the apple of your eye or not.

“No, you haven’t. This is my first rodeo around here,” he grins brightly. His smile makes him even more attractive, if that is possible. “I’m Jongin. Nice to meet you…?”

Oh. Oh.

“Jongin, as in Kim Jongin Park Seoyun’s boyfriend?”

“Yes…?” He trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You apparently know me, yet I don’t know you.”

“I’m ___,” you laugh, stepping past him and leading him out of the front foyer. When you glance back at him, you can see the gears turning in his brain before an excited expression of recognition flashes across his face. “Oh! Oh, shit. You’re the infamous ___. Christ, sorry. Hi.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, but then again, I have no idea what that woman has said about me,” laughing, you pause to wave to some of Chanyeol’s cousins in the family room before continuing with Jongin to the kitchen, “don’t trust anything she says. I promise I’m nice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, though, Mr. Jongin.”

“Ah, you as well,” smiling softly, he seems quite overwhelmed at the Park’s rowdiness, gaze anxiously flickering around the crowded room as he ever so slightly steps closer. You distantly wonder why Seoyun would leave him stranded, but that’s not your problem. “So, if you are ___, does that mean you’re…”

Like some sort of cartoon, Jongin trails off just as both of you find Chanyeol in the crowd, beer in one hand and bowl in another as his mother deposits what looks like mussel and scallop shells into it. Maybe it’s your automatic Chanyeol-tunnel-vision, but even in the midst of the busy room he seems to be the rising star, standing tall and regal by the counter, laugh booming over all the noise and simply glowing in the warm wash of light. He managed to find a navy jacket practically matching his shirt, too. Dear God. “Yeah,” once you finally tear your gaze away to turn to Jongin, he’s already watching you, smiling at the way you so lovingly looked at Chanyeol. “I’m the lucky lady.”

“Hey, he’s the lucky one,” Jongin adds, nudging you with his elbow. Seoyun certainly got a good one. “Speaking of lucky,” you start, craning your neck to search for said girl, “where’s S—”

“___!”

You are so kindly interrupted by your intoxicated boyfriend shouting for you across the room. Flushing in embarrassment and trying to ignore all the heads that turn in your direction at the sudden announcement of your arrival, you reclaim the Easter bread from Jongin’s arm, offering him an appreciative bow. “I’ll catch up with you later. Tell Seoyun I was looking for her.”

At his affirmative smile, you suck in a deep breath before spinning around and maneuvering your way to where Chanyeol and his mother stand by the oven. “I was wondering where you were,” he greets, setting his beer down to take the bread and soju from your hands before squashing your nose in a deep kiss that his mother and family really did not need to see. Blinking at him in surprise, you don’t even bother asking him what the hell that was about and turn toward Mrs. Park instead, who has just finished wiping her hands before opening her arms for you.

“It’s wonderful to see you, love,” she hums when you wholeheartedly accept her embrace, arms coming to wrap around her. “You too, Ma,” pulling back just enough to look at her with a brow raised, “I hope he helped you enough before he started drinking, or do I need to have a talk with him?”

She laughs, plucking up a wooden spoon to stir what looks like kimchi stew. “No, he helped a great deal. Vacuumed before anyone arrived and helped make a few things with his sister,” she explains, gaze lighting up when you pull the pack of glass noodles from the grocery bag. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear. I was so angry when I saw how little was in my bag,” then, turning to yell out over her guests, “Yura! Come finish your japchae!”

“Go grab something to drink, ___. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, there’s plenty of appetizers out already. Thank you, again,” Mrs. Park grins brightly at you, squeezing your hand before returning to chopping vegetables. Crumbling the plastic grocery bag in your hand, you turn to Chanyeol who appears to be deep in conversation with a couple standing across from him, but you can tell by the way he keeps grazing over the appetizers on the counter next to him and avoiding eye contact that he is in desperate need of an escape. This being said, he still jolts in surprise when you return to his side, one hand curling around his bicep as the other glides down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his. The woman droning on pauses her chatter at this, the corner of her lip twitching up and she takes this as her cue to move on, offering the two of you a wink before dragging her husband, assumingly, out to the back patio.

“Ugh, thank you,” Chanyeol grins once the door shuts behind them, looking down at you with puckered lips, “I missed you.” Snorting, you let go of his arm to move to the now open spot beside him, eyeing all the pickies laid out in front of you. “Was going to make fun of you, but I missed you, too, so it looks like we’re both clowns,” you sigh, grabbing a fork to stab into a slice of mozzarella. Chanyeol stays quiet, opting to fondly watch you instead, smile only growing when you try one of everything. “Oh,” you remember, pausing to swallow the last bit of spicy chicken, “I’m glad you found a jacket. You look great.” You kiss the tips of your fingers, waving them just for emphasis.

Chanyeol’s grin is instantaneous, stretching his arms in front of him and literally checking himself out in front of you. You’re not judging, of course— if you looked half as good as him all the time, you would do the same. Plus, navy does wonders against his skin tone. “Thank you,” arm curling around you, he gives your side an affectionate squeeze, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Smiling at his compliment, you continue to make your way through the appetizers. Plucking up a cube of cheese, it isn’t until you have bitten half do you realize your mistake. “Ew,” you cough, sticking your tongue out as if that will rid your taste buds of the sharp provolone flavor. Nose wrinkling, you hold the other half out to him, “Here, you like fancy shit like this.” What you certainly do not expect is for him to go right ahead and bite the cheese straight from your fingers, lips just barely wrapping around your thumb. Despite the way your stomach swoops at the action and the way he stands back to his full height, lids hooded and gaze dark, your first instinct is to look around you, heart racing at the thought of one of Chanyeol’s aunts or uncles watching him eat cheese from between your fingers. Christ, it sounds even worse when you think about it.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in your throat, you tell yourself you know this dance— you know how to handle Chanyeol just as much as he knows how to handle you. Slowly turning back to him, all you offer is a challenging rise of your brow before reaching for a different cheese, trying to ignore the way your pulse races just by having him close.

As you search for a cracker, perhaps even a pretzel, you see from the corner of your eye how disgruntled he is with your reaction, considering you with a flare of his nostrils and a pout of his bottom lip. Plan B, it is.

Squeezing your side harder, Chanyeol leans in close this time, brushing hair away from your ear with his other hand before whispering, “Nice skirt.” Now, this certainly nurses a much better effect, the richness and deepness of his voice alone dripping like chocolate into the very core of your being. It’s only a two-word compliment, yet you practically choke on your mouthful of food. When he tugs at the hem of the plaid wool skirt you wear, two thoughts momentarily cross your mind: 1) the compliment is nice, especially since you were worried it was a bit shabby looking but 2) he may just be saying that to get a rise out of you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, summoning the courage to slide your palm from the waistband of his slacks, all the way up his chest to finally cup his jaw before standing on your tippy-toes, pushing yourself to meet his ear. The ball is in your court, now. “Bet you’d like it better if it was off, no?”

You don’t miss the way his breath hitches, grip on your waist tugging you closer and you distantly hope it simply looks at if the two of you are deep in conversation. Over cheese and whatnot, of course. “Don’t tempt me, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, “I’ve fucked you with my family just beyond a door, you know I’d gladly take you on the counter right now for everyone to see your pretty pussy.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Alarms. Panic. Shit, now you’re wet. What have you started? Maybe you don’t know how to handle Chanyeol as well as you think— he undoubtedly has your tongue tied now. You can’t even begin to think of a response that doesn’t involve tearing off the lace shirt you spent so long ironing for him to fulfill such an alluring threat. He must feel how you tremble against him, heat burning from the inside out and suddenly he’s withdrawing, regarding you with his own challenging brow raise, eyes dark with hunger as he awaits your response.

“Hey, Chanyeol! Stop hiding ___ from me!”

The relief you feel comes in cooling waves, jerking you out of your trance and you turn just in time to see Seoyun stop in front of you, finger jabbing into Chanyeol’s chest. “Can’t you back off for like, two seconds?” She barks, oblivious to his heavy breaths. Then, pulling Jongin who was hidden behind her to Chanyeol’s side, “You two, meet. Talk. Do the bro thing while I drink some mimosas with my girl.” Oh, good. You sure could use one of those. Or two. Or three.

Chanyeol puts his arms up in defense, glancing at Jongin who only shrugs in identical stupefaction. “Perfect! Okay, see you guys later. Don’t bother us, we have girl things to talk about,” Seoyun threatens, shooting a second cold glare to Chanyeol before softening up and smiling softly. Then, she’s dragging you toward the back door, hardly giving you time to look back at Chanyeol.

When you do, you know that threat won’t be forgotten easily.

After ‘dinner’ sometime around three-thirty, the hours start to blend together, four turning to six, and then all of a sudden, it’s eight o’clock. Family gatherings seemingly always go like this—when you were kids, this was time spent running around outside, about the house, playing games or opening presents (depending on the occasion). Now, this is when things mellow down; from chugging mimosas with Seoyun in the backyard, you now opt for wine, just to seem sophisticated, and the atmosphere is much calmer. Peak adulting, right here.

While many family and friends leave once the post-dinner sleepiness fades, close relatives remain, gathering together and using the time to share stories and life updates. These are always your favorite times with the Parks. And even though Chanyeol is on probation, sitting on another sofa across the room for the stunt he pulled earlier—no, the other stunt, where he held your thigh during dinner but kept inching up until his fingers brushed along your panties when his aunt was sitting right next to you—tonight, in particular, has been one of the best nights spent with your second family.

Every so often, usually when you are PMSing, a dreadful thought enters your mind and always returns whenever you are with Chanyeol’s family: you love them just as much as you love him. It was Seoyun, not Chanyeol, who introduced you to them first, and you have spent more than a decade growing up with them. It goes without explanation that you consider them as your own family now, too. So, what if you and Chanyeol broke up? You are an adult now, so it’s not like Seoyun would ask you to join her for the company like she had when you were kids, and it wouldn’t make sense for Chanyeol’s parents or aunts and uncles or grandparents to invite you… You would not only lose Chanyeol, but your family, too, and that’s enough to make any grown woman cry.

So, looking around the living room full of many people you have grown to love, you try to make the best of it. Not that you think you and Chanyeol are going to break up, no, but it is an inescapable fear that you will never be able to simply ignore.

But you can brush it aside for right now, at least— especially when you are curled into Mrs. Park’s side with Seoyun’s head on your lap.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Your best friend asks, completely out of the blue. You just finished ranking your favorite teas, now we’re talking about marriage? “Um,” you cough, glancing up to Ma for help but she’s looking at you with an identical expectant rise of her brows. Must be a Park thing. Christ, what is this, the girl’s gossip table in fourth period lunch? Still… are you going to get married? You can’t necessarily answer that on your own. You have no idea what Chanyeol is planning for his future, sure, you’d like to get married, but you are also not in any rush, and—

“Yes,” is what you say, before your mind has even caught up. “Wait!” You quickly add on, smacking a palm to your forehead. Then, “Yes… I’d like to get married. But I don’t know if he wants to, and even if he does, we’re in no rush, he’s been busy producing and…” Trailing off, your gaze has somehow wound up to the ceiling, and when you glance back to them, their features have noticeably softened, eyes glossy with joy.

“I love him, a lot,” you say, quieter, gentler this time, zoning in on Chanyeol across the room and his pretty smile and the way the whole room seems to light up when he laughs. “If he wants to get married, I’ll marry him. And if he doesn’t… well, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait forever, for him.”

“My boy is more than in love with you, ___. You’re his whole world,” Mrs. Park says and when you tilt your head up at her, the look in her eyes suddenly makes you want to cry. Again. It’s from the wine, you tell yourself. “If he doesn’t put a ring on it soon, I’m gonna fuck his shit up,” Seoyun snaps, the alcohol in her system clearly doing the talking here as she stares absentmindedly up at the popcorn ceiling. Laughing, you slap a hand over your mouth, expecting Ma to reprimand her niece for such language in front of her. Instead, she joins in and soon enough, the combined laughter from the three of you has all of your earlier worries washed away.

“What’s so funny, ladies?” It’s Mr. Park here to interrupt this time, an amused smile forcing a dimple in his left cheek. “Ah, nothing, honey,” Ma coughs out one last giggle before reaching for her husband’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Just making fun of Yeol.”

“Oh, my favorite. What did he do this time?”

“He hasn’t asked ___ to marry him yet,” Seoyun pipes up from your lap, head tilting further back so she can look at her uncle.

“Why do I keep hearing my name over there?” Chanyeol shouts, leaning up far too quickly from his relaxed position and you can tell by the way his head bobbles that he has had one too many drinks with his uncles and cousins. Looks like you better slow down if you want to get home safely. “Because you’re paranoid!” You shout back, scrunching your nose at him because you know he knows you’re right. Frowning, he motions with two fingers that he will be watching you before returning to his own conversation.

“So, you met Jongin,” Seoyun starts once Mr. and Mrs. Park have fallen into a separate discussion beside you. You’ve had this conversation twice, already, but you don’t mind having it again.

“I have,” you hum, softly adjusting the weight of her head on your thighs so you can sit more comfortably, “I can’t believe you guys have been friends since university and this is the first time I’m meeting him.”

“Well… it’s not like we hung out all that much. We haven’t been in touch for a while,” Seoyun mumbles, eyelids fluttering closed once you begin combing through her hair.

“I refuse to believe that. There’s no way you would have given up a man that good-looking.”

“Hey!” She grumbles, smacking your knee. “He was abroad senior year! And then life just kind of took over. He had a girlfriend for a while after graduation, too. We only started talking again when I bumped into him in Target last year.”

“Mhm, sure,” you hum, looking up to find him. Your heart does somersaults once you find him seated on the same sofa as Chanyeol, cool as a cucumber compared to how overwhelmed he seemed earlier. “I’m happy he seems so comfortable with the family. I’m happy for you, too.”

The playful gleam in her eyes softens as she leans up, sitting up to face you properly. Then, squeezing your hands, “I’m happy, too. Ever since you and Chanyeol started dating… I wanted what you had so, so bad. And I know we’ve only been together for five months, but I’ve never been so happy with someone.”

“Do you love him?” You whisper, searching her face when she turns to look at Jongin across the room. You can see it— the look in her eyes, the complete and utter adoration and admiration. You see it because you’ve felt it, too. You’ve felt it looking at Chanyeol, and you’ve felt it when he looks at you.

“I do. I love him a lot, actually,” Seoyun finally admits, turning back to you and for the first time in years, you see genuine tears trail down her cheeks. “Oh, no,” you hush, dabbing under her eyes to make sure her mascara doesn’t run, “shh, don’t cry. I know they’re happy tears but your makeup looks too good for that.” Pulling her into a hug, you cradle her head into your shoulder and hope no one is looking at her strangely.

“I know,” Seoyun hiccups, squeezing you tightly, “I’m just so drunk and happy for you and for me, I couldn’t help it.”

Laughing, you push her back before cupping her cheeks, wiping at the stray tears. “It’s alright. Crying when you’re happy is a good thing. It means you’re doing something right, Seoyun.” Smiling despite the wetness of her cheeks, she straightens up, dabbing away tears under her chin before cupping your face as well. “Thank you for being such an amazing best friend all these years,” Seoyun says, reaching forward and planting a hefty kiss to your lips, “but I think it’s time for us to go home. Show Jongin how much I really love him.”

When she stands, you’re still trying to process the unexpected kiss she just gave you but brush it aside for now, considering you’ve kissed plenty of times in your years of friendship. “Alright,” standing up after her, you give her one last hug, “text me when you get home.”

“I will. You have a good night too, ___. Chanyeol’s been eating you up alive for the past hour,” winking, Seoyun finally turns away to bid her farewells to the rest of her family. Speaking of Chanyeol… you step around Seoyun and make your way toward him, desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze travels slowly up your approaching form.

“Hey,” he greets when you reach him, tugging you by the wrist to sit on his lap. Luckily, the family surrounding him are turned the opposite direction toward the television, leaving your intimacy to go unnoticed. “Hi,” you return, arm draping over his shoulders and fingers burying into his hair. “You ready to head home?” Chanyeol asks, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer so he can nestle into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m ready when you are,” humming, you take to tracing patterns against the skin of his neck, resting your head atop his as your eyelids threaten to flutter shut.

Reaching for your other hand, Chanyeol brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Y’know, nothing makes me happier than seeing you cozied up with my mom.”

“Well, I think she was pretty impressed by our fantastic Easter bread.”

Snorting, he brings his head back to look at you. “It was pretty good,” he agrees. Then, cradling your jaw, “But it’s more than that. Having the two most important women in my life get along so well means so much to me, ___.” Bringing you closer, Chanyeol finally kisses you, soft and slow and when your eyes close, you feel right back at home, warm all over and overflowing with ardor. “Come on,” nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, “finish your drink and then let’s go home.”

“We need to plan things more often. Mom and I want to see you more than once a month,” was the last thing Mr. Park said to you before you left for the night.

“I love you very much, sweetie. Keep in touch,” Ma had whispered in your ear as you hugged her goodbye.

This is all you can think about as you drive home. Chanyeol was much drunker than he led on, so with him knocked out in the passenger seat, head against the window, you’re left to your own thoughts. The soft lo-fi Chanyeol begged to put on the radio before he passed out doesn’t help, either, but the overall peace and quiet is enough to have you dwelling over your night.

This week leading up to Easter has been especially rainy, too, and even now as you lower the cruise control to sixty-five, hazy rain begins to set on the windshield. Switching on the wipers, you steal a quick glance to Chanyeol who stirs once you move back into the middle lane. And as much as you want to reach over and hold his hand, you don’t want to disturb him.

Maybe it has to do with all the time spent catching up with Seoyun, but you’re left in an overly nostalgic, sentimental mood.

There was quite a lot of talk about love tonight. What Mrs. Park and Seoyun dumped on you about marriage certainly threw you off. Sure, you definitely have imagined marriage and Chanyeol in the same picture, but it was never a topic either of you openly discussed. It just never came up. Despite the fact you have been dating for over two years, sometimes it feels as if you’re still in the honeymoon stage with how perfect things have been. You’ve had your fair share of fights, sure, but nothing ever large enough to have you questioning your relationship. Your mother always told you living together, managing finances together, and raising a child together (Toben) is the true test of love.

But you and Chanyeol have done all that already. You’ve been living together for quite some time, and there’s nothing he does that makes you want to rip your hair out like some couples seem to experience. And, while he does tease you over little habits, he has never mentioned something that seriously infuriates him, either. The two of you share everything at this point, and you can’t imagine marriage seriously making all that of a difference.

Just the life-long commitment.

But when you look at him now, you realize there is no other way you would want to live out the rest of your life. You can’t imagine ever finding someone after Chanyeol, someone you could possibly love more— as you’ve said from the get-go, it’s always been him. From the time you first thought he was cute in sixth grade, to senior year when you realized you loved him, to Christmas two years ago, to now, there’s no one else you would or could ever devote yourself to.

It’s always been him, and it will be forever.

“Chanyeol,” you whisper, then, realizing such gentleness will not wake the giant, you reach over to pat his thigh. “Chanyeol, we’re almost home.”

Chanyeol grumbles, a deep, growling noise that supports just how far gone he is. “What time is it?” He asks groggily, stretching his long limbs and cracking his neck from side to side. “Almost ten,” you hum in reply, quickly glancing to the time on the dash before taking one last turn onto the street of your apartment complex. It’s strange to see the city so dead on a Sunday night.

“___,” Chanyeol groans somewhere behind you as you hurriedly make your way through the parking lot. It was not this cold earlier. “Why are you walking so fast? I thought heels made people slow.” Stopping, you look down to your high boots, realizing that in your rush to get inside you had not even realized just how sore the bottom of your feet are. “I’m cold,” you whine back, bouncing on your toes and crossing your arms in an attempt to contain some body heat as Chanyeol sluggishly makes his way toward you. Maybe if you hold his hand or something he’ll move quicker.

“Come on,” you mumble, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him along.

You don’t get there any quicker.

You barely manage to open the door with the way Chanyeol clings, hugging from behind and nearly tripping you with those clumsy feet of his. “Chanyeol,” you whine for at least the fifth time, borderline annoyed but watching him scowl at the eight stairs he has to climb like they’re some sort of math problem is quite amusing. “Come on, you big baby,” you decide to meet him halfway, reaching out for his hand and hauling him up with you. When you finally make it to the top, he’s reduced you to a giggling mess and uses it to his advantage, pushing you toward the wall.

“I’m not a baby,” he huffs, breath heavy with the amount of effort he just had to exert. “Yes, you are. C’mon, when we get inside, I’ll swaddle you in your favorite blankie and read you a bedtime story,” you taunt. Still, you find yourself spreading your legs just a tad wider for him to slot his thigh in between, his nostrils flared and frown deep as he towers over you, caging you in.

He chooses not to verbally reply. Instead, one rough hand anchors itself to your waist while the other slides to cup the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up to meet him. No matter how much alcohol may run in your systems, kissing Chanyeol will always be the one constant neither of you could ever miscalculate. It simply is an all too familiar doing, one you’ve spent days and weeks and months practicing until it became a subconscious reaction. It is a beginning and an end, your unraveling and your reawakening, an elixir that creeps its way into the very marrow of your bones and blossoms like a spring flower in your lungs.

You intended to string him along until sobriety finally brought him to his senses, but you think this is manageable, something to tease and dangle over his head before deserting him despite the way every fiber of your being craves for him. You can picture it— the confused anger flashing in his eyes when you push him away to continue down the hallway, fire in his veins dwindling to nothing but embers as you discard him for the third time tonight. And so, you press into him with equal force, desperately clawing to have him closer and swallowing his gasp when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips. Despite the heavy taste of liquor on his tongue, Chanyeol finds this rejuvenating, finally, he has you, fist bunching into the fabric of your shirt as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. He turns into something fierce, addicted to your taste and your touch when your fingers toy with the tips of his ears before raking through his hair and, suddenly, you feel as if you have lost the upper hand.

The hand cupping your jaw drops, trailing dangerously down the side of your thigh before wrapping around your knee to hike your leg around his hip. It is when he presses into you, growing erection doing nothing against the thick fabric of your skirt but still alarmingly there does the steadfastness of your plan falter, the idea of bunching your skirt up to your waist and letting him fuck you right there at the top of the staircase seeming all too tempting.

When he moves to press a sloppy kiss below your jaw, then on the other side of your neck, it buys you enough time to gather your thoughts. Because even though the nip of his teeth and the warmth of his tongue against your skin has wetness pooling between your thighs, it is not nearly as distracting as his mouth on yours. “Chanyeol,” you gasp still, fingers digging into his arms to ground yourself. He merely hums in reply, kissing his way down the column of your throat as he gives your right breast a firm squeeze. Your head thuds against the wall the farther you tilt back, granting him more access and breathing coming in sporadic bursts. It takes quite the strength, but, with the mental image of what’s to come once you actually make it inside encouraging you to do so, you gently push him back at last.

First, worry flashes across his face, suddenly fearing that he has somehow hurt you. But when the side of your mouth ever so slightly tips upward and you step around him to advance further down the hall, there is a mixture of betrayal and frustration flaring in his veins but overpowering desire, too, because he simply loves this game you’ve decided to play.

Racing to unlock your apartment before he can catch up, you excitedly jam the key into the knob just as Chanyeol has reached you, arms circling your waist to spin you around. “You’re driving me crazy,” he groans, guiding you into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind him. As soon as it clicks shut he is back on you, forcing you against the wall because he knows you like it that way, knows you like it rough and knows you like his manhandling. “Yeah?” You ask, though it comes out more like a hiss when he continues his assault on your neck like he never stopped, further bruising the delicate skin there and causing your heart rate to steadily pick up. “How so?”

Ignoring your innocent inquiry, Chanyeol returns to your mouth, tongue battling against your own as he pulls you flush against him, sandwiched between his sturdy chest and the wall. His other hand travels delicately beneath the hem of your shirt, palm burning impossibly warmer against the heat of your skin and it isn’t until he brushes the underwire of your bra does he pull back, satisfied with the way your lips swell. Then, leaning close so his breath fans over your ear, he whispers, “You’ve been rather naughty all night.”

You don’t tremble like he expects you to. You don’t stare back at him with wide, hungry eyes like he expects you to. In fact, you don’t react at all like he expects you to. Instead, you seem to snap out of your lustful daze, eyeing him with a rise of your brow and the straightening of your posture.

“I’ve been naughty?” You scoff, finger jabbing into his chest and, from the total one-eighty in your demeanor alone, Chanyeol stumbles back. “I think you’re mixed up.” Like a puppy desperate for your affection, he cautiously follows you out of the foyer and into the living room.

“I don’t think I was the one who offered to fuck you in front of all your family, or had my hand down your pants during dinner, now, was I?” You sneer at him, struggling to walk to the bedroom while simultaneously zipping down and kicking off your boots. “I—”

Chanyeol begins, taking a hesitant step after you. Beyond the harshness of your words, he knows this is all part of your game, and it’s turning him on more than he’d like to admit, especially when you won’t let him touch you. “No,” you cut him off, standing in the doorway and watching with a stifled smile as he slowly edges closer, “you, sir, need to drink some water before coming any closer. Sober up, think about what you did tonight, and maybe I’ll consider forgetting it happened.” “___,” Chanyeol whines and you almost expect him to stomp his feet like a child, “you’re killing me.”

“Good. Now you know how I’ve felt all night,” flicking the light on, you set your boots down by the closet and keep your eyes trained on him, assuring he stays put, “go on, then. Don’t look so sad, water’s in the kitchen. I need to wash up.” And with that, you retreat into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and trying to erase Chanyeol’s pout from your mind.

In all seriousness— you really do want to wash your face. The thought of having to get up later or even falling asleep with makeup on makes you shudder, and so, you take your grand old time treating your skin, just to make him suffer awhile longer. As you are scrubbing your face over the sink, you hear Toben bark, followed by the soft clinking of his leash. Seconds later, the front door opens and slams closed.

Good, you think, feeling triumphant. Patting your face dry with a towel, you give yourself a once over before swiping a cotton round wet with toner over your skin, simultaneously trying to calm your nerves while also conjuring up what is to come.

God, he really has had you riled up since his first words in his parent’s kitchen, you realize with a cringe as you quickly undress, tossing your clothes into the hamper. Slipping into your simple bathrobe, you turn the overhead lights off in favor of the much softer bedside lamp before flopping belly side down on your bed. Instantaneously, images of Chanyeol flash into your mind, first, simply how godly he looked tonight, tall and lean and yours, then, the look in his eyes when he whispered about fucking you in the kitchen, and later, the teasing drag of his fingers against your panties. All of a sudden, you feel inflamed with desire, clenching around nothing at the thought of such long fingers burying inside of you.

Breathless, you reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction. Seoyun, you remember, clicking on her text from earlier confirming she was home. Sending a few hearts back, you have just opened Instagram and liked a studio picture from Jongdae when the front door opens, Toben’s yapping signaling for a new swarm of butterflies in your gut. Outside of the bedroom walls, you hear Chanyeol’s shoes clunk against the wall as he chucks them off, Toben’s leash unhooking, the living room lights being flicked off. Then, the steady footsteps as he nears your room.

“Can I come in?” He asks from the doorway, the rumble of his voice making a home in your heart.

Chuckling, you turn to look over your shoulder at him. “Yes.”

Stretching to plug your phone in on the table, you realize he’s still playing it careful, managing to only close the door behind him and set a bottle of water on the dresser. “Come here,” you invite at his lack of an advance. He seems startled, an internal battle raging in his heart as he wants nothing more than to jump into bed beside you, but also fears that you will string him along once more. So, he approaches slowly, choosing to sit by the foot of the bed and refusing to look at you, instead leaning over to yank his socks off.

Suppressing a grumble of protest at his distance, you struggle to sit back on your haunches, fingers moving to quickly untie the front of your robe. Chanyeol visibly relaxes as you make your way over, scooting further back to allow more space when you swing one leg across his lap in order to settle on his thighs. His Adam’s apple bops seeing you are totally bare, robe just barely covering your breasts. Avoiding eye contact just yet, you lean forward, pressing a delicate kiss below his ear and humming in appreciation when he tilts his head for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper after having your own turn of marking his soft skin, palms sliding over his chest to push his jacket from his shoulders, no matter how alluring he looks in it. “To be completely honest, I really just wanted to wash my face.” Furrowing your eyebrows in concentration, you make slow work at the buttons of his shirt next. “And,” you add, lowering the volume of your voice as if telling a secret only he’s allowed to hear, “I wasn’t in the mood for drunk sex. I’ve been wet for you since four o’clock. I wanted to savor tonight, yeah?”

Once you’ve popped the last button open, pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders and littered his exposed skin with soft kisses, you finally lift your gaze to his face, heart nearly stopping beneath the darkening of his stare. Just like that, Chanyeol sees it as his cue to take over, pouncing like a cat on its prey, opening your mouth with his own and bringing you closer with a firm grip on your ass. “I should have just fucked you when I had the chance,” he practically growls, pulling his arms out from his shirt and jacket and pushing the robe from your shoulders, hands cold from being outside and summoning goosebumps to rise along your skin.

One such hand slides up your spine before wrapping around your nape to tilt you back, body curved to give him room to duck down and kiss along your collarbones, sucking harshly at your skin to assure deep purple marks by morning before enveloping a nipple between his teeth. “Ah,” you hiss, nails digging crescents into his arms as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t have been able to look your parents in the eyes if you did,” then, choking on a moan as he rolls your other hardened bud between his calloused fingers, “plus, I still would have been thinking about your fingers all night.”

Chanyeol groans, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. “My fingers, huh? What about them?” He hums with faux innocence, securing a grip on your thighs before flipping you onto your back in order to hover above you. He doesn’t let you reply, however, latching his lips to yours and quite literally sucking all the air from your lungs with the way his tongue wraps around your own. “Yes,” you huff when he pulls back, fingers threading through pink hair and hips rising to brush against his when he begins his journey downward, “thinking about them stuffed inside me and— and then,” you stutter, back arching as he kisses his way straight down the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts, the swell of your stomach, simply sucking at the same marks he made yesterday, “and then, your dick.”

“See,” Chanyeol mutters with a click of his tongue, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and shimmying them down your legs, “I know how dirty you are.”

“Yes,” you whimper, spreading your legs for him as he throws one over his shoulder, “you make my life really difficult like that.”

“I know, baby,” he hums, then, watching with a smirk as you jolt with him blowing cool air directly to your clit, “I always make it up to you, though.”

There simply is not enough time to think of a reply before Chanyeol has his mouth directly where you need him, flattening his tongue against your slit and licking upward, drawing a wanton moan deep from your throat. Relief, finally. Any witty reply quickly wiped from your brain, all you can focus on now is the warmth and wetness of his tongue, circling your clit before dipping between your folds.

“Chanyeol,” you rasp, one hand anchored into the comforter and the other clutching his hair to contain the way you quiver, “please.”

He hums, the vibration strumming right against you and winching the knot forming in your abdomen impossibly tighter. “Please what?”

“Fingers,” is all you manage to get out, seeing stars with the way he sucks at your clit. He wastes no time contemplating your helpless gasp, immediately shifting his position in order to grant such a wish. In fact, he wastes no time easing into things, either, pushing two fingers into your seeping cunt without so much as a warning. It tears a shaky moan from you, nerves aflame with the new but oh so welcome intrusion.

“Christ, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, immediately adding a third finger and pausing to watch his digits sink in to the knuckles, “your tight little cunt is practically sucking me in.” A shaking and gasping mess, all you can offer is a breathless yes, walls clenching in need of more friction. Sensing this, Chanyeol gets right back to work, hand rocking against you, fingers dragging in and out, rubbing upward and against that hidden gem of a spot. “Oh, God,” you keen, thighs reflexively squeezing the sides of his head when he swirls his tongue over your clit in all sorts of shapeless patterns before tightly sucking at it once more.

“That’s it, baby,” Chanyeol soothes as he forces your legs apart, eyes glued on the mess he’s made, juices smeared even at your thighs with the way his fingers curl into you before nearly pulling out entirely. “So greedy.”

“Chanyeol,” you whine, hips raising to follow the movements of his tongue when he returns to your clit, “so close.”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, insistently flicking at the bundle of nerves and adding his pinky finger to the stretch. Chanyeol relishes in the way you practically swell beneath him, nails scratching against his scalp at the addition and the way he scissors his fingers. It is with one last upward curl and draw of your clit between his lips does your orgasm hit you, an intense wave of heat that has you arching into him and red speckling your vision— even though your eyes are screwed shut. It takes several moments to come down from the high, core throbbing in the aftermath and nerves seemingly frayed at the force of it all.

And yet, he has not stopped.

“Chanyeol,” you gasp, voice taut as a result of your previous silent scream, “f-fuck. Christ, I can’t.”

Chanyeol only hums in reply, a mere dismissal as he knows you can handle it and is more than happy to continue. Pulling his fingers from your soaking cunt with a lewd squelch, he grasps your thighs and spreads them further, lapping hungrily at the messy aftermath of your orgasm. Ignoring the way your body shakes and the powerless mewls escaping your lips, Chanyeol continues right where he left off, this time, however, with his tongue stroking gently between your folds and his thumb drawing soft circles over the hood of your clit.

Given no time to settle, the inferno blazing within you quickly roars back to life once the near-painful sensitivity fades, leaving you subject to the overpowering pleasure pumping through your veins. “God, Chanyeol,” you whine, loosening your grasp on his hair once you realize the iron grip you were holding for the entirety of your climax, “f-fuck, you’re killing me.”

Smiling against you, Chanyeol begins to feel impatient, the restriction on his erection borderline painful. This being said, he picks up his tempo once more, one hand keeping your hips down while the other spreads open your folds, giving him unhindered accuracy to press his tongue against your clit, draw circles, triangles, figure-eights— before you’re coming undone in no time.

Biting your bottom lip to taper the near scream that threatens to tear from your throat, you have no choice with the way Chanyeol holds you down but to fall face-first into your climax, tumbling over the edge at an alarmingly fast rate. Your second orgasm comes much easier and much quicker, body still recovering from the first, and it leaves you simultaneously jerking away but locking him in. Chanyeol is just that good.

It almost feels as if you are floating through clouds as you come back to reality and part of you wonders if that orgasm lasted a few seconds or an hour. You can’t tell. But coming back down brings an onslaught of sensations; first, the complete and total mess in between your legs, the result of two orgasms sticking to your thighs like syrup. Second, the soothing massage Chanyeol rubs into your thighs and hips, fingers digging deep into your muscle and aiding in your return from Heaven, you think.

And third: Chanyeol still has his pants on.

“How are you?” He asks, lips curled into a smirk because he knows how good it was, but likes the validation. When all you offer is a small noise of protest, Chanyeol understands this to be your wordless way of asking him to come up, and he does so immediately. “I think I just saw God,” you say once he’s settled on his side next to you, cringing at the coarseness of your voice. With a dreamy sigh you smooth over his pectoral, the dip of his collarbone, the protruding tendon on his neck, before cradling his jaw and leaning over to press your lips to his.

Slow to start, you take ample time simply to savor him, the taste of you, and to show your appreciation for not one, but two orgasms. A renewed sense of urgency, however, appears to take over, and you suck in a heavy breath through your nose when Chanyeol pushes himself to hover above you, hand wrapping around your knee to throw your leg over his hip. Palms deserting their spot beneath his ears, you quickly make work to the button of his pants.

“Goddammit,” you hiss after several unsuccessful attempts, growing just as impatient as he and pulling back to focus on such button, then the zipper, “I hate buttons.” Laughing, Chanyeol leans up to tug his pants and boxers down his thighs, cock springing free against the toned panes of his stomach. “I can tell. Patience is a virtue, you know?” He teases, settling more comfortably between your spread legs and kicking the last of his clothes to the floor.

“Don’t you dare try talking to me about virtue when all I can think about is you rearranging my guts,” you grumble, eyes screwing shut and missing the way his eyes darken when he presses the head of his cock against your clit. “Purity is a virtue, too,” Chanyeol continues to tease, finally angling to your entrance and just barely pressing in, “I don’t think God would be too happy with that mouth of yours.”

“Please shut the fuck up and— ohh, shit,” before you can finish your sentence, Chanyeol has finally rolled forward, dragging past your walls and filling you to the brim in one flawless push. Then, once you have adjusted to the forever startling swell of his cock within you, “We can go to confession after you’ve fucked me.”

Chanyeol lets out a noise somewhere in between an amused snort and a groan, mind effectively having already gone off the deep end and focusing on the tightness of your slick cunt and that alone. “God, ___,” he hisses, drawing back to leave only a lonely inch within you before thrusting forward again, drawing a series of moans from your lips, “never get enough of your tight little pussy.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage, struggling to soundly wrap your legs around him with all your muscles reduced to jelly with him filling you so deliciously with every thrust. With the fire in your stomach roaring to life and consuming you whole once more, you will yourself not to come so soon, attempting to open your eyes after several futile blinks and focus on him. Perhaps this is not the best thing to do, however, considering the image of him glowing with a sheen of sweat, eyebrows furrowed, face flushed and hooded eyes boring holes into you only prompts you to tighten around him and ‘squeaking noises’ he always likes to tease you about to slip past your lips.

“God,” you whine, leaning up and placing a desperate kiss to his top lip but flopping back down at the uncomfortable angle, “God, I love you.” Chanyeol visibly softens at this, the sharp snapping in and out of you slowing into deeper, more languid strokes. “I love you more,” he sighs, brushing away hair that has stuck to your sticky skin before kissing you properly. There’s something different about this kiss— for you, at least. Perhaps it has to do with all the talk and sentiment of the night, but a feeling beyond your every day, established love seems to wash over you.

It leaves you gasping and licking into his mouth, desperately trying to cling to the feeling, to put a word to it until finally, you realize, it’s always been here and will forever stay. It seems to resonate in your core, not physically but in your soul, something beyond logic and more of an opening of a door to tranquil waters. It leaves you lightheaded, the staccato of his heart pressed against your skin and the connection of your bodies the only things keeping you grounded because this feeling, this overwhelming, beautiful feeling makes it seem as if you are the center of the universe, just as Chanyeol is the center of yours.

“I’m close,” he hisses, two simple words breaking into your satori and hurling you back into the euphoria that fizzes up your spine and fills your bones. “Me too,” you gasp, breathless from the loaded emotion heavy on your mind and your heart and the quickening of his cock, brushing at the deepest part within at every stroke. It has your head falling back, eyes rolling and back arching when you squeeze around him, muscles contracting with such overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins like electric waves.

“I love you,” you repeat when you fall into your third orgasm, eyes squeezing shut despite your best efforts at keeping them open in order to watch as Chanyeol, too, reaches his high and comes into you with a harsh stutter and load groan. It simply is so powerful you practically feel as if you have just been brought back from the dead, body bucking beneath him like a whip as the toe-curling feeling explodes within you like a firework show. Chanyeol seems to share in such experience, usually not the most vocal but he can’t seem to keep to labored breathing, biting into your shoulder as his seed comes in hot spurts inside of you. You say it every time, but this, truthfully, was the best orgasm of your life.

It takes several moments, minutes, even, to come down from your highs, bodies seemingly in overdrive with such a feeling warming you from your head to your toes. But, just as all good things come to an end, you eventually force your eyes open once you’ve gotten over feeling as if you might pop, blinking past the tears that at some point accumulated. Chanyeol has his forehead rested against your shoulder, heavy inhales and exhales slowly calming as his heart, too, returns to its normal beat. It isn’t until you raise a weak hand to stroke his hair does he tilt his head to look at you, eyes shining like stars with the tired smile he gives you.

Brushing mused pink bangs from his eyes, you crane your neck to kiss his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips before letting your head fall back with a sigh. He returns your affection with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, shakily leaning up to pull his now flaccid cock out of your raw cunt. He’s quick to move, however, fingers coming to press against your folds as if to plug any of his cum from leaking out. You twitch, still way too sensitive and you mentally cringe at the thought of going again— to be frank, you’re pooped.

Still, you lie there quietly, body cooling down as Chanyeol continues to stare as if daring your cunt to let any of his seed slip. After a few more silent moments of this, however, you force yourself to lean up, knowing if you stay like that for any longer, you’d be asleep in minutes. Chanyeol lets out a quiet grunt of protest as such movement causes the smallest gush, fingers swiping against your folds to collect your mixed cum before pushing it back in with the gentlest touch. You sigh at the feeling, clutching at his arm and suddenly, a part of you wishes you weren’t on birth control.

“I felt you,” Chanyeol finally says, voice tight as if he hasn’t used it in years. Such an ambiguous statement, but fortunately, you know what he means without needing him to explain it. You only nod at first, searching his face and finding only the utmost truth. With a gentle hand tracing his jaw, you move in closer to press a soft kiss to his lips before curling into his side. “And I felt you.”

Chanyeol thinks he would look ‘strikingly handsome’ with pink hair, wearing his blue contacts and his baby blue tie.

You think he would look just as handsome as a brunette, without the contacts, and a matching grey bow tie.

Chanyeol thinks you’re lame and just petty because you wouldn’t be able to tie his tie when he gets dressed.

However, with blonde hair slicked back, just his prescription contacts, and baby blue tie, he also happens to think you are strikingly beautiful walking up the aisle. So much so, by the time you are there in front of him, he already has tears streaming down his face.

With your hands in his, you think this kind of love lasts forever.

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loveydoveyfrog · 4 years ago

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fallingforyou pt.1

Um hi I haven’t written anything in years I’m sorry if this sucks. I might continue this? idk yet I’ve just had this particular scenario stuck in my head for days. I tried to make it as inclusive as possible, but if you notice me doing anything that really limits that, please let me know! I’m always always looking to improve :> thank you!! (also if u find a grammar/spelling mistake plz lmk so i can fix)

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Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader Words: 1.7k Warnings: None? Tripping on stairs but you don’t get hurt. Part 2

You gathered your notes, breathing a sigh of relief as your long morning lecture finally came to an end. You loved your course, of course. You wouldn’t be paying to study it at university if you didn’t, but you had to admit a three hour lecture on a Monday morning could feel more like a chore than a passion.. Your best friend and faithful study buddy joined your side as you grabbed your fleece lined denim jacket and shrugged it on, slinging your bag over your shoulder, eager to leave. Before you step forward, your friend stops you in your tracks.

“Hold on, your hair clip is all crooked,” they attempt to fix it, but instead unclip it and hand it to you instead. You take your Halloween pumpkin decoration and clip it back into your hair, posing a little for your friend, wordlessly asking how does it look?

“Perfectly spooky” they said with a thumbs up. You and your friend had a shared tradition of wearing Halloween accessories throughout October in celebration of the best and spookiest holiday. Today you wore a small, sparkly yet quaint pumpkin clip in your hair, whilst your friend opted for some novelty socks. You thank your lecturer as you leave, yet the second the two of you left the room and were out of earshot, your friend sighed loudly and began to whine about this section of your shared course.

“Did you get ANY of that?” they asked as you headed for the doors that led to the staircase.

“Which part? We covered quite a bit.” you respond idly, pushing the doors open and letting them pass first.

“ALL OF IT. Ugh, I miss our lecturer from last year, he made everything so much clearer.” they continued to complain as you started to make your way down the stairs after them. After a few steps, lost in conversation regarding the class, you accidentally misplaced your footing on the stairs. Your breath hitched. The next few seconds seemed to slow down to a painful crawl as you felt every sensation in detail; the way you didn’t feel the security of the next step beneath your foot, the way your centre of gravity shifted and tipped you forward, the way your stomach dropped and your eyes shut instinctively to avoid looking at the quickly approaching ground, the way a hand caught a firm grip on the back of your jacket’s collar, keeping you suspended in mid fall.

Huh?

Your eyes blinked open, heart hammering as the lights suddenly seemed too bright, every sense amplified from shock. You immediately notice you didn’t feel the harsh impact that you were expecting. Instead, you felt a tension around your neck and shoulders as your jacket was pulled taut to keep you somewhat upright. Your friend’s eyes were equally wide with surprise, not having time to ask if you’re ok before their eyes shifted to the figure behind you. Their stunned expression was met with a deep chuckle, one you felt rumble through you as they pulled your form back to press ever so gently against their chest, hand placed firmly on your shoulder now, as if to prevent you from falling again. You turned your head to thank whoever caught you, though given they were quite a bit taller than you, you had to slightly twist your body out of their grip to face them (though you noticed their hand moved from holding your shoulder to resting against your arm).

If your face wasn’t hot from embarrassment already, it sure was now. Your thank you was caught in your throat when you turned to face your mysterious saviour. You definitely heard a quiet wow go through your head when you were met with warm, amused brown eyes, and a smile that melted into another round of chuckling as his hand left your arm to brush through a mass of bleached yet brilliantly blonde hair. He seemed… somewhat familiar, but you didn’t recognise him from any of your classes. Either way, your heart was flooded with relief that he happened to be behind you. You took in more of his appearance; the way his dark eyes looked as though they were liquid honey when the light hit them just right, and the way his dark green hoodie matched said eyes perfectly, and the way… those glowing eyes followed yours as his humoured expression altered, a new kind of tone present in his smile, one which made you realise you were staring at him as though he was made of gold. You quickly snapped out of it, your face growing even hotter for having been caught looking at him for so long without even saying thank you.

“Sorry- I mean, thank you,” you stuttered. The boy before you smiled again and let out a pleased hum. His eyes caught the sparkly, Halloween themed clip in your hair. Cute, he thought to himself as his eyes met yours yet again.

“No worries, ya just need to be more careful, Pumpkin,” he mused. The nickname made you flush yet again as you tore your eyes away from his intense gaze. This interaction seemed to last forever. “Do you need me to walk you down the stairs? We’ve still got quite a bit to go,” he teased, though his voice didn’t seem to be laced with the malice of a typical bully. He sounded playful.

“No, thank you,” you responded curtly, walking down the last few steps to where your friend still stood. Their eyes glinted with entertainment and poked you in the side. You lightly slapped their hands away and nudged them to continue down the last set of stairs.

“Well, I’m right behind ya if ya need me,” he said leisurely, walking a couple of steps behind you. You didn’t respond, only walked in embarrassed silence as your friend tried (and failed) to hold back their giggles at the boy’s comment. He had a proud grin on his face, basking in the attention and laughs from your traitorous friend. The journey down seemed to last a century, but eventually you made it down safely. Heading out the double doors, you breathed in the crisp Autumn air as it cooled your warm cheeks. You readjusted your jacket as you and your friend regrouped. You avoided their eyes, though in the process you caught the attention of Stair Boy. He flashed you a smile and waved as he passed the pair of you.

“See ya ‘round, Pumpkin.”

You watched him till he turned a corner and disappeared behind a building, after which you promptly slammed your face into your palms, muttering incoherent nonsense as your friend finally lost it and doubled over and cried with laughter. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face, tugging your lower eyelids and cheeks with dismay.

“Oh my Goddddd, I can’t believe that just happened” you whined, growing more and more annoyed with your friend’s incessant laughter. “OKAY I get it, it was funny, shut up now.” you snapped. Your friend started walking as they took deep breaths to calm down. You followed, arms crossed.

“Okay, I’m sorry, you just really. You really FELL FOR HIM,” they managed to choke out as they spiralled into another fit of laughter. You punched their arm.

“He was BEHIND me! I couldn’t have fallen for him if he was behind me, I didn’t even see him!” You exclaimed as you tried to defend yourself, waving your arms around madly trying to illustrate your point.

“Alright, alright… Pumpkin,” they teased. Had you not been outside, you would have thrown a shoe at your supposed best friend. They saw anger flash in your eyes and dodged your oncoming attacks as they ran away a giggling mess. You chased them a few meters then jogged to a stop, panting in the burning cold air. You waved an arm with a dismissive whatever. The two of you approached one of the campus cafes, the entrance adorned with paper bats, window sills draped in cotton cobwebs and the door guarded by a pair of crudely carved pumpkins. The two of you entered, the door’s usual bell drowned out by chatter that filled the small, cosy space. You flopped into one of the seats, shrugging off your now infamous jacket and rested your chin in your hands, letting out a long sigh. Your friend sat beside you, mirroring your actions.

“Well, hey, at least no one else saw,” your friend bargained, attempting to lift your low mood.

“True,” you admitted nonchalantly, your eyes still trained on the wall before you. Your friend elbowed your side playfully,

“And he was cute, too,” they quipped. This caused you to groan and lay your head on the table. After a few miserable seconds you turned to face your friend, not lifting your head from the wooden surface,

“Yeah, he was” you agreed with a pout on your face. “And now he’s gonna think I’m a clumsy fool forever and I’m probably never ever gonna see him again.” You planted your face back on the table in defeat. Your friend, on the other hand, shrugged in response.

“You never know, y/n. Sure the campus is big, but he WAS in our block today, so you might see him again. On Mondays at least,” they suggested. You sighed and rested your chin on the table, shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, maybe, I guess… maybe,” you mumbled.

“Besides, he definitely thought you were cute too.” This made your head shoot up in curiosity a little too fast. You tried to feign disinterest when you asked,

“What makes you say that?” you looked at your friend expectantly when they gave you a look.

“Pumpkin. Seriously?”

“Ugh,” you gave them another dismissive wave, “That didn’t mean anything. That was only because of this stupid clip.” You pointed to the orange ornament on your head.

“Y/n. He said it twice. Besides, he could have called you nothing at all. Not to mention, didn’t you see the way he looked at you?”

“It just seems like he was teasing me and messing around,” you argued. Your friend sighed and turned to pull a notebook and pens out of their bag.

“Whatever you say, y/n,” they said as they began to summarise their notes from your previous lecture. You tapped your fingers on the table, waiting to see if they’ll make further comments, but they seem to have finally given up. You retrieved your own notes, though the only thing you seemed to be able to focus on was a particular set of brown eyes.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#atsumu haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #idk what else to tag lol

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cyberghouleo · 4 years ago

Text

Boredom {smut}

Pairing: Ult! Dirk Strider x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Ao3 Link:

Being on a ship for 3 or so years in space can lead to discovering some lingering thoughts. Good thing you were there to help him with those.

Although this was originally his idea, because honestly who else would do anything like this that wasn’t Dirk himself, he did have to admit that flying around in space on a huge ass ship for 3 or so years did get boring pretty fast. There were only so many times he could rewatch My Little Pony and a few of his animes before he got bored out of his mind. After a while Terezi’s complaining made him get fed up and just stop conversation with her all together, which she was probably thankful for in some way. And Rosebot wanted to have too many long rambles that sooner than later the both of them ran out of things to talk about. The only topic that was untouched by both was his feelings and emotions, the one thing Dirk feels to have complete security on and plans to keep it that way. Speaking of feelings, you were also aboard the Theseus along with the three of them. The thing that set you apart from the other two, was that you came along willingly. He didn’t have to persuade or manipulate you in some backhanded way, you agreed after he tested the waters and suggested it for the first time. Your response honestly shocked him, although he didn’t show it and played it cool the whole time. So when you got the text to meet up with him to finally pursue this plan, you quickly packed whatever you needed and headed out to start a new future alongside Dirk.

With how thankful he was that you came along, he didn’t expect to not see you as often as he first expected. In the start he thought the idea of being on a ship with a few people would be great and give some extra time to at least hang out with you, and just you. But he forgot how big the ship was in his so-called fantasy and how your time schedules were almost completely opposite from each other. But the two of you did text back and forth often, which helped killed his boredom most of the time, and sometimes even stayed up later just so you could watch one of his shows with each other. Dirk was content with this, it wasn’t what he originally had in mind for how you would spend each other's time together, but he also knew deep down he could do better. And make you feel better.

He had basically completed all future plans, rearranged his room so many times that now it just felt like a chore, and had already planned out back up plans for multiple different scenarios. All he could do now was make panels, but even that was starting to get tiring and he was running low on creativity. So naturally, his mind started to wander. And it doesn’t take a scientist to know that 3 years on a ship can affect your sex drive, majorly. Also the thought of RoseBot and Terezi in even remotely that way made him want to puke and bleach his eyes for several days. So there was only one option left after porn seemed to get boring and bland to him. It’s not like he was settling after all, he is far from ever settling. Before his grand plans for a future on another planet, he couldn’t deny some feelings and emotions he had felt for you. But for him, business came first and then feelings or whatever bullshit his once friends suggested to open up about. But now with all the business done and the lingering horny thoughts and feelings resurfacing after so long, there was really nothing else to focus on other than you. At first he was embarrassed to acknowledge these feelings, feeling like a 13 year old again who saw some shitty hentai ad that took over his whole screen for the first time. But then he remembered who he was, and how if anything you should feel embarrassed for not confessing these types of feelings for him first.

He rolled his chair back away from his desk, sighing and shutting his laptop closed in a frustrated manner. It had gotten to the point where nothing seemed good, the only thing that interested him was you, and frankly he was sick of feeling this way with no plan to follow through with it. Fuck it, he thought as he stood up from his chair and walked out his door to find you so you could help him out on his problems. After searching around for what seemed to be an hour, he finally spotted the outline of your back against a sky sprawled out with dozens of stars and brightly lit up cosmos.

He approached you, noticing how you were wearing your thin pajamas and the pair of bunny slippers he had bought you as a joke a while back, back before either of you were on this ship. This wasn’t the first time he had seen you staring out the windows at the stars, but this was the first time he had seen you up at 3 in the morning alone. He took a seat next to you, startling you and causing you to jump and curse under your breath. Cute.

“Jesus, you need to be careful coming up behind me like that,” you said as a soft smile grew on your face. You were now looking directly at him, the soft shine from the space reflecting and illuminating the one side of your face, and fuck this only made you look prettier to him.

“Thought your spidey senses would have picked up on me from a mile away, sorry. What are you even doing up right now anyways?”

“Couldn’t sleep, also I wanted to come out and look at the stars. I thought it would help me in some weird way, but now I’m kinda just annoyed because they suck right now,” you turned back to the window, watching as the ship passed through space at a steady pace.

“Is that all you do, come out and look at the damn stars?” his tone sounded more harsh than he intended too, but you didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Ha, yeah basically. It’s calming in a weird way, ya know? But I guess I’mma need to find a new location to gaze out of though since this one is lacking majorly,”

Without thinking, he ended up blurting out his suggestion, “Well I always know a place that shows the best stars, no matter the night.”

Your head quickly turned to face him again, and you immediately agreed to make him take you to show him. He wasn’t one to turn down this offer and started leading the way, making sure to keep his main goal in mind. After zig zagging around a few halls, you ended up in front of his room's door. He opened up his door and stepped out of the way to reveal the huge window that was near his table. You walked over to admire the view, too busy gawking at the sight to hear or notice him closing the door and locking it behind him. It wasn’t until he was close enough for you to feel his body heat that you noticed the proximity between the two of you. You didn’t mind though, taking this as a minute to admire his freckled cheeks and how the orange glow from the window enchanted them even more. He felt the lingering of your glare on him and looked at you, a small blush appearing on your face at the fact you got caught basically admiring him like a painting. You broke away quickly and chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to play it cool and not look embarrassed in the slightest.

“Hey (Y/N),” you hummed in response, waiting for him to finish before you looked at him. “I’m not sorry for this.”

You were about to question him but was interrupted quickly when both of his warm hands held each side of your face to force you to face him, his lips connecting with yours. The fact that this was your first real human touch in what seemed like forever made you almost instantly melt into him, kissing back with the same amount of passion. The kiss however turned very heated fast, the need for each other becoming apparent as his tongue easily slipped through and his hands now tangled in your hair, leaving you at his own mercy. You were the first to pull away to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting the two of you together as your lips were now slightly red and your cheeks dusted with a soft pink. Your chest heaving up and down as you stared at him, trying to read his expression although his shades made it almost impossible.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” he stated before pulling you back in, letting his actions speak for himself and the blood started to flow to his lower half.

You moaned throughout the kiss, which only got him to kiss back harsher, not showing any mercy for your lips or your neck as he trailed down. You threw your arms around his shoulders as he sucked on your neck, the feeling of a bruise already forming in a few spots. God it felt like forever since you had even gotten close to something like this, and your body was definitely showing it. He pulled down the straps of your thin tank top to get better coverage of your chest, making sure to start a few light marks on the parts your bra failed to cover. Your fingers tangled themselves into the base of his hair, pulling during a particular hard suck, causing him to let out a desperate sounding grunt, something you would have never expected out of him.

He pulled away from you, just long enough for him to quickly clear off his desk and push anything in his way to the floor with a crash. He wrapped his arms around your waist and patted your side a couple times to signal you to jump, which you did and wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel the bulge of his muscles against you, even when he wasn’t wearing his normal uniform. He sat you down on the edge of the table and started lifting up the hem of your tank top, slipping it over with ease to leave you only in shorts and your bra. This was the most exposed you had ever been to him yet he didn't seem to pay it any mind and went back to covering your chest in sloppy kissing and lazy sucking to mark you up for him. His fingers wrapped around to your back, finding the clasp and quickly unclipping it with one hand. He helped ease the straps off your shoulders, letting them fall down and slip off to reveal yourself to him. He pulled away and admired your form for a few seconds, making you start to cover yourself but his fingers were quickly clasped around your wrist and pinned your hands by your side.

“Too late to try to hide from me now, doll,” the pet name rolled off his tongue effortlessly and he leaned in to start tracing around your already perky and hard nipples.

The feeling caused you to let out a soft moan, his warm tongue felt amazing as it swirled around, his other hand cupping and teasing the other one. He would occasionally switch over, making sure to give each one their deserved love. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose slightly, allowing you to see his closed eyes, his long eyelashes and freckles from a perspective you never got the chance to see before. Your hands slowly reached up and slid them effortlessly off his face, causing him to open his eyes and stare up, revealing his bright orange eyes for the first time. A gasp mixed with a moan slipped out, the new reveal only making your body fill up with need and heat faster.

As his tongue continued to tease your buds, his hands trailed down from your waist to the band of your shorts. His palm came to rub the front of you teasingly, smirking as he felt you shamelessly try to grind against his fingers to get any sort of friction out of it. He tugged the shorts down, giving you the chance to shimmy them to the point before he could effortlessly take them off and let them drop onto the floor. He pulled away from your nipples, causing you to let out a whine, and was now positioned in between your legs. His hot breath could be felt through your panties, driving you even crazier. He flattened his tongue and left a long strip through your panties, his saliva soaking through a little bit to your already wet lips. He continued to tease you outside of your panties, rubbing his fingers up and down your folds without giving you what you really wanted.

“Please Dirk… don’t tease,” you begged in a breathy tone, which made him look up and a smirk to appear.

“You're gonna have to do better than that sweetheart,” he said casually as he continued to rub tiny clockwise circles against you.

“Please dirk, please touch me,” your eyes were almost glossy with desperation, proving to him just how badly you wanted this. How badly you wanted him.

He gave into your pleads rather quickly, pulling your panties to the side and slipped two fingers into his mouth, before plunging them into you. You moaned in surprise, your body almost giving out from under you as he moved in and out of you, curling his fingers at the right moments to make you clench hard around him. Your quiet moans soon filled the room as you held one hand over your mouth, trying to keep quiet so nobody would interrupt the two of you. Right as you felt your core tighten and you were close to releasing all over his fingers, he pulled out and stood up fully, bringing his fingers in front of your face.

“Look at the mess you made for me. Clean it up now,”

You stared back at him for a second before hesitantly taking your juice covered fingers into your mouth, making sure to lick them clean. You twirled your tongue around the tips of his fingers, which made him let out a grunt of approval and his already hard cock strain even more against his pants.

“Mmmm, what a good slut you are,” he praised and pulled his fingers out with a ‘pop’ noise.

He fully pulled off your panties, leaving you completely exposed and spread out on the table for him to take in. He pulled down his pants and boxers, which had a small wet spot from the leaking precum, his cock springing out freely. You glanced down and noticed the size, and he was definitely bigger than you would have first thought, leaving you a bit shocked.

“Take a picture princess, it’ll last longer,” he responded in a cocky voice which pulled you out of staring with an embarrassed blush now spreading across your cheeks again.

He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing his dick up and down your folds a few times to make sure he was completely covered in your juices. He pulled back one last time before pushing his head through, his girth leaving you a bit breathless as you threw your head back in pleasure. Only the tip so far and you're already acting like this, he thought to himself and wanted to chuckle. The rest of him slid in with ease and now that he was fully filling you, god you were tight against him. He gave you a few seconds to get adjusted before he started to slowly increase his thrusts. It was taking everything inside him to not just go full force right now and to fuck you into his table, pounding in and out of your pussy to show you just how often he thought about you in this way. The feeling of him pressing up against you with every thrust was addicting, as he filled you in the best way possible. With each thrust he pressed up against you perfectly and only got better as he increased each thrust.

“Mmm fuck, you like that?” you could only hum along as a response, but he quickly grabbed your jaw and forced you to stare back into his intense eyes, stopping all movements inside you. “I asked, do you like that?”

“Yes, yes Dirk. I like it, oh my god I love it, yes Dirk,” you spewed out, your head feeling light and too overloaded with dirty thoughts for you to even function a full sentence properly.

Hearing you moan out his name in such a pathetic way was enough to make his dick twitch and for him to resume his thrusts, this time not slowing down or trying to take it slow for you. At this moment in time he could do whatever he wanted to you and god he was fucking loving it. He pulled out, grabbed your hand to force you off the table and pinned you against the large window. Your tits now squished up against the window as he slipped into you from behind, causing you to gasp.

“Mmm yes, god you're such a good slut for me (Y/N),” he moaned as his head was rested right by yours, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear.

You moaned underneath him, arching your back to curve into him to get the full reach and stretch from him. His movement against the window caused your nipples to rub up against it, giving you all of the friction you needed. His right hand slipped down to the front of you, rubbing his fingers over your clit as he grunted in your ear. The feeling of sparks and fireworks were ignited within you, your cheek pressed up against the glass as your mouth hung up and your body started to melt from under you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your moans turning into pleads and begs for him.

“I’m going to cum, nghh,” you whined out, which only caused him to rub against your clit even harder.

“Tell me who is allowed to make you cum,” he growled, his left hand coming up to grasp your neck and hold you into place to take his brutal poundings.

“You Dirk... only you can make me cum,”

“Mhhmm, yea baby, cum for me then. Be a good girl and cum all over my dick,” he said as he applied pressure and squeezed around your neck.

The combination of all of his movements made your vision blur out and your body to completely slump against the window, allowing him to fuck you like a toy. You squeezed tightly around him one last time and everything inside you felt like it had exploded, moans spilling out loudly, not caring if anyone heard. Your tight clenching made him speed up his thrust as he felt himself tighten up, continuing to fuck you throughout your orgasm. God how he prayed that another ship would come up beside him just so they could see the sight of him fucking your limp like body. Just further proving how much you actually belonged to him. He let out a few loud groans and felt the long hot strips squirt into you, covering your walls as his thrusts got sloppy and rode out his own orgasm . He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, both his arms caging you in between him as he tried to catch his breath.

“Well fuck babe,” he said with a soft chuckle, before leaving a quick kiss on your shoulder and pulled out of you, watching as some of his hot seed dripped out of you and onto the floor. The sight was enough to get him ready for round 2, but he saw how tired you were and didn’t feel like forcing the issue.

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out one of his old shirts, slipping it over you and helping you into his bed. The baggy and oversized shirt hung off your form and looked more like a nightgown, which he had to admit was a sight he was starting to love. He slid on a pair of clean joggers and climbed in next to you, which you clung to almost instantly.

“Thanks Dirk,” you mumbled before slipping into sleep.

He stared down at you with a soft smile and rested his chin on your head. Normally he was against any form of affection or touching, but right now it felt good. This was one of the few times it felt good to be open about his feelings. He wouldn’t mind having you to rule with him in the new future he was creating.

#dirk strider #dirk strider x reader #ultimate dirk #homestuck #homestuck^2 #smut #x reader #homestuck fan fiction #yes i am a filthy homestuck no i wont apologize #i wrote this at 5 to 7 in the morning last night so sorry in advance lmao #also photo banners how super sick of me lmao #also found out i have spelled pairing wrong on like everything lets gooo lmao #i feel like im bout to get flamed for posting this but oh well HAHAH

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