#apparently i have just four extra teeth and that's why i bite my cheek a lot

[hurlingdown]

WITH MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT — TOP MALE READER X SUKUNA

synopsis. taming the king of curses is one thing. making him beg is another. since it's either fuck him good or get your throat slit anyway, why not take a gamble and achieve both? wc. 2.6k

tags. sub! sukuna, soft dom!reader. can be read as cock or strap. brat taming, choking, begging, hair-pulling, belly bulge, heavy praise kink, pet names (good boy, sweetheart), porn with feelings, this turned out way more intimate than i intended it to be

His back arched away from your chest as you slowly pushed your cock inside him, stretching him wide open. You could feel his every ragged breath from the hand you wrapped around his throat, silent for once, and you knew he was eager. 

“Good fuckin’ boy, Sukuna,” you muttered lowly into his ear.  

You barely heard the warning growl. He turned his head abruptly, teeth snapping together in an attempt to bite as you jerked away, barking out a startled laugh. 

“Aw, that was cute.” And as though the bite wouldn’t have torn flesh, wouldn’t have scarred your face for life, you smiled down at his scowling face like it was a pretty thing. 

“I am not your pet,” Sukuna snarled, and he sounded angry, something akin to a wounded animal. You hummed non-committedly, continuing to push until you were snugly seated inside him. “Fuck—the n-next time you call me that, I will bite something more than your face.”

“How tempting.” Despite his threats, his legs were trembling with effort to hold himself up, and he pressed his throat into the cup of your hand, willingly submitting to your touch. You squeezed lightly, just enough to press into his windpipe, and watched as all four of his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

It was funny, really, how he was using violence to disguise what a whore he really was. You counted to five before you let go. 

Apparently, you stopped too early for his liking. He was panting, his glare wet with tears, biting down a moan with bared teeth as the fat tip of your cock caught on his rim before easing in again. You were moving at a lumbering pace, deep and hard inside him but too fucking slow and rubbing at all the wrong places. 

He was growing frustrated by the second, and he finally barked, “Get on with it or I’ll kill you! Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

“I am fucking you, Sukuna.” 

“Not like this! Fuck—fuck you!” he half-hissed, half-whined, nails digging into the soft mattress. ‘More’ and ‘faster’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he took pride in his title of the King of Curses, and naturally his ego kept his mouth sealed shut. “Do really think I will hesitate to kill you just because I let you inside me? Are you that much of a fool?”

“Nah,” you replied nonchalantly, rolling your hips inside him to jolt out a startled moan. “You can kill me, but I don’t feel like catering to you today.” 

His words exploded into a string of expletives as he slammed his hips against you, shuddering as it only dug deeper, missing his sweet spot by far. 

Sukuna wanted to scream. 

Hand sliding up from his throat to firmly seize his jaw, you turned his face to meet you. “D’you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Your fingers dug into his cheek, taking extra precaution in making sure he wouldn't suddenly rear up and bite you. 

You needn’t have worried, though. He was way too desperate to care about the pet name or comprehend your question at that point, and he bucked his hips impatiently against yours, letting out a displeased growl. “What? J-just fucking fuck me already, brat.” 

You ignored him, continuing to move into him at a languid pace. “If I just give you the reward every time you ask, you’ll turn spoiled. How about you show me that you’ve earned it first, mm?” 

“What,” he lets out a shudder, breath bordering on a sob because why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? He was so good for you, all patient despite his arousal, waiting for you to take him like you had promised, and yet you were being so mean and unfair to him. “What do you fucking want from me? You are just—fuuuckk, you are just human—so fucking weak, comparable to an insect! What makes you think you have the right to demand that of me? I am your king.”

He wanted to rip that smirk right off your face, punch your pretty face in. Dine in your blood. You didn’t deserve him. 

“I don’t have any right, I know,” you agreed, “but you aren’t entitled to everything, either.”

“Your ways of insinuation are pathetic—”

It hit him then, like a thunderbolt splitting the earth apart, and he gave a violent shudder.

The past twenty minutes had not been for nothing. You weren’t just toying around with him. You wanted him to see him crumble from his want for you. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, fuck you. I am not going to beg.” 

You felt a sadistic smile creep onto your face. Seeing him deviating from his usual cocky self, now a babbling, incoherent mess, gave you a strange sort of pleasure. “I didn’t ask you to beg, though, did I? But now that you mention it…” 

You wanted to break him. 

Not that he wasn’t breaking already.

Sukuna was trembling with the effort of not giving in, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it tore through skin. Blood trickled down one side of his chin, and you wanted to lick it up. 

“I am your king,” he repeated, a tremor in his voice betraying his want. “You offer to me. I do not beg.”

“Well, king, you’re holding up all the fun,” you taunted, voice sickly sweet. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

He shook his head again, this time with less force. Tears were welling up in his eyes again, and he didn’t even bother to blink them away, too occupied otherwise. They dotted on his lashes, threatening to spill. Where were his promises of ‘biting something more than your face’? What a little liar. 

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be feeling it for days,” you purred into his ear, “in exchange for one word. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

You watched in triumph as his eyebrows furrowed, as though carefully contemplating his answer. It was far too generous of an offer—he would be a fool to refuse. You made sure he knew that. Just one more little push, and he would topple over the edge and become putty in your hands. One more push. 

Kissing your way down his spine to plaster yourself to his back, you reached a hand down his abdomen with your free hand, pressing into it where your cock rested within him. It was too much, and you knew it. You were heavy and thick inside him, filling up every inch of his tummy, and he hadn’t stopped clenching around your girth since the first time you pushed it in. Then you moved your hand, feeling him up until you found the thing you were looking for. 

You heard his breath hitch. 

Beneath your fingers was an obscene swelling high up in his abdomen, protruding from the hard lines of his stomach. A bulge that made for clear evidence that his insides were carving out a space for you. You should have known there was no way it would fit so innately. No matter how disagreeable his personality was, his body was so good for you, as always. 

You gave the bulge a little squeeze, and Sukuna let out a choked whine, mouth gaping as though trying to form words. 

You pressed yourself to his back, kissing his shoulder. “What is it?” 

He shook his head, continuing to whine softly, no longer as petulant as he was desperate. You were almost afraid you had broken him. 

You decided to take one more step. Flattening your palm on the bulge, you carefully pressed it back into his stomach. “What do you want, Sukuna?” you whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He tipped his head back to glare at you with the corner of his eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Give me more,” he gritted out, helpless. “Please.” 

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Without warning, you pulled back and rammed yourself into him in one go, angling your hips to pound right into his sweet spot, making him cry out in surprise. “W-wait, wait, ahh!” he screamed, the hand on his neck forcing him to stay in place. “Slow down, ‘s too much—” 

You continued to slam your hips against him, hitting his prostate with every sharp thrust, drinking in his whines and complaints and ignoring all of them. “You’re so good, so fuckin’ good, Sukuna.” 

He whined loudly in response, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as you railed him into oblivion. “Not good, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head, his protests falling on deaf ears. “Bastard, slow down…”

You let go of his throat to grab the back of his neck, shoving his face roughly into the mattress as he cried out. “Fuck, how do you feel so good?” you muttered mindlessly, taking more rapture in looking at his pleasure-addled expression (eyes squeezed shut, drooling onto the bed, moaning loud and clearly in ecstasy) than the fact that you were inside him. “I could do this all day long, y’know?” 

The tip of his erection grazed against the sheets with every thrust, and he wanted nothing more than to grab it and jerk off to your pace, but you kept his hands so busy, either trying to knock off his balance or brutally pound his entire body into the bed. 

“Ah, ah, sh-shut up! Keep talking and—I’ll twist your head off!” he threatened with a whine, desperate, but you continued to talk, embarrassing him further. 

“Look at you,” you cooed, “you were making a fuss earlier, and look at you now, taking me so well. Fuck. You look like you’re made for this, Sukuna. Made for taking my cock.” 

He seized up at that, hole clenching around your girth obscenely, making your pace stutter. 

“What was that?” you laughed. “Was that a turn on? You’re too cute, really.” 

Sukuna tried to morph his face into a look of disgust, but all he succeeded in doing was have his eyebrows pinched up in a look that resembled pure bliss more than anything. At some point he gave up struggling, arms going slack as he allowed you to pull him back against your cock by the hips, fucking him onto your lap as lewd ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaped his lips. 

You were pounding into him like an animal, treating him like one, and yet your pathetic, ingratiating words never failed to make his heart cramp up with a strange sensation, heat spreading from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest, painting him a pretty red. 

You were just another lowly human, he reminded himself, someone to fuck and forget, but at the moment Sukuna found himself wishing to get lost in the stars that erupted around the edges of his vision every time you hit his prostate, found himself wanting a second time, even if the first hadn’t ended yet. You drove him insane, and he loathed how good it made him feel. 

“Brat,” he heard his own voice, wrecked by how much noise he had been making, and you leaned forward to kiss his spine, letting him know you heard him. 

“What?” you murmured as he didn’t continue, slowing down your thrusts. “D’you need something? Does it hurt?” He bristled at how tender your words were, how you acted like you cared about a bloodthirsty curse like him. 

“Did I give you permission to stop?” He pushed his hips back against you with a growl, forcing you to pick up your pace. “Just wanta let you know—after this. You’ve got—hnngh, ahh, fuuuck! Nowhere to run. So don’t even think about i-it.” 

You blinked, equal parts amused and perplexed by his sudden threat. You dared not stop, though, even as he started to pant and whine heavily into the mattress, body shuddering with the gradual approach of an orgasm. “I’m not going to run from you, Sukuna. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Why would you run, when he was right under you, pliant and wanting for you to satisfy him? Did he not understand how much you’ve yearned for this? 

“Good choice,” he moaned, “don’t you dare fucking stop until you make me cum.”

You sped up your thrusts, snaking a hand back onto his neck and up to fist into his hair, wrenching his head up to smother him with a filthy kiss. It was rough, and more teeth than tongue, and at some point you could taste the sharp tang of blood from the cut in his lip earlier. You lapped it up along with the saliva that trickled down his chin, hearing him let out a needy whine. 

“So close, ah—so damn close, please, please, fucking please—” he begged shamelessly between loud moans, stripping himself naked of all dignity as he spent the last of his energy to bend his back into a vile arch, pressing his ass against your crotch as you slammed yourself into his swollen sweet spot in one powerful thrust. 

A scream ripped from his throat and he came untouched, staining the bed with white, at the same time clamping down on you so hard you jerked to a sudden stop. You collapsed onto his back, panting loudly as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “You okay?” 

He refused to respond, keeping his face buried in the mattress. You took the opportunity to pull out, hearing him let out a soft whine, cold and aching and suddenly empty. 

“Fuck you,” you heard him mutter. 

That was good. He was still alive. 

You slumped down onto the bed next to him, kissing his shoulder to try and get him to turn, and he raised a shaky hand to flip you off, mumbling something you assumed was a profanity. 

Biting down a grin at how utterly adorable he was being, you found yourself overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection. 

“What, are you shy?” you teased. “Don’t be.” 

He scoffed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Brat, I am not shy.”

He didn’t have any reason to be shy. Not to you. After all, you had long mapped out every inch of his body, from his prominent features to his most vulnerable. Made him want to bare his throat for you to make him feel good.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way Sukuna slowly flipped himself onto his back, levelling you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze instead of his usual hard glare, muttering something under his breath. He watched you quietly, placing his hand next to yours on the bed, the position far too intimate for your comfort.

“Hey,” you blurted out, feeling your heart skip a beat. You knew you were risking everything, and that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “You were really good today.” 

Good.

Sukuna had been called many things in his life before, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Good men did not dirty their hands with the blood of the innocent for fun. Good men did not sit on a mountain of bones and call themselves a king. Good men did not grow six arms and four eyes and look like monsters, and Sukuna was a monster himself.

There was a long, awkward pause, and his eyes were wide with a look you couldn’t decipher—one of disgust or mockery, maybe, and you were already regretting it. But to your utmost surprise, it started with a light blush dusted high on his cheekbones, before it bloomed into a dark red that spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and then lifted, ever so slightly. He immediately fought to replace it with a scowl, but you had already seen it. 

He had smiled. Sukuna had smiled at you. A genuine, almost soft smile, as though he cherished the way you told him he was good, had longed to hear it for centuries of living.

“Quit smiling, brat,” he huffed, but his voice lacked any real venom, more exhausted and content than anything, and made no refusal when you leaned in to kiss him.

Sukuna would later realise that he was neither good nor man, but if you were ever so willing to embrace a curse like him, he supposed he could be good to you, for you.  masterlist! # and here’s to introducing me and my delusions to the jjk fandom… also i feel like my tags r getting a lil repetitive lol

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 4

First

Previous

Okay. Fine. She’ll stop stalling.

She grabbed everything she’d need: water, snacks, her phone, Tikki, headphones, and a cheat sheet she’d written for herself… and then sat herself down on the floor, laptop in her lap.

Truly interesting stuff.

But it was about to get even more boring for her. She needed to do some hacking.

There’s three main ways to get information.

Most people master one and then team up with others. It was why a lot of groups in books are groups of three (or five, if you want to add a distinct brain and brawn).

Marinette didn’t do partners.

So, she had to do it all herself.

Grifting is the kind of thing people expect from conmen. Straight manipulation. This was her specialty. She’d learn about her marks, devise a plan, and get close enough to them to get whatever she needed -- blackmail, talking someone into something, talking someone out of something, checking to see if someone was cheating… that was what she was good at. Sometimes, when it was late at night and she was all alone, she felt bad about it. Most of the time she decided that it was their fault for letting her get that close to them -- Gothamites should know by now to be wary of short Asian women.

Thievery is almost what it sounds like. She often did straight up steal objects, from money to keycards to prototypes to files out of desks… but it also meant stealing information. She’d hide herself in vents or carve out a place in the walls and listen in on conversations. She wasn’t bad at it, but people were actually growing wise to this one. She found that many of the vents she wanted to use had cameras or motion detectors of some sort. But, a few jobs ago, she’d been given an EMP pulse gun as payment so that wasn’t as much of a problem anymore.

Hacking was… well, hacking. She… wasn’t too good at it. She’d never seen the point. Red Robin and Oracle were so good that anything she’d do would never hold up. So, she’d left that skill alone. All she ever needed was to know how to make semi-decent false identities, anyways.

… but now she needed an identity that would fool even them. Which meant that it was best to use one that actually existed.

She bit her lip and turned on the first Harry Potter book as audio while she booted up her computer.

Alright, so… she needed a paper trail that would keep her in Paris for the past nine years. The camera footage of cities often didn’t keep for that long, so she only needed to have a few clips of her heading to and being in the airport.

She pulled up Gotham security cameras. She grabbed footage from the subway specifically, it had the most things she needed: leaning against walls while she waited for things, scanning tickets, setting things in bins while they checked her over for bombs…

Okay... all she needed now was to change the face on the footage to make sure that their facial recognition systems picked up that it was her. She moved over to her greenscreen and got footage of her face as she continued working.

Next, she needed to -- um? -- PAPERS. She needed to forge papers.

Well, she could claim that she had been working under her parents in exchange for food and rent… which meant dentist and doctor appointments were really all she needed.

She found older papers and used that to forge her doctor’s handwriting. She had no clue what medicines she was supposed to be taking but that’s fine. The stuff doctors prescribed were pretty much just suggestions in her eyes, anyways.

Was that all?

… she was pretty sure she was done.

She took the footage from her camera and superimposed it on the makeup-covered face she used for Gotham pixel by pixel.

By the time she had finished her audiobook had long-since ended and she had gotten pretty far into the second book. She liked the second book more than the first so far. Maybe it’s because Rowling hadn’t given away the ending in a dream sequence like she did in the first one.

She forced herself to sit up. Her bones creaked. How long had…?

Eleven hours. She’d been sitting there for eleven hours with only tiny breaks to go to the bathroom. No wonder she felt so awful.

She rubbed her eyes and walked over to the window. It was getting early. Dim light filtered through the one-way window and she looked out over the city. She had set up base on the thirteenth floor of a building. Gotham had a weird superstition about thirteenth floors -- if they had to make a building any higher than that, they would put a ‘fake floor’ in to trick… the gods? The bad luck? Something. Whatever the reason, it was good for her. It was safer than any of her other safehouses. Even if someone knew that someone lived there they would steer clear, assuming it belonged to The Court.

So, she was safe. She trudged to her fridge and listened to the audiobook speaker talk about how someone else had gotten petrified -- the name had already slipped away from her, all the names in these books were so fucking weird -- as she picked out an energy drink. She cracked it open and then took tiny sips from it as her brain tried and failed to wake up some.

She felt a tiny paw rub her head and blinked a few times to get her out of The Long Stare that she had been doing for the past… yikes, twenty minutes.

She shook her head a few times to wake herself up and then sent Tikki a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re overworking yourself.”

“I’ll only be doing this for a year,” she said. “Then, no matter what, it’s over.”

“... see, that -- that doesn’t exactly encourage me…”

Marinette giggled and pressed a kiss to the kwami’s way-too-big head. “I’ll sleep later.”

The kwami didn’t believe her.

Fair enough. She was lying.

But it wasn’t like Tikki could really stop her so… she started gathering things into a backpack. A few pairs of nondescript clothes, snacks, a bit of cash -- she’d come back for more later -- and looked around.

She couldn’t take any of her favorite knives, unfortunately, she’d have to settle for a plain old dagger and leave everything else behind. She’d kiss them goodbye but most of them were laced with either paralytics or straight up poison so that would have been a Bad Idea.

… she was missing something...

Ah. She swapped out her work phone for a burner, added a black case, and then added a phone charm. It was a tiny Robin, it would add to her credibility.

Yeah. That was probably it.

Then, she fell out of the thirteenth-story window.

(It’s fine. She lived. Obviously.)

She headed to the nearest hotel. It was a front for the mob but, really, was there any places that weren’t? She checked in, dropped her things off, and started out the door.

Where to first? It was getting time for most of the bats to stop patrolling but she supposed she could follow after Signal first.

~

… well, this sucked.

Messing up while jumping from building to building, even on purpose, was so embarrassing. She was Canary for fuck’s sake, she didn’t mess up.

But it would be kind of weird if she was too good so… she allowed herself to yelp, to fall, to curse, to scrape her knees...

God, this entire job was just so embarrassing. She was getting blackmailed by Penguin, she’d had to ask her ‘parents’ for money, and now she was falling all over the place. This was stupid. Someone kill her, please. (Or, at least, make this job end quickly.)

But this was necessary. She’d be stupid not to follow them around. They could slip up, either by saying their real names on accident or by getting hurt enough for her to sneak down and take off their masks.

(She had no delusions that they were famous, of course. They’d be stupid to be public figures. Still, a face or a name was better than nothing.)

So, she followed them. Three days went by without any of them acknowledging her existence.

Right now, she was following after Red Robin. She could tell he knew she was there, he was going slightly slower than normal, and she appreciated it -- or… fake her appreciated it? She didn’t know. This was all so weird.

Want to know what else was weird? Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was the first one that she’d truly enjoyed as more than something to pass time with. She liked Cedric. All these death flags better be red herrings. She could -- and would -- cry if he died.

That would be embarrassing… which was kind of par for the course right now. She hated that she had thought that. She’d definitely jinxed it.

She stopped a few buildings down from where Red Robin was getting coffee and then smiled as he continued on the ground. Thank god. Rooftops suck.

She bit her lip nervously as she listened to Harry talk about how he was doing in the maze. The distinct lack of Cedric was worrying her.

She was so distracted that, when she followed Red Robin into an alley, it took her a few seconds to realize that he had disappeared. She stood in the middle of the alley, the hair on the back of her neck prickling as she looked up at the dead end she had been led to.

There was a crunch of gravel behind her and she allowed herself to flinch.

She turned around with a weak smile. Red Robin returned it, but the lenses of his domino were narrowed like they usually were when he was annoyed about something.

This was an expression that Canary was used to. But he shouldn’t have known she was Canary. So...

Shit.

~~~

TheBetterCanary: tim drake 🤝 red robin

throwing coffee cups in random trash cans so their families don't know how much they’re drinking

Yummmmmm: Snitch

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

[scuttling]

Forty-Eight

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 3,092 Tags: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected sex, Hickies, Multiple orgasms, Overstimulation, Hitachi magic wand (sex toy), Food play (brief), Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Subspace, Aftercare Summary: Aaron has a special surprise planned for Sophie on his forty-eighth birthday. Link to A03 or read below! On the morning of Aaron’s 48th birthday, they skip the run and have sweet, sleepy, intimate sex instead. He lays draped over her back, kissing and sucking hickies on her shoulders, and she reaches back to hold his arms, to feel more of him, even though he’s like a warm, heavy blanket covering her from her neck to her toes.

“So sweet, baby. Tasting so good and feeling so good for me.” He grinds his cock inside her, rolling his hips, and she pants his name, breathless. “You’re going to be aching all day, remembering this.”

“Mmm, yes, daddy. My whole body will ache for you; do you want to use me tonight? For your birthday?” she asks, and she finds it a little funny that she’s getting turned on for the future while literally in the middle of super steamy sex.

“I have other plans for tonight, sweet girl, but thank you. Maybe I’ll use you roughly this weekend—fill you up with come, put my cock in your mouth, devour your pussy.” She moans, presses her ass back against him, and he bites down hard. “Fuck, baby, that’s it.” He shifts his weight onto his arms, lifts up a little, and gets his hands under her, to cup her breasts.

“Oh, yeah, harder, daddy,” she moans, and he squeezes them, thrusts rhythmically inside until she comes, dropping her forehead to the bed. He moves quicker, then, a dozen or so times, spills mostly inside, though he pulls out before he’s done, comes a little on her pussy, making her groan.

“So pretty, your little pussy covered with me. My special girl.” She hums, and when he lifts off of her she turns so she can receive some soft, loving kisses. “Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll show you what I bought for tonight.”

“And you want me to use this, for your birthday? That hardly seems fair to you.” She’s holding in her hands something called the ‘Original Magic Wand’—she read reviews on Amazon, and she definitely gets why he saved it for a special occasion, but it’s a vibrating personal massager (very personal, according to the internet), not something that they can share.

“Oh, trust me, I’m going to get exactly what I want,” he assures, his voice low, and she looks up at him, very in love and super turned on. Apparently that’s the theme for today.

Work is torture, partially because her bra straps are digging into the hickies he made and making her thinking about the morning, partially because she’s imagining what’s going to happen with that massager, and partially because Aaron is really busy with meetings and she hasn’t seen his face for hours. He should have just taken the day off for his birthday like she tried to convince him to, but he’s stubborn.

They go out for dinner, Italian, and drink a responsible amount of wine, split a piece of tiramisu, but the most delicious part is when he presses a possessive hand to her back and guides her out of the restaurant, then crowds her up against the car to kiss her breathless, dizzy.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, pulls back and runs his thumb over her lips with a wink, and she’s a dripping mess from just that, revved up and ready to be destroyed by this gorgeous man and his insane ideas in the bedroom.

He keeps his clothes on, except for his button up shirt, which he wants to be the only thing she wears; she always likes wearing them, usually after sex, and it feels extra special and naughty to be wearing it now.

He lays her back on the bed, pillows behind her for comfort, and plugs in the massager; she turns it on low, and it’s so powerful she groans immediately, before it even touches her. Aaron chuckles, his voice deep.

“I think we’re going to have a good time with this,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand down her stomach. “I want you to come until you can’t come anymore. I brought water, and a snack, so we can take a break when you need to—but good girl, I’m going to push you a little. We’ll decide when you’re done together, unless you really need to stop; if you need to stop, tell me.” She nods like always, understands but appreciates that he goes over it every time they do something like this.

He lays along her side, brushes his fingers through her hair, and guides her hands lower, to press the wand against her pussy.

“Oh, my… Fuck,” she says, rolling her hips a little to get used to the sensation. She’s no stranger to vibrators, but this thing is like her trusty rabbit on steroids. Lots of steroids. “Daddy.” Aaron shushes her, smooths his hands over her body.

“I know baby, it’s okay. It’s pretty strong for a little girl like you, but I’m right here. To help you focus, I want you to count each time you come, and say it back to me: one, daddy, two, daddy. Do you understand?”

She licks her lips, goes to say yes, but she’s interrupted by a wave of tingling pleasure she’s not able to talk through.

Her first orgasm is super quick, and a little surprising—though maybe not, considering how loud this thing is—but not so strong she has to move the wand or switch it off after or anything. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, looks over at Aaron, says one, daddy, just like he asked.

“Good girl. So pretty for me,” he praises, rolling a nipple between his fingers. “Just one of many orgasms you’re having for me tonight. Keep counting.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Her second orgasm happens about three minutes after, and it’s definitely stronger, has her arching up and her clawing at the pillow behind her head. She’s a little nervous to continue, because her clit gets sensitive easily and this particular toy is wildly powerful, takes a deep breath in and out.

“Mmm. Two, daddy,” she breathes, and Aaron leans in, kisses her mouth hard like he did against the car earlier.

“Perfect, baby. I want to put my fingers in you for a minute, feel how wet that made you.” She spreads her legs a little more, and she’s so wet that when he puts two fingers in her they slide in easily, all the way. He adds a third, and there’s no resistance like there usually is; it makes them both groan. “Gorgeous girl, coming so hard for your daddy’s birthday. Let’s keep going.”

She clears her throat, and when he pulls his fingers out, she moves the massager down to her opening to get a little stimulation there, maybe save her clit from discomfort a little while longer. It feels different, but good, and she presses down on the head with her palm for a little more pressure where she wants it.

Her third orgasm is the best so far, lasts the longest, too, but it makes her clit throb uncomfortably immediately after, and she thinks she needs a little time to recover.

“Three, daddy, but it’s uncomfortable now. Can I turn it off for a little bit?” He presses his lips to her bruised shoulders, moves a hand down to switch the wand off, lightly rubs his fingers over her aching pussy.

“Of course, sweet girl. Two minutes, okay? Then it goes back on.” She nods, and he brings the water over for her, offers her a couple bites of pineapple and mango; they’re very juicy, and he treats the both of them a little, rubs a few pieces over her nipples and sucks them clean before eating the fruit.

She didn’t think she’d be actively horny after those three intense orgasms, but he finds a way to wind her up, just like always.

When two minutes are up, he turns the massager back on, kisses her deeply, tasting tropical and sweet. She arches her back to get away from the toy, too much sensation, but he guides her back down, whispers calming words into her ear until she settles enough to enjoy it.

Her fourth orgasm doesn’t want to come, and Aaron’s patient, but she isn’t, pouting and whimpering because it feels good but it’s not enough to get her there. He puts his hands on her hips, rolls her onto her stomach, and holds the wand under her, lets her hump against it until she comes, sinking her teeth into her own hand. She feels sweat on the back of her neck, her hair clinging there, and she looks up at him, chest heaving, sighs.

“Four, daddy.”

“So fucking gorgeous, baby girl,” he praises, squeezing her ass, and he’s starting to unravel a little, she can tell by his voice and the look in his eyes. She absolutely loves that he’s not unaffected by this, even if he pretends to be.

Her fifth orgasm is her favorite because he gets her onto her back again, puts his fingers inside her and lets her come on them; she’s not sure she could have gotten off without them, sucks them gratefully when she’s done trembling.

“That’s five, daddy.” Five is usually the most she can handle without becoming brainless, and that’s usually spread over a longer period of time; they’ve only been in bed for an hour and a half.

“Let’s keep going, baby, you’re doing so good,” he coos, palming her breasts, touching her flushed cheeks; his cock is hard, and leaking, the dark patch on his pants giving him away, and she can’t believe he hasn’t given up and shoved his dick in her yet. She’s thought about it probably a dozen times, knows he must have as well.

Her sixth orgasm takes a while because her clit is so sensitive. It feels good for about ten seconds, then feels uncomfortable for about ten seconds, then hurts for a little longer than that, and then she flinches away from the wand because it’s too much sensation. Over and over again. It’s frustrating, and she kind of wants to give up.

“It’s okay baby, you can do it. You’re okay,” he assures her, his hands on her thighs to keep them open, because she kept trying to clamp her legs together tight. “Do it for me, baby, for daddy’s birthday. Keep coming for me, perfect girl.”

She tries breathing through it, and that helps the hurt hurt less, but doesn’t get her any closer to climax. When she does eventually come, after several rounds of pleasure-discomfort-pain, her orgasm is so strong that her legs lift off the bed, her whole body shaking while she moans roughly, gutturally like she never has before.

“Six—six, daddy,” she whimpers when it’s over, her eyes watering a little, and he leans in for kisses, strokes his hands soothingly along her body, which is still trembling. “How many more?”

“Just two more, baby. Can you do it?” he asks, looking down at her so handsome and serious, like she is giving him all of her power and he treasures it, pushes her because it’s good for the both of them. She swallows, nods.

“I can do it, daddy. For you.” He briefly, softly closes his eyes, then presses his lips to hers a dozen times.

“Perfect girl. You’re so beautiful, so good for daddy. Doing so good. Coming so much for me.” He brushes his hand over her cheek, and it makes her feel warm and comfy, makes her eyes droop a little.

“Mm hmm, coming for you, daddy. Happy birthday, daddy.”

“Thank you, baby. You’re giving me just what I want. Do you want a sip of water?” he asks, helping her to sit up, and she takes it gratefully, hums, pleased, when he sets her head back on the pillow.

Her seventh orgasm is much different from the others, because he finds an attachment, something to slip over the wand and put inside her. He presses it in before switching it back on—he’ll have to hold it for her, because the angle is awkward now—and she nods to let him know it’s comfortable.

The moment he switches it on, she gasps and her hands fly down to it, because the vibration is so much more intense when it’s inside. She does her deep breathing, gets used to it, and it’s not long before she comes, her whole body clenched tight and tense, shivering as she bucks against it—which, she doesn’t even know why she’s doing that, because she’s not sure she can handle anything more.

When she comes down, her eyes are really sleepy, and her brain feels like mush, and her pussy is practically numb, and Aaron hugs her close while she lays there, breathing hard and blinking.

“Incredible. Daddy’s good, sweet girl. How many is that, baby?” he asks when she just pants, scraping her nails lightly over her own skin to soothe herself. She rolls her head toward him, but doesn’t answer, can’t remember the question. “Sophie, how many?”

“Hmm?” She knows she’s supposed to answer now but he’s too pretty, even when his mouth looks worried like it does right now. He needs to smile more, and stop worrying so much.

“Sophie, look at me. How many times?” he asks, hands on her cheeks to keep her gaze locked on his. She swallows hard, thinks harder.

“Siete. Siete veces, daddy,” she mumbles—seven times. Her mouth feels dry. “Agua, por favor?” He sits her up as best he can, but she’s really just leaning up against him, and presses the straw to her lips; she could drink forever, but he stops her, and she knows that must mean she’s had enough. She sighs, sinks against his shoulder. He smells so good, like rain in the summer, and safety. “Gracias; te amo, esposo.” Gentle thumbs rub over her eyelids; she hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.

“En inglés, por favor—English, baby. Can you?” He really needs to get better at Spanish, because sometimes the words just aren’t there, and Spanish is easier. It reminds her of her mother.

“I said, thank you, I love you,” she rasps after a moment, looking up at him, and he exhales softly.

“I know what you said. You were just worrying me. I thought maybe your brain was broken.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile, and it’s gorgeous. “We’re all done. Do you want a bath?”

“No, not done; one more,” she reminds him. She knows he said eight, before. This was only seven.

“No, baby, I think that’s enough. You weren’t responding; that’s not good for you.” She manages to bring her hands up to his face, his perfect, dark hair, guides him down for kisses.

“I’m better now. Want to give you eight. Want to make daddy’s cock feel better.” She reaches for it, just squeezes it, doesn’t feel coordinated enough to do much more. “No more of that thing; just come inside me?” Her pussy is definitely feeling a little worn out, but she knows she can handle that. He feels better than that loud toy, anyway, because she can actually feel him; being vibrated to death is interesting, but not her preferred method of orgasm, she now knows.

“Are you sure? It’s really alright,” he insists, and she nods, kisses him again.

“I’m sure. I want to feel you.” She smooths her hands over his undershirt, to his pants, gets them open and pushes them down just enough to get his cock out. She strokes him, not very well, but her touch is loving, and she looks up into his eyes, lets herself be guided back to the bed by his strong, gentle hands.

When he presses in, she feels full, satisfied in a way she hasn’t been so far; she gets her arms around his back, his mouth on hers, and sighs happily, content.

It doesn’t take much to get him off, which makes perfect sense considering the performance he’s been orchestrating the last couple of hours; she holds him so tightly, so close to her when he spills inside her, kisses him and tries to convey how very much she loves him with her lips.

He breathes hard when the kiss breaks, runs a hand down her body; when he rubs at her pussy with a couple of fingers, it doesn’t do much for her, but it doesn’t feel bad, either.

“Your clit is hiding from me,” he says into her throat, and she laughs softly.

“Do you blame it?” She hitches her legs up higher, presses against him so he’s deeper. “It’s okay if I don’t come again. Seven is more than enough; some might say a little excessive,” she teases, and he trails his mouth up her jaw, down the other side of her face, soft and sensual. “Hmm.”

“I think I have a couple more thrusts in me,” he whispers, and she shivers, because he’s so sexy always. “Let’s see if we can make eight happen.” He wraps his hands around her waist, lifting her up a little, changing the angle, and he gets his mouth on her nipple, sucks and fucks just right, gives her one last orgasm that is soft and brief and the best one of the night, because it’s all him giving it.

He draws them a bath after, and they soak for a while in companionable silence, his hand moving softly over her skin, his lips on her neck, since he pulled her hair up so it wouldn’t get wet.

“In two years I’ll be fifty. Fifty,” he laments quietly, kneading her hips, and she sighs, sinks further into his embrace.

“Hmm, I can’t wait for you to turn fifty.” He huffs against her ear in surprise.

“What? Why?”

“Because I have plans for a change. You’re going to take your birthday off, and so am I—I’m not taking no for an answer this time, so deal with it—and I’m going to have you all to myself for the whole day. That means I’m going to blow you, ride you, lick you, bite you… Really test that fifty-year-old stamina of yours.” He hums, mouths over her bruised shoulder, wraps his arms around her chest and holds her close.

“I guess being fifty doesn’t sound so bad after all.”

“It will be awesome,” she says, turning her head for a proper kiss, “especially because I have two long years to practice.”

[southsidewrites]

Frustrated || Oikawa Tooru x Reader

“What, Oikawa? What do you want to talk about?”

He bit his lip as he looked down at you, his shoulders heaving with a deep breath. “We need you at the tournament this weekend.”

“Oh, really?” Your eyebrows rose. “Seeing as I’m such a useless manager and all, I figured Suki could handle it.”

His lips pressed into a line, the irritation clear in his face. “You know you’re not a useless manager.”

“Oh wow, what a compliment,” you drawled. “Not a useless manager. I’m flattered, Oikawa, really.”

He rolled his eyes, gripping the back of his neck as he looked down at you. “You know that’s not what I mean.” He sighed. “And I need you there this weekend.”

At that, your mouth fell open—you were at a total loss for words for a moment. “You—you what?”

Summary: You're the manager of Oikawa's college volleyball team, and after nearly four straight years of bickering with the unfairly attractive captain, you reach a breaking point. Fortunately, that might be just what it takes to make him admit his feelings for you.

Word Count: 3365

Author’s Note: I never thought I’d like Oikawa, and now here I am being a thirsty bitch for him. Highkey considering writing an extra-smutty part two to this, so be sure to let me know what you think!

Cross-posted to A03.

The ball hit the ground with a gentle thud, landing just a few inches behind Oikawa. His hands were still in the air, ready for the throw that never came, and when he turned around to look at you, his face was plastered with his most charming smile.

“What happened there?” he asked, his tone sickeningly sweet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was genuinely concerned. But you did know better, and concern was definitely not what Oikawa was feeling.

You gritted your teeth, muttering something utterly inappropriate as Iwaizumi shook his head at you, reminding you that it just wasn’t worth it. As always, you were the one who had to bite your tongue when Oikawa decided to be an obnoxious dick. It had been two hours since practice ended, two hours straight of you tossing balls for Oikawa and Iwaizumi to practice their quick attack. Your arms and shoulders were already sore, reminding you just how much you’d rather be in bed.

“What was that?” Oikawa asked, flashing you that insufferable grin. “Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing,” you replied, your voice low and even. You were not going to give that smug bastard the satisfaction of getting you worked up.

“Oh good!” He turned back toward the net, holding his hands in a ready position. “So, another few tosses?”

You brushed your hair out of your face, grabbing another ball from the bin. Goddamn Oikawa had somehow convinced you to stay. Unless you don’t want us to win this weekend, he had crooned, giving you that look that mimicked sincerity so well that you almost wondered if he was a psychopath. Everyone had been on edge with the Regionals tournament coming up, and the team had been practicing so much you wondered how they stayed upright.

Throwing the next ball on instinct, you cursed below your breath as it flew wide past Oikawa and out of bounds.

You could practically feel the eye roll as Oikawa turned to look at you. “You’d think after being our manager for four years, you’d be able to throw a decent toss. That is one of your only jobs, isn’t it?”

“Oikawa, don’t—”

“No need, Iwaizumi!” you snapped, whipping the next ball at the ground with a smack that made the black-haired man take a large step back. “Let me handle this one.” You crossed the court, stopping just inches from Oikawa and pulling yourself to your full height. “You know damn well that I can throw a ball, Oikawa, seeing as those were the first two I missed in the two fucking hours we’ve been here, maybe the first two I’ve missed since I got roped into this goddamn job freshman year.”

He smirked, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “So, why are you missing them now?”

“Because it’s nearly nine at night and I haven’t been home in twelve hours!” you snapped. “Unlike you, I can’t keep going forever.” Taking a deep breath, you took a step back from him—in the four years you’d been working with the team, you had a shouted at Oikawa more than a handful of times, and you knew better than to draw it out too long. Oikawa hated to lose, and that included shouting matches with his team manager.

“I don’t remember saying we had to go forever,” he replied, a hint of an annoyed edge cracking through his cool composure. “Just until Iwaizumi and I had this attack down.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, sure, Oikawa, whatever you say.” Throwing your hands in the air, you turned to walk away from him. “I’m done, though. Find someone else to throw for you.”

“You’re done?” His eyes widened in what actually looked like genuine surprise. “You can’t be done—we still have drills to practice.”

“Wanna bet?” You kept walking, not bothering to turn around.

Iwaizumi called your name, but you ignored him, ready to go home and finally crawl into bed.

“Well, you may as well not come to the tournament this weekend, then!” Oikawa called. “Seeing as you’re done and all.”

“Sounds good to me!” You turned, mimicking his sweet smile. “Have fun at Regionals—I’ll be sure to leave Suki my clipboard.”

“Oikawa, would you just—”

“No,” he snapped, cutting off Iwaizumi. “If she wants to go, let her!”

It took all the self-control you had not to flip him an obscene gesture, but you just keep walking, storming out of the gym and into the women’s locker room. Letting the door slam behind you, you yanked off your sweatshirt, your heart racing from the argument. You flopped onto the bench, dropping your head into your hands as you tried to steady your breathing.

You hated that he had the power to get to you like that. You’d think after four years, you’d be used to his jabs, to the endless teasing and snarky remarks. He’d been that way since you met freshman year, him fresh out of high school where he had been a superstar ace setter, and you relatively new to volleyball but in desperate need of something to do outside of class.

Your relationship hadn’t been bad at first—you realized quickly that underneath the layer of asshole, Oikawa was actually a really good teammate that worked hard to make sure his team was successful. He had even been one of the first people to really give you the rundown on volleyball, making sure you were comfortable in your role before the first real match.

And then, once he was sure you knew what you were doing, the teasing really took off.

Shaking your head, you stood up, opening your locker. You knew it was just how he was, that he talked to everyone that way, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when you’d been up fourteen hours and were already stressed about how they were going to do at the Regionals tournament this weekend. If they lost, it would be the senior’s last college tournament, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi would be crushed.

You grabbed your shirt to tug it off, but before you could, the locker room door squeaked open behind you.

“Oikawa, what the hell?” You yanked the shirt back on, your cheeks heating with embarrassment when you saw who it was. “This is the women’s locker room, you asshole.”

He rolled his eyes, waving off your complaint. “I had a feeling you hadn’t changed yet—can we talk?”

Your mouth fell open slightly, and you started shaking your head. “Iwaizumi made you come in here, didn’t he?”

“Iwaizumi left right after you did,” he answered, an annoyed expression on his face. “Apparently, he’s not too happy with me either.”

“That’s because you’re an asshole.” You grabbed your bag, deciding you didn’t really need to change. Throwing it over your shoulder, you started walking past him.

A firm hand closed around your forearm. “Wait.”

The word seemed to shoot straight through you, a note of desperation making you jerk to a stop.

“What, Oikawa?” you asked, shaking your arm out of his grip. You sighed heavily and turned to look at him, your voice soft with exhaustion. “What do you want to talk about?”

He bit his lip as he looked down at you, his shoulders heaving with a deep breath. “We need you at the tournament this weekend.”

“Oh, really?” Your eyebrows rose. “Seeing as I’m such a useless manager and all, I figured Suki could handle it.”

His lips pressed into a line, the irritation clear in his face. “You know you’re not a useless manager.”

“Oh wow, what a compliment,” you drawled. “Not a useless manager. I’m flattered, Oikawa, really.”

He rolled his eyes, gripping the back of his neck as he looked down at you. “You know that’s not what I mean.” He sighed. “And I need you there this weekend.”

At that, your mouth fell open—you were at a total loss for words for a moment. “You—you what?”

He exhaled harshly, his gaze flicking away from you. “You’ve never missed a match,” he said hurriedly, the words seeming painful on his lips. “You’ve never missed a match, and I’m used to having you there.”

Stifling an amused laugh, your lips curved into a smile. “Oikawa,” you asked slowly, “are you saying that you can’t play without me?”

“I’m saying I’d rather have you there,” he retorted, the edge in his voice returning.

You were grinning widely now, thrilled by this turn of events. “No, Oikawa, I think you’re saying that you can’t play without me, that you need me there.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair frustratedly. “If that’s how you want to take it, fine, but you better be on that bus with us tomorrow.”

There was still a stunned smile on your face as you shook your head. “No.”

“No?” Oikawa’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “Did you really just say no?”

“Sure did.” You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly. “I’m not going unless you apologize.”

He scoffed, giving you an annoyed look. “Apologize? For what?”

“Well, treating me like shit, for one,” you said, mimicking his smug tone. “Maybe also for barging in on me when I could have been naked. Oh, and what about—”

Out of nowhere, Oikawa’s lips were on yours, your hands frozen at your sides as he gripped your shoulders. The kiss was quick, just long enough for the shock to pass and for you to realize that you kind of liked being kissed by Oikawa. Then, when he pulled back, his brown eyes were fixed on yours with an expression you had never seen on the confident captain’s face before—nerves.

“Oikawa, what…” you breathed, your mind spinning. “What is—why?”

He sighed, his hands drifting down your shoulders to your upper arms. “I told you, I need you at the tournament,” he said, his gaze flicking nervously away from yours. “And I obviously don’t mean as a manager.”

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t daydreamed some version of this moment countless times over the past few years, but you had never expected it to come true, much less after an argument that ended in you storming off the court. In fact, you had put a lot of effort toward eliminating the crush entirely, knowing that Oikawa could have his pick of nearly any girl in the university and didn’t show even a hint of interest in you.

“Oikawa, are you serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” he answered, annoyed. “Damn it, can you take anything seriously?”

“Can you?” you laughed, lifting your hand to his chin to force him to look at you. “I’m pretty sure this is the first genuine thing you’ve ever said to me.”

His lips quirked into a half-grin, and you could swear he was leaning into your touch. “So, does that mean you’ll come to the tournament this weekend?”

You lifted your other hand to his hair, running it through the silky locks as you took a step closer to him. “I believe I’m still waiting for an apology.”

“Fucking apology,” he muttered, pulling you close for another kiss. “I’m not going to apologize when you’ve been too dumb to notice me flirting with you for the past three years.”

You laughed as he pushed you back into the row of lockers. “Well, then.”

“I’ll show you an apology.” He kissed you hard, his lips like fire on your skin as he trailed his way down your jaw to your neck, nipping lightly between kisses. His hands were tight on your hips, his fingertips just barely tugging against the waistband of your shorts. “Can I—” he breathed, glancing pointedly down at said shorts.

“You’re going to apologize by going down on me?” you laughed, breathless from his kiss. Just the thought of it made you shiver with desire, your clothes suddenly feeling way too constrictive.

“If you don’t stop talking, I’m not going to do anything,” he murmured, one of his hands sliding up your shirt to rest on your lower back. Holding your bodies close together, he caught your lips in another heated kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hardness through his shorts as you arched into him. “Fuck, Oikawa,” you gasped. “Please.”

He grinned, flipping his hair off his face before crouching down. Grabbing your waistband more firmly, he slowly started pulling the material down as he pressed his lips into your hipbone.

Gripping his hair, you briefly wished you had worn sexier underwear, but you didn’t have much time to think before his lips were on your stomach, shoving your shirt up. You pulled it off the rest of the way and leaned back on the lockers, letting him do most of the work of holding you upright.

The metal was cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to Oikawa’s lips that were like fire as they trailed along the hem of your panties. He nipped and sucked, teasing his way down to your thighs and nudging them apart. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking up to see you in nothing but a bra. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

His words shot straight through to your core, your hips bucking toward him as you whined needily. “C’mon, Oikawa, stop teasing.”

“Stop teasing?” he mused, his breath hot against you as he hiked one of your legs onto his shoulder. “What kind of ridiculous request is that?”

“I thought this was supposed to be my apology,” you replied, trying to use your grip on his hair to redirect him.

“Don’t make me regret telling you,” he muttered, dragging a finger up your slit and feeling the wetness through the material of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

You moaned, half-pleasure and half-annoyance. “Yeah, because you’re such a fucking tease.”

“Aw, stop trying to flatter me, beautiful, you know I have an insufferable ego.”

You rolled your eyes, choking back a moan as he pressed his fingertip roughly onto your clit. Your legs shook as you regripped his hair, doing your best to stay upright. At that, Oikawa’s impatience took over, and he yanked your panties down, dropping your legs just long enough for you to get them off.

When his fingertips dragged across your soaked pussy, it was like someone shooting fire through your veins. His touch was light, still teasing, and in drastic contrast with the intensity of his kisses.

“Oikawa,” you moaned, tipping your head back against the lockers. “Goddamn it.”

He laughed, the rumble sending shockwaves through you. “You look so good begging for me,” he mused, still gently tracing his fingers through your folds, just barely avoiding your clit. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to slam you against these goddamn lockers and just have my way with you.”

“Then have your way with me,” you begged, the sounds coming from you downright pitiful. “Please just touch my clit already.”

“Like this?” he asked, flicking his thumb against it. Your back arched, and it was only his grip on your thigh keeping your upright. “Fuck,” he chuckled, his mouth only centimeters from your pussy. “You really are needy.”

“Oh my god, Tooru,” you whined. “Stop being such an asshole.”

At the sound of his first name, Oikawa let out a low moan. With a quick glance up at your face, he lowered his lips to you, desperate to hear you moan his name again. He started with broad, slow strokes, his tongue just barely brushing against your clit before making another stroke.

“That’s it beautiful,” he murmured, sliding two fingers inside you with ease. “So, fucking tight.”

You were already on the brink of orgasm, his teasing alone enough to put you on edge. And now, with his absolutely skillful mouth on your pussy, you didn’t think you’d be able to last long.

Oikawa’s fingers were long and perfect inside you, searching out just the right spot to make you come undone. He hummed with pleasure when he brushed against the spongey patch that almost made you scream with pleasure.

You could barely even form words anymore—the combination of his fingers inside you and his tongue flicking rhythmically over your clit was sending your body into overdrive. All you could do was whimper his name, your hands in his hair as you tried desperately not to collapse on top of him. Your legs were sore, Oikawa holding them firmly apart so that you didn’t suffocate him, and you could feel your arousal running down your thighs.

Pulling away for just a second, Oikawa looked up at you with a grin. “You seem just about ready to cum all over my face, beautiful.”

You nodded hurriedly, pushing his head back toward you. “Please, Tooru, I’m so close.”

His mouth returned to your clit, alternating between sucking and flicking so quickly that the sensations started to meld together. Your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth falling open as you hurtled toward the edge.

“Tooru, I’m—fuck—I’m cumming!”

He held your thighs a bit tighter, keeping you upright as you came undone for him. Electricity seemed to shoot through you, your mind going blank of everything but his mouth on your clit and his fingers inside you. It was almost overwhelming—you had never cum so hard in your life. When you finally came down, your body was weak, being hit with little aftershocks as Oikawa slipped his fingers out.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he murmured, lowering your leg to the ground and taking a firm grip on your hips. “Fuck, you looked so good cumming for me.”

Slowly, you pulled your eyes open to see him looking at you, his brown eyes warm and his pupils blown wide with desire. You dropped your hands to his shoulders, pulling him to you for a kiss.

“That was some apology,” you murmured, holding him tight against you. “Feels like you could use a little help now, though.”

He bit back a moan as you jerked your hips into his bulge. His shorts didn’t do a good job of hiding it, and you were absolutely desperate to get him naked now.

“We don’t have to right now,” he said, his voice soft as he cupped your cheek surprisingly tenderly. “This was your apology, after all.”

You laughed, running your hands under his shirt to start pushing it off. “And you know what would really prove you’ve learned your lesson?”

“What?” he asked, grinning as he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off.

“If you fucked me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, pressing you back into the lockers. “I’d be happy to.”

You palmed his erection through his shorts, feeling just how hard he was for you. “Do you have a condom?”

At that, his face dropped. “Shit, no, I don’t.”

“Really?” you asked, teasing him. “The great Oikawa Tooru doesn’t keep a condom stash with him at all times?”

“I’m not a complete animal,” he muttered, rolling his hips into your hand. “And I didn’t exactly plan on getting laid tonight.”

“Fuck.” You glanced over at the clock to see it was now well after 10:00 PM. “Well, that’s probably for the best anyway since we have to be on a bus in less than eight hours.”  

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbled, still keeping you pinned against the lockers. “I finally take the condoms out of my locker and then this? Fucking cursed.”

You laughed, grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss. “How about this? When you win all your matches tomorrow, you can come back to my place to celebrate?”

Smirking, he kissed you again. “And what if I don’t win all my matches?”

You rolled your eyes. “If by some miracle, some other team manages to beat you, I’ll be sure to console you appropriately.”

“Trying to make me throw my matches?” he laughed, running his hands down to your ass to squeeze tightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jumping, you wrapped your legs around him. “So, you better win for me, got it?”

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

~~~

Thanks so much for reading!! If you enjoyed this, be sure to check out my masterlist in my description, and feel free to send in requests!

[hermannsthumb]

a drabble where hermann counts the freckles on newt’s face ... please that would be so cute 🙏

THIS IS SO CUUUUUTE.....will never get tired of writing "morning after world not ending" fics

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

The weirdest part about waking up in Hermann’s bed isn’t necessarily that Newt is waking up in Hermann’s bed in the first place, but a combination of two facts: one, that Hermann is there with Newt, and two, that Newt (in his first few fleeting moments of consciousness after waking from a very heavy sleep) even has the capacity to recognize it as Hermann’s bed. It doesn’t feel any different from his own bed. The mattress, the sheets, and the light cotton bedspread all feel like his own. It feels, hypothetically, like any bed in the Shatterdome would. But Newt wakes up and immediately thinks I’m in Hermann’s bed. Only then does he remember that he crashed here with permission, and that the breathing, warm thing a few inches away from him can only be Hermann.

Still. It’s weird he recognized it. It’s not like he’s ever slept here before. He chalks it up to lingering drift effects—adopting some of Hermann’s sense memories, or maybe sharing brainwaves with him now. If their roles were reversed, Hermann would probably recognize Newt’s bed.

“You’re thinking too bloody loudly,” Hermann mumbles.

“Your breath stinks,” Newt says.

He finally opens his eyes, sighing, and blinking blearily at Hermann. He wonders where his glasses ended up. Probably wedged between the bed and the wall getting even more damaged than they already are. His eyesight is good enough, at least, to make out Hermann’s scowl, and it warms Newt’s heart like the appearance of an old friend. “Did you not brush your teeth last night?” Newt says. He yawns. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I’ve been asleep for, like, days.”

“Noon,” Hermann says. He produces Newt’s glasses from nowhere, and slides them onto Newt’s face. Hermann comes into sharp focus, strangely adorable, a word Newt has never thought to apply to Hermann before: red lines from pillow creases on his cheek, crazy bedhead, stripped down to his undershirt (but still in his dumb baggy slacks). It almost makes Newt smile. “Er—tomorrow, noon. Though I suppose it’s today, noon, now. So you're nearly correct."

“Huh,” Newt says. They climbed into Hermann’s bed at half past nine in the morning, a few hours after the Breach closed, when they were finally too dead on their feet to even pretend to be involved in the celebrations. Which was yesterday, apparently. Newt’s never slept for over twenty-four hours before, but if anything justifies it, it would be the past few days—between having a seizure, running for his life from, like, too many different kaiju, and hooking his brain into a kaiju twice, he’s sure he’s going to have to unpack some serious trauma later. Hermann does too, probably. Maybe they can have some fun joint lab partner therapy sessions. “I feel like I got hit by a bus,” Newt says.

“Mm,” Hermann says.

He’s staring intently at Newt’s cheeks. Newt realizes that he hasn’t looked away from them since Newt woke up. Usually, this sort of behavior from Hermann wouldn’t even bother Newt (Hermann, after all, is weird), but Newt feels like being asleep in the man’s bed means they’ve reached a certain stage in their, uh, working relationship where he can ask about shit like that now. He taps Hermann’s chest. “What are you doing?” he says.

“You have freckles,” Hermann says.

“Uh,” Newt says. “I do? So?” Newt narrows his eyes, and listens in real hard on their lingering drift brainwaves. Or whatever they’re called. He can do that now—weird. “Wait,” he says. “Are you—counting them?”

“Yes,” Hermann says. “I have been. Be quiet, please, you’re disrupting my concentration.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but shuts his mouth and thinks back to yesterday morning. It’d felt so nice to just collapse into bed with Hermann after everything that happened—it felt extra nice to not have to argue with Hermann about it, too. Hermann was the one to initiate it, after all, to take Newt by the hand with a grumpy little “You need to rest,” and drag him back here. Newt tries to remember if he kissed Hermann. He doesn’t think so, though he remembers wanting to, and also thinking that (if Hermann hadn’t hurled up his dinner immediately after they drifted) he would’ve at some point before they made it back to Loccent. A farewell kiss for all he knew. Maybe Hermann would let him kiss him now—maybe he would let Newt hold his hand, and take him out for coffee, and do all that romantic shit people are supposed to do. Mostly Newt just wants to kiss those weird frog lips already. He's wanted to for years, man, come on. Hermann’s head suddenly gets quiet, so Newt takes that to mean he’s done, or almost done. “So,” he says. “Why?”

Hermann clears his throat. “I find it soothing,” he says. “Cataloguing you, that is. I like to understand things, and I’d like to understand you. You have a minuscule scar above your right eyebrow.” He reaches out, brushing his thumb overtop it. Newt got it falling off his bike and into a rosebush when he was six. He’s more or less forgotten all about it. “You have three piercings on each of your ears—the two on your left earlobe are slightly higher. You missed a patch on the underside of your chin when you last shaved.” Hermann moves his thumb down to stroke across the rough, stubbled spot of skin in gentle circles. Newt realizes he’s holding his breath.

“Are you, like,” Newt says, his voice trembling, “trying to seduce me or something? Because it’s totally working.”

Hermann’s mouth curls into a lopsided smile. He pulls his hand away. “If I was, you would know,” he says. “I’m not one for coyness. It wastes time. Did you know that you have three distinct colors in your irises, but green is the most noticeable?—at least, it’s what I notice the most.” He dips his hand under the bedspread, next, and laces his fingers together with Newt’s, only to drag both of their hands back up. “You bite your nails,” he adds.

“Cheater,” Newt says. “You’ve seen me do it. In the lab." Nervous habits.

“Is that why you paint them sometimes?”

“I paint them sometimes because it looks cool as hell,” Newt says.

“But it must help with the biting,” Hermann says. “You ought to try that—that lemon juice—” He suddenly loosens his grasp to stifle a large yawn in the crook of his arm, and Newt’s heart pangs at the sight. Sleepy, messy Hermann is almost too much for him to handle. “I lost count at fifty-three,” Hermann continues, blinking at Newt. “Your freckles. You were being too distracting.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Newt says.

“You were thinking about kissing me,” Hermann says. “I—felt it, I suppose.”

Newt grins. “I’m still thinking about kissing you,” he says.

Hermann’s eyes flick down to Newt’s mouth. He smiles, lazily. “I know,” he says.

Newt decides to take that as an invitation. He leans in until their noses bump together, listening to Hermann’s racing heartbeat, feeling nervousness and excitement pulsing off of Hermann (and no doubt pulsing off of Newt in return) but—just as quickly—pulls back with a laugh. “Okay, dude, seriously, I wasn’t lying about your breath. Brush our teeth, and then kiss.”

“I suppose that's fair,” Hermann sighs.

[kimnjss]

party favors | myg

⤑  series: do it again

⤑ genre: smut, rapper!yoongi x model!reader, ex lovers au.

⤑ rating: explicit.

⤑ word count: 5.5K

⤑ warnings: jealousy, cursing, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, manhandling, semi-public sex, oral sex (m. receiving), (angry?) penetrative sex, detailed blowjob, some spit, biting, hair pulling.

⤑ A/N: hope you enjoy this because i had a lot of fun writing it! there’s a lot of things to uncover too, with their personalities so pay attention! aLSO!! pls, pls, PLEASE!! DON’T be a silent reader!! a lot of you guys are reading this story and i would love to know what you’re thoughts are! please let me know x

Jealousy. One of Yoongi's weak points. He was never able to differentiate between an innocent encounter and you actually flirting with someone. In his eyes you were always flirting, always flaunting your cute smile and batting your pretty eyes. It was at the height of all your arguments because he never believed you.

 That familiar fire in his belly ignited as he searched for you in the crowd of drunk party-goers that didn't seem to know a thing about personal space. Who could you possibly be with, what were you doing? Why did you come dressed like that if you two were no longer a thing? Did you have someone here that you wanted to impress?

 Across the room, he spotted you. Head thrown back and face scrunched up as you laughed. He always loved the way you looked when you found something really funny. Slowly you brought your head up, showing your teeth as you smiled wide at the person beside you. A delicate hand slapping their shoulder as you leaned forward.

 That's when he caught sight of who was standing next to you. Taehyung. He could feel his body heating up, spreading to his cheeks and reddening his ears. Would his best friend really do that to him?

 It happened all at once: Tae's strong arm wrapping around your waist, hanging dangerously low as he pulled you into his side. Your giggles died down until soft sighs left your lips, sighs that could be mistaken as something sexual by anyone who didn't know you. You were saying something, grinning, before tilting your head up; lips finding the tanned skin of Tae's neck.

 Yoongi was elbowing his way through the crowd before he could decipher if what he saw wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Not even bothering to give a moment of doubt, his only concern was getting to you and yanking you away from the sleazeball he called his best friend.

 You had always found Taehyung to be hilarious. His dry humor and deadpan expression always seemed to tickle you in away. He was sweet too, kept contact with you even after the breakup with Yoongi. You liked that, considering how close the two of you had become while you were dating his best friend.

 So it was no surprise to you when Tae was walking up to you, offering the extra drink he had in his hand. You took it graciously, listening as he filled you in on all the reasons why this night was a bust. He had struck out not three but four times, twice with the same girl! He swore he didn't realize he had already hit on her and you decided that was his problem right there.

 His mention of hiring a hooker for the night, paired with his oh-so-serious expression had you cracking up. Head falling back as loud laughs left your lips. Your hand slapped at his shoulder and you caught the hint of a smile on his lips.

 “I'm sure if you-” Your sentence was being cut short by a strong grip on your wrist. Your body was able to register the owner of the hand before your mind, instantly you were relaxing. Yoongi's dark eyes stared down at you and you didn't miss the way Tae took a few steps back. “Come on,” He tugged you away before you had a moment to protest, weaving through the crowd that seemed to part just for him.

 People always seemed to praise the ground he walked on, put him on a pedestal is if he could do no wrong. He loved for it, lived for it. Felt like he deserved it for being the leader of RAPL!NE, taking the group to #1 countless times.

 At first, his confidence interested you, made you want him. The way he talked, handled people, treated you... as if he were the KING. It took you a while to realize that it wasn't an act and he actually believed that he was a king and you made it worse because you let him, never once checking him.

 Yoongi dragged you to the empty dining room. You were ripping your arm from his grasp the second your feet were steady. “What the fuck are you doing?” You spat, rubbing at your wrist as you stared at him.

 “What the fuck are you doing? All over my best friend like you're ready to let him fuck you in the middle of my kitchen.” You had to blink a few times, trying to piece together what he was talking about because what the fuck was he talking about?

 “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 “Don't play dumb, I fucking saw you!” Seeing the confusion on your face had Yoongi thinking he might've misread the entire situation. He wasn't one to back down and admit he was wrong, though. Especially if he was the one that started it.

 You laughed, right in his face and that pissed him off like crazy. He watched as you pushed your, usually chin-length hair out of your face. You had added extensions, messy dark waves falling past your shoulder blades. He had always liked you with long hair, hated when you decided to cut it.

 “So what? Figured pulling me away would keep me from doing what I want? We're not together anymore, Yoongi. If I want to fuck your best friend-,” His hand was in your hair, cutting off your taunting sentence.

 Of course, you'd never, in a million years even think about fucking Taehyung... or any of his friends for that matter. You had to be a different kind of low to do that just months after breaking up, you weren't that type of girl but apparently, Yoongi didn't believe that.

 He tugged you toward him with the hand he had in your hair, your nose pressing against his cheek as he moved to whisper in his ear. “You sure you want to finish that sentence?” Okay, it was no secret you were a big fan of the way he handled you. Just his hand alone had a gush of arousal pooling between your legs, you squeezed your thighs together... urging yourself to keep your composure.

 Useless, because he noticed. His smirk hidden but you knew he was doing it. Yoongi's strong arm wrapped around your waist, lifting your body and sitting you up on the table with little to no effort. “Is that who you got all pretty for? Wanted Taehyung to see how good you looked in this dress?” You shook your head, eyes finding his.

 Obviously, you didn't get dressed up for Taehyung. What was he on? You had no intention of voicing that he was the only one on your mind the entire time you got ready for this night. No way were you going to be the one to inflate his ego.

 “Or was it for me? You still love getting all pretty for me, huh? Even though all you whine about is how we're not together anymore, you still want my attention.” He smirked, this time where you were able to see. Your eyes rolled and he caught that, a frown taking over his features.

 A hand pushed the hem of your dress up your thighs, eyes dropping to the newly exposed skin. “Fuck.” He breathed. “No panties?” The tip of his fingers traveled up your thigh and he was pressing himself closer. You could feel how hard he was against your skin. You wanted him.

 “I didn't want anything to get in Tae's way,” But, you loved to tease him more. Yoongi snarled, staring up at you with fire in his eyes. You knew that that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. But you couldn't help it, Yoongi was sexy as fuck when he was pissed and right now he was livid.

 With his hand in your hair, he pulled you from the table and onto your knees. You were now face to face with his solid bulge at the front of his pants. You whimpered, memories of how well he filled you up flashing through your mind. Whether it be your mouth or your pussy, he seemed to always fit perfectly.

 On instinct, you were reaching your hands forward. Quick with undoing his belt and lowering the zipper of his jeans. He watched in amusement, but you were too driven by the thought of having him your mouth again, so you chose to ignore it. He was harder, heavier than you remember.

 Your small hand looked even smaller wrapped around his girth. Leaning forward you prepared yourself to swallow his length. Just as your lips wrapped around the tip, his hand was batting yours away, taking control of his cock. “So eager to have my cock down your throat,” He teased, holding your head steady so he could fuck forward.

 Yoongi tried to move his hips back, but your mouth chased him, not letting his cock fall from your lips. He let out a laugh, tugging your head back until his cock was slipping out. “You're so full of shit, Yn.” He laughed. “If you planned to come here tonight and fuck my best friend, explain why you're on your knees for me, hm?” 

 “Yoongi,” You panted, trying to get closer to him but the grip he held in your hair keeping you from doing so. He shook his head, that fucking tantalizing smirk only growing as he watched you. 

 “You know how this works, baby.” Despite his tight hold in your hair, his expression seemed to soften. The tip of his free hand brushing against your jaw gently. “Tell me what you want,” He waited patiently, his thumb stroking your once glossy lips.

 You knew he wouldn't do anything for real unless you gave him the green light. And you were too turned on to continue this little cat and mouse game. “Fuck my mouth, please Yoongi. I want you to fuck my mouth.” A sweet pout on your lips and innocence in your eyes. His whole body reacted, breath hitching. Satisfaction washed over your body, knowing you still had that effect on him.

 “Such a good girl,” He breathed. With his hand in your hair, he tilted your head back to look at him. “You're my good girl, aren't you?” You nodded without a second thought and he was grinning. He used the grip he held on his dick to push it closer to your lips. Your mouth dropped almost instantly, welcoming his head inside.

 Your eyes lifted, meeting his for a split second; a familiar warmth rushing through your body that you could only describe as being in love. His eyes squeezed shut, pushing more of his length inside. His fingers on your chin held your mouth open, the other hand holding your head steady as he began to rock his hips.

 It wasn't long before you were struggling, jaw aching from being slack open for so wide around him. He was moving too slow, searching for a proper pace that he liked, sliding deeper with each movement. You tried the best you could to swallow all he was giving you, hands bracing on his thighs as you slowly tried to move your head.

 His grip loosened in your hair, allowing you to move on your own. You pushed forward, easily taking him deeper but only by a few inches. With a huff, you pulled back breathing before trying again. This time able to swallow more of him down.

 You pulled back again, urged yourself to relax your throat before lowering yourself. You felt the familiar stretch of him in your throat, breathed evenly through your nose as you swallowed, effectively squeezing him.

 “Oh, fuck!” Heavy breaths left through his nose, the hand that once held your mouth open gripping the table behind you. He watched you were furrowed brows, the tip of his tongue rubbing against his lower lip before he was chewing down on the skin and God, he looked so fucking good.

 “That feel good?” You spoke after pulling off of him, licking gently against his length. He nodded, the quiet noises leaving his lips surprising you. “So good, baby.” He complimented and you grinned, leaning down again. It was no secret between you two how much you enjoyed having his cock down your throat, you could feel yourself growing wetter as the seconds ticked by.

 His hand was back in your hair when you had switched from swallowing him down to landing teasing kisses against his length. “You were doing so well,” He grunted, using the grip he held in your hair to push your head back down. Your mouth opened easily for him, his cock sliding down thickly.

 You hadn't been expecting it so quickly, your throat constricting and the sound of you choking filling the room. He grinned. His hips pushed forward, forcing another inch down before he was pulling back. Yoongi only allowed you a moment to compose yourself before he was pushing back in, setting a rough pace.

 A whimper left your lips as you desperately tried to accommodate the fast intrusion, your fingers tightening around his thighs. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes, streaming down your cheeks the harder he pushed forward. He was only slowing to take a look at your face. “So pretty,” He sighed.

 Picking up his pace back up, he held your head at an angle making for a smoother slide down your throat. You braced yourself, knowing what was next. Two hands tangled in your hair, Yoongi was pushing forward, pulling you toward him until your nose was pressed against his hipbone.

 He held you there, thrusting forward shallowly. You were so glad the distance this position warranted, knowing only embarrassment would come from his knowledge of how wet you were right now. Yoongi hissed out a breath, pulling your head back. “Such a good girl, you take my cock so well,” He praised and your body warmed at his words.

 Your eyes landed on his throbbing dick, just inches from your face, unbelievably hard, and wet with a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum. You leaned forward, mouth open, ready to swallow him down again.

 The sound of Yoongi's chuckle stopped your actions, his hand in your hair lifting you onto your feet. Standing face to face, he looked at you with the softest of expressions. You wanted so badly to drop back to your knees, just so he'd stop looking at you like that. There were already too many emotions floating around this room.

 His thumb brushed under your eye, wiping some of the smeared makeup from your skin. If you didn't know him any better, you would've guessed that he'd say something sappy. Something that could be considered romantic in the slightest bit. But you knew him way better than that.

 Yoongi's grip fell from your hair to the side of your face, holding you still as he covered your mouth with his. Your breath caught in your throat. His hands were dropping shoving your dressed further up your legs until your ass was on full display. Hands groping and kneading the flesh, pulling a whimper from your lips.

 “I want to fuck you tonight. Will you let me?” His words were murmured against your lips, he had only pulled back a few centimeters to speak. Nevertheless, you were understanding him, nodding your head at his words... a happy giggle leaving your lips. He smiled, dropping a gentle kiss to your lips before he was lifting your body off the floor.

 Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, arms hanging loosely around his shoulders. Quickly, he was tucking himself back into his jeans before leading you out of the dining room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

 You silently thanked him for not crossing through the crowded room of people, giving them a full view of your ass as he carried you away. With the toe of his shoe, he kicked his door open, using his heel to push it closed.

 This was so like you two. Sneaking away during a party just to be alone. The suggestive glances from across the room, how he'd disappear just moments before shooting you a text to meet him. Then he'd fuck you, urging you to be loud for everyone to hear, knowing you wouldn't really be heard over the booming bass.

 He was always finding a way to be with you, be around you. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship when it was a secret from everybody. It was like he could never get enough of you, no matter the risk. You felt the same. You still felt that way. Not so sure about him.

 Your body bounced as he dropped you onto his bed. His hands grabbing the neck of the collar of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. “Move up,” He ordered, watching you as his hand dipping into his boxers. Oddly, that's when it hit you.

 You weren't together. The three months you had spent trying to get over him weren't for nothing. Nothing and everything had changed, he was still the same and you were falling for it all over again. You couldn't fall for it all over again. He wasn't good for you, this relationship, being around him... wasn't good.

 The fact that he could so easily make you forget all the things you have been working on, scared you. You were sure you had done so well, that you were over him... but here you were. He was lowering himself onto the bed, his large hand wrapping around your thigh. And you hated yourself for still wanting him as much as you did even after everything.

 “Move up. I want to eat you out,” He repeated. Exes relapse, right? There was a name for this because it was a thing. Something like a congratulatory fuck, for doing so well for those months spent apart. You deserved this, right? You had done so well.

 There just had to be some rules. This was only a quick fuck. Exes hooking up because it was familiar, not because there was any interest in starting up again. Him eating you out was nowhere on that list. The memory of how good it felt, how talented he was with his tongue, no way you'd be able to stand your ground after that.

 “You're not eating me out. You take too long and this is supposed to be a quick fuck.” His brow furrowed, a laugh leaving his lips as he moved to hover over you. His elbows pressing down at either side of your head, his clothed cock pressing against your wet pussy.

 “Is it?” He replied, cockily and you rolled your eyes. “Yes.” There was a stern, no funny business tone in your voice and he grinned. “That's not fair,” He pouted, head dropping down into the crook of your neck. He planted wet kisses against your skin, licking a wet stripe toward your ear, before nibbling at the lobe. “You know how much I love how sweet your pussy tastes... especially after you've sucked me off.”

 You felt his cock jump against your thigh. He ground his hips into yours, sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck. You gasped, head rolling back as you reached up to grip his back. He stuck his tongue out, soothing the skin his teeth had just irritated. You moaned. “No?” He asked once more, eyes finding yours. You shook your head, earning a sigh from him.

 “Fine then.” Yoongi lifted his body to kneel on his knees. You watched as he pulled his cock from his boxers, stroking it a few times. The skin glistened still and he was harder than before. A bead of cum rolled down the side and your mouth watered; your pussy clenching around nothing.

 Yoongi was never a fan of teasing when it came down to it. He wasn't wasting a moment as he lowered himself onto you again, only stilling when your hands found his shoulders. “Do you have a condom?” Confusion took over his features as he stared down at you.

 “You stopped taking the pill? I know Sejin has been sending it to you.” It was just like Yoongi to be in control of even that. When you had agreed to go on the pill so he could stop using condoms, you didn't expect that his manager would be the one to take you to the appointment, pay for it and ensure you stayed on schedule.

 The whole situation was quite intrusive and very awkward, but he said it made him feel better about it so you let it slide. What you surprised you the most was the knock on the door weeks after you two had broken up, his manager holding the prescription bag and handing it to you before walking away... without a word.

 “I'm still on it.” You assured him, letting him know his money wasn't going to waste. “I just don't know what type of girls you've got running in and out of here.” You expressed honestly and he was rolling his eyes. With a shake of his head, he was reaching into his bedside table, pulling out the foil-wrapped rubber.

 It only took him a few seconds to roll it on, looking up at you with a bored expression. “Happy?” You rolled your eyes at him, shifting so you were more comfortable underneath him. “Ecstatic.” Your tone mocked his, the same with the look on your face.

 His fingers were dropping down, toying with your clit slowly. Your face melted into a twist of pleasure, soft moans leaving your lips. He smirked, loving how easily he could turn you to putty. Eyes finding yours, your jaw dropped as he began to push his way past your fold; bottoming out. “Ah, fuck.” You groaned.

 It had been... well three months... since you last had someone fill you up. The usually delightful stretch was uncomfortable and a bit too tight. Yoongi let out a sigh, sensing your discomfort, he shook his head.

 “You should've let me prep you.” He spoke in an annoyed 'I told you so,' tone and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.” Yoongi laughed, his hand reaching between your body, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow eights into the wet nub.

 His head dropped back into your neck, wet kisses landing on your clammy skin. He nibbled and sucked at the skin, making sure to keep his hips still as he toyed with your clit. You could feel yourself slowly starting to loosen up and Yoongi was quick to pick up on that, dragging his hips back before pushing all the way in. “F-fuck!” You squealed and he grinned.

 “So...fucking tight,” He fell into a slow but deep pace, loving the how your pussy sucked him in with each thrust of his hips. “Bet you haven’t let a single person inside you since me, huh? Is that right, baby?” He grunted while thrusting forward particularly hard, a gasp leaving your lips.

 You kept your mouth screwed shut, knowing he wanted to hear your answer to his question. Secretly wondering if you had been fucking around because, despite your earlier assumption, he had not. You didn't know that, though, and you refused to give him the pleasure of knowing you were still too hung up on him to move on to someone else.

 Your teeth bit into your lower lip at the next thrust, whimpering as he sped up his pace, fucking into you much harder now. “Don't even have to fucking answer... I know you,” It sounded like he was convincing himself but you stayed quiet.

 A hand shot up, gripping your hips to keep you perfectly in place as his thrusts turned rougher, each snap of his hips pushing your body up on the bed until your head was hitting against the headboard. “You're mine anyway, I fucking know that.” He spoke through gritted teeth. You were whining, barely audible begs for more leaving your lips.

 All at once he was dropping his body onto yours, surprising you with the sloppy way he captured your lips into a kiss. The feeling of how quickly your mouth reacted to him, distracting him from all the comments that were begging to slip through his lips. His reeling mind calming as you kissed him, your hand reaching up to grasp his jaw.

 His hips slowed as he pulled away, focusing shifting from his insecurities to pleasuring you. Getting you to realize that you didn't need anyone else but him. If only he knew you already thought like that. He kissed from your jaw to your shoulder, trying to concentrate on his deep thrusts.

 Low grunts would slip from his lips each time you would squeeze him particularly tight and the sound turned you on. Yoongi was biting down on the skin of your shoulder, the hand that had been on your hip reaching up to grasp your breasts. You moaned loudly, the contrast of pleasure and pain from his fingers and teeth getting to you.

 His head dropped lower, lips wrapping around your nipple. Your back arched as he sucked the bud into his mouth, gently rolling his tongue over it. He pulled his hips back, sliding all the way in slowly. Breathy moans left your lips as he kept up with that pace.

 “Like that?” He mumbled, allowing your nipple to fall from his mouth. You nodded, feeling yourself clench around him even tighter. He grinned, moving his mouth onto your other side. His teeth sunk into your nipple, his sped up all at once and you were yelping.

 His hand was wrapping around your ankle, pushing your leg as far back as it could possibly go. “F-fuck! Yoon...” Your voice trailed off, not being able to finish the sentence that hung on your lips. Yoongi had his head tilted down, watching as your swollen wet pussy, swallowed his hard cock. He was able to slide deeper inside of you with your leg up like this, your head was spinning. Leg muscles screaming from being bent so far back, but the feeling between your legs was too good to lose.

 “Wish you could... fuck,” Even he was starting to lose his control. “Baby...” He groaned, hips switching back to the slow thrusts so he could calm himself. “Your pussy looks so good,” His eyes met yours, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks. “wish you could see it. You take me so well,” He was speeding up again and you squealed, not expecting it.

 The only thing that could be heard throughout the room was the sound of skin slapping and the squelch of your wet pussy, taking him in. If it were any other guy, you would've been embarrassed about how wet you were, the way it dropped down your thighs shamelessly. But this was Yoongi, your Yoongi and you knew he loved it when you were like this. Not to mention, he was the only guy that was able to make you like this.

 His hand was dropping down between your legs, the tips of his fingers quick to find your clit. You whimpered, trying to spread your legs wider than what they already were. The grin on Yoongi's face didn't go unnoticed as he started to rub fast circles onto your clit. “Wish you could see how fucked out you look right now. Just for me,” He mumbled the last part, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

 He was close. You could tell from the way he wasn't moving so quickly anymore. His focus now on getting you to your release before him. It was like he knew you were at your edge, all you needed was just a few brushes of his fingers and some strong thrusts and you were falling apart. He watched as you unraveled, hips lifting and bucking without your accord.

 Loud screams of his name falling from your lips and he loved the sound of it. Yoongi wasn't far behind you, fucking into you a few more times before wrapping your legs tight around his waist. He pressed his body tight against yours as he released into the condom, grunts, and groans of praise for you leaving his lips.

 Minutes passed and the two of you were finding your composure again. He was rolling off of you, hand reaching down to pull the condom from his softening dick. You watched as he stood to throw it away, shamelessly admiring his cute butt as he walked away. Your legs were numb, makeup a mess all over your face, hair even worse. But you were happy. You hated that he was able to make you so happy, but he did and you were.

 He walked with a washrag in his hand, wiping his dick off before he was sinking beside you on the bed. His fingers tapped your knee, forcing your dazed eyes up to his face. “You want me to run you a bath?” Your heart warmed at the offer. Such a minuscule detail, but you were surprised he remembered. How much you loved a bath after having sex. You nodded.

 Yoongi was standing once again, disappearing into the bathroom. As you stood, you became vaguely aware of the party that was taking place below the two of you. The music had been lowered and there wasn't as much chatter was earlier on. Was it coming to an end? Oh! Did they hear you? What if they had, oh fuck.

 Your hand went up to cover your mouth, hiding the giggle that threatened to slip out. Not being able to bring yourself to care whether or not they had heard. Especially when Min Yoongi was stepping out of the bathroom, leading you to the pretty smelling bath he had drawn just for you.

 Yoongi's body was cold against your warm back. Unconsciously, you were reaching back to cover him up more with the blanket you were supposed to be sharing. A sleepy groan left his lips, his nose digging into your neck as he inhaled, pulling your body closer.

 After you had gotten out of the bath, you had planned to get dressed and go home. You two had hooked up and that was going to be it. There was no way you'd be getting back together because this was just one night. You were so sure of it.

 Then you were entering his bedroom, finding him asleep with your side of the bed open. He had pulled on a pair of sweats, them hanging low on his hips, revealing just the top of his dark pubic hair. How rude of you to slip out while he was asleep.

 You were rummaging through his drawers like you had done countless times before, finding a comfy t-shirt and pulling it on before sinking into the bed beside him. It didn't take long for him to realize you had claimed your spot, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close.

 You fell asleep like that.

 There was a hard knock on the door, startling your eyes open. Two more knocks followed before whoever was pushing the door open. Tae's eyes caught yours and he was smirking, tilting his head to the side.

 “Good morning, Yn.” You wanted nothing more than to slap that shit-eating grin right off his face. You could just tell how badly he wanted to do his little 'I told you so' dance. And you were sure the only thing that was stopping his was the grumpy man shifting awake behind you.

 “What do you want, Tae?” He grumbled in the sexiest morning voice you've ever heard. He was sitting up, messy black curls laying messily on his head. The heel of his hand rubbed at his eye as he yawned.

 You fought the urge to reach over and pull him back onto you. “I'm gonna go grab some breakfast, what do you... two? want. Are you staying, Yn?” Yoongi didn't give you a chance to answer, slurring your usual breakfast order before snuggling back into the sheets. Cute.

 Tae nodded his head, turning only after shooting a knowing glance in your direction. The second he pulled the door closed, Yoongi's arm was wrapping around your waist, pulling your body into his. “You spent the night,” He mumbled.

 “I did,”

 His hand began to wander up the hem of your shirt, grasping your bare thigh in his hand. He separated your legs a bit, shifting himself behind you in order to press his morning wood into the back of your leg. You giggled. “You're wearing my shirt,”

 “I am.”

 He slowly began to rock his hips, effectively rolling his length into your ass. It was hard to mask your moan, head falling back onto his shoulder. “You know how much I like you in my clothes,” He groaned, his hand moving between your legs; fingers quick to find your clit.

 “I do.”

 You felt his grin at the back of your neck, turned your head when his free hand grasped your chin. His lips puckered and you smiled wide, leaning forward to cover his lips with yours. 

– months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.

⥦ masterlist ⥦

⤑ taglist: @randomkoalablog @hellotherehoneybee @goldenlilyz @strapsforyoonie @brilliantlybasicb @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @ratking101 @butterflylion @swanqook @jaiuneamesolitaiire @cultleaderyoongi @honeybeesrec @crzybtslove @bangtansbun @snaconakookie @bookoffracturedescapes @seoulgotmysoul @tae165 @jimintulips @korkanswers @softwithbubbles @hosucki @sayanne @heyitsbreeeeee @ladymidnightt @thecityrain​ @isimyazaki @crackhead1-800​ @sailor-moons-butt​ @honeyoongles​ @neptu-pysch​ @ashleyjoyx​ @falsegodtae @osnapjenn @betysotelo18​ @mochibabycakes​ @withlovestudyblr

[chuuulip]

In My Bones

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader (Vampire AU)

Warning: 18+, Steve being a tease, Oral (female receiving) NSFW, PWP,  

Words: 2043

Summary: You haven't seen your vampire boyfriend for a month, and by that, a night in a club might alleviate your loneliness, even just for a while.

Prompt: This fic used multiple prompts as followed:

I’m gonna rip these panties off and shove my tongue between your sweet lips

I know how this goes. First you buy me a drink, then you tell me how pretty I look, and then at the end of the night, you ask for my number 

A.N: This is for @the-ce-horniest-book-club​ and @the-mcu-horniest-book-club​  as well as @drabblewithfrannybarnes​. I’m feeling an early Halloweenesque so I pulled back my vampire boyfriend Steve (He might appeared again on Halloween!). This story is kind of a continuation from "In my veins" but I think you don't need to read it to read this. This piece isn’t beta and if there’s a grammar mistake, that will be on me 😉 I just want to do some short smut things, lol happy reading!​

 You stared down on your reflection in the dim bathroom. Makeup looks bolder than what you used too, but you didn't care. Your cat-eye eyeliner and your hair were on point. Soft lips were repainted with the red shade lipstick that suited you, not to mention extra blush to the cheeks. Tired of the piled up homework and grading you do in the past week. Not to mention the absence of constant skin to skin contact from your boyfriend made you dare yourself to go out with your friends tonight.

Feel satisfied with your look, you smoothened the black silk dress and exited the room. The sound of the music graced your ears when you were back on the dance floor. It's been what? couple hours since you arrived here with four other of your friends, but you can't find them anywhere. Likely either caught some hot guys or been seen by one. You strutted your way to the bar, body swayed lazily to keep up with the beat. When you decided on what drink you would have, a loud baritone voice interrupted you.

Turn your body to the side you were greeted by a tall and muscular man. His wide shoulder felt as if it meddled into your personal space. Flashes of light illuminated his blue eyes. The stubble decorated his face accentuated the strong jaw that God graced him with. Flickered your eyes back to him, you saw his pupils dilated. As if to try to adapt to the low-level light when all the lasers rotated and synchronized with the music.

Try to compose your cool; you tilted your chin up and faced him. "I know how this goes." With all the noise, you close the space between you and bite your lower lips. "First, you buy me a drink, then you tell me how pretty I look, and then, at the end of the night, you ask for my number." Your red painted fingers trailed its way from the collar, down to the lapel's, and ended it in the zipper of his leather jacket.

The man gave you a lopsided grin. You can see his thick long lashes fluttered up as his eyes sparkled with mischief. "First of all, I have your favorite drink in hand." he grabbed the glass of booze that looked like it glowed in the dark and gave it to you.

"Second...how am I not supposed to tell you that you are pretty, because you definitely are." you bring the glass to your lips and drink the liquid inside. "Lastly, before the end of the night, I'm not gonna ask you for your number because I already have it." he grinned at you triumphantly, teeth all white, and canines showed up a little bit.

You pouted at your boyfriends and put the glass back on the table, whine in displeased, "you are no fun, Stevie."

He closed any space between the both of you. His chuckle shifted his fake attempt to flirt as if you were a stranger. "What? You want me to fake it till the end?"

"Hmm… I just missed you so much I can't help but do that when I saw you."

"I missed you too, baby girl." Steve closed his eyes as he rested his forehead down to yours. He inhaled deeply as if the smells of your body vaporized from his senses since last week. "You smell so good tonight, fuck." His big hand was stationed on your hips. He purposely spread his fingers and moved it back on your ass cheeks, kneaded it.

You let out a surprised moan as your fingers instinctively hold on to the lapels of his jacket. You weren't exaggerated things, but since you dated your infamous big, handsome and blonde vampire boyfriend named Steve, you've been experienced the dry spell. In the past three months, he graced you with something tho, mostly, the heavy petting. It's not that you hate it, really. Steve wasn't any regular man you usually met. Men who just want to go do gymnastics in bed after the first date. He's sweet and attentive. But sometimes you need more than just the fake vibration that rushed to your body through the plastic toy that you kept in your nightstand.

"Steve…" you have been pretty needy lately, and Steve's absence didn't help. Although you haven't slept together yet, he's a constant presence in your life these couple of months.

"Hmm...yes?" Steve's right hand ran up to your spine and rested at the base of your neck. His blue-eyed momentarily flashed, turned it into amber color, and switched it back again to blue. He landed his soft lips to you, and you accepted it eagerly. Your hands sneaked at his back to his shoulders, trying to pull him down to meet you. The soft kiss turned into something filthier as Steve demanded access inside your mouth. His left hand still held your ass as he let you know the evidence inside his jeans.

Withdraw yourself from the temptation that's Steve, your hazy eyes meet him. "Stevie…, please don't torture me, would you? Don't make me horny and then just leave me to my vibrator." You pouted at him, but you can't help grinded yourself on his hard-on.

Steve chuckled and led your leaned back temporarily at the bar table. His left fingers sneaked under your dress and crawled up. Your eyes widened in surprise as Steve's fingers played with the lace of your panty. "Steve…," you warned him. Your eyes look around as if you were afraid you get caught in the act of indecency. Though you weren't the only one.

"I'm gonna... " his fingers roamed over your clothed core, making you let out a soft moan. "— rip these panties off and shove my tongue between your sweet lips."

His words made your inner wall clenched involuntarily between nothing. He never expressed that before nor he ever touched you down there beyond the shield of your panty. "St—Steve…,"

"After that, I'm gonna suck your blood and drink that sweet nectar from your inner thigh." Good God why he's extremely hot and possessive today. Not that you hate it, really.

Steve kiss the side of your neck. Lips nipped tentatively at the vein there, made you let out a gasp.

"Hey, both of you get a room." Sam Wilson, the club owner that's also a good friend of Steve, appeared behind the bar.

You were startled in embarrassment. Pat your palms against Steve's back to get his attention.

"Sam!" you answered him a bit breathless, but apparently Steve didn't budge from his neck kissing. You let out a yelp as Steve lifted you up like you weight nothing and carried you over the shoulder. He gave you a smacked over your ass and turned his body to face Sam with a big grin.

"Sorry, Sam, doesn't plan to get carried away down here. See you, man."

"Have fun, you two." the familiar voice replied with a cheerful noise. When Steve turned away and led you further away from Sam, you crane your neck up to see Sam gave you two thumbs up and a big grin.

***

With a quick stride, Steve opened the VIP room upstairs and locked it. He let your stilettos land on a concrete marble floor gently. Steve looked at you with hunger in his eyes as he slowly backed down to the leather chaise lounge in the room. There's a small stage complete with a metal pole in the center. He's not asked you to do a striptease, wouldn't he?

You never really pay attention to any stripper in the club nor that you're good at dancing, but no harm in trying, right? Steve lifted his left eyebrow as he saw you walk to the mini stage. Awkwardly, you try to move your body to the music outside. Slithered your body to the pole. The colorful light from the disco ball glowed as if it beats. Gave you the upper hand to look more alluring.

As if transfixed with Steve's word earlier, you pulled down your lace thong. You can clearly see the bulge behind Steve's jeans. God, how you wish Steve let you near that crotch of his. You turned your body, so Steve has a good look at your body. Teased him just a little bit with your skin as you hunched your black silk dress up your thigh. You did it again, but now you hunched it up to your hips. You were welcomed by the loud growl from Steve as he has a clear view of your supple ass. God, you're really wet right now. If Steve didn't do anything anytime soon, you wouldn't leave this room until you come.

"Fuck, come here, baby. Sit on my face." You turned your body to find Steve laid his back on the chair. "I want to taste you so bad." His words alone raised goosebumps on your skin. Without thinking any longer, you found your way to the chaise lounge, climbed on it—knees situated on both sides as Steve's head position in between.

Steve nimble fingers rolled your silk dress up to your hips. He traced his tongue over his lips at the sight of your wet core.

You looked down on him in your somewhat awkward position, "Stevie, are you sure? I will not forgive you if y—Ohhh—." You let out a surprised yelp and followed by a loud moan as Steve grabbed your thigh down and flicked his tongue on your wet folds. The coarser of his hair sent extra tingled on your sensitive skin.

He made your wet core sit on his mouth while he gave it a kiss. Not your usual smooches, but the one that's so filthy, saliva involved in it. Whatever he was doing in the past week finally opened the gate of opportunity for you. The prospect that Steve didn't afraid to touch you like a lover should.

"Uhhh—," your hands try to steady your upper body on the wall as Steve's relentless tongue gave you a languid lap. From the center of your folds up to your bundle of nerves. Over and over again, teased you. It easily riled you up as this was the first time Steve did things beyond playing with your tits or traced his fingers on your clothed core.

Your right hand instantly grabbed onto Steve's hair as his tongue entered your pussy. His hands spread your cheeks as he encouraged you to hump your wet core onto his mouth.

“Oh..God—ffuck!”

Every fiber of your body felt like its burn as his tongue fucked you so good. Steve used his fingers and made a slow but persistent circle on your clit. Heightened something that rapidly built-in your lower belly.

Steve held you still as he changed positions. With a several and insistent flicked and sucked to your clit, your inner wall spasmed uncontrollably in an instant. Your left hand covered your scream as your right one held a balance on Steve's hair. Your body arched like a bow, but Steve didn't stop. He let you ride him while your juices flooded his hungry mouth.

Your upper body rested on the upper head of the chaise lounges while Steve's still down there, lapped every bit of your juices.

Steve slipped off under your body and let you sat properly. He spread your legs and trailed his fingers on your swollen pussy. It excites him when it's quivered under his touch. "Such a sweet pussy you have, baby girl." He bent down and gave your clit a quick suck, made your body tremble, and a loud moan erupted out of you.

"Now for the final meal." Steve's blue eyes switched to his amber color one. You cupped his face and dragged it up so you can kiss him. The remnant of your cum still lingered on Steve's lips, something that you wanted to taste more often.

You withdraw from Steve and trail your fingers on his lips. His fangs showed up as he was ready for another feast. Your beautiful vampire boyfriend. With hazy eyes, you whispered words like the good girlfriend that you are, "my body is ready, Stevie."

***

As always, comment and reblog are really appreciated ❤️. Let me know what you think about this.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - part 12 - Its goin’ Down

=

“Don’t-ow! Don’t bite me!” Mal huffed, wrangling the mini dragon form of her mother and placing her back into the pencil case she had brought her in, placing the top back on and securing it with tape, making sure her mother wouldn’t accidentally, or purposely, be knocked out of the case and be let loose. Her mother hissed at her from inside the box and Mal hissed back, smirking at the sudden stop of noise. “Now would you rather scrounge for bugs and water? Or be pampered in your nicely decorated tank back in the dorms?” when no other hiss came from the box Mal nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

She turned to Evie, who nodded and grabbed Mal's backpack filled with the glove smoke bombs “Ready?” Mal asked, walking over to Evie and making sure they had everything before they left the hideout for the last time.

“Ready.” Mal took a deep breath to calm her nerves, there were so many things to be stressed over. Harry, the boys making it back in time, what if Uma figured out the wand was fake before they got Ben back, would they get out of the wharf in time before Uma discovered the wand was fake? So many worries, no time to worry about them “Let's go” Mal nodded and quickly followed after Evie out of the hideout and down the stairs, holding her mother close to her chest.

God, she really hoped that everything would go according to plan.

-

Ben shifted his sleeping leg a bit, trying to get rid of the static feeling that was buzzing through it. But he couldn’t move much thanks to the rope that secured him to the mast. He glanced at Uma who stood to his right, overlooking the docks waiting for Mal and the others.

Suddenly a hand slammed up next to his head, the chitter of a monkey following it. Davy stepped around the mast, getting into Ben's face as he gave a crooked grin. ‘I wonder if Harry would be the one to do this if (y/n) had never convinced me to invite him too’ Ben thought, slightly wishing Harry was still on the isle, if only because he’d rather have Harry get into his face than this fucker.

“So, what's the use of being king if you’re like this now huh?” Davy teased, Jack the monkey screeching on his shoulder as he patted Ben’s shoulder and moved around the mast. Ben rolled his eyes and looked forward, doing his best to ignore the annoying pirate.

He appeared on Bens other side and started to speak, but stopped as Uma walked up and smacked his shoulder, sitting in front of Ben “Leave it Davy, we don’t want damaged goods” Davy glared at Uma for a split second before resting on the rails of the ship behind him, crossing his arms impatiently.

“you better hope your girlfriend comes through” Uma droned, narrowing her eyes at ben.

Ben's eyes stung for a moment and he looked away “She's not my girlfriend anymore” he muttered, his brow twitching as Davy and Jack started to laugh. Uma glared at the two and nodded her head towards the rest of her crew.

“Leave us alone Davy” the first mate glared at his captain and grabbed at Ben, harshly bunching up his jacket before walking towards the crew, muttering curses to himself.

Ben looked back at Uma, watching her as she leaned on her legs and glared up at him “I get-I get that you don’t deserve this” Ben tried, frowning a bit as Uma laughed and leaned back on her hands.

“this…” she glared back up at him, a snarl on her lips “this isle is a prison thanks to your father!” Ben swallowed hard, remembering (y/n) and Harry’s insistence on getting more isle kids off the isle. “And don’t pretend to look out for me.” Uma’s eyes glazed over, and she pushed her hair back. Ben's eyes being drawn to the black and red bead bracelet with a simple hook charm hanging from it “Because no one’s looking out for me… it's just me.”

Ben furrowed his brows, no one? Then what about Harry and Gil’s constant babble about the girl in front of him? Were they nobody now? “so, this isn't your mother's plan?” Uma scoffed and rolled her eyes “Isn't that her necklace?”

Uma gave a sarcastic smile to Ben “My mom doesn’t care about me either” she glanced off “well, not unless you need someone for the night shift”

“ouch,” Ben winced, once again remembering (y/n)’s speech about how the villains definitely didn’t treat their kids as they should. Uma glared up at him.

“I don’t need your pity” she snapped, gritting her teeth.

Ben shook his head “no, you certainly don’t. you’re very resourceful.” he muttered softly, once more looking around him at the ship and docks, he looked back at Uma, whose eyes had slightly softened and a smile played on the edge of her lips “I don’t see you tied up.”

Uma laughed, staring at Ben In slight awe as she expected the king to be snooty and attempt to trash talk her, but he was only kind. “alright, so let’s trash talk Mal” Uma tried, her brow raising as Ben shook his head slightly and looked into her eyes.

“I’d rather talk about you” he pushed, hope growing in his chest as Uma laughed again and took a step back.

“mmm, funny, and a gentleman. I really hope I don’t have to feed you to the fishes.”  Ben tried to follow her as she turned and hiked her boot up onto the raised platform. But was stopped by the rope.

“you don’t!” he pleaded “set me free and we’ll go back together!” Uma stopped, turning back to him with wide eyes.

“oh, so now I get an invite” her smirk dropped, rage setting into her eyes again “gee I wonder why” Ben swallowed, man he really didn’t know how to talk to someone like Uma, who knew what she wanted and had no hesitation.  She smacked her hand next to his head, once more glaring at him. “when you brought Mal, Evie, Carlos, Jay…Harry and Gil” she stopped for a moment, her eyes glazing over again at the thought of her “boys” “to Auradon…that was the maddest I’ve ever been…and believe me, I've been plenty mad” she patted his cheek and turned again, messing with her shell necklace.

“I never thought…no-that sounds-“ he racked his brain for something to say, hell maybe something (y/n) would say! (y/n) somehow always knew what to say, and either calm a dangerous situation, or end it then and there with just her words. “I’m sorry, that it's been so long” Uma glanced back at him in slight confusion at his words.

“the plan was to start with four, then it became six so we could get more kids off in each group. But I got so busy being king, that sounds lame, and the council hasn’t budged on the vote to continue the program…I’m so sorry Uma…you were supposed to be the first of the next group to come…but I've been foolish and let it all slip my mind” He stared at Uma with a pleading look “But help me fix my mistakes, set me free, and you can come with us to Auradon. You’re a leader Uma, so am I, you know what's best for the kids still here and how to help the isle…come to Auradon and be part of the solution” when Uma just continued to stare at him, Ben tried another tactic. “Harry and Gil-” at the mention of her “friends” Uma’s eyes flashed. But Ben paid no heed. “-have been telling me for months to get you off, but-this is going to sound really bad-but I stupidly ignored them…I’m sorry” When Ben finally looked at Uma properly, he froze, the softness that was once there was gone, only rage to be seen.

“You ain't a good liar beasty boy, if they really had been talking about me all this time, I would have been off this rock months ago, I know a trick when I see one.” She grabbed his shirt and growled in his face “Don’t you ever, try to use them against me ever again…as I said to Malsy, they.are.dead.to.me.” Ben’s eyes widened in disbelief…that wasn’t what he was expecting.

Uma released his shirt and called Davy over, picking up her shell necklace and giving Ben a sharp grin “Let's see what this puppy can do eh?”

-

Mal tapped her thumb anxiously on the temp mini dragon carrier as the limo finally pulled up next to the tunnel connected to Uma’s ship less than a minute to noon. Lonnie hopped out of the front seat, slightly surprising Mal and Evie before they remembered (y/n) had said to let her come along as an extra hand.

“Lonnie!” Mal gasped in relief, holding out her free hand for a hug as Lonnie jogged over to her.

“(y/n) apparently said to bring me; so here I am!” Lonnie nervously chuckled, wrapping her arms around Mal for a split second before pulling back.

“Thank Hades she did.” Mal sighed, biting her lip as Jay and Carlos rounded the back of the limo and pulled out a carrier full of R.O.A.R swords.

“Welcome to the isle, it’s good to see you” Evie gave a quick hug to Lonnie before turning to the boys, watching as Dude trotted behind Carlos who handed the wand to Mal as she made grabby hands at it.

“Oh! Lemme see!” she turned it over in her hands, wincing slightly at the thin line in the side of the wand, a telltale sign of 3d printing “Good job, let’s hope she doesn’t figure out it’s a fake before we have Ben.” she handed back to Carlos who pulled out his phone and showed the time.

“It's noon” Jay muttered, nodding as Mal looked around at them.

“Okay, we ready?” Evie lifted Mal's bag filled with the smoke bombs and nodded. “Let's do this” she turned to walk through the tunnel, stopping as Evie gave her a look and pointed at her chest. Mal looked down and scoffed at herself as the pencil case holding her mother was still in a death grip.

She turned and ran to the limo, pulling open the door, setting her mother on the back dash, and muttering to her; “Stay” she slammed the door closed and walked back to the tunnel “Now; let's do this”

Mal was the first to step through the tunnel, scrunching her nose a bit as the smell of rotten fish and wood flooded her senses. She didn’t miss that smell that was for sure.

Carlos hid the fake wand in his jacket and picked Dude up, whispering the plan to him “Don’t talk until Mal tells you too, okay?”

“Got it” Dude whispered back, lifting a paw and batting at Carlos’ hand in comfort, Carlos smiled and rubbed Dude’s head, following his friends through the tunnel and walking onto the docks.

A whistle came from the high point of the ship, a shorter male with dark hair grinning down at them “Captain! They’re here!!!”

Mal watched as Davy shoved Ben across the deck, a maniac grin on his face as he grabbed Ben’s arms and twisted them up, Ben slightly yelping at the pain that flashed up his arms. “Welcome!” he yelled, his smile twitching down as Uma took front and center with a wide grin.

“Finally!!!” she cackled, shimmying her body a bit as Mal walked up in front of the gangplank leading to the ship. Carlos quickly set Dude down a bit of ways away from the main area of the docks, putting his finger to his lips for a split moment before walking behind Mal on the main docks in front of the ship.

(I ain’t writing its goin’ down so just watch the music vid and either take Harrys rap out or give it to Uma…oh and mentally remove Harry n Gil from the music vid T_T)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvZt2n9PL80

Uma flipped her blade in her hands, watching as Mal held up the wand and started walking towards her, her green eyes flickering between Uma and Ben. “Hold up” Uma hummed, holding her hand up and shaking her head “mmm. Too easy” Mal stared at her in slight shock. “why don’t you take it for a test drive” Mal glanced back at her friends for a moment before realizing this was exactly why (y/n) had said to bring Dude along. “We wanna see it work!” the pirates behind Uma cackled and taunted, yelling out for a show.

Mal shrugged in agreement “Smart” Uma blinked at that, Mal had never called her smart. Mal turned to Dude and lifted the wand, taking a deep breath, and quickly coming up with a spell on the fly “Although it seems absurd/turn your bark into a word” she willed her eyes to glow to sell the effect and waved the wand, forcing herself not to wince as the headache returned.

Dude just stared at her for a moment, the pirates getting antsy the longer he stayed silent. Mal rolled her eyes, turned to Uma with a weary smirk, and barked out; “Talk. Dog”

“Treat first, Tricks later” Mal closed her eyes in relief as the pirates burst out into laughter. “Yo dudes anyone got some bacon…cookies?...Come on I’m starving here!”

“He acts like I don’t feed him.” Carlos huffed at Dude, shushing him with a wave of his hand. Uma laughed and licked her lips, holding out her hand to Mal.

“Give me the wand!” Mal furrowed her brows and gestured to Ben.

“Give me Ben!” the two girls stared at each other for a few moments before Uma broke her gaze and looked to Davy who was holding Ben close to the edge of the plank and nearly hanging him over the water.

“Davy, bring him over” Davy growled a bit and pulled Ben back, reluctantly shoving Ben over to Uma. A cruel smirk slowly grew on his face as he thought he could take the wand after Uma used it to break the barrier and use it against her. He wiped the smirk off his face as Bonnie gave him an odd look and shoved ben to his knees next to Uma.

Mal gasped slightly at the rough treatment of Ben, her eye twitching a bit as Uma pouted at her and held out her hand for the wand, Mal holding out her hand for Ben in turn. “Cut him loose Davy” Uma hummed, keeping her eyes on Mal and not seeing the sneer that Davy gave her.

Mal noticed and furrowed her brows, throughout the standoff Davy had been constantly looking from Uma to the wand, and glaring as if he was planning something.

Too bad. If he was planning to overthrow Uma, he’d be out of luck.

Davy cut Ben loose and Ben grabbed Mal's hand, stopping himself from getting up as Uma clamped her hand onto his arm. Uma held out her hand for the wand again and Mal passed it to her, pulling up Ben as soon as Uma released him and pushed him back towards the tunnel. “Ben” Mal hissed through her teeth, trying to push back a hesitate Ben back “Ben go now”

Uma turned back to her celebrating crew and gathered them around her, holding the wand up to the sky “Okay okay okay!” Mal glanced back, clicking her tongue as she watched Davy continue to watch the wand like a hawk. Mal pushed back Ben again, trying to convey that there was nothing to worry about since the wand was fake without notifying Uma, but he refused to move. “By the power of the sea/Tear it down and set us free!”

After a few moments of tense silence, Uma looked back down at the wand, her breath becoming quick and patchy “NO!” she snapped the wand on her knee, Mal finally being able to push Ben back as he realized the wand was fake “YOU DO NOT GET TO WIN EVERY TIME!” Uma screamed, gritting her teeth in anger as Jay dumped over a barrel and tossed the R.O.A.R fencing swords to his friends. “GET THEM!”

The pirates on the main deck flinched back as a cloud of blue smoke suddenly appeared and blinded them. Another red and orange cloud of smoke bursting out on the platforms above the deck to distract the pirates there.

Evie grabbed an extra sword and called out to Ben, tossing the sword to him. He swiftly caught it and turned back to the pirates, squaring his shoulders and getting ready for a fight “Where’s (y/n), Harry, and Gil?!” Ben yelled, looking back over his shoulder.

Evie shrugged and started running up the docks “I have no clue but I hope they get here soon!”

Mal stood at the front end of the gangplank, watching as Uma rubbed the smoke from her eyes and glared at her, yelling out for her crew to attack. “GO!”  Mal glanced up and grit her teeth as the pirates above the deck swung down to the docks and landed in front of her friends, drawing their swords and swinging at them.

“Where’s (y/n) when you need her” Mal huffed, gripping onto the sword and hoping she retained enough from 6 months ago from when she last used a sword. She stepped to the side as Uma’s pirates ran at her, swinging their swords widely in the air in hopes of nicking her.

Mal mentally cursed herself as her ankle wobbled a bit, why the fuck did she wear these clunky ass heels? They were no good for sword fighting. Mal ducked and dodged the pirates, blocking one's swing and using the pirate's balance against him, and sending him into the raging waters below.

Everything happened in an instant.

Behind her, Evie ducked under a sword and blocked several stabs and swings, grunting as the blades clashed together in a fierce dance.

Lonnie jumped down from one of the higher platforms and smacked her sword against a blonde pirate’s as he tried to help his fellow crew member back onto the docks.

Ben twisted around and pushed Gabe to the floor, laughing as adrenaline pumped through his body.

Mal twisted around the last pirate and turned, moving her arm behind her for balance as Uma stepped forward and drew her sword, flipping it in her hand as Mal taunted her by making a ‘come at me’ motion.

Carlos blocked and parried Drey’s quick attacks, keeping his ears open to be ready to jump in to help his friends at any moment.

Davy hopped up to the highest part of the docks, smirking at Jay as he stepped in front of him. He grabbed Jack by his front paws and set him on the rails, tapping at the monkeys back to get him moving “Hello traitor~” Davy purred, drawing his sword and instantly rushing at Jay, swinging down his blade at Jay’s head only for it to be stopped by Jay lifting his sword and easily blocking Davy's attack.

Uma swung her sword at Mal's torso, Mal quickly moving her blade in the way of the swing and pushing Uma’s back towards her. ‘Thank fuck for muscle memory’ Mal thought in relief, knowing that if she hadn’t retained it Uma would have definitely defeated her in seconds flat. But Uma was still an excellent fighter, and she was gaining the upper hand fast, if Mal didn’t do something now she would lose. The quick clash of swords rang in Mal’s ears as at one point they hit so hard her entire arm quivered from the intensity.

Mal tried to do what she had seen Harry and (y/n) do multiple times against each other and slip her blade between the hilt and pommel of Uma’s sword to disarm her, but she had made it too obvious and Uma easily batted away and swung at her leg’s. Mal jumped back with a yelp and hurried to block another swing before it connected with her neck.

Jay parried another swing from Davy and spun around him, kicking out the back of Davy's legs and pushing him to the ground. Davy let out a snarl and jumped back up, swinging his sword wildly through the air.

Gabe yelled as he swung down from the high platforms of the ship and landed in front of Ben, grinning as he drew his sword “What's up Ben?!”

Ben shrugged and flipped his sword “Oh nothing much just kicking pirate butt” Gabe laughed and swung, a quick flurry of blocks and parries being dished out from both sides.

Uma swung wildly at Mal, gasping a bit in surprise as Mal stepped out of the way from a stab and grabbed Uma’s arm, throwing Uma behind her and spinning around to face her again, swords clashing once more. Mal yelped in pain as Uma hit her sword down and slashed her blade across her cheek. Mal winched and closed her left eye, already feeling heat gather around the new cut and blood drip down her face.

Evie lifted her sword above her head as the pirate swung down at her, she pushed her arms up and forced his blade away, making him stumble back. she moved to the side and slammed her foot into his, the pirate yelped and let go of his sword, hopping on one foot as he grabbed his stomped one. Evie grinned and pushed him over, spinning around to face Jonas who gave a war cry as he attempted to scare her. She just raised her brow and swung at him, thankful that (y/n) had made her learn to swordfight during the last couple of months, without it she would be dead weight for the fight.

The pirate Lonnie was fighting finally let go of his crewmate to fight her head-on, he swung at her and “cornered” her against the dock post. Lonnie quickly disarmed him, but being slightly bored, she tossed her sword up and held it by the blade, pointing the handle at the pirate who gave her a confused look “Here! Take mine.” when he looked at her for confirmation and she nodded, he grinned and gladly took the blade.

He swung once, twice, three times, and by the fourth Lonnie lifted herself up on the railings and kicked him hard in the head. The pirate tumbled to the ground and went limp. Lonnie let out a small bout of laughter and picked up her sword again, running up the docks to fight some more pirates.

“Duuuude” Dude laughed, watching the battle with wide eyes “If only I had opposable thumbs” he stood on his paws and ran down the tunnel as Carlos looked at him and nodded his head at it “I never get to have any fun”

Uma spun low to the ground, trying to swipe at Mal's legs, her grin turned sour as Mal blocked the swing and grabbed her arms, pulling her close and smiling down at her “Is it just me, or are you kinda having fun too?” Mal laughed, squeaking a bit as Uma growled and shoved her away towards the docks. Mal slowly backed up and was soon off the gangplank as she continued to clash swords with Uma.

Jay blocked an elbow punched from Davy and grabbed his arm, locking it to his chest and throwing Davy to the floor again.

Evie smirked as Jonas backed up for a moment, she brought her left hand up behind her and pointed her toe “Let’s dance~” Jonas swung first and Evie quickly parried, they two hitting their swords against the others quickly. Jonas swung at Evie's feet but she jumped back and trapped his blade between hers and her boot.

Gabe was somehow able to get the upper hand against Ben and pushed him to the floor of the docks, grinning down at him as the sharp end of Ben's blade drew closer to his neck. Carlos jumped behind them and smacked his sword against Gabe's butt, he turned and swiped at Carlos, widening his eyes a bit as Carlos easily held up against him. “Ben go!” Ben ducked under their crossed blades and started to run towards the tunnel. Carlos pushed off Gabe and smiled as he tumbled to the ground.

Evie pushed down Jonas and grabbed his red scarf “Nice scarf~” she pulled it off and shoved Jonas down through the railings with her foot. “It's mine now~!”  Ben hopped up onto the deck with her and Evie spun around to see two pirates run in front of her, another two standing in front of Ben. “Ben!” the two quickly defended against the four pirates.

Jay dodged out of the way of Davy's foot and jumped over a swipe of his blade. He blocked a couple of hard swings from Davy and finally got a grip on his arm. He pulled Davy towards him, ducked under his torso, and lifted him off of his feet. Jay crouched a bit and pushed up, releasing Davy and sending him to the lower set of docks.

Davy hit the floor with a loud crash, the teen laying there for a moment as pain flared up his back “Ow” he whined, cracking open his eyes to see Jay grinning down at him then run towards the tunnel.

-

You glanced at Gil wincing slightly at the passed-out Harry in his arms. You, Harriet, and Gil finally made it to the old garage, the sound of clashing swords and yelling echoing through the old pile tunnel.

You growled a bit, turning to the limo and pulling open the back car door, groaning a bit “Why the fuck did Jay lock it?!” you yelled, punching the window. Moments later Lonnie and Jay came running from the tunnel. Jay stopped; his eyes wide as he saw the unconscious form of Harry in Gil's arms. “What happened to him?!” Jay yelled, running up to Gil and placing his hand on Harry's forehead.

“James Hook is what happened” you snarled, Lonnie and Jay looking at you with wide-eyes as they had never heard you speak with such malice before “I already took care of the bastard and now I need to deal with another one, is Davy there?” you gestured to the battle beyond the tunnel, Jay slowly nodding as he grabbed the keys from his thigh bag and unlocked the car, helping Gil get Harry into the limo.

“Yeah-he’s-what’s he got to do with it?” Jay asked, flinching back as you glared at him.

“HE is the one who told James Harry was on the isle, I have a bone to pick with that fucker” you grabbed onto Harry’s sword and walked toward the tunnel “Harriet, get in the Limo” she raised a brow, looking at Lonnie then glancing at her baby brother being gently laid out on the long side seat of the limo.

“No” you turned, watching Harriet for a moment before she continued “I still have work to do, I’ll stay here and make sure everything stays in order, and protect my little sister and the twins until you can get shit moving. Okay?” you shook your head and took your foot off the tunnel and walked over to her, holding up your hand.

“I’ll be sure to get you and your sister off the isle first, along with the smee twins, I promise” Harriet smiled and clasped her hand with yours.

“I’m holding you too that, thank you for taking care of my brother for me” you smiled and squeezed Harriet's hand before releasing it and walking back to the tunnel, giving her a thumbs-up as she yelled out at the last moment “And save some of that traitor for me! He needs to learn what happens when you mess with Harry”

You smirked to yourself and unhooked the hook from your belt, rolling the weapon in your hands.

It's time for revenge.

-

Davy flashed his eyes between Uma and Ben, smirking as a devious thought came to mind. Kill the king and take control. If he killed Ben, he would gain the popularity he needed to rise above the ranks. Yes, Uma would be the one to have originally captured him, but after he killed the king? Oh, he would take place as top dog.

And then he would take place as captain after he took care of Uma. He would rule the world one day, but first the isle. And while he was at it, he would take out the purple imp as well.

Ben turned and saw him walking towards him with his eyes wild with mania, the king stumbled back for a moment, watching as Davy lifted his sword and prepared to swing down on Ben.

Davy flinched back as a blade was suddenly swung at him, sticking into the ladder between him and Ben, he quickly followed down the scarlet jacket covered arm and his eyes widened, looking into your pissed off (e/c) ones.

“Hiya!” you sang, your smile dropping as you started to swing Harry’s sword at Davy, the boy hardly able to keep up with your pace.

“(y/n)!” Ben yelled in relief, the other vks noticing and doing the same. Uma turned and her jaw dropped, noticing the spray-painted hook on the back of your coat.

“you-“ she snarled, glancing back from you to Mal and shaking her head. She needed to keep focus, and continued to fight Mal.

You took the hook and slammed it into Davy's blade, throwing him off his balance and trapping him against the rails. Ben took the chance and leaned over your shoulder and tickled under Davy's chin, taunting him with a baby voice. “goochy goochy goo~” Ben cooed, laughing as you gave him a side-eye and swiped at Davy's cheek with the hook, you grinned at the cut that instantly appeared and Davys wide-eyed look. Ben turned and blocked the swing of Gonzo who suddenly appeared behind him.

Davy pushed you off of him and stumbled back, yelping as you easily and quickly parried his swings. You took a quick step forward and slid your blade through the hilt of his sword, disarming him and spinning on your heel, slamming your foot into his chest and sending him back. You jumped on him and slashed Harry’s sword across his chest.

He quickly held his arms up and screamed as Harry’s sword sliced a good inch into his arms, blood pouring from the lacerations.

Some of the crew turned at that and gasped as you swung back up and stabbed into his left shoulder “This-“ you twisted the blade, a maniacal smile spreading on your lips “-is for Harry” you pulled it out and stabbed into his other shoulder, making him scream again “This!” you pulled it back out “is for me!” you sliced up near his face, creating a red line from his chin to his brow “And this! Is for everything else!”

“Carlos! Smoke bomb!” you turned and cursed, watching as Carlos knocked one of the pirates off the docks and whipped Mal’s bag around, pulling out one of the smoke bombs and tossing it to Evie.

You looked back down at Davy and grinned “I went easy on you, but Harriet-“ his eyes widened in fear, only just realizing that you had found out everything. “won't.”

You spun around and slid under Ben's arm, arching up with your left hand and slamming the hook into the hilt of Gonzo’S sword and disarming him, using your momentum to slam your shoulder into his sternum and knock him off his feet.

“Evie now!” you screamed, squinting to reduce the risk of the smoke getting in your eyes. Evie threw the bomb to the docks, purple smoke filling the area. “Ben go!” Ben bolted off after Evie as she pulled at his arm. Mal close behind them as she finally pushed Uma off of her and into the smoke.

You pushed at Mal's back to get her off the bridge and turned, making eye contact with Uma as you sheathed Harry's sword and pushed the bridge, jumping a bit as it fell back with a loud crash. Uma growled, her eyes drifting to the hook in your left hand and shaking her head.

What's my name?

What's my name?

What's my name?!

Say it nooooow.

You stared at Uma with sad eyes as she screamed at you, her eyes only showing rage and betrayal.

“(y/n)!!!” Gil yelled from the other side. You gave Uma an apologetic look and turned, not knowing as you did the hook symbol on your back flashed in the light, making Uma scream again and push her crew members out of her way as she raced to take the other way around to get to you.

You grabbed Gil's hand with your free one and hopped down onto the ground of the musty alley, running into the car after Mal and Ben and waiting for Gil to get in before you slammed the door closed. The Limo took off in a sudden start and drove quickly down the alleys of the isle. Mal took a deep breath as she flopped back into her seat, before suddenly sitting up and scrambling to look in her backpack. “My spell book!” she screeched turning to look out of the back window and thumping her head against the leather “shit”

Ben stared at Mal as she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, she opened them and turned to look at him, her eyes swimming with worry. “Are you okay Ben?” she asked, ignoring the large cut on her cheek that was still bleeding. He gave a comforting smile and reached out, cupping her chin and inspecting the cut.

“Are you okay?” Mal smiled and nodded, taking Ben's arm and pulling it off her cheek.

“It's just a cut, I’ll be fine…I’m sorry I dragged us into this mess” she sighed, leaning heavily against her seat “If it wasn’t for my dumb brain none of this would have happened”

“Well, it did one good thing” Ben muttered, looking out the window and watching the isle buildings go by “I got to see the isle for what it really is…Uma helped me see that”

Mal lifted her head a bit “…She's good at making people see the truth” she finally sighed, flopping forward and leaning against Ben’s arm “So what now?”

“Well for starters; remember last time when I said I save you next time? Yeah, same thing” Mal snorted and rubbed her forehead against his arm.

“And as I said last time, let's not let there be a next time”

“I’m all for this re-bonding cute shit but can we do it later?” you snapped, rubbing your thumb against Harry's bruised face. Mal gasped as she finally realized Harry was in the limo and dove forward to sit on the floor with you.

“What happened to him!? Where was he?!” Mal hovered her hands over Harry’s arms, her eyes burning slightly at the sight of the dark and bloody bruises all over him.

“James Hook” you snarled, the others, minus Gil, looking at you with wide eyes as malice once more filled your voice “that’s where Harry was, and luckily Gil, Harriet, her crew, and I made it in time before anything really bad happened to him” Mal sighed in slight relief, while it was scary that James had Harry, none of his clients ever came to take payment. “Do you know any healing spells off the top of your head?” Mal licked her lips, trying to rack through her brain to remember any type of healing spell in her spell book. Finally, she shook her head.

“No, my mother never wrote any spells in the book, and if there were any, they were scribbled over by her…I don’t know any” you scoffed and smacked her thigh, making her jump a bit.

“Then make one up! It's not the book that’s magic it's you!” Mal paused, before smacking her forehead and nodding. “Yep, sorry, my brain is still catching up to everything” she looked up at the front and saw the barrier coming closer “Just-wait till after we cross the barrier?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against Gil's leg who was sitting next to Harry’s head. “Duh?”

Everyone shivered as the limo passed through the barrier, Mal's eyes glowing for a moment as her magic was once more released. She wiggled her arms to get used to the feeling of her magic again and turned to Harry, her eyes glowing again.

“take these wounds, blue and black/take the pain, gone in a blink”

Harry's body glowed a slight golden purple, and you slumped in relief as the bruises and cuts on Harry's body slowly disappeared until it was as if nothing had happened to him.

You sobbed in relief and sat up, wrapping your arms around his head and neck and pressing your face against his “Thank fuck” you sniffed, pulling back a bit as Harry's lashes fluttered against your cheek as he woke up.

“Love?” he muttered, his eyes drifting around the car and relaxing as he only saw his friends “I’m-wha-“

“Uma took Ben for the wand, we got Ben back, and we’re on the bridge now heading home” you quickly explained, shuffling closer to him and tightening your grip on him as he leaned closer to you and wrapped his arms around your upper torso “You’re safe”

Harry breathed in your scent, burying his face in your hair and nearly falling asleep again. His hands brushed against the leather of your coat and he pulled back a bit, pulling at the lapels of the jacket and smiling. “Yer wearing meh jacket” you looked down and started to take it off, stopping as Harry shook his head, pulling the coat back over your shoulders “No, keep it, it suits yeh” you smiled and leaned forward, bonking your head against his.

Harry looked up, smiling at Gil who was crying “Hey bud” he whispered, grunting a bit as Gil leaned down and gave Harry a tight hug “okay, yeah, hug it out” you sat up on your knees and curled your arms around his torso, laying your head on his chest and taking a deep breath. Harry smiled and pushed his head into Gil’s grabbing your hand with his and squeezing it.

Evie and Carlos smiled at each other and leaned back into their seats, happy that the stressful part of the day was finally over.

Mal got up from the floor and sat back down next to ben, closing her eyes, and decided to get in a power nap for the hour it would take to get back to the school.

Ben leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes, the two soon falling asleep.

Evie and Carlos slumped against each other and passed out, Lonnie glancing back and cooing “so cute” she smiled at you, Harry, and Gil.

Harry was halfway curled up on Gil's lap, his head on Gil's thigh and one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders holding your hand. Gil's head was now leaning back against the seat and was lightly snoring, one of his arms on Harry's chest with Harry's shirt tightly bunched in his fist. You were still curled up on the floor, your head resting in the crook of Harry's neck and one of your arms wrapped around his shoulder as the other was pressed against your chest to hold Harry's hand.

“I wish I had my phone on me” Lonnie whispered, turning back to the front and resting her feet on the dash. Jay looked up at the rearview mirror, smiling as he looked at his friends.

All his friends were safe now, his job was complete.

-

Davy sat up with a wince, glaring down at the deep cuts on his arms. He yelped a bit as he touched his face “That’s going to scar” he muttered.

He froze as heavy footsteps appeared from behind. He slowly turned around, his eyes widening as he looked into the flashing red eyes of Harriet Hook.

“You’re dead” was all she said, smirking as a dark spot on Davy's pants started to appear.

“Parlay?” Davy squeaked, screaming as Harriet swung her sword at his face.

-end of part 12-

There It is! Part 12! The core four + Ben, Harry, Gil, reader, and Lonnie are off the isle and heading back home safe and sound! Again, if you forgot Dude's voice is now Beast Boy from teen titans because I hate the actual voice the VC gave him even though he apparently can do a good “teen” voice that would have suited Dude better. Also, READER GOT SOM FUKIN PAYBACK FOR HARRY ON DAVY I know she didn’t finish him off but come on, Harriet deserves a shot at him eh?

And Mals spell that she used to heal Harry was one @sephiralorange​ and I created together after she tried to find a healing spell in the “Mals spell books” books and only found a healing potion. I hope it works lol. Also, I think this has been one of my longest fic parts in a long time, 22 pages and 6763 words! Anyway part 13 coming soon, and the Vks will be back in Auradon finally!

oh! fake screenshot i made for the “hiya!” part!

(y/n) is modeled after me

permtagist!

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @musicarose​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @verboetoperee​

@imtryingthisout​ @rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​

@descendantsobsessed​

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 7

When Nelly opened her eyes, she couldn’t remember what day it was, what time it was, or most of all where she was. The bed sheets smelled like a man. Buster. She sat straight up, hardly noticing the clanging in her head.

She scrambled to the edge of the bed and tried to tear off the sheets that were twisted around her middle. She saw as she swung her legs over the side of the bed that her dress and girdle had ridden up around her waist, but she was still wearing her cami knickers. Whatever had occurred last night had not apparently involved their disposal. 

A wave of nausea and dizziness seized her before she was able to stand up. Her head ached so badly that she ran her hands over it, suspecting that she’d fallen and hit it. The exterior was intact, but the interior … It was in agony. Her very brains felt hot and swollen. 

“Hello?” she said. The suite seemed empty, but she couldn’t be sure. “Hello?”

When no answer came, she reached for the half-full glass of water on the nightstand and drained it. She had a raging thirst and scanned for the bathroom so she could fill the glass again and relieve herself. She had to pee like a racehorse. She got up and was forced to hobble on her way to the en-suite. Her misadventures had led to one thing at least: a twisted ankle. She remembered a phonograph and a rolicking jazz tune that made her feel the lightest and gayest and youngest she’d ever felt in her life. She remembered Tommy now, how good-looking he’d been. She remembered dancing for what seemed like hours. She was in such a good mood that she’d even danced with the men who weren’t handsome. She groaned at the memory of the other men as she relieved herself.

There was water in the round basin at the bottom of the skeletal shower and the bathroom felt slightly humid. A towel hanging on the bar confirmed that Buster had come and gone.

At least she thought it was Buster. That part she remembered too. Vomiting her guts out and Buster Keaton squatting opposite her in his white undergarments … doing what? It was fuzzy. She vaguely recalled a desire for a pillow, but he must not have given one to her because she woke up in the bed. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten from the blind tiger to the hotel room. She tried and failed. It was a big black spot, a blight on a reel of film. Buster had not been at the blind tiger as far as she remembered. 

At the sink, she drank four glasses of water total, then rinsed her sour mouth. Her face was pale and haggard in the mirror. She looked about twenty years older. Suddenly, her heart hammered at an alarming thought. It wasn’t Sunday, it was Saturday. What had made her think it was Sunday? They were filming today! She was hours late. 

Her eyes scanned around the bedroom for a clock. She spotted one on the mantel and rushed to it. A quarter to noon. 

“Damn!” 

She ran into the adjoining salon, hoping to at least find her handbag. She did, half-spilled on one of the seemingly dozens of ornate chairs that dotted the room. The handbag held no powder or rouge, but at least it had lipstick and her tin of mascara. She dashed back to the bathroom to apply it. Her hair was another story. There was no hairbrush in the handbag, just a small backcomb that was impotent against the rat’s nest of tangles confronting her. She was out of bobby pins. Her dress was wrinkled and covered in lint, not to mention that she stank of sweat and stale booze. She would have to go back to 22nd Street unless she wanted to get fired on the spot for improper dress. Also, her stockings were nowhere to be found. She looked on the chairs in the salon, underneath the bed, on the mantel, and in the sheets and bedspread. Nothing. She even peeked, blushing, in Buster’s closet and his bureau drawers. She did find a sterling silver men’s hairbrush on the bureau. She also discovered a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet and washed down four capsules without a second thought. 

As she considered the sterling silver hairbrush, she felt guilty. It was expensive and she didn’t want to get it clotted up with her long hair. Promising herself she’d use her own comb to clean it afterwards, she sat on the bed trying to get the tangles out. The hairbrush smelled like Brilliantine. It seemed important not to be seen wandering the halls of the prestigious Hotel Senator with the unbrushed hair of one of Macbeth’s witches. Maybe she could call and have some bobby pins brought up—but that would alert hotel staff to the fact that there was a Girl in Buster’s Room. From her first encounter with him in his dressing room, it was clear that he had dalliances, but she wasn’t sure how discreet they were. For all she knew, an enterprising maid might sell a story to the papers for some extra money at the first opportunity. She brushed her hair and tried not to think of how terrible her head felt. 

Her situation went from bad to worse when a doorknob rattled in the salon. Of course. The staff tidied the suite every day. She considered hiding under the bed, but it was too late. From her position, she watched an arm come through the door, shortly followed by a leg, shortly followed by Buster himself. 

Of all the things she might have expected to come out of his mouth when he saw her, it wasn’t, “You’re awake.”

Before she had a chance to do much other than stammer a response, he was in the bedroom. He took off his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe, saying, “How do you feel? Feel like eating?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling rather weak and desperate. 

“I’ll order sandwiches and coffee. You look like you could use some coffee.”

As soon as he’d exited the room, she frantically pulled the strands of her hair out of his brush and padded to the bureau to return it. Job accomplished, she sat on the sofa rather than the bed, noticing for the first time that there was a rumpled sheet draped over the back and a pillow lying on one end. From them, she deduced that she had run Buster out of his own bed. 

“Relax,” said Buster, appearing in the doorway and startling her. 

“Am I fired?” she said, looking over at him. 

He looked surprised. “Fired?” A half-smile played on his lips as he realized what she was driving at. “Oh, for being young and silly and frivolous? No.”

“I am terribly sorry for last night,” she said soberly. “I kicked you out of your bed and you—when I threw up, you—”

He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.” As if he’d peered into her mind that very second, he added, “Nothing happened between us, don’t worry about that either. Why’s your hair look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Brushed on only the one side.”

“I don’t have a hairbrush in my bag.”

He squinted, clearly confused. “How’d you get half of it brushed then?”

She flushed what she could only assume was a violent red. “I borrowed your hairbrush.”

“But you only brushed half?”

She was going to die of mortification right here in Buster Keaton’s hotel room. That’s how she was going to go, rest in peace Nelly Foster. “I didn’t want you to know I’d used it, when you came in just now. I hadn’t asked permission.”

He cocked an eyebrow. He strode over to the bureau, then to her, and dropped the hairbrush in her lap. “All yours,” he said. 

“Thank you. Do you think,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “you could have some bobby pins brought up?”

“Sure. Need anything else?”

She shook her head. “I’m just going to go back to my room to change before I head over to the set.”

He sat on the foot of the bed. “You’re not going to the set today, you’re going to rest. How far away is your room?”

She thought. “A mile, a mile-and-a-half? 1911 22nd Street. I didn’t mention it last night?” 

Buster grinned. Nelly had seen him smile, but never up close and never with full teeth. His teeth were very straight on top and he had a dimple in his right cheek. She was keenly aware in that moment of how extraordinary it was that she had ended up in the bedroom of Buster Keaton’s hotel suite, never mind that her methods were nothing short of disgraceful.

“You mentioned a lot last night, but I couldn’t get that address out of you to save my life.”

“Oh no,” she said, her stomach sinking. She shielded her face with her hand.

“You’re a lot of fun.” He stood up and squeezed her shoulder on his way out of the room. “I’m going to call for those bobby pins.”

As he used the telephone, she hastily brushed out the rest of the tangles, swiped her hair from the bristles, and set the brush on the nightstand next to the bottle of aspirin. Pretty soon there was a knock at the hotel door and she ducked into the bathroom, partly to relieve herself again, mostly to hide from whoever was delivering lunch. She looked in the mirror, tried for a moment to make her hair and her face more presentable, but gave up. The lipstick and mascara would have to do. She also gave her teeth a hasty brush with a finger and Buster’s toothpaste.

Feeling shy, she stepped into the salon where a silver tray sat on a cart. “Sit down,” said Buster. He handed her a small plate that held a chicken sandwich. “There’s soup here too. Something asparagus, I think.”

Nelly took a bite of the sandwich and found that she was ravenous. The sandwich gave her an excuse not to talk. As she ate, she considered how she would politely remove herself from Buster’s company and sneak away before he changed his mind about not canning her. Her bare legs made her self-conscious and she tucked them under her on the chair as she ate. The silence didn’t seem to bother Buster. He dipped his sandwich in his soup and ate, glancing at her once and awhile.

“I can’t find my stockings,” she said, after she’d finished her sandwich. “Do you know where I put them?”

“You threw them out the window.”

“I what?” she said, not sure she’d heard right. 

“Of my car.” Buster blinked without expression, the famous frozen face she knew so well from pictures.

She was bewildered. “I don’t remember that.”

“You were hot,” he said, with a small shrug. “By the way, I noticed the ankle.” He gestured. “You should ice it when you get back to your room.”

“I don’t remember turning it,” she confessed. 

“What do you remember?” he said, his eyes probing hers.

She told him about drinking and dancing in the blind tiger. She also told him about the gap in her memory between dancing and winding up on his bathroom floor. “I am really, terribly sorry about that,” she said again. More of the incident had come back to her and she remembered how he’d dragged her into the bathroom and held her hair back as she vomited. 

He waved her off. “I’ve seen worse. I want to talk to you about something serious for a moment, though.”

A hot-cold rush of dread ran through her insides at his words, but she kept her hands steady on her cup of coffee and tried to make her face cool and calm. 

Buster finished the rest of a second sandwich, dabbed at his lips with a napkin, and put the plate on the bottom of the cart. “You know that tall man, the one with the blonde hair?” He paused, looking at her.

“Tommy,” she said. Why she should feel so guilty about Tommy, she didn’t know, but under Buster’s gaze she somehow learned that consorting with him was a horrible mistake.

“Is that his name? Well anyway, I’ve fired him. If he ever comes around again to bother you, come straight to me.”

She must have looked as puzzled as she felt, because he went on. 

“When I walked into that speak-easy last night, they were trying to get you into a room with them. A whole gang of them, and he was the ringleader.”

She was horrified beyond words. Tears filmed her eyes, but she blinked them back. On top of the spectacle she’d made of herself the previous night, she was not going to cry in front of him.  “I don’t remember that at all,” she said, her voice feeling weak.

“I know you don’t.” He reached over and laid a hand on her knee for a moment. “They got you as drunk as possible for that very reason. Just be careful from now on, okay? Take a few girlfriends when you go out.” He withdrew his hand. “Here.” He took a red box out of his pocket and handed it to her. It was decorated in violets and labeled INVISIBLE HAIR PINS. “Do your hair up and I’ll drop you by your room before I go back to the set.”

Back in the bathroom with Buster’s brush, she saw she no longer needed rouge. Her cheeks were in a high flush now, partly from the effects of last night’s imbibing, partly from their conversation. There was no crimping iron to be found, so she made do with a hasty chignon, patting down the flyaways with Buster’s Brilliantine afterwards.

“Ready?” he said, when she returned to the salon.

She felt hot and ashamed walking through the halls of the Senator and down the stairs next to him, but he didn’t seem to care if they were spotted together. She kept her eyes on her feet as much as possible. Even though they hadn’t slept together, no one in the hotel knew that. No one in the hotel knew either that she’d almost been raped by a gang of men last night, but all the same it felt like she was wearing a scarlet letter. 

They waited in silence outside the grand hotel doors for the valet to bring Buster’s car around. He didn’t seem to have anything to say and she was too mortified to make small talk. When the green Duesenberge rolled up and the valet exited, Buster held open the passenger door for her. She assumed it must have been the car she’d ridden in last night, but her only memory of it was from the parking lot in River Junction. She sat beside Buster in silence as he took a right on J Street. When they had come to Joe and Maggie’s house, he went around to the door and helped her down from the car.

“Don't look so glum,” he said, before he let go of her hand. “Everything’s okay. And ice that ankle as soon as you get in, hear?”

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (6/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on tumblr!

///

Six

By the end of her fourth day with Killian Jones, Emma has learned only a small percentage of the mystery that he is.

She knows that he hates coffee, but drinks it because if he doesn't, he'll fall asleep while he's working on the lighthouse. This is mostly because of Henry and they both know it. 

He offers her some coffee and she declines it, because she has nothing better to do but sleep and tend to Henry while she's bedridden with her stupid leg.

He only really comes to see her when Henry cries, which is often enough that she sees him every few hours, but it's not enough for her to get any information out of him.

She still really wonders about his life and his choices. Why he would decide that living here is a mystery to her. He probably could have won any woman's affections with just a flash of his smirk and a wink. He oozes charm. He can sing. He has pretty fantastic hair. He's intelligent and thoughtful.

She kind of likes him, but she never admits that to herself, though she finds herself dwelling on just about everything she knows about him in all of her spare time- which is all the time.

Killian walks with her for a little while outside the afternoon of her fifth day on Isolation Island.

It's freezing, and he gave her one of his sweaters, a coat, and a pair of boots that are way too big for her feet, so she's using extra caution as they move around outside in the dusting of snow that remains on the island.

The snow is catching in his hair because he's also lent her his bright red hat and she laughs teasingly, because his ears are bright pink and his cheeks are even pinker when he tells her they should go back inside.

They shake off the snowflakes and she shivers, teeth chattering as they stand in the doorway on the mat together.

The door clatters closed and she turns to face him, half of her face hidden underneath the lip of the coat.

He lets out a cold breath and clasps his hands together, hunching his shoulders with a chuckle slipping from his lips. "That's cold."

Emma laughs at his remark and nods in agreement as she unsnaps the buttons of the coat. She steps out of one of the boots with the leg she can manage and then, with the intention of not needing his help, Emma ends up collapsing straight into him, her hands clamoring for grip on his shoulders while her leg threatens to snap forward.

For a moment, she clings to him, unable to think straight. He is so firm and strong under her hands and her eyes find his to be dilated and wide, their breaths both surprisingly heavy. His hand is on her elbow and he gives her a gentle squeeze.

"You all right?" he asks gently.

Emma nods dumbly and slips back from him, keeping her hands on him for balance as she removes the other boot.

"Sorry," she apologizes quietly.

He shakes his head. "'s fine."

Emma stares up at him for a moment longer, seemingly unable to break apart from his gaze.

She swallows and rips herself off and away from him, closing her eyes for a moment as she blushes a little. Her nose is freezing and the rest of her feels just as cold as she strips off the layers and carries them to the fireplace in the living room.

Henry is still where they left him, lying in his little bed beside the couch. She goes to him after Killian takes her things to set them out to dry.

She avoids his eyes. He might be attractive and he might be nice to her on his good days, but he is still a man who doesn't talk about his past and lives alone on an island. 

He could have a criminal history or might like taking shipwrecked people in just to eat them later on. She doesn't know. A person could go stir crazy living alone for however long he's been doing it.

Emma sits on the sofa and holds Henry in her arms, his little lips parting as he coos at her. He is a sweet baby, she has to admit.

"Would you care for a hot chocolate?"

She glances up and nods, receiving one in return before he walks out of the room. "Do you have whipped cream?"

He's quiet for a second. "I think so. Would you like some?"

"If it's no trouble. It's kind of… my family's thing. We drink hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. Even when it's not winter and freezing."

She smiles fondly, allowing Henry to take her finger into his warm and sticky grasp.

She listens to Killian as he prepares the beverages, clanking things around with a calmness she's gotten used to since they've agreed to be civil. She likes this version of him; the one that isn't fighting her because he's uptight over the whole being stuck together situation.

He comes back into the room with a mug in his hand that he promptly gives to her. She smiles at him thankfully, biting her lip a little as she looks down and realizes that he's not only put whipped cream on top, but also cinnamon.

He's warming up to her. This much she can tell as she catches a look of his smirk before he walks back out of the room.

She has a sip and almost, almost moans, but keeps the reaction quiet, closing her eyes and humming softly instead.

Killian returns with his own mug of cocoa and settles down on the couch beside her, almost too close for comfort.

He hums at the taste and nods at her. "It is quite good."

Emma smiles. "Did you put whipped cream and cinnamon on yours?"

He nods again. "That I did. I can see why it's your family's… thing."

Emma laughs and she notices his eyes smiling as he has another sip. She ducks her head as she drinks at the hot beverage.

There is a sense of camaraderie between the two of them. They're both stuck here with nothing but each other and this tiny child she has nestled in her arm.

Emma stares down at Henry, finding him fussy, and she looks up at Killian in turn. "You know, I don't think babies are supposed to drink cow's milk straight up."

Killian raises an eyebrow. "Well, what should we be feeding him then?"

Emma looks down at the little boy. She sighs heavily. "I don't know."

More silence follows. Emma finds herself thinking about the chance that anyone might come find this little island, wondering if Henry's parents are out there looking for him, wondering if hers are doing the same.

Uneasily, she looks up at Killian. "Is the island off the map? Would people be able to find us if we signaled or something?"

Killian shakes his head. "No. I don't think so. Not in my experience at least."

His words bring back a familiar question to her mind: just how long has Killian been on this island?

"How long have you been here?" Emma asks him after a few sips of hot chocolate in silence. She turns to look at him and he licks his upper lip.

"Going on four years, I think." He sinks back against the couch and Emma's eyes widen.

"Really? Do you ever get lonely or bored?"

He chuckles. "I am human, Emma."

She bites her lip, hesitating before she dares ask the question that's been at the tip of her tongue for a few days now. "Then why do you do it? Why do you stay here all by yourself?"

Killian doesn't look disturbed by her question, instead appearing to be honestly flattered that she would be inquiring about his social life.

He shakes his head. "A loaded question, that is."

He tilts his head to the side and downs another sip. He takes a breath and sets the mug down on the side table.

He holds his left arm up and examines his hook as if he hasn't ever seen it before. Then, he lowers his arm and sighs.

"When I was... fifteen, my brother bought this lighthouse. He said it would be our project." Killian smiles wryly at the memory as he stares off and away from Emma. "He'd gone and joined the navy a few years before and we'd been apart for… a remarkably long time, considering."

She wants to ask questions, but she supposes she's lucky he's even talking about his apparently dark past at all.

He shakes his head. "Anyway, we worked on it. I would help him with supply hauls. We tinkered a lot, mostly. He decided to build the house and we did it all over the course of a year or so- got it up and running.

"We stayed here that summer when I was sixteen. It was a lot less involved back then. We didn't have the telly to keep us partly interested when it decided to latch onto a signal." Killian tosses a hand in the direction of the box across the room and shakes his head. "We mostly read books and he taught me how to craft things. We made those bookshelves, actually."

Emma turns to look at the wall and a small smile fills her lips. "They're beautiful."

"Aye." Killian agrees. He stares at them for a few moments, as if thinking about something. "I joined the navy as soon as I could. Liam returned to it too." He looks at her. "There was a fluke explosion on a ship we were taking out for a routine maintenance run." Killian's gaze turns dark and he stares down at his mug. "I made it out alive, but Liam didn't."

Emma's heart sinks and she shakes her head. "Oh. I'm so sorry-"

"Nothing to be sorry for." Killian pushes up from his position on the couch and forces a smile that falls as soon as it rises. "I, um, I'll just go see to the lighthouse, then."

Emma drops her gaze and nods. "Okay."

He's gone by the time she looks up again.

/

Killian takes his fingers through his impossibly long hair as he walks out into the cold day. He breathes out a puff of white just to see it and kicks his boot against the rocks on the shoreline.

He hasn't thought about that day on the Jewel for a long time. He'd kept it locked away, never to be seen or spoken of again, and yet here he is, telling some woman he found on the shore of this bloody island his life's darkest secrets.

Something whispers in the back of his mind that she isn't just some woman, reminds him of the connection he's felt growing between them, teases him with the idea that maybe she could drag him out of his agony.

Killian scoffs, the warm air from his lungs colliding with the cold in another puff of white. He feels weakened, his guard falling by the day, and he knows it's what Liam would've wanted, but it's hard letting go.

/

"We should probably talk about how there's not a ton of food in the pantry," Emma says as soon as Killian returns from the outside. 

He's carrying an armful of wood for the fire and seems caught off guard by her statement.

She's standing in the kitchen, nibbling on her lip with arms folded across her chest. She was going to make something to eat, but realized as she rifled through his freezer box that there wasn't a lot to work with.

Killian releases a heavy sigh, as if he'd expected this conversation. "Just a moment."

He goes into the other room and she hears him set the wood down before he steps back into the kitchen with his pink cheeks and earlobes. He pulls the hat from his head and unzips his jacket.

Killian stares at her thoughtfully. "Eat whatever you need to feel full. I'll take less of a portion or none at all. I'll survive."

Emma gives him a weary look. Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. "No, I don't think that's a great idea-"

"It's what I want," Killian insists. He glances over his shoulder at the living room and then back at her. "You and Henry weren't supposed to find me, but you did, so I figure the least I owe you is enough food to survive until you can go home again."

Emma's heart pounds just a little bit faster when he steps toward her with pure honesty in his gaze. He's trying. This is the kindest she has ever seen him.

She scans his face and swallows thickly. "I don't think-"

"I'll eat some," he promises. "Just… don't worry about it, Emma."

She knows she's pushing harder than she's ever pushed before. 

He’s told her about his brother and he's given her his bed, and now he's giving her his food. It should be enough to satisfy her enough to shut up and wait out the month, but something niggles at the back of her brain, begging her to find out more.

Emma takes a soft breath. "Okay."

He nods once. He tosses a look over his shoulder again. "I was going to start a fire. It's getting cold in here again."

"Sounds good," Emma smiles slightly.

Killian bobs his head and turns back around, leaving her to contemplate everything and anything she's ever learned about cooking.

[heavymetalover]

Strangers In the Night (Xavier Plympton x fem reader)

Summary: You’re hitchhiking when getting picked up by an unexpected stranger.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex, vaginal sex, daddy kink, fluff (omg).

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: im SORRY about the daddy kink AGAIN… i have daddy issues.

this ended up being wholesome, i feel letdown tbh.

~mostly inspired by the beautiful ones by prince~

~~~~

  You chew away on your gum, taking small steps through the gravel going towards your destination. Surrounded by nothing but a narrow road and some woods. As night begins to fall, you become a little more suspicious of each sound rocking in the trees. After all, there’s been a crazy murderer on the loose around LA. Gives you shivers just thinking he could be lurking, watching.

The sound of a car approaches and you follow the routine of turning towards the road and sticking a polished thumb up in hopes you’ll attract a Good Samaritan. The dusty red Nissan slows down to give you an unbearably loud honk and speeds away, you spit into the dust it leaves behind. “Fucker!” you yell out, although certain the road hog wouldn’t hear.

Another driver approaches, quite a large van. You shyly stick out your thumb again and feel a smile inching onto your face; sometimes friendliness can tempt the strangers. You can’t see them from where you stand, but their van pulls to the side of the road for you.

Not wasting a beat, you spit your gum out onto the road and skip over to the van. The window’s rolled down and a dapper man sits in the driver’s seat. Frosted hair hairsprayed to perfection, green tank top exposing his trim arms, and sunglasses tipped slightly over the bridge of his nose, exposing ravishing blue eyes. “Hey honey,” he greets with a smirk, “need a lift?”

You jump onto the step for the passenger’s door and lean into the window, head resting on your arms. “You headed north?” you ask, biting your bottom lip to entice the stranger.

“Sure am,” he replies looking out onto the road. “Just stopping at Oasis, is that far enough for you?”

You shrug your head into a shoulder, peering out onto the road with half a smile. You lean back on the step, gripping onto the window with your fingerless gloves. “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers, right?” you joke, leaning back into the window and turning to look at the handsome man again. He’s taken his sunglasses off completely, biting the tips seductively with his dazzling eyes plastered on you. Your heart sinks in your chest, not even bothering to hold back your nervous smile. You run your tongue between your teeth and his eyes find the floor of his van.

He shakes his head and puts his sunglasses back on. “You better get inside before you get me in trouble, baby,” he says with a slight sigh.

You jump off of the step to swing open the door and eagerly hop into the passenger’s seat, throwing your backpack into the back of his van and slamming the door shut. Digging through your pocket for a pack of cigarettes that you stole from your roommate before fleeing; you hit the box, taking the single stick that jut out, and sticking it between your teeth. “Mind if I…?” you trail off, dangling the cigarette between your lips.

His eyes dart towards you and back onto the road, “Oh no, of course not. Go right ahead,” he blurts, adjusting himself in his seat. “Actually,” he reaches beside him and grabs a small lighter, “I got that for you.”

He hangs over his seat, keeping one hand on the wheel. He sparks the lighter once, twice before it ignites. He holds the flame to your cigarette, his eyes meeting yours only for a moment. You sharply inhale the oaky, bitter taste of tobacco before hastily blowing it into his face. He leans back into his seat, suppressing an obvious smile as he goes back to focusing on the road. “You’re going to get someone killed one day if you wanna act like a gentleman, lighting up my cigarette and being all chivalrous.”

“Pfft,” he jeers. “Can’t kill anybody when there’s no one around.”

He glances at you, cross earring hanging from one of his ears and you feel a drop in the pit of your stomach. “You look so familiar,” you mention before taking another drag.

“I get Simon Le Bon a lot,” he nods.

“No,” you shake your head.

“George Michael?” he guesses with an apathetic shrug.

“No, no, not like that,” you take another drag. “I’ve seen you -your face- before somewhere,” you tap your chin, “somewhere.”

“Oh!” he sounds enthusiastic. “I teach aerobics! Maybe you came by the studio?”

“No, I haven’t,” you reply mindlessly, drawing more thick smoke into your lungs and tapping the tip of the stick to remove excess ash. You’re searching every crevasse of your brain for where you’ve seen this man before, but coming up empty.

He looks nervous with the more time you spend silently pondering. “I’m a pretty serious actor, maybe you’ve seen some of my stuff,” he suggests, trying to break the silence.

Your heart skips a beat and you accidentally fling your cigarette out the window from excitement. “Oh my gosh! Yes! That’s where I’ve seen you! I have seen some of your stuff, ooh baby, I’ve seen all of your stuff,” you exclaim, pointing down to his crotch. “One of my old roommates was gay, had a total hard-on for your VHS.”

The man shakes his head, nervous laughter evading his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, don’t you dare bullshit me,” your voice cracks into a squeal as you push his arm. He’s still shaking his head as confutation. “No, no, no, don’t even deny it. I saw a skinny guy taking a hard piping from you! I know it was you, how could I mistake that beautiful face? And you even have the earring, c’mon.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, okay?” he snaps in distress. He doesn’t entertain your claims, instead shaking his head weakly. “I’m not…” his voice quivers. “I’m not gay.”

You feel an instant pang of regret for making such a big deal about the tape. “Oh,” you sigh, “well, I never thought you, you were.” You slump back into your seat, positioning yourself to face the road again. The man has gone silent. “I mean, for what it’s worth,” you start, but your mind screams at you to stop. Just let it go, he’s clearly uncomfortable.

You purse your lips together and sigh, suffocating your hands between squished thighs. You fill your cheeks up with air in hopes it’ll get you to stop yapping. The only sound present is the tires going over the gravelly road. “For what it’s worth?” he finally asks.

You hold back a smile, turning back to him. “I was just going to say you looked like you were really good,” you blurt out. “And big,” you bring your voice higher in an attempt to sound more flirtatious, “very, very big.” He exhales a lazy snicker and shakes his head. “What?” you throw up your hands defensively, “It’s true!”

He continues shaking his head. “You’re too much,” he exhales.

“Well apparently you are too,” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

His mouth is agape, no words coming out and too stunted by yours to even attempt a rebuttal. He glances at you, eyes peeping over his glasses to get a better look. “Who are you?” he asks.

You perk up in your seat, offering your hand to him since he’s already proven himself to be a careless driver. “I’m y/n,” you say with a jaunty smile. “And you are?”

He takes your hand limply into his. “Xavier,” he says, leaning down to give a small peck onto your gloved knuckles.

“Classy,” you whisper while retrieving your hand, Xavier returns his focus to the road. Part of you is kicking yourself for even wearing the gloves and missing out on the feel of his soft lips against your skin. Dammit, why did Madonna have to make them so fashionable?

You itch to cross your legs in your seat, but knowing that would expose Xavier to what’s underneath your dress, instead you opt to just sit on them. Would it be so bad to expose myself to him? “Xavier,” you say his name to fill up the conversational lull. “Xavier, Xavier, Xavier,” you singsong. “Why did you stop to pick me up? Pick up a lot of hitchhikers?” you keep your eyes glued on him and lean your head back on the seat to get comfortable. His van does have a very homey feel.

“No, you’re my first,” he responds.

You dramatize a fake gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Little old me? Why am I so lucky?” you press.

“Well, the sun’s setting, you’re in the middle of the woods and you’re a girl. Not to mention the lunatic Night Stalker going around the area, guess I was feeling a bit generous,” he smiles. You begin nodding your head, satisfied with his answer, when he cuts you short. “Or,” he adds, “maybe I just thought you were one, very foxy chick.” You feel your heart flutter and cheeks burn hot; you want to fan yourself like they do in movies. “Either way, I still picked you up, didn’t I?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“Oh yes sir, indeed,” you smirk with a slight shake to your head.

The woods have disappeared behind you two and in no time, you’ve reached Xavier’s destination on Oasis street. He parks his car on the side of the road and takes the keys out of the ignition, finally turning in his seat to face you like you’ve done during the whole ride. The sexual tension is beginning to become an insufferable elephant in the room. “Where you heading from here?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “Don’t know, maybe crash at one of those twenty-four-hour diners until they kick me out,” you say with a slight chuckle, recalling how many times that’s happened to you before. “Just gotta get out of this place, y’know.”

He tilts his head up. “Running from something?” he speculates.

“Aren’t we all?” you roll your eyes with a slight nod.

He grins, “You can say that again.”

You take one long look at him before letting out a bitter sigh. “Goddamn it, I guess I should bounce,” you say with a frown. You reach into the back of his van to get your backpack, making sure to spend extra long bending over in your short dress. You lean onto his seat, feeling your ass press up against his arm and can only pray he’s getting a good look at it.

You eventually recover your bag from the back and sit down, body twisted towards Xavier. You prolong the inevitable, not wanting to leave his van, not wanting to leave him. There’s something about this stranger that excites you, that makes you thirst for more of him. You can’t explain it, there’s just an overwhelming attraction.

You open the door to leave his van, sliding out when he grabs your wrist. “Wait,” he protests. You stand on the step to the passenger’s seat. “Ehm,” the words get choked at the back of his throat. “I’m not in a rush, you can stay with me for a while and chat,” he suggests. “Only if you want to, obviously. You can leave too if you want, but… I think you’re a pretty cool chick.”

You purse your lips to hide a smile. “Thought I was a foxy chick,” you joke, adjusting the backpack that keeps slipping down your shoulders.

“Oh yeah,” he lifts his brows, “mighty foxy.” He nods his head, half-lidded eyes ogling you with a wide smile spread across his gorgeous face, you can’t resist him. You climb back into his van and shut the door.

You settle into the chair and he pulls out a box of cassettes from under the driver’s seat, fishing through them to find a keeper. You dig through your backpack and pull out a cherry lollipop, his eyes squinting in confusion as you unravel the plastic. “Don’t give me that look, I feel myself about to crash,” you explain yourself.

“No judgement here,” he replies, fingering through his cassettes.

You nurse your lollipop, peering into his box to find any recognizable artists, but they’re mostly mixtapes. You pluck out a black tape marked ‘Purple Rain’, the newest Prince album. “Didn’t this movie just come out?” you slur your words, lollipop sitting passively against your cheek.

He glances up. “Yes, but the album came out a while ago,” he explains, still pawing through his collection.

“Well, I haven’t heard it yet,” you shrug and shove it into the cassette player. The machine takes a moment to read the tape.

“Songs are a bit wonky and out of order, I recorded it from my friend’s album,” he confesses.

The album starts playing with a funky pop beat. “See, it’s working. Now, put that away,” you order, grabbing the box from him. “Let’s talk.”

You throw his box into the back of his van and spin towards him again. He looks up for a moment, seemingly in thought, then back at you. His enchanting light eyes capturing you from the lightening fast contact. “W-what are you running away from?” he asks with a moment of hesitation.

You take the lollipop out of your mouth. “Wow, already with the hard-hitting questions,” you tease. He stares at you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet the bright blue that sweeps you off your feet. Instead, looking at your hands and cleaning under your nails. “I guess just a bad living situation. Been house-hopping for as long as I can remember, but I basically just live out on the road now,” you meet his eyes for a second, only to embarrassedly look away.

“I get it,” he nods.

You finally look at him, sort of in disbelief. Usually the people who drive you places always lecture you about making better life decisions, finding a job, pursuing school, yatta, yatta, yatta. ‘The whole world is at your fingertips’ spiel. It takes you by surprise that he understands. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he breaks eye contact, his thumb ghosting his full bottom lip. “I was in a tough spot not long ago. We’ve grown up in the prime time of being doped up drug peddlers and I was dumb enough to fall into that bullshit. And I’m talking about the hard stuff, not like M.J. or cocaine.” I don’t do many drugs, maybe a bit of weed here and there, but I thought cocaine was a hard drug. “But,” he breaks your inner monologue, “the strongest people always go through the toughest shit.”

“Cheers to that,” you smile and cheers the air with your lollipop, penetrating the sticky candy between Xavier’s lips.  He accepts the intrusion gracefully, keeping the sweet, ravished ball of cherry between his lips. “Any summer plans?” you ask.

He takes the candy out of his mouth, the crimson orb glossing over his perfectly plump lips. “Nothing much, just teaching more classes. Got this gnarly gig up at some camp in a few weeks, should be fun,” he answers.

“I don’t know of any camps around here. Which one?” you ask, half paying attention and half peering onto the road.

“Camp Redwood.” Your head snaps back to look at him and you instinctively slap his arm in hopes it’ll get rid of the idiot in him. “What?” he shrugs.

“What’s your damage, dude?” you gasp with a facetious smirk. “Are you honestly telling me that they reopened Camp fucking Deadwood and you’re stupid enough to go work there? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Why? What happened there?” he asks, eyebrows knit in confusion.

You sigh, you’ve been on the road for so long and even you’re more up to date on the folklore of Camp Redwood. “There was a huge massacre there. Every single person ended up dead, stabbed to bits, and all of them had one ear missing. It was a psycho killer they called Mr. Jingles because his only giveaway was the sound his keys made,” you pause to imitate the sound of keys jingling, “ching cling cling, right before he slashed them to bits!”

He smiles and squints at you, taking a moment to absorb your story. “Not even! You kind of had me until you oversold it with the keys thing,” he exclaims, waving the lollipop around as he speaks.

“Xavier, I shit you not, that actually happened,” you explain, leaning closer to him. “And the worst part is that Mr. Jingles is still alive today. Probably waiting for the day that that fucking camp reopens to escape the loony bin and do it all over again,” you make your voice low to freak him out.

He scoffs. “So what? I’m not afraid of some drip named Mr. Jingles. If anything, he should be the one scared of me.”

You laugh a little too hysterically at his comment. “Mhm, yeah right,” you mock. “He’d take one look at your George Michael lookin’ ass and run in the opposite direction,” you deliver sardonically. You fetch your lollipop and slump back into your seat, turning the dial up on the radio. A song with a raunchy beat starts up and both you and Xavier exchange a glance. “What song is this?” you ask, puckering your lips against the lollipop.

He clears his throat, “S’called Darling Nikki.”

“Mmm,” you lean back in your seat, but keep your eyes locked on him. “It’s pretty sexy.”

He nods. “It is.”

His eyes meet yours, pink tongue running over his bottom lip. You shove the candy into your mouth, sucking on the sweet taste of artificial cherry. The song puts you in the mood. Not that you weren’t already in the mood, but it offers the perfect opportunity to stop beating around the bush.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, bobbing on the lollipop in your mouth until the savory ball hits the back of your throat. Gagging, you pull it out of your mouth slowly, opening your eyes and giving Xavier a knowing look.

He slowly exhales watching you, now leaning against his seat and lightly covering the bottom of his face with one large, veined hand. “Holy shit,” you hear him breathe.

The lollipop clings to your lips before bursting out, keeping a connection through a filthy pink string of saliva. It detaches and smacks against your chin. You keep your eyes peeled on Xavier and he studies your mouth. You slap the candy against your sodden tongue and slurp up the mess you made, keeping the lollipop pressed against your lips. “You’re a nasty girl, aren’t you?” he whispers, white teeth tugging slightly at his lip. Fuck.

“You want to see something nasty?” you ask, leaning the passenger’s seat back in preparation. “I’ll show you something nasty.”

You suck on the lollipop one more time, slobbering on it just before it’s completely drenched in your saliva. Leaning back on the seat, you hike up your short dress and expose your favourite skimpy panties. After building up so much tension between the two of you, your pussy is already wet and craving the touch of his big hands.

You rub your clit in circles before pulling the fabric to the side. Xavier’s eyes watch every movement as you trail the drenched lollipop down your body, stopping at your pussy. You run the cherry-flavoured orb down your folds and press it against your tight hole. You apply pressure until it penetrates and let out a soft moan. Recalling how long and fat Xavier’s cock was in his dirty movie, you can’t imagine how it would ever fit inside of you.

You shove the lollipop further into yourself, trying to stretch yourself out a little bit in readiness for Xavier. Wiggling the stick around inside yourself and pushing it to the point of nearly disappearing inside your hole. You shimmy it some more before dragging it out against the resistance of your retentive walls. Reinserting the candy into your mouth and getting a saltier flavour this time.

Xavier shifts around in his seat, erection booming in his tight pants. A palm over his crotch for readjustment, he leans closer to you. You can feel the warmth of his body, it makes you tingle. “I find it rude not to share,” he finally speaks.

You take the lollipop out of your mouth and veer yourself towards Xavier, setting a small kiss on his lips. He puts a hand on your cheek, guiding more of your kisses towards him, while the other hand crawls down your body. His hand stops on your thigh and you feel a thousand goosebumps erupt on that leg, a shiver running through your veins.

His lips don’t part from yours, fusing with your face and sucking ever so gently on your lips. He combs his hand towards your pussy, fingertips grazing your thighs as he inches to the throbbing in your clit. You bring the candy back down to your folds, but he takes it from you, insistent on that whole ‘sharing’ rule.

Xavier leaves your lips for a moment to spit down onto your wet cunt, rubbing the candy against your slit before pushing into your hole. Once again, it demands a meager moan out of you, this time you moan onto Xavier’s lips. “That’s right, moan for me, baby. Moan for daddy.” You summon more moans as he fucks the lollipop into you, playing them up to turn him on even more.

You gnaw on your lip and look at Xavier, light sobs still faintly spilling from the back of your throat. You must seem irresistible to him because he mashes his lips into yours and leaves your pussy to place both hands on your face, pulling you closer to him. You pull out the candy he left inside of you and detach from his kiss to pop it into his mouth.

Xavier grabs both of your wrists and slips into the back of his van, bringing you along with him. He sucks all your juices off of the lollipop before spitting it out onto the floor. As he takes a seat in the back, you sit next to him, resting both of your legs on his thighs as you two join at the lips once again. His hands brush up and down your legs, feeling the rapid growth of goosebumps with each swipe.

The kiss intensifies, tongues colliding and lips smacking. You pull at his tank top as if silently begging him to take it off. A new song begins and he moans against your lips, pulling away eagerly and leaving you lovestruck, leaning in an awkward position and trying to reorient yourself. He slides away from you and pulls his top off over his head, then begins undressing you as well, pulling for your dress to come off. You lay onto your back and shimmy your dress off, still wearing a bra and panties set. In a matter of seconds, you’re skin to skin and Xavier is on top of you, teasing you with soft kisses. His lips pulling away to mouth the lyrics: “Baby, baby, baby. What’s it gonna be? Baby, baby, baby. Is it him or is it me?”

You bring him back, kissing the sweet cherry off of his lips. His hands rough up your body, grabbing a hold of every bit of you like he hasn’t touched anybody in years. One hand squeezing your hip while the other finds your cunt to rub back and forth on your swollen clit. When you push back from his kiss, pardoning a loud groan, he kisses your neck. He savours you, handles you like a prize possession, it makes you feel warm.

You palm the bulge in his briefs, feeling him grow and heat up under your touch. His breath catches and he jerks his waist away from you. You pause your kiss to shoot him a flustered grimace. “I want this to be about you, baby, not me,” he explains, before giving one more kiss on your lips. Then one on your neck, chest, belly, down to your pelvis. You let out a broken breath when he kisses right above the line of your panties. He slides them down your legs and taunts your aching clit with his delicate breath; appointing extra sloppy kisses on your thighs as he works his way to the main dish. He looks up at you, baby blue eyes unabashedly beaming with excitement before diving into your candied cunt.

You throw your head back as he begins licking you up and pushing your legs further apart. The pleasure so built and intense that you feel it hit the moment he lays his tongue flat onto your dripping core. You feel your muscles quivering under his lick, under his touch, and your body burns with desire. One hand lays limp on your leg while the other continues pulsing your clit, his tongue shoves its way down your gaping hole.

You reach down to grab onto him, grab onto something, anything. He holds up his hand and you lace your fingers with his, squeezing at each undeniable moment of pleasure. You scrunch up your feet as he quickens the pacing over your clit, then slowing it down. He plays your pussy like a gifted musician, speeding up and slowing down just when you need him to. “Please fuck me,” you beg, the words pouring out on their own, “Xavier, I want you inside of me.”

He stops gluttonously licking up your cunt to look up at you for confirmation on your words. “Y’sure?” he questions, making sure there are no misconceptions.

You prop yourself on your elbows, raking a hand through his perfectly gelled, thick head of hair. “Unless you’d like to stay down there, daddy,” you say, squeezing him between your thighs slightly on the pet name.

“Baby, I can stay down here forever,” he lays his head on your leg and you sit up, pulling him to meet your lips. His kiss makes the world feel dreamlike, so tantalizing and hypnogogic that you swear you’re tripping on acid when he touches you.

He gives an unexpected slap to your raw cunt and you jump, unable to hold back a short peep hiccupped into Xavier’s mouth. He smiles. “I love making my kitten purr,” he whispers into your lips, slapping you once again and you chirp another calculable yelp.

Xavier climbs on top of you with his lips pressed passionately against yours, fighting for dominance. His long fingers grip the back of your neck while his thumbs massage the curve of your jaw reverently. His big hands soon venturing to other parts of your body, running down your back and promptly unhooking your bra like a burden that could no longer be adjourned. The fabric falls artlessly and Xavier paws at your breasts before he can even see them. Still locked on your lips, he circles a finger around your nipple, motivating them to get hard sooner than you’d expected. Nipping at the tiny buds, he leaves your lips to suckle them; running his tongue against your areola and giving strong sucks. You appreciate the moment so much, watching Xavier suck on your tits like his life depended on it, that you completely forgot you were in his van.

You reach down to his crotch and he lets you this time. Rubbing his long cock in his briefs, feeling how rock-hard he is turns you on even more. A shudder rumbles through your body and you take his dick out. It’s already ready for you, long and thick, harder than ever. He stops worshipping your tits to kiss you again, this time lightly pushing you down so you lay in the backseat of his van.

He stands over you, holding his cock and spitting onto it to lube it up for you. He rubs his saliva onto the head and up and down the shaft before resting it on your hole. You prop yourself up to watch it go in, feeling your heartbeat quicken with each tiny amount of pressure he puts. “Are you ready for it?” he asks, smearing the head into your wet folds.

“Mmm,” you moan, just feeling his cock against you is enough to send you to euphoria. “Yes, daddy.” He slowly starts pushing himself into you, stretching you out so much that all you can do is stifle a moan. Your nails dig into his seats, no doubt leaving some kind of mark or even some polish flakes. “Slow, slow, slow,” you plead through gritted teeth.

He accommodates and moves into you at a snail’s pace, stopping every so often when he thinks he’s hurt you. Once he’s half in, he starts pumping in and out, stuffing you up with his chunky length. “Oh my,” is all you can contrive through deep breaths.

He sees how unravelled you’ve become and leans down so you could rest your head on his shoulder. “Hold onto me,” he requests. You follow orders, grabbing onto his back and guiltily digging your nails into him with every thrust. “Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he whispers into your ear.

The rational part of your brain has already called quits on taking his dick, but you’re too charmed by Xavier to tell him to stop. Of course there’s the pain, but his cock is so deep and so big that it vellicates a sensitive area inside your pussy that you’ve never felt before. Each plunge poking at it slightly and stimulating it just enough to keep you from surrendering to his length. You’ve explored your body enough to find your g-spot, but he tickles an area that’s causing you to completely shatter. He pumps again and you feel yourself loosening up to him, although that doesn’t stop your nails from clawing up his back.

All the pain you’ve felt is absorbed into overwhelming thrill. You sit up even more now and watch his cock pump into you, your pussy accepting more of him with each thrust. He keeps hitting that spot in you and your whole body tenses up with it. You look at him, trying to find his eyes, but he’s too lost in your pussy to meet yours. What kind of witchcraft is he doing to make me feel this way?

His hands, resting on your lower back, scooch you closer to him. He doesn’t even have to move much for the both of you to feel elated, just a slight wiggle is enough for you to feel everything. You sit up on his thighs and grind your hips against him. “Your pussy,” he whispers between breaths, “so fucking good, kitten.”

Your cunt writhes with each little movement, you can feel yourself dripping onto him. “Ugh’m God!” you throw away your integrity and scream. “Jesus Xavier, oh my…” you trail off, rolling your eyes back and feeling him hit that sensitive spot again. Your tendons tightening, teeth grinding, and eyes shutting with every movement.  

You lean your chin on his head, still slightly rocking your hips, but unable to bring yourself to complete the motion from crushing alleviation. His forehead is perched on your shoulder as he tries shimmying around inside your pussy. He’s too far gone to form a sentence, too. He holds onto your back, rests his head on your shoulder and breathes rapidly onto your chest. His eyelashes give your collarbones light butterfly kisses while he blinks himself back into reality.

The song is at its climax when you take the initiative to try to finish, unsure if you can even bring yourself to conclude this little affair. You start grinding harder against him, both of you undoubtedly withholding groans to save face. You rock yourself on him harder and he finally allows himself to make eye contact with you again. A pleading look in his pool-of-blue eyes already tell you everything you need to know without saying a single word.

You fuck him as hard as you can burying your head into the crook of his neck. You take in the smell of his cologne, now mixed with sweat. It smells so good. He contributes by gyrating himself inside of you.

“Fuck!” the word weeps out without your consent. You feel yourself unwinding, again you feel it coming with each thrust, the shattering. “Oh, my fuck! Daddy, your cock is so f-fuck!” you’re crying, jumping on his rock-hard dick.

“Shit,” he seethes under you, grabbing your hips and guiding them into his cock. “You fuck me so good, baby girl,” he groans.

You jump on him, his dick so deep you think it’ll push on your belly. “Son of a- huh,” you breathe, feeling yourself starting to come. You keep beating up that tender spot deep in your cavity, providing it all the love it was once deprived and smacking it with each stimulating bounce on his cock. “Yesyesyesyes,” you don’t take a breath, “ooh there.” You keep pummelling him into you, Xavier is close too. “Right. Fucking. There,” you breathe between each jump.

You can’t get any words out when orgasm engulfs you. You stand up to prudently pull his length out of your clingy lips, giving your clit a rub before soaking his cock in your juices. “Shiiiiit,” you moan, squirting a clear liquid out of your hole and all over him, all over his van.

“Damn, baby,” he utters. You feel a single tear drop escape your eye and swat it away before he can see. Without a word, you insert him back into your, now soaked, hole; not leaving until you’ve made him come as hard as you did. You slide him back inside of you, his length hitting you all at once again. It seems to hit him hard too, because his face knots the deeper you insert him. “Fucking tight,” he sighs.

He pushes you to lay back again and starts hammering himself into you. You moan with his harder thrusts, feeling him fill you up makes you fall apart; your whole body feels weak. He can’t control himself, contorted moans escape from deep in his throat. “Where do you want daddy’s come?” he asks, trying to hold himself together, but fails miserably.

“Right in my dirty mouth,” you reply, licking up your bottom lip.

He rolls his eyes back, “Oh, fuck you,” he says with a slight laugh. His smile immediately dissipating to a twisted expression. You feel him coming to release, his grip on your arm gets tighter and he pounds harder into your pussy. He pulls himself out of you and jerks his long length above your face. You obediently open your mouth and lay your tongue flat for him to use up.

He takes a second, zealously jerking himself over you, until he empties his seed onto your tongue. You feel the warm liquid hit your tongue and immediately swallow it down for him. Pressing your lips to the tip of his cock, giving a suck to clean him up and a small kiss on the tip.

He breaths out an exasperated sigh and limply lays down on top of you. “Get off,” you giggle, “you’re crushing me.” He rolls onto his side beside you and you roll onto yours so you’re facing him. He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers with a small frown. You grab his hand and band your fingers together, he smiles when you accept his invitation. A moment of silence is shared between the two of you, not awkward, just comfortable.

“You know you’re the only one,” he says, a slight crack in his voice. You lift an eyebrow in response. He looks down at the hand you’re holding onto, “Everybody that knows about that tape doesn’t believe me. They think I’m gay or… they just cast me out for even doing it in the first place,” he opens up, caressing your knuckle with his constricted thumb. You stay silent, letting him get it off his chest and studying the woe that washes over his face. “I don’t know,” he gives his head a slight shake.

“Fuck those people,” you shrug, “you don’t need them anyways.” His pillowy lips twist into a smirk. You use your free arm to prop up your head. “Besides,” you continue, “they don’t know what they’re missing. You snooze, you lose, right?”

He smiles. “I like you, y/n,” he sighs. “I’m not letting you slip through the cracks.”

You unbind your hands to move a piece of hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Don’t worry about me leaving, I have no where to go. I’m all yours, baby,” you say with a jokey tone, but you hope he takes you seriously. He’s usually easy to read, like an open book, but when his face turns neutral it’s agonizing to imagine what’s going on in that pretty head.

“So… you want to meet my friends?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You cock your head to the side. “Huh?”

“Come to Camp Redwood with me?”

~~~~

smallest fucking taglist:

@codyswhore @odongreentea @liliesandforgetmenots @avesatanormalpeoplescareme

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 24

Chapter 24

           Spring semester classes picked up amid a foot of snow and temperatures well below freezing. It was so odd being back in the dorm. I’d spent most of my winter break crashing with Roman and Dean at their apartment. Of course, I’d driven back home to see my parents on Thanksgiving and then for a few days at Christmas. Luckily, those days had coincided with Roman’s trip to Florida to visit his family. Seth dipped out to Iowa to see his folks. Dean put off his trip to Ohio as long as he could, but he ended up leaving the same day that I did.

           Sonya’s stuff was dumped on her bed when I dragged my suitcase into our shared room. A box of donuts sat on my desk, a note propped in front of it. Welcome back, roomie. Schedules showed up. Looks like we’ve got a class together!

           For the first time, I noticed the envelope beside the box of sweets. I smiled ruefully, realizing that Sonya had opened it for me. Students at Grand Mountain took some kind of active elective, but since I was working with the Poms, I’d gotten a waver from the requirement. But Sonya had talked me into signing up for a kickboxing course with her. I guess we’d both gotten a spot.

           A loud banging on the door that lead to the bathroom we shared with our suitemates drew my attention. I yanked the door open, unsurprised to find Ember on the other side. The yellow and orange streaks in her hair were brighter than before break. She must have redone them recently.

           “Come on in,” I said, grinning. She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard.

           “We didn’t think you’d come back,” she said calmly, pulling out my desk chair and plopping down in it. Ember propped her feet up on the edge of the desk, but not before stealing a chocolate-frosted donut from the box.

           I stopped, right in the middle of tossing my suitcase up on my bed. “Who didn’t? Did you think I was going to drop out or something?”

           Ember rolled her eyes and spoke around the huge bite she’d just taken. “Sonya and Drew had a betting pool going,” she mumbled. “He figured you’d be shaking up with Ro and Dean.”

           The way she said it made me suspicious. “Ember, how many people know about that? About me, Ro, and Dean?”

           She waved her hand in the air as if it wasn’t a big deal. “The entire hall. All the way up.”

           I sank onto the edge of the bed. My heart skipped a beat. “Jesus. If the entire hall knows, the whole campus will know by the time classes start tomorrow.”

           “Don’t worry about it. It’s nobody’s business.” She watched me with her preternaturally bright eyes. I could never quite get a fix on their color. “You don’t have to tell anyone anything. But I can’t lie… a lot of us are curious about how… it’s not every day that you know someone who’s dating two people at once and it’s all out in the open.”

           “It’s not really out in the open, Ember.”

           “You know what I mean,” she replied, snatching another donut. “You guys aren’t going around behind each other’s backs. Everybody is on the up and up.”

           I rolled my eyes and flopped back on the bed, narrowly missing cracking my head against the wall. “It’s weird. Like, when we’re together—just us… well, sometimes Seth is hanging out with us, too… it all feels pretty normal. It’s not a big deal for me to go on a date with Ro or with Dean, but the thought of going out with both of them at the same time… it frightens me. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, but I’m afraid of what people are going to say about them. Ro has a strong position on the team. I don’t want campus gossip to mess that up for him.”

           The door opened just then, and Sonya spilled into the room with her girlfriend Peyton in tow. My roommate grinned and stepped back out into the hallway. Her voice echoed through the entire hall. “Pay up, McIntyre! She’s back!”

           Groaning, I lifted my head to look at her. “Seriously? I thought Ember was joking.”

           Sonya practically shoved my suitcase to the floor before bouncing up on the bed beside me cross-legged. Peyton hopped up to sit beside Ember on my desk. “Nah. Scottie owes me a hundred bucks.”

           “So, what’s it like?” Peyton asked, curiosity in her bright, wide eyes. “Have you guys…?” She wiggled her eyebrows and held up three fingers.

           “No!” I exclaimed, not sure whether I was insulted or intrigued by the idea. “That’s not how… we haven’t…”

           Ember gave Peyton a playful slap on the knee. “Ignore her, Addy. She’s got her mind in the gutter all the time lately.”

           Sonya grinned. “That’s why we’ve been having so much fun.”

           Peyton pulled a face that made me want to crawl under the bed and never come out. “Ew. Both of you. Shut up.”

           “But come on,” Peyton cajoled, her Australian accent becoming a bit more pronounced. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

           My immediate response was to shout an emphatic no. But I couldn’t. Because she was right… I had thought about it. More than once. And apparently, my silence was answer enough.

           “I knew it,” she exclaimed, pointing at me. “And I guarantee that they’ve thought about it, too.”

           While it wasn’t easy to see me blush, I was sure that there was heat rushing beneath my skin. I ducked my head and tried very hard not to focus on the images that were already playing around in my head.

***

           “What’s up, Addy?” came a familiar voice behind me in the coffee shop line. I turned to see Seth Rollins standing just over my shoulder, dressed in a grey hoodie, black leather jacket, and a black beanie. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, a grin on his face. His cheeks were bright red above the line of his beard.

           I huddled further into my coat, which I’d tugged on over Roman’s Pirates hoodie. “Not my body temperature, that’s for sure.”

           He laughed, and I noticed the fact that there was a gap between his front teeth. “You think this is bad? It’s what… twenty-eight degrees outside? Ha!” He rocked back on his heels before pushing me a few steps forward. The line was moving. “It was nine degrees in Iowa this weekend.”

           Smirking, I looked him up and down. “And yet you’re bundled up like you’re going to the Arctic.”

           “Cold is still cold, Addy.”

           I shrugged and smiled. My turn came, and I grabbed Seth by the wrist. “Come on, your caffeine fix is on me today.”

           Seth grinned. “Far be it from me to turn you down. Ro and Dean would kill me for making you unhappy.”

           “Bullshit,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just order your damn coffee.”

           I was impressed by his order—it was almost as insane as mine. Maybe Roman was right. Maybe I was a bigger caffeine addict than Seth Rollins. Still, the barista looked strangely at both of us when we ordered four extra shots of espresso in our already caffeine-laden concoctions. Once we had them, we wound our way past the line that had stretched out the door while we waited.

           We found a spot in the student center and stepped out of the way of people pouring in and out. I cupped my hands around the cup and tipped it carefully up against my lips. Seth didn’t bother. He took a big sip and sighed, as if all was right with the world.

           “So, what do your classes look like this semester?” he asked, leaning back against the wall.

           I dug my schedule out of my bag. While I’d picked up my books the day before, I hadn’t really paid attention to timing. “Let’s see, I’ve got history of post-Roman Europe, pre-calculus, astronomy two and the lab, kickboxing, English composition, and intro to international politics.”

           His head nodded toward the paper in my hand. “When do you have the politics class?”

           I glanced over the schedule one more time. “Tuesday and Thursday at eleven with Dr. Depaul.”

           “Me, too. Nice!” He held up his hand and I gave him a high five. “Maybe I won’t fail polisci this semester!”

           I rolled my eyes, checking the clock. “I’ve got English in ten. See you around, Rollins.”

***

           At noon, I practically ran across campus to the student center. Not only was I desperate for warmth, but I was starving. I’d gone through English and pre-calculus that morning, and I had history at one. I was desperate to get some food in me before I had to sit through lectures about the Visigoths and the unification of the Franks. Plus, practice started again this afternoon, and I wasn’t going to get anything to eat until well afterward.

           I ran up the steps to the second floor, surprised to find the line ridiculously long already. I caught sight of a familiar face near the front of the line. Thank God for football players, I thought just as I shouted, “Hey, Highlander!”

           Drew turned around, a smirk on his face. When he saw me, he waved me up. No matter what people said, college wasn’t entirely different from high school. Athletes still ruled the place. And I suppose it didn’t hurt that Drew was six-foot-five and looked like he could bench press a full-grown grizzly.

           He wrapped me in a warm hug and tucked me in front of him in the line. “You cost me a hundred bucks, Addy,” he said playfully.

           “Oh, ye of little faith,” I replied, scanning my ID card as we slid in the door. I was overcome with the sweet scent of lasagna and garlic bread. “Dear sweet baby Jesus, that smells good.”

           Drew laughed out loud. “Go on, then, lass. I’m not getting beaten to a pulp in practice because you fainted from malnutrition.”

           “Why does everyone think Ro and Dean are going to hurt them because of me?” I asked, walking backwards toward the main line.

           “Because one is a big ass football player and the other is an insane cage fighting shmuck?” I knew that voice. I swept around, grinning. Dean stood there in a leather jacket and beanie, backpack over his shoulder. Roman wasn’t far behind, balancing a tray loaded down with food.

           “Come on, princess,” he said, grinning. “We’ve got lunch handled.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @vebner37​ @lilred91​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @maelleoute​

[mistydacat]

Marichat May Day 1|| Witch AU

This story is loosely based off of Spatziline's Halloween AU comic which is linked below.

Marinette got up from her bed and stretched. Cat Noir, who had curled up at the end of her bed, peaked his little head out at her. He flicked his tail in annoyance, probably from the fact that Marinette had woken him.

"Sorry, Kitty." She apologized, reaching to pet his soft fur. He purred.

"All is forgiven?" She asked, her fingers rubbing under his chin.

She watched as his little cat body morphed into that of a human. He grew until he was taller than her, the fur on his face and body disappeared, replaced with pale skin. The hair on his head turned blond and grew longer. His eyes took on a human shape, though their unnatural green colour and diamond-shaped pupil stayed. His cat ears and tail remained.

Marinette's hand was still holding his face in a tender caress. His purring got louder.

"All is forgiven." His voice came, soft and soothing, but with a hint of mischief.

"Good." She retracted her hand. "So you'll let me work now."

Cat Noir's face fell. "I never said that. And what work do you have anyway, my Purr-incess?"

Marinette laughed. "I've been reading the spellbook, and you'll never guess what I found."

Cat Noir raised a brow. "What is it?"

"You know Pinocchio, right?" She asked.

"Yes..?" He didn't know where this was going.

"Well, I've found a potion that has similar effects as Pinocchio's curse. For every lie told from the drinker's mouth, their nose is to grow an inch."

"An inch for every lie?"

"Precisely. What a smart kitten you are!"

Cat Noir decided to let her sarcasm go this time. "Now I'm interested. Who's it meant for?"

Marinette smirked at him. "Isn't it obvious?"

"It's Lila Rossi, isn't it?"

"I prefer calling her 'Lie-la.'"

"Of course you do."

"Anyway," Said Marinette. "It's best if we start as sooner rather than later, this potion takes a while to make."

"I don't get any belly rubs?" He pouted.

"Maybe if you behave, you'll get something better." She teased, patting his head. She got out of bed and stretched again.

"I'm going to get changed. You start breakfast, okay?" She instructed.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About an hour later, Marinette was perched on a wooden stool with her spell book propped open on a reading stand.

"Hey, Kitty. Can you get the cauldron started with some water?" She called.

"Will do!" Cat Noir saluted and went off to complete his assigned task.

As Cat set up the cauldron, Marinette started setting out their required ingredients.

"It's ready." He said after the water started boiling.

"Thank you, Kitty." She placed a quick kiss on his forehead.

"Not that I'm complaining, but all I did was boil some water."

"Then use that as motivation to help me finish this. Now, crush these snake scales." She said, handing him a jar of said snake scales.

"Will I get another kiss?"

"We'll see about that when we're done."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

They spent the morning and a good portion of the afternoon working on the potion. The recipe for the concoction was easy enough. However, it was particularly bothersome to make, as it was required that all the ingredients be boiled separately, then mixed together, and boiled again.

When they finished, they ended up with a single vial of red-black liquid. Now Marinette and Cat Noir just had to figure out how to get Lila to ingest it.

"I think I have an idea. How good are your baking skills?"

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An hour later, Lila Rossi heard a knock on her door. When she went outside to check, she was surprised to be greeted by an empty porch.

"Hello?" She called out, but the only being there other than herself was a small, black cat, sitting near the bushes.

Lila noticed a neatly wrapped package and a card lying near her feet. Curious, she picked it up.

"From your secret admirer." She read the card aloud. Lila opened the package, revealed a dozen red, heart-shaped cookies.

"Oh, how sweet! Though it seems my admirer was too much of a coward to show themselves." She remarked.

If Lila hadn't been as ignorant as she was, she would've noticed a witch hat peeking out of the bushes. She also would have noticed that the seemingly innocent black cat lying in the grass had hissed when she spoke and was now glaring at her.

But Lila was ignorant, among other things, and didn't notice.

She picked up a cookie and took a bite.

"Not bad." She murmured to no one in particular.

She went back inside, unaware of the horrors that were to unfold the next day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Do I get my kiss now?" Cat Noir asked Marinette when they had returned home.

"Not yet, silly Cat." She said, swatting him away as though he were a pesky fly. "I want to see if it worked first."

"And why wouldn't it? It was made by the best witch in the world!"

"Don't flatter me. It won't get you that kiss any sooner."

Cat Noir pouted. "A cat can try."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The next day, Lila Rossi had invited her "friends" on a picnic. Though they weren't really her friends, just people she had managed to woo by lying and deceiving them at every turn.

Her so-called "friends" consisted of Alya Césaire, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Alix Kubdel, Mylène Haprèle, and of course, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Adrien isn't joining us today?" Observed Lila.

"He's busy." Said Marinette through clenched teeth. Adrien Agreste was, in fact, busy. Busy sleeping on Marinette's lap and purring, that is. Adrien hadn't even gotten an invitation to this picnic.

"Anyways. I called you all here today to tell you about something amazing that happened yesterday!" She gushed.

Ah, just as Cat Noir had predicted. If all went according to plan, Lila wouldn't be telling them she had just found some cookies at her doorstep the other day.

"What is it?" Asked Rose, curious.

"You see, yesterday Adrien Agreste showed up at my door with flowers and these expensive flowers and heart cookies! He said that I was the love of his life and asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him I didn't know what to say, so I'd answer him today."

Ah, and so it begins.

She had told three lies. Adrien Agreste had not shown up at her door, he had not called her the love of his life, and she had not said she would get back to him on that.

As expected, her nose grew three inches.

The girls collectively gasped, but Lila thought they had been shocked at her story.

"So, I called you here today to ask you how I could reject him without hurting his feelings." She had lied again. She had really called to tell them this made-up story, and probably get a reaction out of Marinette.

Her nose grew another inch.

"Lila?" Squeaked Rose.

"What?" She asked.

"Um... Your nose..?" Started Alix, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

"What about my nose?" She reached up to touch it, only to be greeted by an extra four inches of cartilage.

Lila screamed. "My nose!"

"Calm down! There's has to be a logical explanation for this!" Said Alya.

"Pinocchio." Said Marinette flatly.

"Huh?" Asked Alya.

"Every time she lies, her nose grows." Explained Marinette, "At least, that's my theory." The girls glared at Marinette.

"Even in this situation, you have the nerve to call me a liar!?" Gasped Lila. "I didn't know you hated me so much! I would never lie to you guys!"

Another inch.

"Lila, what colour is your hair?" Asked Marinette.

"What? Brown, of course! Are you okay, Marinette?"

Her nose did not grow.

Alya seemed to catch on. "Okay, now tell us your eyes are blue." She said.

"You guys know my eye colour! Why are you telling me to do this?" She laughed nervously.

Alya crossed her arms. "Lie to us about your eye colour and prove Marinette either wrong or right, then we'll know what kind of friend you really are."

Lila sighed in defeat. "I-I have blue eyes." She lied.

Another inch.

And that settled it.

"You guys! I've never lied to you before this! I swear!"

Even when she knew she had lost, Lila still kept going, as though she thought her nose would take pity on her and not grow another inch.

The girls (and Cat Noir) got up from the table, angry at Lila's betrayal. They didn't care to help her figure out how this had happened, it served her right! They left her to figure out what to do with her seven-inch nose by herself.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Does the kitty get his kiss now?" Asked Cat Noir. They had arrived home, and Marinette had changed into her pyjamas and was getting ready for bed.

"I never promised." She taunted.

Cat Noir's ears flattened against his head, he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

"I'm just kidding! Silly Kitty!" She sat on her bed and opened her arms in an embrace. "C'mere my Kitten."

One thing she had learned about Cat Nor is that he was a sucker for hugs and cuddles. He displayed this more in his cat form, but as he wrapped his arms around her and curled himself into a ball at her lap, it became apparent he enjoyed cuddles in his human-ish body as well.

He purred. "That's a new one." He murmured.

"Huh?"

"You've never called me 'your kitten' before."

She lifted his chin with his finger, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Well, you are my little kitten, Mon Petit Chaton."

"I like that." His purring continued. "But don't tell me that was supposed to be my kiss."

"'Course not, this is your kiss."

Without any warning, Marinette captured his lips in hers. He almost gasped in surprise, but didn't fight back. Their kiss was short and sweet, and before he knew it, Marinette was pulling away.

"Now, that just won't do." He murmured against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss.

Marinette's eyes widened in surprise, but she kissed back, her hands tangling in his hair as he gripped her waist. She kissed him harder and pulled him closer to her.

They pulled away, panting and red, unsure of what they should do now.

Cat placed a kiss on her forehead. They gazed at each other, a little dazed. Neither of them spoke.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time..." He whispered, breaking the silence.

"Me too."

He nuzzled her cheek, earning a giggle from Marinette.

"It's getting late, Mon Petit Chaton. We should get to sleep now."

Cat Noir crawled off of her, transforming into a cat and curling up at the end of the bed.

"Sleep well, my kitten."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Spaziline’s Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-4E3ElM7Bg&feature=emb_title

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Teeth Marks, Empty Nest, Picking Ritual | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

It’s been a hot minute since I last wrote a Moth Work writing update, and so here we are again for the final countdown! Today’s post will be covering everything related to chapter 12, 13, and 14. Let’s start with Teeth Marks, which I wrote probably sometime in February.

Teeth Marks marks the third part of Moth Work, called Wings, and the first chapter back in Harrison’s POV. I honestly can’t remember much of the writing process as it’s been a while, so let’s dive straight into the scene breakdown!

Scene A: 

We start in the doorway of Eliza’s apartment where Harrison stands shook because a) his boi Lonan has answered it (scandal) and his mother, who he has been estranged from for the last four years, is also in this apartment (EXTRA scandal). Eliza ushers Harrison inside (and this is probably the only *nice* interaction they ever have, spoiler alert!)

Harrison is very shook, and also a little angry, and also a little confused! He doesn’t know why his mother is here, and doesn't understand why Lonan wouldn’t contact him to tell him she is here.

Him and Eliza get into a bit of a scuffle where Eliza is protective of Lonan and is like “who are you mate” and Harrison’s like hahahHA pardON. This leads to Lonan kicking them both out even tho this ain’t even his house!

Scene B:

We now move to the stairwell right outside Eliza’s apartment where she and Harrison have been sitting in awkward silence! Harrison notices she’s wearing his guardian angel necklace (which Lonan mistakenly took back in chapter 6).

This scene is instrumental in setting up how these two interact, which in short, is not! fun! for! either! They try to be civil but can’t help but be protective over Lonan for different reasons. Eliza because they are now sort of in a relationship, and Harrison because hahaha he’s been there, and also because Eliza is Lonan’s father’s ex! Why!

Lonan interrupts this conversation and him and Harrison have a lil private moment even tho Eliza is standing right there aahaha. Eliza leaves which prompts Lonan to go after her, and we end with Harrison all alone in the stairwell like a proper sad boi.

Excerpts:

I previously wrote some mean things about this chapter and am editing it out cuz we tryna be positive! Here’s some tender romance because why not! For context, Harrison has asked Eliza how much she knows about the nature of the boys’ relationship (she knows nothing!!)

He could tell her the truth. About the polaroids left back in Boston. What it felt like to kiss him underwater. What it felt like to dance with him, his clumsy instep. What it felt like to trace each notch of his ribs in the off moments he’d sleep and how wonderful it was, to touch the places his hunger would go. 

Some more romance because yesss:

He pretends they’re alone at the cabin, somewhere on the water, sharing a sleeve of crackers, looking at the moon like it’s the other’s iris, somewhere where constellations read less like hieroglyphics and more like sonnets. 

Let us move onto chapter 13, Empty Nest!

Scene A:

Harrison sits alone at the dinner table watching a TV show in a language he doesn’t speak. His mother interrupts this *chillin* and they get into a heated conversation.

This ends badly for Harrison, to which Lonan (who is presumably arguing with Eliza in her bedroom) comforts him and yeets the two of them outta that apartment! Knight in shining armour babyyyy

Scene B:

Lonan takes Harrison to chapter nine’s beautiful place (the cove).

They chat about their (fallen) relationship and Lonan + Eliza’s relationship that is apparently now flourishing (hahah it actually isn’t)

This turns romantical very fast!!! I am guilty of self-indulgence!!

Excerpts:

EDIT: I originally had an edit in here saying I didn’t have the mental spoons to edit this chapter which is why I wouldn’t share a lot of excerpts! This was very true haha, as I was amidst the worst mental health week I’ve had in years, but guess! who! tried! to! edit! anyway! This obviously was not the best idea and I pushed myself too hard. This led to me doing some crying and beyond that, a decision to take a few days off of writing (despite the fact that I didn’t want to). I’m feeling great now which I’m so grateful for, but just a note! Anyhow!!

This excerpt makes me laugh because it gives me “lonely man sitting on his porch in the prairies” vibe:

No one eats together. Lonan and Suzanna have already taken their pick, and Eliza eats in her room. Harrison hasn’t seen Lonan since he followed Eliza’s empty trail back into the apartment, and he hears him now, between the drone of infomercials and advertisements on the Spanish TV station he doesn’t even understand. Coming from her room, he can picture him, the way Lonan argues, competitive like he’s trying to win something. Suzanna sits on the balcony, maybe hiding a smoke, or something more ridiculous, new age, like an essential oil pen. Ribbons of grey luminescing in the neon lights. Maybe it’s more accurate to say Harrison eats alone. 

This is the excerpt that I had a breakdown editing lmaooo I think it’s cute tho!!

Somewhere better is a beach. Hidden in a cove, the stones arched over seafoam. In the moonlight, sand glitters, water trills, a night owl in the distance wails. Lonan leads him to the cove’s heart, a bullet of clearing that reveals constellations neither recognize. Lonan’s brought a basket with him, unfolds the checked blanket across the shore. Harrison sits first, and observes as Lonan travels the cove’s perimeter, collecting driftwood as he goes. He stacks them into a pyramid at the shore’s lip, pulls out a lighter.

He starts the fire easily, cups the flame like it’s a jittering organism, coaxes it until it expands. The flame tints his jaw gold, glares in his eyes so they look like blue fire. The night halos around ­Lonan, burnishes the cove walls, turns the sand into a mirage. As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired. He holds the fire so it toasts his chin, his focus a delicate, paternal thing.

Picking Ritual is chapter 14 of the book! I wrote this during reading break, and it’s one of my faves a) because of the title and b) because Harrison and Eliza FIGHT (I’m here for the tea).

Scene A:

Lonan and Harrison get back from their self-care-gone-romantical escapade to drunk Eliza creepily sitting in the dark!! Harrison’s mother has left, which Eliza uses as cruel ammo (don’t we love her)!

This is where we really get to see Eliza’s other side as she gets gaslighty as a response to Harrison’s very true callouts

Scene B:

Later, Eliza may or may not purposefully leave her bedroom door open while mildly unholy matters occur that’s all I’m gonna say about that!!!

Scene C:

Eliza leaves her room to “get some orange juice” (she’s trying to get a rise out of Harrison, which works). They roast each other endlessly until Harrison asks her to play a game with him.

Scene D:

This game is a game of cards, which is actually Harrison choosing four cards (king of spades = Lonan’s father, queen of hearts = Eliza, the joker = Lonan, and a jack = Harrison) so he can learn more about each one he chooses for her.

This is where the chapter title comes from!

Excerpts:

The following is a self-roast because my house does all the following (besides magnets on ALL four corners of dishcloths, there’s currently just one. ;) Lonan in this scene is Fiona in that scene in Shrek 2 where Shrek and King Harold are arguing over dinner (CW: there’s a description here that could be potentially triggering for self-harm!).

Suzanna is gone when they get back to Eliza’s apartment. No jacket on the coat hook. No shoes on Eliza’s straw-woven welcome mat. The kitchen has been picked over, each plate, fork, back in its strangely correct place. Eliza keeps her cutlery in jars, and her pans in the oven, her dish cloths magnetted to the fridge by all four corners, a pristineness that feels chemical.

Just as he’s about to comment on it, a light from the living area flicks on, and underneath sits Eliza, paging through a book in the dark. Spots like wine stains on her cheeks shine glassy under the harsh lightbulb.

“She has a place twenty minutes from here. By the public gardens,” she says, running her fingernail against the ribbed spine of the hardcover. Harrison can’t make out the title. When he stares blankly at her, examining the patches on her skin until he’s memorized of their surface area, she clears her throat and shuts the book. “Your mother?”

“I know,” he says.

“That your mother has a place twenty minutes from here?”

“That you were referring to my mother.”

“So you didn’t know?”

ugh I love Harrison and Eliza arguing it’s my fave dynamic:

Eliza stands, and smooths the silk of her night dress, though one crease continues to bunch. She folds her hand into a fist, and brings it to her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she paces. Harrison and Lonan watch her, and Lonan’s about to step toward her when she nods and directs her gaze straight at Harrison. “Did that upset you?” she asks, peeling a sliver of skin up between her teeth, letting it snap back. “The way I spoke of your mother.”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

Oof oof tensions be RISING:

Lonan knocks on Eliza’s door a half hour later and doesn’t come back out. Harrison watches the shut door like he can break through it from the couch, how heavy it sits in its frame like they’ve taken turns smearing caulking in its seams.

The nightglow decolours his chin, his eyes, and he stares at the stars as he did an hour ago with Lonan. He touches his lips, hoping something divine will reappear on his fingers, something divine enough to anoint himself with. Nothing does, of course, but he tries, dappling each groove of his mouth. 

Here’s some Eliza being Eliza :)

He should tell her to buy some curtains. The sliding door’s glass opens to her balcony where his mother stood, pouring onto the busy street below her apartment complex. He can almost perfectly replicate the image of his mother with just his fingertip, a familiarity of her unknown, but unconsciously memorized by him. Suzanna has traded her only pair of shoes—a dingy set of floral flip-flops—for boots with silver zippers, steel toes, heels perfected by a designer she has a connection to. He thinks of his mother with sour precision, a sugary glumness that makes his mouth heavy.

He still wears the angel Lonan re-fastened around his neck and examines it against the belly of the two-seater Lonan once slept on.

She’s lost a stone from where he threw it, almost unnoticeably in the corner where her wings meet her back. He runs his finger over the empty spot, a nearly undetectable groove, and wonders how difficult it would be to find it in the tooth of Eliza’s hardwood.

Just as he’s prepared to get up and find out, the heavy door jars open. Wider than he’s expecting, so he can see Lonan from the couch. Arranged against a pillow, his hair disappearing into the dark wood of Eliza’s bedhead. His eyes closed, a tremor that rocks through his forehead every few seconds. And then quickly, Eliza shuffling through the opening. She wears a kimono patterned with koi fish, the fabric rustling against her bare thighs as she enters the kitchen.

Harrison watches her through his eyelashes, her half-up hairdo falling toward her face, the flash of skin pale, like the peel of the moon.

She grabs a glass he washed and fills it from the sink. Once a bulb forms across the surface, she tips it to her lips, and swallows deliberately.

Harrison watches as she checks the sink for unwashed dishes she knows aren’t there. As she adjusts a placement on her table that doesn’t need adjusting. As she spins herself on her toes around the kitchen island, her kimono splaying so he sees flashes of her thighs again. She dances like this back to her bedroom, where she sets her water glass on the dresser, and keeps the door wide open. 

I can’t not share this part I apologize there is some spice but also Harrison’s iconic Gay (TM) takedown at the end brings me so much joy:

Eliza exits the room a half hour later, except this time, doesn’t dance. Still, she steps carefully, her toes taut as she patters against the floorboards. Harrison watches her with his arms crossed, and stays like that, even when they make eye contact.

She startles and re-adjusts her kimono, so the clip of her skin disappears. She’s combed her hair since she and Lonan finished, and it sits gauzy over her forehead.

“Have you ever thought of buying a deadbolt?” he says, watching carefully as she turns and grabs a glass from a cabinet.

The refrigerator thrills when she opens it, a wash of gaudy tungsten yellowing her face. She sucks on her lip as she pulls out a bottle of orange juice, glugging a cupful into her mouth first, and then into a glass. 

“A deadbolt,” she says, a lightness in her voice—false innocence. “Why?”

“I’ve heard good things. Security. Privacy. You live alone, don’t you?”

She juts the orange juice to her lip fast, her chin bucking like she’s taking a shot. “I do.”

“You’re planning on keeping it that way?”

Eliza drains the last of the orange juice and rests the glass in the sink. She flicks on the tap so a stream splashes into its mouth like somersaults, diluting the juice until the glass cleans.

“There must be someone,” Harrison elaborates. He shifts, so his legs hang off the couch’s edge. The hardwood is cold, and for a moment, he feels like he’s stepping on water. “You’re seeing people, aren’t you? You live in Las Vegas. Good job. Decent apartment.”

Eliza shakes off the wet glass and sets it on the drying rack. “Are you interested?”

“I’m gay, but thanks. How does that work, anyway? Dating you. Would I send in an application? Self-addressed stamped envelope and all? Email?”

ugh more iconic Harrison I love him:

Harrison’s eyes focus on the lip balm and he imagines Lonan putting it there, his finger moving across her mouth and then down, like an anointment. “Isn’t that such a coincidence, then? You’re so selective, yet you manage to date two members of the same family.”

Her smile fades. Eliza clucks her tongue and wipes her mouth quickly with the back of her hand. Thoughtlessly, she refills the clean glass with more orange juice, and only realizes her mistake after the liquid sits precisely at the rim of the cup.

“Shit,” she says, wringing her hand out. “Shit.”

“I’ll drink it,” he says, and is already up and at the kitchen island before she puts another hand on the glass. Eliza almost scowls, but chews on her gums when she catches herself. She slides the glass across the granite, and a blip of orange juice jitters onto the surface. Harrison dabs his pinky in it and sucks it into his mouth. “I want to ask you a favour.”

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

He puts a hand against the fridge before she can move past him, and Eliza sighs, weaves her arms haughtily over her chest. “Cards.” The fridge rumbles to life under his fingertips, and Eliza jumps. “Play a game with me,” he says.

Sharing because of Harrison’s roast at the end, it’s really just one of those days:

Eliza’s a good shuffler. Easily, she dices the cards, the hard split of their edges when he usually shuffles almost non-existent. He’s only ever met one other person who can shuffle like her—his mother.

Harrison sips the orange juice as she shuffles the deck. In all truth, he doesn’t need the cards to be shuffled—he knows exactly which ones he needs. But her ease intrigues him, and he can’t help but feel mesmerized with each flitter of the deck.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks after another long pull of juice.

She cuts the deck and continues. “My father.”

“I didn’t know you had parents.”

“I didn’t know your mother had children.”  

“I don’t think she knows either.”

Eliza rests the shuffled deck onto the countertop and nudges it toward him. He hasn’t told her what game they’re going to play, and as Harrison searches for his necessary cards, the prickle of her gaze deadens. He keeps at task, combing each card and pulling out the needed.             

“I would’ve liked to know.” Eliza says this nimbly. “You look like her.”        

Another pick. “Every son wants to look like their mother. What a dream.”      

“I meant that as a good thing.”

“And I meant what I said as a bad thing.” 

What a way to end this update lol! 

I’ll be back soon with an update for the final chapter in this book! I hope y’all have been okay in these times, I know it’s not easy. Let me know what you’re working on!

--Rachel

[undecidedpersonality]

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Twenty-Three: Poison

Title: “The Royal Murderer”

By: Nalijah Daniels

Word Count: 1874

Genre: Fiction - Fantasy

CW: murder, death, public execution, sacrifice, 

I might as well have been a lab rat under bright-white observation lights. The beige uniform was baggy on my thinning body and made it uncomfortable to sleep. All it did was twist around my body, yanking me out of my dreamless sleep to struggle with it until it was back in place. Every night was like that. Just like every day was the same.

The blinding lights turn on at exactly 8 a.m. I flip onto my stomach and push my face into the thin pillow, trying to make the space behind my closed eyes as dark as possible. The heavy door on the opposite wall slides open, activated by the fingerprint of my security guard, Manuel. He used to be nice to me until I was caught halfway through my only possible escape plan and put his job on the line. I always smile at him when he forces me to sit up on the bed and hauls me out of the room, gripping around my arm just below the armpit. He hasn’t smiled back in 167 days. I know this because I’ve been counting on the wall with a tiny piece of chalk left here from who knows what. I’ve been here for 378 days in total. I marked the day Manuel stopped smiling with a small ‘x’ at the top. Day 211.

Once we’re through the door of my cell, we turn left, a long curve of concrete walls stretch ahead of us. There’s no other doors until we get to the bathroom. This is the only positive part about my prisoner gig; I’m allowed showers every other day. When I was younger, rumors spread around town that royal prisoners were only allowed to shower once a month. Apparently the hygiene of a criminal doesn’t matter. Don’t even get me started on their rumored food schedules. I imagine they let me shower this often because when they finally get to show off my dead body to the public––they’re gonna want to do that––it would be off-putting to see grime on the beautiful young body and face of a twenty-year-old girl, no matter how dangerous I was.

The water shoots out of the rusted head high on the wall at first with a sputter, then a steady stream, pelting my body with near scalding water. The smooth water beads rolling over my body has been the only positive touch I’ve gotten in over a year. I glance over my shoulder to Manuel standing in the opposite corner of the square room, his eyes trained on the wall across from him, hands clasped behind his back. I put an innocent smile on my face and whistle, trying to catch his attention. I’m never getting out of here alive, and he already hates me, so I might as well have as much fun playing mind games as I can. I begin to ramble about anything that I think might draw his eyes towards me. Why I hate the new Duke. My longing for the touches of my pre-imprisonment lovers. My yearning to step under the night sky and not see it through a small barred window five feet above my head. I even begin to sway my bare hips and sing an old lullaby about marriage. I don’t even get a muscle spasm in response.

I roll my eyes when he continues to ignore me and drop the act to focus my mind on something else. Just like every other dull moment, my mind manages to drift to why I’m here. I sacrificed myself for my younger brother, who was almost imprisoned for keeping my identity a secret. Even though they knew my real name, Izetta Llewellyn, they had called me The Royal Murderer around town. The townies whispered around me in the shopping center when I snuck through in disguise, none of them knowing I was right there.

Once, I was the right hand woman of the Duchess, happily waiting on her hand and foot as soon as I turned fifteen. Despite our ten-year age gap, we were the best of friends, the sister I never had. She made sure that my position as her young lady-in-waiting wasn’t taken too seriously so that I could still have “good ol’ teenage fun.” She trusted me with all of her secrets, including how the Duke berates her while throwing her around in their private residence. I helped undo her dress the evening she told me and saw the lightening bruises across her sides and stomach. He told her that he’s only going to stop abusing her because she’s pregnant, but that he wasn’t afraid to punish her again if she messed up just bad enough. I was eighteen then. I wasn’t going to let that possibility happen.

Being young and trusted meant I had a lot of access to the kingdom. I was  never seen as a threat. The tapestries of rich color and stitching that hung down over the charcoal gray stone walls familiar to me in every hallway but one. The one that I walked down that fatal day had paintings with details of greens, golds, and white. The Duke’s favorite color scheme. They were the colors he adorned himself in to attend his most important events. I rapped on the doorframe to his open study and stood with my hands folded in front of me, waiting for him to look up.

He greeted me kindly, like I truly was the little sister-in-law he never had. He often ruffled my hair when seeing me, telling me just how much the Duchess adored me. As if I didn’t know. I put a small smile on my face to appear to be that same honorable, innocent, young girl. When he invited me into the room, I didn’t let much time pass. I would need as much time as possible to get out from the kingdom walls and off the grounds in order to not be caught. They would know it was me. The cameras caught and kept everything they weren’t told to delete.

When I plunged the dagger into his stomach, a true smile, honest and wide, spread on my face as I stared into his angry and scared eyes. They were hard set on mine, yet darting to figure out how to help himself as I whispered into his ear everything that I knew, telling him how happy I was that he would never be able to do them again. 

I’m still not sorry.

I learned I was immune to poison when they caught me. My older brother had been hiding me for a year when royal guard’s found out he was The Royal Killer’s accomplice. They dragged him into town square, pushing him onto his knees on the bottom step of the dais the royal family sat on for public events, like execution. Knowing what this would do to my mother and father––knowing that would be my fault for my brother’s conviction––I wasted no time revealing myself. I pulled the dark cloak’s hood from my head as I stepped out of a shadowed corner, declaring that they could take my life in exchange for my brother’s safe return home. My brother looked at me with wide eyes––bewilderment, terror, and rage dancing across his face–– because I wouldn’t let them take him. He wanted me to be safe from them, but there was no extra time wasted as I got dragged to his place.

The kingdom was never one for mutilating people, no matter how bad their crime, so they could keep their status to their citizens as classy and not blood hungry. Public murders were cold and emotionless instead, making everyone watch the person’s life disappear behind their eyes after forcing them to swallow a vile of poison. The toxin levels were what made the punishment. Some simply fainted in mere seconds and were gone. Others, like the one intended for me, would seize the person’s body for multiple minutes, leaving them writhing and screaming in agony on the ground, unable to pull themselves up and away from the pain. When I was younger watching these events, I had always imagined the toxins feeling like fires burning your body from the inside out, your bones snapping under the pressure of heat until you were nothing but a sack of flesh laying on the ground. None of that happened to me.

After sitting on my knees, waiting for the pain to seize me––nothing. The crowd murmured and the royal family, sitting at the top of the dais the whole time, began to stir. Before I could attempt to run off, I was hauled up by four guards to be taken to the cell I’ve been in ever since. As they marched me past, I saw the Duchess who was already staring at me. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the arms of her chair but her face was soft, one tear falling down her left cheek before I could no longer see her.

The shower water shuts off. My fifteen minutes of warmth finished. I’m hauled back the same way I came after toweling off and putting on a fresh uniform. Now for my first meal of the day.

They never give me much, just enough to put what they hope is the right dose of this and that chemical mixture to end me once and for all. This time it’s a muffin, banana nut. I hate banana nut muffins, but I have no choice but to consume it. Manuel would force it into my mouth if he had to like the first couple of days that I was here.

I lower my head to the plate to stiff it. I expected to be solely repulsed by the sweet banana smell but a wave of nausea washes over me instead. This other thing, I don’t actually smell, but its toxic makeup sends warning signals to my brain right away. I’ve never experienced this before, this sickness. When I look up at Manuel, his eyes burn into mine and he smiles, cruel and excited, breaking the streak.

Letting out a slow breath, I try to swallow but the tightness in my throat makes it nearly impossible. For the first time in 378 days, I am scared. I lift my hands from resting in my lap and they feel heavy, the muffin making them even heavier as I cup it in my hands. My breathing becomes more ragged as I close my eyes and lift the muffin to my mouth. My lips begin to tingle just from touching the muffin to my lips. I try once to open my mouth to take a bite and can’t bring myself to do it. My final bite. I know it will be. Opening my eyes, the white lights and everything it encompasses is blurry and shakes. I don’t know when I started crying. My mouth is finally able to open wide enough to sink my teeth into just one edge of the buttery pastry. The sweet and salty taste seizes my heart before I’m able to swallow and I gasp for air that isn’t there anymore.

This time they found my kryptonite. This time I die.