#end your free day? ;; queue

[14dayswithyou]

Kiara has been banned from the library???

WHAT DID GIRLYPOP DO 😭‼️There are several other patrons with disgustingly unacceptable behavior — just look at the stains on the shelves and carpet! I demand to speak with the manager RIGHT THIS SECOND!!☝️

FREE HERRRR

/silly

Kiara set her sibling up on a date with Teo, so now she's unfortunately doomed to— *comically loud sound of books falling down a staircase* —which then leads to the unfortunate set of events involving Elanor during Day— *Conan's absurdly loud dad sneeze can be heard from his office* —Oh!! And also, if Teo is kept alive, then in Day T— *sounds of someone blowing up the employee lounge again* —So in saying all of that, Kiara has been banned on account of— *who tf is operating a forklift inside the library????* —...But what's this about stains on the shelves?? ^^

[jtownraindancer]

missing my second favourite revolutionary spy played by burn gorman tonight 🇬🇧

[dangaer]

one of the things to remember about amne.sia memories is that it's all connected and all the li's know each other, but there's still two distinct groups as shown in these two pv's ive recently found:

to.ma and sh.in playing guitar, rocking out together, true ballad, smiling at one another vs

ikk.i, ken.t and uk.yo spending time in the sunshine. sad and nostalgic. if you did not know them or their perfectly matched outfits / motifs you could seriously mistake these as two different oto.mes.

[bratbarzal]

Sunsets in the Summer (LH43)

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader (a follow up to LIH/TSOU - reading is encouraged but not required to enjoy)

WC: 9.6k

Description/Warnings: some brief snapshots into the LIH!lovers second summer together while they figure out their flow as a couple - fluffy, suggestive interactions and mentions of sexual acts (including some brief hand action but not a detailed description) with fade-to-black smut, no angst!! hallelujah (some brief insecurity but not expanded on enough to be angsty), usual amounts of sarcasm and banter and cursing probably- rushed tbh so doesn't flow too well but I think it's cute lmao

A/N: I WAS GOING TO QUEUE THIS TO POST WHILE I'M AWAY IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS BUT IT IS MEG'S BIRTHDAY SO I PUT MY ASS TO WORK TO GET THIS DONE!!! PURE FLUFFY BLISS FOR THE ICON THE LEGEND AND THE MOMENT HERSELF!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY @star2fishmeg I LOVE YOU A LOT HOPE YOU HAVE YOUR DOLLS TO HAND AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! (if anyone reading this hasn't already send your love to meg bc she deserves it!! from the day I posted LIH part 1, she's been nothing but supportive and wonderful to me, and 3 seconds on her page will show you she's one of the kindest-natured and most wonderful people on here)

I had a couple requests for Luke and LIH!reader's first proper date, and one that was for how they spend their summer, so I sort of combined them to create this, it's a bit of an unstructured jumble of little moments between them, but I hope you guys don't mind it turned into a hybrid of requests! If you do want me to write individual moments feel free to send in another request, I don't really ever want to let these two go!! But to answer the question about their first date specifically - I genuinely think they just jump right into cutesy/dorky date nights, and Luke would eventually deep that they haven't done anything ~grown together - which is where the idea for the end of this really came from 💕

It doesn’t take long for you and Luke to get into a routine once you’ve come back out to Michigan in the summer.

You spend most of your days together - aside from when he’s at a check up or a physio appointment, or you’re out with Ellie or a few of your other friends still lingering in the area - and end up back in the same place every night - curled up against Luke’s good side in bed, your leg slung over his, and your face smushed into his peck by the time you wake in the morning.

Except for the few times he’s up before you.

Like now, when your eyes flutter open slowly to an empty space beside you.

His pillow is a little crinkled, his sheets are haphazardly straightened back out, and the spot where he had been laid is still warm - so you know he can’t be far.

After relieving your bladder and brushing your teeth, you slip into a shirt he had strewn across the chair of the little vanity he had set up for you, letting it fall to the top of your thighs as you amble throughout the house with little regard for anyone else you might bump into.

You sort of have a one-track mind when it comes to mornings with your boyfriend, and you honestly forget to consider who might not want to catch a slight glimpse of your ass cheeks so early in the day.

You find him in the kitchen, as assumed, and you almost think you’re half asleep when you take in the state of him.

His hair is a soft but unruly mess, and his briefs are so barely pulled up you can almost see his ass cheeks - as perfect as they are - the structured muscles of his back almost forming an arrow to point down, and you can only see those muscles because he’s for some reason wearing one of your shirts. How he got that on, unassisted, with the sling, you’ll never know. 

You’d laugh if it wasn’t so hot - if the fabric wasn’t stretched so tight across his broad shoulders that it makes him look even thicker.

And because you can’t laugh, you pretty much groan as you draw in on him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and pressing your face into his back.

“Morning, baby,” he drawls, his voice raspy and low, and good god, you’re fighting to consider the fact you aren’t alone in the house. You’d climb him like a god-damn tree already if you were.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his spine, your palms flat in the strip of stomach between your top and his briefs, and his skin is so warm you want to keep your hands there forever.

“Making you breakfast,” he says, wriggling a little out from your embrace so that he can show you - two slices of toast with unevenly chopped banana, and an adorable, crooked smiley face drawn on each one with honey. 

You love him so much.

It must slip out without you even realising it because he turns in your hold, his free hand travelling slowly down your body until it lands at your hip and pull you flush to his, and he tells you that he loves you too.

He leans down for a kiss - sugary sweet, like he’d licked his fingers or something from the syrupy residue of honey on them - and you lean into it, revelling of the feeling of his large hand slowly curling around the back of you, fingers curling around the globes of your ass and squeezing.

And you let him turn the two of you until the base of your spine is pressed back into the counter, your hands running through his unruly curls and your tongue chasing more and more of the sweetness of his kiss.

“People eat in here,” you hear Jack as he steps into the kitchen, and you part from Luke slowly, slipping another peck against his lips before you glance around his slinged-shoulder at his older brother.

“What do you think we’re doing?”

You don’t even intend the double entendre, but seeing his face curl up in disgust almost makes it worth it.

“Too early for your crap, dude,” Luke huffs, his hand still in place, and you see him wince when he cranes his neck back.

“What is this, Freaky Friday?” Jack snorts as he opens the fridge, nodding towards the two of you and your weird clothes-swap mishap.

You bite your tongue to stop yourself mocking him straight back, and Luke spares you a knowing look as he waits for Jack to get what he assumes is the greek yoghurt he usually has for breakfast and go back upstairs.

He’s been getting on your last nerve all week, and he knows it.

Ellie is away on another family vacation, already, and you’re pretty sure Jack has formed an alliance with Quinn to cock-block you and Luke to fill his time, but you’re hardly gonna point the finger.

You’re trying to be better.

“Freaky Friday is where they swapped lives, not clothes.”

“You knew what I meant,” Jack huffs, slamming the fridge closed behind him and glaring at the two of you as he grabs a spoon out of the cutlery drawer for his yoghurt. “You look like a dork.”

“You-,”

And Luke’s hand on your ass squeezes before you can carry on, like a warning.

“Don’t you all have training this morning?”

“Gonna be leaving in ten,” Jack confirms, “So if you two could maybe wait until we’re gone to be gross, we’d all appreciate it.”

You press your lips together, a sardonic smile flashed toward him when he smirks over at you, and you watch as he retreats - the tension only seeping from your shoulders when he’s out of sight and out of mind.

“Maybe that can be our thing,” Luke leans forward and mumbles into the curve of your neck, just low enough for the sound not to travel in case Jack is still around, and the combination of his hand grazing the soft flesh of your thigh beneath the hem of his t-shirt, and the way his lips just brush the sensitive skin below your ear makes your breath hitch in your throat. “Freaky Fridays,”

Your eyes flutter shut as you shudder against his him, “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about swapping clothes?”

“We could have a fuck-it list,” and you can hear the smirk without even opening your eyes to look at him, “Cross off all sorts of positions while everyone’s out training on Friday mornings,”

“You’re not gonna be in that sling forever, babe,” you chuckle, finally looking up at him craning your neck a little due to the proximity, and he stays leaning, your nose almost bumping his where he’s in the same position. “You’re gonna end up joining them at some point.”

“All the more reason for us to get started immediately,” his eyes glimmer with mischief when you meet them, “No time to waste.”

You can’t even bring yourself to fight it when he’s looking at you like that - all charming and intentional - not that you want to, anyway. You’re not oblivious to how weirdly fortunate the two of you are to be in this situation, as much as his injury was upsetting at first. It’s the only reason you have so much alone time with him, even this early in the summer. 

And you’ve been limited thus far - the start of your relationship being a little jumpy between the end of his season, the end of your school year, and everything that followed with his injury and you going back home. You’ve barely had the opportunity to bask in the honeymoon period - especially now that you’re at the house and his brothers are around.

“Fine,” you acquiesce, “Fuck it.”

The two of you barely make it the promised ten minutes before he’s propped up against the headboard of the bed you now share, and you’re straddling his lap - following the seams of his sling along his chest with kisses that make his spine tingle, and he’s listing off all the positions he says he’s wanted you in since you first hooked up last year.

While the two of you slowly work your way through Luke’s Fuck-It List - a little limited when it comes to his current lack of mobility - you also make more of an effort to do things just the two of you.

It starts with movies, because of course it does, and Luke insists you go to watch them at the actual movie theatre. You share a bucket of popcorn, and you rest comfortably under his arm slung over your shoulders, and it all feels so normal and right.

And you do that a couple of times before you decide to switch it up a bit. If you’re going to be making the conscious effort to start up date nights, you should really be trying out different things, you think.

Which is what has you sat behind the wheel of Luke’s BMW and driving him to an undisclosed destination, drowning out his constant questions about it by turning the radio up, and singing along to his country music playlist he’s been forcing on you for too long, now.

You’re quite proud of this idea for a first attempt, and you can’t help but glance over to gauge his reaction when you pull up to the venue and put the car into park. He’s quiet as he works his way out of the car, still insistent on being a gentleman and opening your door despite his shoulder.

“Mini golf?” He asks as he helps you out of the car, his fingers interlacing with yours as you hit the gravel and bump the driver’s side door shut with your hip. “This is your genius date idea?”

“You said you felt left out at the course,” you pout, sidling up beside him until you’re pressed together, craning your neck up a little to meet his eye, “I wanted to give you the next best thing while you’re still in the sling.”

“I’d still need two working arms for a putter, babe,” he chuckles, lifting his arm over your head with your hand still in his until it’s wrapped around your shoulder, your hips bumping as you walk side by side up to the kiosk. 

“You could beat me with no arms and a blindfold, I’m pretty sure,” you tell him, “But if you want to go somewhere else we can, I just thought this would be cool. It’s nice out tonight, and I don’t think there’s any chance of your brothers gatecrashing.”

Luke hums, leaning a little to press his lips to the side of your head, “It is nice to get out from under Quinn’s supervision,” he agrees, and you smile up at him when you register the levity of his tone. “Can barely look at you without him having something to say about it.”

“Imagine the scandal if you knocked me up at mini golf,” you gasp, and he gives one of those easy, heart warming laughs that almost make you stumble in your step. “We might have to fake a scare, just to send him into cardiac arrest.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re the one who loves me,” you shrug, reaching into your back pocket for your phone when you reach the cashier, keeping a hold of Luke’s good hand despite him trying to pull it away so he can’t sneak his own card forward to pay. The teenager behind the counter hands over two putters and two balls without even glancing up from his own phone, and you twirl out from under Luke’s arm, pulling him up the path toward the start of the course. 

“You gonna let me stand behind you and tell you what to do?” He asks as he follows you, smiling despite the fact you’re facing away from him at the quick burst of laughter you release.

“When have I ever let you tell me what to do?”

“Was worth a try,” and he’s still smiling, big and broad, when you swivel back on your heels to face him. You drop his hand to give the putter over, and throw the balls down onto the start of the first hole, kicking one onto the line and the other off to the side.

“I’ll tell you what,” you look up at him as you step closer, “Why don’t we make things interesting?”

“Interesting, how?” He smirks, a teasing tilt of his head causing your lips to twitch up.

“I don’t know,” you hum, edging just a little more toward him, “Winner gets-,”

“Head,” he finishes, almost immediately, and your eyes widen in response, hardly expecting the speed in which it comes out of him. It’s not exactly like the two of you haven’t been intimate back at the house - you’re making steady progress with the list - but there is the whole hardly ever alone thing to consider. “In the car, so no one back home can interrupt.”

“That was quick,” you snort, pressing your fingertips into the flat surface of his belly, avoidant of his sling, feeling the ridges of definition beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’ve been giving that a lot of thought, huh?”

“Got a lot to time to think when we’re in the car and I’m not the one driving,” he explains, “Don’t have to focus on the road, so I get to look at you,” he coos, craning his neck a little and seemingly pushing past the slight discomfort when he does so, dipping to your level, “Get to think about your pretty mouth when you’re singing along to the radio.”

And it makes your spine tingle, just how easy it is to slip in a sweet observation with something so forward. He’s so good at doing that - masking burning desire with gentle adoration. 

“Fine, winner gets head,” you agree, extending onto your tiptoes to make closing the distance easier, and softly pecking at his waiting lips until you part with a teasing smile, because kissing him seems so much more efficient than a handshake to seal the deal.

“Beauty before brains,” he offers, pointing to the starting line with his putter and quickly avoiding your attempt at a playful shove.

You step up, anyway.

The first hole is an easy one, although you know from past experience at this exact course - a favourite amongst your sorority sisters for bonding activities - that there’s a trick to a good shot. 

The last time you were here, you figured out that aiming for one of the stones that line the green is the key to a hole in one - and you shoot your shot with ease, the ball ricocheting off the surface and making its way straight to the desired target. All you can do is watch with a smile.

“Oh my God,” he groans, staring wide eyed as the ball putts and drop into the hole with an almost comical plonk, “You’re hustling me!”

“Who, me?” You gasp, feigning offence with a slacked jaw and widened eyes - both of which do little to hide the smile that’s twitching at the corners of your mouth. “I’d never.”

You bite your lip in amusement as he stands there, his gaze lingering on the course like he can’t quite believe you just potted a hole in one, already, and you amble up beside him, curling a hand around his free bicep and leaning up.

“You want me to stand behind you and tell you what to do?”

“You’re going down,” he scoffs, shrugging you off to tee himself up at the starting line.

“No, baby,” you call out, pointing your putter over to him as he looks back at you, his own pretty lips parted in defiance as you wink and tell him, “You are.”

You think it’s sort of embedded into the very fibres of your relationship that you and Luke will always resort back to movies - and for as much as you’ve been trying other options for dates, like the arcade where he thrashed you at air hockey, or the trips to the mall, where Luke thought buying one thing from each joint in the food court would be a good idea and you had to drive home with your jeans unbuttoned from the bloating - so it’s no surprise when the weather’s acting up, and you still don’t really like venturing out anywhere during a storm, Luke has the genius idea to finally sit you through the entire Star Wars movie franchise, beginning to end.

It’s something you’ve been putting off for a while, and it’s not that you’re against it, per se, but the thought of having to dedicate the brain power to remembering a bunch of random stuff almost gives you a headache.

The two of you are just settling in together on the couch, practically knotted up like pretzels with the way you’re snuggling up to him, when Jack and Quinn return from the store with Cole Caufield in tow.

“Sick, it’s like a home theatre in here,” Cole exclaims as he leads Quinn and Jack into the room, the eldest sibling biting back a knowing smile when he meets Luke’s horrified gaze, “What are we watching?”

“We’re not watching anything,” Luke gestures between the lot of them with his good hand around your shoulder, before he angles his head down toward you, “We’re watching Star Wars.”

“Prequels first?” Jack gasps as he reaches for the case by the TV, flashing the cover back over to you, “That’s not okay.”

“Good thing you’re not the one watching, Jack,” Luke argues back, and he visibly loses the will to argue when all three of them sink down onto the remaining couches and seemingly get comfortable. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s raining out, Luke, what else are we supposed to do?”

“Literally anything, anywhere else?”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, cozying up a little extra, because it sort of works in your favour to have them insert themselves into this situation. “They’re right, we can’t hog the TV.”

“Yeah, Lukey, you can’t hog the TV.”

You roll your eyes and ignore Jack, settling back into Luke’s side and absentmindedly stroking at his belly as the movie tees up - and what starts off as unintentional, innocent petting, slowly drifts as time ticks on. 

“What are you doing?” Luke whispers covertly, eyes stuck on the screen as your fingers trace along the bare skin that is revealed between his hoodie and his sweats, scratching softly until you can move the elastic a little to unveil more of his hipbone.

You know you shouldn’t tease him - but your whole plan to get out of sitting through Star Wars in the first place was to try and distract him - and the only thing you can think of that’s worse than sitting through all three prequels is sitting through them with his brothers around. 

“Just touching,” you whisper back innocently, nails tickling at what you know is very sensitive skin.

“You’re teasing,” he corrects you, a quick flash of a knowing gaze sent down at you, but his hips still shuffle beneath your touch - like he’s giving you further access - and your lips twist at the movement.

There are telltale signs of arousal - sharp intakes of breath when your touch travels a little too low to be innocent, the constant rolling of his neck and shoulders like he’s trying to keep his head in the game, and, obviously, a shift in the front of his sweatpants, a subtle, gradual tent forming beneath the fabric that becomes harder and harder to ignore, no pun intended. 

“You don’t seem to mind.”

Luke sighs as he shuffles again, his eyes darting to where his brothers and Cole sit on the other couches, making sure none of them are looking before he looks back down at you.

Your eyes lock on his as you bite back a smile - a wordless agreement between you both taking place, and you wriggle up a little, yourself, from where you’re situated against his side - high enough that you can sort of cover the movement of your hand with the rest of your body, and press a firm kiss the the sharp line of his jaw.

He can’t help the satisfied hum that comes out when your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his pants, edging down slowly, and it only takes a second to realise he isn’t even wearing underwear.

You try not to giggle into his flesh, nipping playfully as you move in your ministrations.

He probably had no intention of sitting the whole way through Star Wars, himself - not tonight, at least.

“Who’s teasing now?” You barely even make a sound, so close to his ear that you don’t need to and he can make out what you’re saying, “Commando, Luke, really?”

He smirks, and you see the smile settle as he stays looking forward.

“You get handsy when you’re bored.” 

“Oh, now I’m predictable?”

He glances down before he meets your eye again, quirking his brow in a wordless response, as if to say, am I wrong?

And the only way to bite back a scoff is to kiss him - a kiss that starts out soft and subtle, but escalates before you even realise. His palm caresses your cheek, long, slender fingers tucking your hair behind your ear,  your hand is down his pants, and your tongue is in Luke’s mouth, his soft lips closing around the muscle until the sloppy sound of him sucking on it is too loud to mask. 

And then you’re knocked out of your reverie with a harsh smack of a pillow against your back - the two of you darting apart and your hands slipping out from under his waistband. 

“What the fuck?” Luke whines, and you both glare in the direction of the other three guys in the room - the three guys you, honestly, shamefully forgot were even there for a second.

“Knock it off, you’re being gross.” Jack frowns, leaning differently in the absence of a cushion behind him. 

“Yeah, keep it PG, you two,” Quinn adds, “I’m under strict instruction to keep an eye on you both.”

“Ew,” you frown, “It’s giving Peeping Tom.”

“No, it’s not,” he scoffs, despite the way Luke snorts out laughter from beside you, “It’s giving responsible older brother.”

“It’s giving dude who isn’t getting laid,” Cole chimes in, and you and Luke simultaneously hum in agreement just to annoy Quinn even further.

If they’re all going to intrude on your date night, the two of you may as well have your fun with it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Quinn turns his attention to the blonde currently lounging back into the opposite couch, “Do you want to sit here all night and witness those two swapping spit and getting handsy?”

“I can think of worse ways to spend my Friday,” Cole shrugs, and the rest of you all let out some form of grossed out exclamation - Luke shuffling out from beneath you to throw the pillow back in his general direction - watching as it smacks straight against Cole’s face and cuts off whatever the hell he’s about to add onto that about you.

“We’re going upstairs,” Luke huffs, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing your hand - and you don’t put up any sort of protest, obviously,letting him drag you behind him as he throws out a, “You’re on a 24 hour timeout from even looking at my girlfriend,” he jabs a pointed finger towards Cole, and you bite back a smile at how hot you find his possessiveness - a trait he so rarely lets take over, but you can’t help but get excited when he does.

And as gross as the thought of Caufield watching you was - and as much as you sort of know he’s joking - you’re honestly thankful, because Luke isn’t the kind of guy to let that slide when you’re both safe behind the closed door of your shared bedroom, and he’s pushing you back onto the bed before you even have a chance to think about it.

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost.”

You watch Luke’s tongue poke out of his mouth in concentration as he dramatically swipes the paintbrush against the canvas you set up for him earlier - the bare back of which has been taunting you for at least fifteen minutes since you finished your own portrait.

Tiktok said this would be cute.

Painting each other as you share a pizza and sip at what is quite honestly a borderline undrinkable glass of wine - you won’t be trusting Luke on a liquor store run ever again. 

But you probably overestimated your creative abilities.

Your portrait of Luke looks like a haunted blob of sickly pale skin and messy brown curls, and the longer he takes to paint you, the longer it stares back at you and you hate it.

He’s gonna hate it - and what was supposed to be a sweet, stay-at-home date idea, turned into something stupid.

You feel stupid, and maybe it’s the extra fifteen minutes he’s spent perfecting his creation that’s making you feel worse.

“It isn’t being hung in the Louvre, Luke,” you roll your eyes, leaning forward onto the table with your chin tucked in the clammy palm of your hand. 

“That’s what you think,” he snorts, finally laying the brush flat on the surface beside his easel and tilting his head to peak at you from the side. “I’m finished.”

“Okay, who’s going first?”

“Uhh,” he narrows his eyes at his own work before they flick back up to meet yours, “You first,”

And you can’t help but pout a little as you grasp at either side of the canvas, fingers clenching a little as you build up the nerve.

“I’m not an artist, okay,” you glance over at him, a begging look in your like a silent plea to take it easy on you, “It isn’t the best.”

“Baby,” he pouts back, “You could have smeared your boogers on there and I’d love it.”

“That’s disgusting,” you cringe, but the sentiment sort of helps you build up the courage to flip your easel around, wincing as you watch and wait for his reaction.

He stares at it for what feels like a whole minute, gaze going side to side and up and down like he’s taking in every single brushstroke, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of his feedback.

“Do I have a lazy eye?”

“What? No,” you frown, quickly swivelling it back to take another look. His eyes are a little crooked - you’re drinking wine, you're bound to have a shaky hand - but you wouldn’t call them lazy. “Is it that bad?”

“It's no worse than mine," he snickers, pushing his chair back and nodding his head to the side of him - a gesture for you to come over, and when you do, and you're stood before him, he parts his legs for you to perch yourself on one of his thick, muscular thighs. 

You circle your arms around his neck, trying to balance yourself and ignore the heat in his gaze when he watches you do such a mundane and routine thing, his hands gripping at your waist to help you.

“See,” he nods toward the painting, “I’d personally hang it on our wall but I think it’s obvious why.”

Despite the fact you don’t think you’ll ever get over him referring to anything in this house as part-yours, you manage to gloss over that small fact when you take in the monstrosity in front of you.

It’s so bad your jaw drops a little, and you try not to outwardly laugh to avoid offending him.

“Luke-,”

“Before you start-,”

“You started with my boobs didn’t you!” You accuse, swatting playfully at his chest as you let a smile overcome you.

“What?” He scoffs, “No, why would you think that?”

“They’re huge,” you snort, shuffling a little on his lap as he steadies you with a hand on your hip, “It’s like you painted them too big and ran out of room for everything else.”

You watch as a soft flush spreads across his cheeks, sheepish and self-conscious as he casts a glance back over his painting whilst trying to ignore your own eyes on him. His face scrunches a little, crinkles forming around his eyes and nose as he really takes in the lack of proportion, and you can’t help but smile at how cute he is.

“Alright, maybe I did,” he pouts, “Is that so bad?”

“I look like a balloon animal!”

“It is a little disproportionate,” he admits, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes you want to kiss it, and you roll your eyes to fight the urge. “We should have done naked paintings, then I’d be winning.” 

“You wanna draw me like one of your French girls?” Your tone is still sultry as you mock him, and watching the slow, suggestive curve of his lips does little to fan out the flames of attraction in the pit of your belly. He’s so pretty, it’s stupid - especially up close, and that’s after you’ve spent the past 30 minutes glancing up at him to try and do justice to all the intricate, beautiful parts of his face with a cheap paint set and a brush that was falling apart.

No wonder you were so insecure about your attempt. 

You don’t think there’s even a colour you could mix that would capture the unique hue of his irises - a soft combination of maybe blue, maybe green that you can’t even begin to think where you’d start when it came to creating it, yourself. And the smattering of little freckles and beauty marks that litter his skin - you’d never quite map that constellation correctly. The soft curl of his hair, the smooth curve of his lips, the unwavering dedication he has to whatever the hell is growing below his nose - you wouldn’t get it right in a million years.

Maybe him painting you as 70% boobs and 30% everything else is the better picture overall.

“Nah,” he smiles soft, his gaze drifting around your own face like he’s thinking the same thoughts - lingering on your mouth a little too long before he says, “Do wanna take you upstairs, though.”

You smile, too - easy and unwavering - and you feel a familiar heat creep up your neck before you press your lips to his in a slow, amorous kiss.

His knee bounces in a quick jolt as he responds, his hand rising to cup your face and hold you against him, mouth moving until his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips, deepening the moment into something neither of you would want to retreat from.

You honestly can’t remember life before he kissed you like this - how you ever even lasted a day of denying your feelings for him, because you don’t think you could ever love anyone like you love Luke.

It’s something that seems to consume you, regardless of where you are - whether it’s painting stupid portraits together or it’s watching movies or it’s sitting out on the deck chairs on the back porch and talking to his brothers - just his presence, just knowing he’s close by and the way he feels about you is exactly the same settles you beyond what you can put into words.

“Jesus Christ-,”

You both groan in frustration as you part, turning to glare at Jack as he interrupts you, the kitchen door swinging closed behind him.

“Quinn, they’re at it, again!” He calls out, lips curled in disgust as he makes his way over - empty beer bottles stuffed between his fingers that he throws into the recycling with a clink.

You don’t want to move from Luke’s lap, so as Jack nears the table, you don’t even think to get up - despite the fact that he’s heading straight for the painting you really don’t want to hear his criticisms of. 

“How cute!” He coos, but you can see straight through him - his lips curling into a borderline sinister smile as he picks up the little canvas. “She even got your lazy eye, Lukey!”

“I knew it!” Luke gasps, his fingers squeezing at your sides, teasingly.

“Hey!” You shoot up, reaching over the table and snatching it from his grip before turning to your boyfriend. “I did not give you a lazy eye!”

“Did he paint that zit that’s coming in right there,” he points to his temple as his eyes narrow your way - and event though you know you don’t have a zit coming in, you bring your hand up to cover the side of your face, anyway. 

“She doesn’t have a zit,” Luke defends you before you can do it, yourself, and your features soften just a touch when you glance his way.

“Let me see-,”

Jack reaches out for Luke’s painting, and the two of you leap forward to yank it away before he can get his hands on it, yelling out, “No!” In unison.

“It can’t be that bad, Luke,” he snorts, eyes narrowing on you in particular as your cheeks burn with embarrassment - it’s not like they’re your actual boobs, and it’s not like they’re even anatomically accurate, but you don’t want Jack of all people seeing you portrayed like that. “Mom kept your paintings on the fridge at home until like two years ago, I know you’re a shitty artist.”

“M’not a shitty artist,” Luke grumbles, specifically turning to you as you both still clutch one hand each at the canvas. 

“I know, baby,” you coo, your tone overtly-sweet and sickly in a bid to make Jack’s stomach turn - and make him go away, “Don’t listen to Mr. Meany, he doesn’t get you like I do,” and then you lean back in to kiss him, your pout turning into a grin when you hear his brother’s exaggerated gagging from the other side of the table.

“You both make me sick,” he huffs as you hear him leave, and you and Luke resume your previous position, fingers loosening on the painting until it drops to the floor. His hands clutch at your hips, and yours move to settle on the broad expanse of his chest to balance yourself a little better, shuffling until you’re straddling his lap - and still so consumed by your love for him that you couldn’t care less who else might end up disrupting you.

“We could rent some bikes?”

Luke’s suggestion comes out in a muffled yell, his head half in a large storage box in the garage as he roots around for god-knows what, and you perch yourself on the workbench by the side while you wait for him.

The two of you have been trying to figure out how to spend the day together - the other boys having taken the boat out with their friends - so many friends that there wasn’t space for you to tag along and Luke didn’t want to leave you behind on your own.

It’s beautiful out, and you had wanted to go out on the boat, so everything else seems dull in comparison.

A trip to the mall is a waste of the sunshine, even though you sort of want to visit the bookstore, and spend hours just walking around and holding Luke’s hand, and going to the park just seems boring, even if you do rent some bikes while you’re there. It would get tiring pretty quick, and as much as you think you could spend time doing nothing with Luke and still be happy, you sort of had your heart set on something else.

“I don’t know if I trust you not to fall off,” you tell him, swinging your legs as you place your palms flat on the surface, leaning forward to try and get a look at what on earth he’s doing. “What are you even looking for in there?”

“I’ll tell you when I find ‘em,” he mumbles, and you roll your eyes, looking around the rest of the garage and waiting for an idea to spark.

“What about that boat?” You point to the smaller vessel, covered in a faded tarp and perched on a rusted trailer. 

It’s a lot smaller than the other boat the boys take out - probably fits two or three people, max, from what you can see of it, and a lot older, too - but if it gets you out on the water with Luke, and you can lay beside him as it sways on the tranquil water, skin to skin while the sun shines down on you - it’ll do.

“That’s Quinn’s,” Luke tells you as he retreats from the box, putting the lid back in place before he moves on to the next one down. “I’ve been explicitly told that if I touch it, I die.”

“Why does Quinn have his own boat?” You ask, jumping up and stepping towards it. 

“Don’t know,” Luke calls a little louder, knowing you’re further away without even checking, like he has an instinct for where you are at all times. “Came home one summer and it was just in our parent’s garage, Dad said if he didn’t move it, it was getting sold, so it just sits in here.”

“And he doesn’t use it?”

“Can’t,” Luke shrugs, “I’m pretty sure it’s written off, I think it was just a project to keep him busy when he was injured or something, he hasn’t touched it in a while.”

“Why doesn’t he sell it, then?”

“Don’t know, not his keeper, babe,” Luke’s voice is a little clearer, now, and you crane your neck back to see him standing up straight, a pair of old rollerblades in his hands and a big grin on his face. “I could teach you to skate?”

You gasp as you make your way back over, “Are they my size?” 

“They used to be mine, so they might be a little long, but we can pad your feet up with socks.”

“Is it the same as skating on the ice?”

“The mechanics are pretty much the same,” Luke shrugs, handing you the rollerblades so he grab some of the pads that were in the box with them and close it back up, “But if you master this, we’ll get you some actual skates, and I’ll take you down to the rink to teach you.”

Ice skating is never something you’d considered before - even when you would watch Luke play, the thought of it was always daunting - but since the start of summer, you sort of like learning all the stuff Luke knows or loves. You like watching him play golf, like listening to him nerd out about his historical movies, like playing chess for some reason, as dorky as that is, and you even enjoyed Star Wars when the two of you managed to sit down together and watch all of the films - and skating seems like the final boss, in a way.

It’s exciting, like the last piece of a puzzle.

“Might have to get your dad to teach me,” you suggest, “You fall too much for me to learn from you.”

He teasingly swats at your ass with a pad, and you snort out a laugh when you see the amusement shining in his pretty eyes, leaning up when he bends a little to kiss you chastely.

“It’s part of the Hughes charm,” he mutters just after your lips part, “You’ll fit right in.”

And you try to ignore the way your heart hammers at the thought of fitting right in with the Hughes clan in a way you never really did with your own. Despite your previous problems with Jack, and despite Quinn’s newfound hobby for cockblocking you all summer, you honestly think they’re accepting of you too.

And that’s without taking into account Luke’s parents, who welcomed you back to Michigan with open arms, even if your place in Luke’s life wasn’t this solid the last time they saw you last summer.

For the first time in your life you do fit right in, and you’d be doing yourself a disservice to deny it.

You’d be doing Luke one, too.

So all you can do is smile as he leads you out into the driveway, and he sets up a little course for you to practice your skating - cones and obstacles that you do your best not to trip and stumble over, but when you do, he picks you straight back up, dusts you off, and lets you go again. 

He’s patient, and he’s gentle, just like he’s always been with you, and if this is what it’s like to be a Hughes, - and as crazy as it sounds considering how fresh your relationship still technically is - you have a fleeting thought that one day you’d want to be one, for real.

“Do you think Jersey’s nicer than New York?”

You’ve been an anxious mess for the entire week before you and Luke flew out to stay with your mom - irritable and snippy and emotional - but now that you’re here, things seem to have settled.

It’s only a long weekend - three days and you can go back to the safety and security of the lake house, with the rest of the summer ahead of you and every passing day having you fall more and more in love with Luke Hughes - and your mom is actually being good company for once.

She’s present, having taken time off of work to make sure she’s around to properly acquaint herself with the first boyfriend you’ve ever brought home, and she’s sober, and she’s actively trying to get to know him.

The two of them have pretty much ticked off every other topic of conversation by the time she gets to your big move, and you can’t even let yourself stress about it.

You’re sat in between Luke’s legs on a chair out in the backyard, your stomach full of barbecue food, a cold bottle of beer gripped between your fingers, and your back pressed firmly to his chest, and there’s no way you think you even could still feel anxious in such a position.

Luke somehow manages to rinse those feelings straight out of you with just one touch.

For as much grief as your mom gave you when you first came home at the beginning of summer, you think your time away might have calmed her about the whole NYU thing - and maybe seeing you with Luke, seeing how sturdy and serious the two of you are, is quelling her fears, too.

“I mean I haven’t lived in New York, so I might not be a fair judge on that,” he chuckles, “But I like it. Feels a lot more relaxed, I think.”

“And you live with your brothers?”

“Just one of ‘em,” he says, “Jack, he plays on the same team as me,”

“So the two of you won’t be moving in with each other,”

“Mom,” you cringe, rolling your eyes at her even asking such a question when you’ve literally sat her down and talked her through your shared housing options.

“Not yet,” Luke says, easily, and you turn back a little at how casual he sounds about it.

The two of you haven’t really talked about it - not in depth, at least. He has no intentions of moving out of his and Jack’s place, as far as you know, and you’re definitely not moving in - the lake house during summer is bad enough in his brother’s company, no matter how civil the two of you have become. 

“Not yet?”

“Well, it isn’t not ever,” he snorts, “I think we’re quite good at living together, I’d like to do it again. Would much rather live with you than live with Jack for the rest of my life.”

As if it’s that simple. The rest of his life.

“She’s a great cook,” your mom chimes in, like he needs her making a pros list. “And she always picks the nicest smelling detergent for laundry, I always get compliments on my uniform at work.”

“Mom,”

“She never forgets anything from the store, either, even when it’s not in her notes,” Luke adds - because clearly he already has a list. “Like I’ll be cursing myself thinking it’s too late to let her know we don’t have salsa, and I forgot to tell her in the first place, but she always remembers anyway."

“Oh my god-,”

“Exactly!”

And Luke’s arms tighten around you, a teasing embrace that you don’t really want to shake, not now, not ever. “If she’ll still have me by then, I think we’d revisit it next summer, but at least we’re closer now than we were before. I’ll still be around for her.”

Your mom smiles softly at his clear adoration for you, and when she meets your eye, you feel a sudden wave of relief wash through you. There’s something in her gaze that reads like approval - and for a woman who, this time last year, told you that there isn’t a single man out there worth your time, or who won’t hurt you - she doesn’t have to say anything for you to know she’s eating her words. For a woman who lost all faith in forever when she divorced your dad, you’re grateful to see her entertaining the idea of it when it comes to you and Luke.

“Don’t worry, I think she’ll keep you around,” she reassures him, a subtle wink sent his way as your cheeks go burning hot - and you divert your gaze to avoid the depth of her perception, eyes lingering on the softened pink hues of the summer sunset you all came out to watch.

You think you’ll keep him, too.

“This is so fancy,” you sigh, something between awe and anxiety swirling through your brain at just how nice this restaurant is - so different to all the other date nights you and Luke have spent together over the course of the summer.

But summer is coming to an end, and Luke said he wanted to try something different.

“My mom told me about it,” he replies, eyes glancing up from his menu to meet yours, “Which I realise loses me cool points, but I promise she has good taste.”

“Your mom is cool, babe,” you laugh, “No points lost.”

“I mean, it’s better than the club, right?”

It’s definitely better than the club - and not only because you’re not reminded of having to work there last summer every time you tag along with Luke for an afternoon on the course, or a trip to the bar.

“Yeah,” you smile softly to reassure him, “It’s nice, it’s just weird, I think.”

“Weird?” He frowns.

“Not like weird,” you’re quick to cover your tracks at the sight of his expression, like a wounded animal, and guilt nips at your stomach. He’s trying to do something nice. He’s giving you a chance to get all dressed up, and he sent you to get your hair blow-dried at one of the nicer salons in town, and it is a treat to be pampered.

You just sort of like all the other stuff the two of you have been getting up to a little more.

But you can put on your big girl pants and enjoy it, for his sake.

“I just mean like, I feel like I need Duolingo to help me out with this thing,” you chuckle, waving the menu a little in your hands. 

You need to be more grateful, you think.

He’s making such an effort.

In one of his nicest suits, tailored to perfection - and the two of you had a little bit of a walk from the car, you got to see how good his ass looked when he paid for the meter a couple blocks away, bending to read the machine and giving you the perfect view - he honestly looks so good it’s almost alarming.

And you think you do, too. You feel good, at least - especially with how Luke looked at you when he came out of the bathroom and saw you in this dress back in the house. Black satin, a sweetheart neckline just begging for his gaze to linger, and it fits like a glove, too - you swear he was starting to drool at one point.

“Yeah, it’s a little excessive, actually,” he sighs, his finger hooking into the knot of his tie and loosening it a little.

“Baby, I promise, it’s nice-,” you reach over to wrap your fingers around his hand, and it turns, palm-up, until you can properly interlace yours with his. “I’m just not used to this sort of place, but it’s gorgeous, I really appreciate all the effort you put into tonight.”

“I’m sorry that it’s the first time we’ve done it,” he frowns, “I promise I’ll try and do better-“

“Wait, what?”

Do better?

You don’t think for a second he ever has to try?

This summer has been like a dream, and the dates the two of you have gone on have far surpassed anything you’ve ever experienced in any other relationship. 

Nights together watching movies - a routine the two of you kept up every Sunday, and even more throughout the week - even if that was with his brothers, or his friends, or even his parents, a couple times.

Days out on the lake, wake surfing, or just treading water. Swimming, socialising, sailing, sunbathing - a maintained sense of calm providing comfort over the past few months that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Mini golf, portrait painting, lego building, cooking together, shopping together, even nights as a group, doing whatever activities anybody else wanted to do.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy - and Luke is at the core of it all.

“You don’t have to do anything better.”

“I just feel like all our dates so far haven’t been super involved,” he sighs, “Like I fought so hard to get you, I should be trying harder to keep you.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“Jack said-,”

And you can’t help it - in as serious of an environment as this is - you reach over the table and swat at his head with your menu. It’s really more of a light tap, but the surprise of it jolts him a little, widened eyes staring back at you.

“What the hell?”

“I thought we knew better than to listen to Jack, babe.”

“But he said-,”

“Don’t make me hit you again.”

He narrows his eyes your way, a warning, almost, and you roll your own eyes in response, a quick squeeze of your hand to let him know he can carry on.

“He said he makes a point of being the one to take charge of the dates, ‘cause Ellie told him it makes her feel valued. And I know we don’t listen to Ellie, either,” and thank god he does, you think - because for as much as you’ve forgiven the both of them for the gigantic mess they made of yours and Luke’s relationship back in the Spring, Jack and Ellie are still gigantic morons, and their relationship couldn’t be any further from yours if they tried. “But it just made me thing back on all the stuff we have done together this summer, and how I sort of left it to you to take the reins.”

You suppose that’s technically true - a lot of times you came up with the ideas, but it’s not like he never contributed. It’s not like he never made an effort, or you felt like he didn’t care.

“You do realise I like being in control, right?” You ask, your lips twisting a little to soften the blow when he meets your eyes again, and you drop your menu to free up your other hand, leaning forward and reaching for his free hand, too. 

“I’m very aware, actually,” he snorts, and you’re sort of relieved to hear it - because you know deep down that you and Luke understand each other on a deeper level than you’ve ever experienced before, and to hear him second guessing it sort of stings. “And I like you being in control,” he adds, thank god. “I just feel like I always leave it to you to organise stuff like this, without even realising I’m doing it, and I guess I feel bad.”

“I like looking after this stuff, Luke,” you admit, a little sheepish, though you don’t really know why. Maybe it’s leaving this sort of unspoken for so long, or maybe it’s past experiences of guys who would feel emasculated by you adding, “I like looking after you.”

“Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know,” he pouts, “I guess I just thought you’d want to be with someone who looked after you,”

“You do.” You assure him, and you could probably list a thousand ways in which he’s already proven that. “Looking after me goes beyond dates,” you tell him, “It’s about how you make me feel.”

“And how do I make you feel?”

You’re thankful to see the way a slow, sure smile creeps up on his face - like whatever thoughts Jack had infected him with before - whether intentionally or not - have been eradicated.

“You know how you make me feel,” you smile back.

“Yeah,” he nods, self assured and seriously sexy. “Still want you to say it, though.”

“How about we get out of here and you let me show you, instead?”

And you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quick.

He’s practically dragging you out of the restaurant in under a minute, making sure to thank and tip the maître d' on the way, and the two of you barely make it back to his car before he’s pouncing - his kiss firm, his adoration clear, and your love continuing to grow with every waking moment you spend in his company.

“Is that the last box?” You ask as Luke places it gently down beside the others he’s just hauled up to your apartment from the truck he rented to have your stuff shipped over from storage in Michigan.

He’s been pretty insistent on helping you move in - he’s been pretty insistent on helping with everything, and you couldn’t be more grateful for his input, if you’re honest.

He’d come out to Jersey to check out potential apartments with you, had given advice on all the best areas, with all the best travel access to get yourself across the river - because the thought of living in a different state again, despite just how close the two of them are, just didn’t sit right with you when it came to deciding where you’d live while you went to graduate school.

And now he’s brought up every single box without you having to lift a finger - so far from the slinged up version of him you’d started your summer with a few months ago, which is really wonderful to see. He’s worked really hard to rehab his injury, and you’re so proud of all of his progress, beyond using it to your own advantage.

You can’t wait to spend the next year watching him thrive.

He makes you so happy you could probably burst if you give it too much thought.

“Yep,” he smiles, and he flexes his muscles at you with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, “You think me bringing all these up 5 flights of stairs is enough for people to start thinking I have the potential to bulk?”

“I’d say you’re plenty bulky,” you say, beaming up as you practically skip over to him, placing your hands on his muscular chest and leaning to press a kiss to his lips, “Gonna miss my big strong boyfriend while you’re away for the weekend.”

Him and his brothers have a little trip planned for the three of them, and as much as you want to spend your first few nights in your new apartment with him, you know how important it is leading into the season that they get their sibling time in - especially with Quinn.

“I’ll come straight here when I get back on Monday,” he promises, kissing you again and again until you start to feel a little dizzy, his strong, calloused grip on your waist guiding you back towards the couch that the landlord left behind for you - and while you’re quite keen to christen a few of the spaces while you have the chance, you can’t contain your excitement for much longer.

“I got you a present.”

“I’m supposed to get you something, I’m pretty sure,” he scoffs, watching as you spin on your heels, retreat back to the table you were standing at when he came in, and come back over to him - placing something small and cold in his palm.

A key.

A key to your apartment.

“So you don’t have to call ahead.” You tell him, although obviously it means much more than that.

He smiles - that same pretty smile that got you hooked over a year ago, now - and you smile straight back.

He lifts his hands to cup at your beaming cheeks, the cool metal of the key pressing into your skin - not that you mind - as he pulls you in to kiss you, again. His excitement is clear, and you're quickly consumed by the familiar thumping of your heart that will never go away when you're around him.

Finally the two of you have somewhere you don’t have to worry about interruptions, or rushing, or hiding away.

Finally you have somewhere - and someone - that’s just yours. 

another a/n: I didn't know how to end this lmao!! but I hope you all enjoy!!

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNUMBER ONE GIRL,ㅤ(보이넥스트도어)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ― 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗂'𝗆 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒.

𝑓𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝑟𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ㅤᵔ ᵕ ᵔㅤ 1200𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣𝖲 ㅤ✧ ㅤ𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿ㅤ ⸝⸝ ㅤ𝗐. ──── 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀ㅤㅤ ❪ 𝖢𝖫𝗂𝖢𝖪𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 ❫

𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸 ──── 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝖬𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖧𝖸𝖴𝖭

01. jaehyun isn’t the kind of guy who just pulls out a chair for you—he dusts it off first. he doesn’t just give you his jacket when you’re cold—he wraps it around your shoulders, making sure it’s snug before tucking your hair behind your ear and planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

02. his shoulder is always free for you to rest your head on when you’re tired, and when you do, he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close and steady. he presses gentle kisses to the crown of your head, murmuring soft reassurances, his voice a quiet lullaby as you drift off to sleep.

03. whenever you call his name, he answers immediately, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. it’s as if his whole world revolves around you, and honestly, it does. if anyone ever says something that even slightly upsets you, he’ll glare at them for a solid 2.5 seconds, before turning back to you, his full attention on making sure you’re okay.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮.

01. sungho makes you feel like you have both a knight in shining armor and a personal butler at the same time. he’s always so observant when it comes to you, giving you what you need before you even have to ask. if your phone battery is low, he hands you his charger without a word. if you mention liking something in passing, barely even realizing it yourself, you somehow end up with a suspiciously large quantity of it the very next day.

02. he never lets you carry anything heavy—ever. even if it’s just a small bag, he takes it from you without a word, as if it was never yours to hold in the first place. if you’ve been standing too long in a queue, he gently guides you to a seat, his hand lingering near the small of your back as he insists you rest your legs. and when you’re walking together, he’s always on the traffic side, instinctively shielding you without making a big deal out of it.

03. if he notices you shivering, his tongue clicks in disapproval. “i told you to dress warmer,” he scolds, but there’s no real bite to his words—not when he’s intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing a soft kiss against them before tucking both of your hands into his coat pocket, his own hand wrapped snugly around yours, an unspoken promise to keep you warm.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖱𝖨𝖶𝖮𝖮.

01. for him, you’re quite literally the most precious thing in the world, and he’d choose you over anything. if you so much as frown, he’s immediately panicking. “what’s wrong? do you need a hug? do you need twenty hugs?” he asks, his face scrunched up in the most adorable look of concern.

02. when it comes to dates, he lets you pick everything—the movie, the restaurant, the plans—because your happiness is his priority. he’s also the most acts of service guy in the whole world. he ties your shoelaces, holds doors open for you, carries your bag without a second thought. and when you tell him you can do all these things yourself, he just smiles softly and says, “i know you can, but i want to.”

03. again, he cannot stand seeing even a hint of sadness on your face. if you so much as pretend to be upset, he pouts instantly, pulling you closer. “nooo, don’t be upset, baby. i’ll do anything—do you wanna hold my hand? here, both hands, take both hands.”

𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖠𝖭.

01. taesan believes chivalry is not dead—at least not when it comes to you. he always opens doors for you but slams them shut in the face of the next person without a second thought, completely unfazed by the curses they throw at him. his only concern is you. he follows the sidewalk rule religiously, making sure you’re the one walking safely, the rest of the world be damned.

02. when you’re walking together, he naturally slows his pace to match yours, never making a big deal out of it. he isn’t overly affectionate, but he somehow always knows exactly when you need a hug. without a word, he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head against his chest as his fingers thread gently through your hair. he just holds you, listening intently as you ramble about whatever’s been bothering you, grounding you without even trying.

03. around taesan, you don’t have to lift a single finger. he insists on carrying your bags, tying your shoelaces, taking care of every little thing before you even think to ask. and if you ever say, “i feel like a princess when i’m around you,” he just shrugs, effortlessly cool, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “well, that’s how it should be.”

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖫𝖤𝖤𝖧𝖠𝖭.

01. leehan has a way of looking at you—soft, mesmerized, like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. it doesn’t matter if you’re dressed up or just in your pajamas, mid-laugh or sulky, his gaze never wavers. if you ramble, he never interrupts—just nods, hums in agreement, and asks thoughtful little questions to show he cares.

02. he tries to remember every little detail about you, keeping a secret folder in his notes app filled with all the things you mention in passing—the things you admire, the flavors you like, the small joys that make your eyes light up. he surprises you with your coffee order without you even having to ask, and when he finds trinkets or stickers he knows you’d love, he collects them one by one, waiting until he has enough to gift you.

03. and of course, he compares you to cute fishes. sometimes as a joke, pointing at the weirdest-looking ones in the aquarium just to tease you. but then, in a softer voice, he’ll gesture toward the prettiest, most colorful one and say, "that’s you." and when he notices you blushing, he only grins, a little shy himself, but unable to stop looking at you like you’re the only girl in the world.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖭𝖧𝖠𝖪.

01. woonhak tucks your hair behind your ear whenever it gets in the way. if you’re eating, writing, or just caught up in something, and a stray strand falls across your face, his fingers are there—brushing against your cheek as he tucks it back with the softest touch. he never says anything about it, just smiles fondly, like it’s second nature to take care of you.

02. he has a habit of always reaching for your hand, sometimes absentmindedly, sometimes not. whether it’s when you’re crossing the street, his fingers find yours, locking them together firmly. if you have to step over a puddle, his hand is already outstretched, guiding you across so your shoes don’t get dirty. under tables or during movie nights, he plays with your fingers, tracing gentle patterns on your palm, his touch warm and familiar.

03. he makes sure you always have everything you need. after you once complained about always misplacing your hair ties, he got into the habit of carrying a few in his pocket, just in case. the first time you notice, you laugh, amused, and ask why he has them. he just shrugs, handing you one with the softest smile. "you always need one, right?"

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 ㅤ🗯ㅤ 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @sgz-net , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida ,

ㅤ🍀ㅤ𓈒ㅤfor princess jiah ( @okwonyo ) who has been getting into bonedo recently ><

[deusfoundry]

sylus making sure his kpop fan girlfriend doesn't have to drop a dime nor stress over attending her fav's concert.

ticketing day is spent with a ton of devices sprawled on the living room floor of his mansion all waiting to get into the queue. he's even got luke and kieran in on it. and if for some reason his outrageously fast internet speed fails and you don't manage to secure a ticket, he's already pulling the strings and using his connections to get you that front row seat. he puts himself in charge of everything—booking accomodations, planning your itinerary, making sure his private jet is ready so that all you have to worry about is what you'll wear, and even that is taken care of by his black card.

he's with you throughout the entire day of the concert. he holds onto two bags—one filled with your essentials and the other with freebies and trinkets you've collected from fellow fans—as he follows you around the venue with that lovesick smile of his. he only ever leaves your side when he goes to buy you some snacks and water.

and best believe he learned most of the songs your favs are performing so he can sing along with you during the concert itself, which he records the entirety of on his tablet so you're free to enjoy the show without having to worry about not having photos and videos to remember it by.

the night ends with you on his back, your platform boots on one of his hands as he carries you to the parking lot. he listens as you recount the entire night to him in excitement, chuckles as you squeal and squirm in the passenger seat over every time you swear your bias made eye contact with you as though he wasn't there to see it all.

you fall asleep eventually, to the low hum of traffic and his hand drawing circles over your thigh. and as sylus eyes your sleeping figure, he swears he'll do it all over again just to see that small smile that blooms on your face.

[luuce]

wordcount: 5,105

summary: walking your dog really does make you meet new people. When in search of a new sitter for your dog, he seems to have chosen it himself. 

warnings: none, just fluff. 

························································

Sunny days only come every once in a while here in rainy London, so it is no wonder you and your furry companion take advantage of that and take a walk, although with him walks are required at least twice a day every single day, no matter the weather. His tail is up high and swinging side to side as he vigorously stops to smell every few steps, happy trotting once he's satisfied with himself. It takes you a bit to arrive at your regular café near the park and you quickly spot the only free table there is and tug Bowie towards it. You easily tie his leash to one of the chairs and take out a treat for him.

“Sit” You tell him and he immediately looks up to you, does as told and eats the treat you give him. “Good boy. Now, mama is gonna go inside to order coffee and a treat, and you are gonna stay here guarding our table, okay? No singing while I’m gone, I know you have a beautiful voice but we don’t want you turning famous and leaving mama, what would I do without you?” 

He looks at you and sways his tail as if he’s completely understanding every word you are saying. With a quick pat on his head you go inside the café to order. There’s a bit of a queue so that leaves you with time to think what you want to order, even though you will probably end up ordering the same thing you always do. You look at the croissants and then turn your sight to the left where you spot the pain au chocolat, okay, maybe you are leaning towards chocolate today. Just as you see that it is your turn, you hear howling coming from outside. You turn your head to see Bowie with his head tilted back howling, or singing, as you like to put it. You quickly look at Marg, the lovely barista and smile apologetically.

“Sorry, you know how he gets” you tell her.

“Oh, it’s totally alright, there’s nothing that furry ball could do to make me mad” She laughs and proceeds to take your order. “The usual?”

“I’ll take the pain au chocolat today, instead”

“Perfect, coming right up”

You pay and move to the side to wait for the order. After another peek outside you see Bowie doing more of his singing while the man sitting on the table next to him seems to be talking to him. As soon as you hear your name called from another barista, you grab the tray and head outside to your artist of a dog. As soon as he spots you, he stops howling. The man beside you laughs.

“I’m sorry if he bothered you. He tends to miss me when I’m not on sight” You begin to apologize to the nice man.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s completely understandable. What 's his name?”

“This is Bowie, and he has attachment issues.”

“Oh, that explains the singing.” He laughs and reaches to pet him. “Nice to properly meet you, Mr. Bowie. I have to say that I’m a huge fan of your singing”

Bowie proceeded to bark at him as an answer. You both laugh as you take a seat on the closest chair, which is diagonally to his and a bit separated.

“I believe he said thank you” 

You take a moment to look at the guy and your breath stops. You can only see his side of the face since he’s leaned down to pet the dog. He’s wearing a cap and sunglasses which doesn’t let you see much of him. He has a nice mustache and he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt that lets you take a peek into a few tattoos that take over his skin. The shorts that he’s wearing are so short that you can see more ink on his thigh. You are absolutely captivated by the stranger man with the mustache and the tattoos that you don’t take notice of him turning to you and speaking.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and shake your head as a way to get rid of your thoughts.

“Did you name him before or after he started with his singing?”

“Oh, I actually named him Bowie because of his eyes,” it’s true, he has one blue eye and one brown, “but then he started his singing sessions while I was at work. I only found out because my neighbour complained about it and had to install a camera to see for myself. I often think he’s trying to make a living out of it so he can help with rent”

The man laughs and you follow. You take a sip of your drink and look around, seeing people walking around, seeming to be enjoying the nice weather. The conversation seems to quiet down as he looks at his phone and starts typing, so you take out your book and throw another treat to Bowie to keep him entertained for a while as you enjoy your moment. Your mind starts to wonder as to why the stranger sitting across from you looks familiar, but you can’t seem to put your finger on it. You might have seen him before here in the café, or around the area. Yes, that must be it. You watch him put his phone in his pocket and get up from the chair.

“Have a nice day you two. Bye, Bowie, it was so nice to meet you” He leans down to give a final pet to his head and then looks up to you.

“Have a nice day!” You wave at him and he does the same before he turns and walks away.

You watch him leave towards the direction you came from and you come to the conclusion that yes, you probably knew the man from the area. You finish your breakfast and leave the café so you can take Bowie through a walk in the park and maybe throw the ball around a bit.

You get back home a few hours later and you can’t help but think about the handsome man you crossed paths with today. Something inside you hopes you will meet again, but London is quite big, so you don’t know if that would be the case.

The next day, you wake up early to get ready for your shift at the hospital. You do your normal routine of preparing everything for Bowie to eat, and refill his water before putting on his leash and taking him for a very early walk. You don’t like leaving him alone for the very long hours of your shift, but you are looking for pet sitters that are able to adapt to your shifts so they can take care of him while you’re gone, but so far you haven’t found anyone. 

It’s the day after when you find yourself in the park with Bowie, throwing the ball at him so he can run around and tire himself up before your night shift. You usually do this every time you have a night shift so then he can sleep all night and not worry that you are gone to work. 

You throw the ball and he runs to catch it, and as soon as he has it in his mouth he drops it and runs in another direction.

“Bowie!” You yelled and ran to see where he went.

When you finally catch up to him, you see him lying on the ground belly up and getting pets from a man. 

“I’m sorry! He jus- Oh, hi!” You immediately recognize the man as the one you saw at the café just two days ago.

He looks up at you and smiles. You see dimples popping out and you think you could just melt. He’s wearing a cap and sunglasses again, and he’s wearing a cardigan that covers his tattoos.

“Hello there. How are you?” He politely asks while still petting your dog.

“I’m great. Trying to tire out the beast before my shift tonight.”

“Oh. What is it that you do? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“It 's alright. I’m a pediatric nurse. I do twelve hour shifts at the hospital. I worked yesterday and now I work tonight, so I’m trying to spend the most time with him before I have to leave him at home.”

Bowie gets up to look for the ball, and once he finds it he brings it towards the man and leaves it at his feet. He barks and steps back waiting for the ball to be thrown. The, at this point, less stranger but still nameless guy, picks up the ball and throws it way farther than you usually do. Bowie sprints away in search of it.

“Oh wow, I think you are going to get me out of my job with that throw. I don’t think mine could cover even half of that” You tell him and can’t help but laugh.

Bowie comes back again with the ball and leaves it again at the man’s feet. He picks it up while laughing and he throws it again.

“He is such a nice dog. I wouldn’t mind doing this all day”

“I don’t think you would say that after a few throws”

You both look at Bowie, who brings back the ball only to be distracted by a butterfly that flies by. 

“I was on my way to get some coffee. Would you like to join me?” His question takes you by surprise. You would have never expected it.

“Oh, yes, that would be perfect, actually”

You whistle for Bowie to come back and he does so. You put on his leash and walk besides the man towards the same café you met at. You both make some small conversation before you arrive and tie Bowie to one of the chairs. 

“We’ll be right back, okay, bud?” You throw him a few treats and go inside. 

“What would you like? It 's on me.”

“Are you sure you want to pay for my coffee? We don’t even know each other’s names”

He laughs and throws his head back. “Touché.” He then reaches his hand out. “I’m Harry”

You shake his hand with a smile and introduce yourself.

“Beautiful name. Now that we have introduced ourselves, what would you like?”

You laugh and tell him your order, he then proceeds to order for you both while you take a look outside to see Bowie sitting and looking through the window to you two. When you turn back to look at Harry, he’s already looking at you with a smile. You immediately blush and look down. You don’t know how you ended up here, one minute you are meeting a cute guy thanks to Bowie’s howling, the next you are on your way to get some coffee with said guy thanks to Bowie’s run towards him in the park. You will have to give some more treats to the fluffy dog later.

“Here we go. Let’s head outside before the boy begins singing” He has both of your drinks in hand and he’s nodding so you can start walking.

Once you are both outside you sit across from each other and have Bowie on the ground between you two.

“I hope I’m not taking too much of your time before your shift.” It’s the first thing he says once you are both sat.

“Oh, no. I still have a few hours before it starts, don’t worry.”

The truth is, you usually take a long nap before your night shifts, but there is no way you are going to tell him that. It wouldn't be the first time you don’t take a nap before your shift, and it probably won’t be the last.

“Do you enjoy your job?” He asks before taking a sip of his coffee.

You nod your head while swallowing the bit of coffee you had in your mouth. “Yes, I do for the most part. It’s obviously a hard job when it comes to see sick children, but it helps a little when you are involved in their healing and can get them to smile”

“I can’t imagine. It must be hard.”

“There are days where everything can go as planned, and there are days that don’t. Honestly, it’s part of the job, but I don’t think I would change it for anything in the world.”

He smiles at you and nods. He has taken off his sunglasses and now you can see his eyes clearly. They are the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, soft emerald green that could trap you in if you let it.

“Now, enough about me. What do you do for a living?” 

He looks down trying to hide his smile and starts petting Bowing as a way to distract himself. 

“I’m a musician, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so nice. What instrument do you play?” You ask with genuine interest.

He shakes his head and looks at you. “I can play a few. Guitar, piano, a bit of drums, but I mostly sing”

To say that you are in shock is an understatement. You would have never guessed.

“Oh, wow, that’s impressive. Do you have music out? Something I might have listened to?”

He smiles and takes out his phone. He can’t actually believe that you have no idea of who he is, and honestly, it’s refreshing. He taps a few times and music starts playing out of his phone. He can’t believe that he’s doing this. You can hear the piano play for a bit and then finally singing.

“Just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times.”

“Shut up. This is you?” You ask, completely surprised. Your mouth opens in complete shock as you continue to listen to the song.

You thought the man looked familiar, but you never would have thought it was because he’s a famous singer. Your dog barks next to you and that snaps you out of your surprise moment. Bowie swings his tail from side to side happily.

“Did you know that?” You ask your dog as if he could reply to you, “Is that why you showed him your singing? So he could help you out?”

Harry laughs next to you and reaches to pet Bowie's head. “Artists are always able to identify each other. Isn’t that right, Bow?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, I’m embarrassed. To be fair, I have always been bad at names and faces, and I really don’t pay attention to new artists. I’m an old soul who likes old music, I’m sorry” You laugh and shake your head. You can’t believe what is happening.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Honestly it’s quite a relief that you didn’t know who I was.”

You don’t reply, because honestly, you don’t know what else to tell him. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment as you try to take some sips of your drink to distract yourself. 

You take a look at the time and realize that you should probably think of trying to tire out Bowie a bit more before going home.

“Would you mind going back to the park so Bowie can play a little bit more? He needs his bit of exercise before going home to sleep.”

“Of course, let’s go.”

You both stand up and pick both of your drinks, taking Bowie with you back to the park. As soon as you enter the park, you unleash him and throw him the ball. Harry can’t help but laugh.

���Hey. No making fun of my throw now, you were warned.” You point at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He laughs as he pulls his arms up. Bowie comes back and leaves the ball at his feet. Okay, it seems he has a favourite thrower. He barks and starts jumping around while waiting. The ball is thrown far away and he sprints to get it.

“I know this may come a little bit forward, but I could look after him while you are at work.” 

That’s the second time he has said something that has taken you by surprise. Or should you say three? Honestly, everything has been full of surprises since meeting him.

“Are you sure? You are not just saying that, are you?” 

He shook his head, “Of course not. I would really love to, he’s a really nice dog, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“But I’m sure you are busy with your job, there is no need to take care of a dog who’s not even yours.” 

“I’m taking a break from my job, there’s nothing I would love more than to look after him when you are working.” He’s very persistent.

“We just met and you are already asking for half custody of my dog?” You joke and he can’t help but laugh.

“I know it sounds crazy, but maybe Bowie and I can look after each other. It would be a mutual thing.”

You look at him trying to decipher him. You really don’t think he knows what he’s talking about. But on the other hand, you would really like for Bowie not to spend so much time alone. What are the odds of this going wrong? He’s a famous musician, he couldn’t afford to have bad press like failing to look after a dog. 

“Are you sure? He tends to be a little bit needy. He likes to play a lot and when he gets tired he demands cuddles. You would have to take him on a walk at least twice a day. Oh, and he likes to sleep on the bed, and I’m sorry if this is not to your liking but he’s a great cuddler and I don’t think I could ever say no to him.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

 “Okay.” You nod your head and look at Bowie. “Okay.”

Harry throws the ball again and Bowie runs after it. He’s the perfect boy, and although you are a bit shocked still, you are happy that you are leaving him with someone he gets on well with. You take your phone out to look at the time.

“Would you like to walk us home so I can give you his things? Unless that’s a problem and you would prefer to meet later so I can drop him off.”

“No, it’s okay, we can go to your place first.”

“Okay, let’s go Bowie!”

Bowie comes trotting with the ball in his mouth and lets me put the leash on. I grab the ball and put it in my bag and start leading Harry to where I live. We start talking a bit about music and about what I often listen to. I tell him about my love for Fleetwood Mac and how much I would have loved to have seen them live.

“I love Fleetwood Mac too. Stevie is one of my closest friends and she has taught me a lot.”

“You know Stevie Nicks?” You were yet again surprised.

“I’m surprised you even know who she is.” He elbows you and when you look at him he winks. 

“Ha ha, just because I had no idea of who you were doesn’t mean I don’t know who the main singer of my favourite band is.”

“Okay, okay. That 's fair.” 

You both continue talking while walking until you reach your building. You fumble to take out your keys and Harry seems to stand there just awkwardly. Just as you get the key into the keyhole, he receives a call. 

“Sorry, I have to take this, it’s my mum. I’ll wait for you here.” He says apologetic. 

“Okay, no problem. We’ll be right back.”

You tug Bowie with you and walk towards the elevator. You take your time to make a mental list of all the things you have to prepare for his little extravaganza. As soon as the door to your flat shuts, you can’t help but share your thoughts aloud.

“What the fuck?”

Bowie just barks as an answer. 

You start by taking his food and putting it into a bag, along with some treats and more poop-bags just in case. Some dog bowls for his water and food and a few of his toys. You also take his bed, even though he probably won’t sleep in it, but just so he has something familiar in a foreign house. 

“Do you want to bring something else?”

As soon as you ask, he goes into your room and comes back dragging his favourite blanket. Okay, he’s so smart. You take it from his mouth and fold it so you can put it into the bag, and then take a look around to check if you’re missing something.

“Okay, Bow, I think that is all. Now, a talk before your first night away from mama.” He sits expectantly looking at you. “I know that you are a really good boy, so you’re gonna behave. Make sure to listen to Harry and don’t do much barking, okay?”

He barks as a response.

“Yeah, that’s not what you’re gonna do.”

You take all of his things and go back to Harry, who seems to have finished his call and is just looking around the area curiously. You smile at him as soon as he spots you and he smiles back. Bowie runs towards him and almost makes you fall, making Harry take a step forward quickly and grab your arm.

“Woah, are you okay?” He grabs both of your arms then tries to stabilize you.

“Oh, yeah. I think someone’s excited for a sleepover.”

You both laugh and he reaches to take the bag from your shoulders and algo the dog bed. 

“Here, let me take that. Anything I should know?”

“You have his food and his bowls inside the bag. It’s usually one cup of food at night and another cup in the morning. I also put some of his treats in case you want to give him some, but don’t give him too much, even if he gives you the puppy eyes. There are also some toys for him to play with and his blanket, he’s really attached to it so he will probably want to sleep with it. And I think that would be it. Do you have any questions?”

“No, I think you’ve covered it all, actually. What time do you get off tomorrow? Just so I know when I can drop him off.”

“I’m usually back home at around 8:30, so if it’s not much of a bother you could drop him off around that time? Day Shifts are a little bit different, I usually leave home at around 7:15 in the morning and come back at around 8:30 at night.”

“Okay, no problem, I will bring him tomorrow at that time.” He makes a move to take Bowies’ leash “I will give you my number in case you need something from me, or I need something from you.”

You nod your head and look at Bowie, who looks way too happy to be there. You’re nervous of how he will act with a stranger, if he will behave or if he will miss you, because you know for sure that you will miss him. You know that this will be what’s best for him, he won’t be alone and Harry actually looks like he knows what he’s getting into, even if you gave him an out on this craziness. You squat down to be at the same height as Bowie and give him a kiss on the head.

“I promise I will give you updates on him. I can send you pictures so you won’t miss him too much. I promise I will take good care of him, as if he was my own.”

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I will repay you.”

He’s shaking his head and you’re not even finished talking. “No, there’s no need to repay me, really”

“Of course, I do. There has to be something I can do.” 

“No, I’m not going to accept it.”

“Well, then I’m not going to accept that you won’t accept it.”

He laughs and continues to shake his head. “Then I guess we are both stubborn people who won’t agree on this. Come one, no need for anything, you will be late for work if we continue with this nonsense.”

“Okay, yeah.” You agree and lean again to leave a final kiss into Bowie’s head. “Behave, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stand back up and look at Harry, “thank you, Harry, really.”

“It’s my pleasure. Here, give me your phone.”

You take it from your pocket, open it and give it to him. Soon he’s typing away and a bit later you can hear his phone ringing and then it stops. He returns your phone and you smile at him.

“Have a great shift.” 

“Thank you. I hope you have a good night with him, I will be waiting for those updates.”

He makes sure he has everything he needs and then he turns around and starts walking away with Bowie tagging along, who occasionally looks back to see if you’re following behind, and it breaks your heart in a thousand pieces. As soon as they turn around the corner, you turn back around and head back to your apartment. This is the first time you leave him for a long period of time with another person, and you’re scared of how he’ll react to it and how it will affect him. You try to busy yourself getting ready to head to work and try not to think about how the flat is completely alone and Bowie is not there. 

The first update comes one hour into your shift. You find it funny how he saved himself in your  contacts, as “Bowie’s sitter (Harry)”. He texts a picture of Bowie sitting next to a very clean food bowl and his tongue is out mid lick.

“Just got dinner!” is attached to the picture. You only have time to reply with a heart before you’re swiped into an emergency surgery, and by the time you get out, it’s well past 3 a.m. and there are three pictures of Bowie waiting for you. 

One of him lying on the sofa watching television. You can see a bit of Harry’s leg as he’s lying next to him. The message next to the photo is, “I’ve heard Bluey works wonders for dogs, although I don’t know who’s enjoying it more, me or him.” You react to that with a laughing emoji. 

Next is a picture of Bowie with a toy on his mouth, bum up as if he was playing, and it comes again with another message. “A little play before bed.”

And last one in one of Bowie lying in bed, probably Harry’s but you try not to go too deep into that thought, and he’s resting on a pillow and has his blanket wrapped around him. You smile at how relaxed he looked. “Goodnight mum, see you tomorrow, have a good rest of the shift. -B”

You truly miss him, but you can see that he’s been having a great time with Harry, and you could not be happier. 

You get back into your shift and focus on what’s in front of you. You don’t stop at all, and by the time the shift ends, you cannot help but sigh, it’s been a long one. You change your clothes and say goodbye to a few of your coworkers before making your way home. You receive a picture of Bowie with his leash on and waiting by a door. 

“Onto our morning walk just after having breakfast, see you in a bit.”

You smile and reply. “Just got out of my shift and on the way home. See you guys in a bit.”

By the time you arrive, you have time to leave your things at home and clean the dishes you took to work, and when you receive a text from Harry announcing he’s downstairs, you head down to see your favourite boy. 

Bowie sprints as soon as he sees you and you cannot help but laugh.

“Hi, my love. I missed you so much. Did you have a great time with Harry?”

You squat down and he starts giving you kisses all over your face. Harry laughs at the sight.

“We had a really good time, he’s such a nice dog. Zero complains, honestly.” 

“Thank you again for looking after him, Harry. You have no idea how nice it was to think that he was being taken care of instead of being alone at home, it made me stop thinking I was a bad dog mum.”

“Oh, don’t joke with that. You’re not a bad mom. You would be if you had no worries about him at all. Don’t think of yourself like that.”

You smile at him, and you get up from the ground and immediately hug him. When you realize what you’re doing you quickly step back.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space just like that. I just wanted to say thank you.”

He smiles and takes you back in to give you a proper hug. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Bowie barks and that makes you break apart. Harry proceeds to tell you everything they did together and he’s returning everything he took with him. He tells you that he has already eaten, he did his business on his way home and will probably be okay until later for another walk. He tells you about how he took almost all the space in his bed and how Bowie had to sleep next to him all the time. 

“Thank you so much, Harry. I really don’t know how I could repay you.” You tell him as you begin to walk towards your door.

He stops and smiles. “Maybe you could go on a date with me.”

You blush immediately, and you smile shyly. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Have a good sleep and good rest of your day. I’ll text you later.” 

You smile and wish him a good day too and head into the building with Bowie. You put everything in its place, put on your pajamas, and flop into your bed. Bowie is not much behind before he comes along tugging his blanket and takes his spot on the bed. 

You go to sleep with a smile.

[olivianyx]

GET YOUR DREAM LIFE: A CHALLENGE

Welcome to this challenge, babygirls and babyboys 🗣️🗣️🗣️

So are you ready to manifest everything you desired in April? Then start up rn!

I'll show you 5 important, simple steps you can use to manifest your dream life!

This challenge will be done for 30 days throughout April. At the end of this month, the results are guaranteed!

You might be wondering if its gonna be hard... Buuuut! The steps are super duper simple, just follow them!

THE STEPS:

🤍 MENTAL DIET 🤍

Y'all heard it right, maintain a strict mental diet, like literally stop wavering! Stop focusing on things you don't want! Don't accept things you don't want! It's that simple. Only focus on positive and favourable thoughts.

Your mornings should go like, 'uhh it's such a beautiful day. It's gonna be amazing day as always. But it's gonna be fun today! I literally love this life, it's freaking amazing, I literally don't know how to thank myself for this. The fact that I'm the ultimate creator is soo mind blowing for me even though I've always been for my entire life. I'm literally thankful for everything! My life's being too perfect and I get what I want everytime, everything's in my favour always. I literally look soo amazing in every outfit I wear, it's such a slay everyday. Uhh I'm soo lucky to have what I want. Literally my self concept is supreme' and blah blah blah. You can add whatever you want further lol.

So like literally throughout the day steady yourself in this mindset. If you catch yourself wavering, be like *sike there ain't no chance bitch* come back on track! Catch yourself waver ---> stop ---> drop ---> flip it into something positive or favourable.

Literally robotic affirming is the only way you can keep your thoughts in check. So go bestie! Keep your head high, keep a check on those thoughts inside your pretty/handsome head 😩 keep slaying everyday ✨

🤍 ROBOTIC AFFIRMING 🤍

Keep affirming babygirls and babyboys! Like literally don't even stop (unless you're doing smth important, then stop affirming for a while lol) y'all got your dream lives already 💅 so why y'all telling yourself that you don't?? Well y'all do have it, so tell yourself the ULTIMATE FACT that you have your dream lives already 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ tell yourself whenever you're free, like even doing your daily chores such as taking a shit or shower, or brushing your teeth, eating, scrolling through the phone, or walking, waiting in a queue (I'd never wait in a queue... Cus I don't go to places with long ass annoying queues 😭) or listening to music or watching TV, doing the dishes or doing self care (I love my babygirls and babyboys taking care of themselves like there's no tomorrow 😩✋🏻I'mma give y'all a nice smooch 😚) just do it my babies! It's the ultimate way to get (which you already have it) your dream lives! So get tf up babies! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

🤍 LIVING IN THE END 🤍

This step shouldn't be missed at all babies! So focus on the end! Focus on having it! Focus on thinking from the end! Like you already are living yor dream lives, you have that car you wanted cus you already drive it everyday! You have that sp that loves you till death, that spoils you with their love, money, and what not?! You have that house you've been dreaming of! No, I mean living! You're living in that house already! It's yours my love! You got that perfect sculptured summer body ody that the normal human beings are jealous?? Like you have that body effortlessly 😩✋🏻 FOCUS ON HAVING IT BITCHES 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

🤍 USING SLEEP TO YOUR ADVANTAGE! 🤍

Listen here, my babygirls and babyboys! You sleep 7 to 8 hours a day, and sleep, according to medicals, is a state of complete rest. That means you're not aware of your surroundings. You're just being a black, quiet, space like floaty state (the void actually) so things are easier to manifest Instantly in this state! So why not do psych k or sats or the lullaby method before bed and after you wake up my loves?? It's so much more effective that what you do in the day time! Trust me! Go prepare yourself well for the bed babies 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

🤍 PERSISTENCE 🤍

Since you already affirming that you have your dream lives, you have it already! But you can begin to doubt that why is it not in the 3d... BITCH DON'T EVEN THINK LIKE THAT. Be like 'bitch wtf my life literally feels like a dream come true moment everyday 😭😭 like I'm literally living the life I wanted, I already am experiencing it wtf are you talking about' like literally GASLIGHT YOURSELF INTO THINKING LIKE THAT (cus you already have your dream life) like literally decide that you already have! Hold onto the new story no matter what! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

So ig I've told you what you needed to do... So all you gotta do is follow the fucking steps babies 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Okay, take care, love y'all babies! Byeee

- olivia 🤍

[girasollake]

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

[anakinstwinklebunny]

older sugar daddy!anakin who's paying for your postgrad, just cuddles you after a long day of studying 😩

TW: none really, just fluff and soft praises cause bunny loves dilf!ani :3

Author's note: I love you, give me more..let your fantasy free. Also, today's my birthday, when it's posted, I'm sleeping (thanks to the queue). But I want to thank YOU for this year. In September, I celebrated without all you knowing probably, my one year on this app. One year. Year ago, I'd not even imagine that one of my dreams would come true - to post MY work, something people will enjoy..you guys made it real and for that I thank you so much! Hugging all 622 of you!!! <3333333

It had been one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. Your brain was fried from the constant cycle of lectures, readings, and assignments. The textbooks in front of you blurred whenever you tried to focus on yet another chapter of dense material, so it was no use.

You felt drained—mentally and emotionally. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about postgrad for a little while.

The soft click of the apartment door opening snapped you out of your haze. You heard the familiar shuffle of Anakin’s shoes being kicked off, his expensive, cashmere-wool blend coat draped over the chair. Before you even had the chance to look up from your mountain of notes, he was beside you, his presence filling the room with warmth and comfort you so much craved at the moment

"Hey," he greeted quietly, his deep voice gently vibrating in your ear. He could immediately sense the tension around you, see the exhaustion written all over your profile side. Without asking, he leaned down to kiss your burning temple that was heated up from way too much information for one day

Not taking your tired eyes from the whatever you were trying to focus on, your nostrils could pick up the familiar scent of him—clean, warm, with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon

Dear heavens..

"Long day?" he asked softly, his large hand coming to rest on your shoulder, thumb gently brushing the back of your neck. You closed your eyes at the contact - it felt so good, to just being able to feel the all the stress and tension slowly melt down your spine

Well, Anakin's hands were magic. In every way. They could tear you apart, pull you back together and make you beg for more. Yet today, you were way too tired to beg him to do anything

"You have no idea," you sighed, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into his touch. “It feels like this coursework is never-ending.”

Anakin’s lips curled into a soft, understanding smile as he tilted his head, studying your tired expression. "You’ve been at it for hours. I can tell." He glanced at the textbooks, notebooks, and laptop scattered around you. It was impressive, to say the least, but even him knew you needed to slow down "You need a break."

Before you could protest, Anakin was already moving. He gently closed your laptop, setting it aside along with your textbooks, making sure they were out of reach so you wouldn’t be tempted to keep working. At first it brought you a quicker heartbeat, to see him just so casually act like it when you still had so much to do “Come here,” he murmured, reaching out to you. "You’ve done enough for today."

Yet, you didn’t hesitate. As tired as you were, the moment he opened his arms, you were drawn to him like a magnet. You slid into his embrace, sinking into his broad chest as he wrapped you up in the warmth of his body.

Your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was grounding, a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone in all of this. He was here, as he always was, making everything seem a little less overwhelming.

“You’re working too hard, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice tender as he massaged your scalp before gently threaded his long fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face. "You need to rest."

You sighed, sinking further into his embrace. Dammit, if he keeps it up, you'll fall asleep "I just want to get through this semester." you confessed

Anakin pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before his hand moved to caress your back “And you will. You always do.” His voice was filled with quiet confidence, the kind of unwavering belief in you that never failed to make your heart swell.

“You’ve been taking care of everything else,” Anakin murmured after a long moment of quietness, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “Now let me take care of you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by how much his simple presence soothed you. He always knew when to step in, offering comfort without needing to ask for anything in return. It wasn’t about money or gifts—this, right here, was what made him your anchor. The way he could make you feel safe and cherished, no matter how heavy the world felt on your shoulders.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. You pressed your face further into him, breathing him in, the scent of him calming your racing thoughts. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," he replied softly, kissing the top of your head. "I’ve got you."

You shifted slightly, your legs curling up as you snuggled deeper into him, finding the perfect spot in his lap. His hand gently cradled the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair with a touch so tender it made your heart flutter.

"I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the night."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @bimbo-baggins17

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[kabr0ztrousers]

It's super late so we're breaking from scheduled programming. Enjoy

Kabr0z Writes Episode 93: Communion, part 2

Also entitled: Confessional

Find part 1 here, or the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: portal fucking; giving fellatio; receiving cunnilingus; group sex; free use; religious themes; religious mentions; the last part ended in a confessional booth with a suspiciously gloryhole-adjacent slot. You can see where this is going

A/N: Today I was sent an ask longer than some episodes I've written. On the one hand I could scroll past the few hundred words and images every day for the next 2-ish months, or on the other I could write that episode sooner. Issue is, while I enjoy reading the fanmail people put at the top of their requests, I don't want people to think that's a requirement or they'll get preferential treatment...

Decisions decisions...

########################################

The booth was hot, and smelled of varnish. Only a little light got in through the slats in the door. The half-light illuminated the wickerwork screen beside you, and the slot in the door. You couldn't see through to the priest's side. His compartment was seemingly darker than yours, the silhouette of the man who was just delivering a sermon sat back as he spoke in that familiar clerical monotone

"Confess your sins, my child, and be absolved"

"F-forgive me father for I have sinned"

Your voice faltered. Your heart was still racing after the vigorous fucking you'd just received. Your cunt was still pulsing, cervix desperately trying to pull up as much of the cum dripping out of you.

The priest sighed "Confess, and be absolved. How long has it been since your last confession"

"I don't think I've ever done this before... At least not properly"

The priest didn't seem fazed. "I shouldn't ask, but as long as it stays in this booth the seal of confession is preserved. Were you the young lady who looked so distressed during communion this morning?"

You blushed. He had noticed something "Maybe?"

He sighed again. "I thought so. I recognise most of the voices in my flock. What did you want to confess?"

You thought for a moment. He was being so genuine, was he really this oblivious or was it part of the act?

"I... Uh... I suppose I've been having a lot of sex in... Inappropriate places?" The words came out like you were asking a question, but you're sure he understood.

"What do you mean by inappropriate?"

As if on queue, the panties started buzzing. The sound resonated through the hard wood of the bench under you.

"Well, sort of public?"

A finger tested your slit, sliding in to the knuckle. "It-it's hard to explain... I've got this thing"

A tongue pressed against you, tasting you as the finger pressed up into your g-spot. It was moving fast. The finger kept pace, rubbing the upper wall of your cunt against your pubic bone.

The priest still wasn't flapped "A thing? How so"

The finger and the tongue were making it hard to regulate your breath. Let alone string together words "A p-pair of undies. T-t-they make p-portsls" Your words are starting to slur together. The pressure in your bladder was building. So was the dull ache in your cunt.

"And are you wearing them now?" He couldn't sound less bothered. There's no way he couldn't hear you panting. No way he couldn't smell the arousal wafting from your crotch.

It got too much. Your knees pressed together as your thighs shook uncontrollably. You whined the response, "Yes, yes yes yes" You weren't sure if you were answering him, or just responding to your cunt squirting through the portal at whomever was doing this to you

"Well," Fuck this man was just unflappable. "I can see this has you vexed. Normally I would assign you some spiritual task to offer some relief. Given the" he sniffed the air "circumstances, I can offer something more... Physical."

You heard him standing up on the other side of the screen. You're not sure what he meant when he suggested something physical, but hopefully it wasn't going to be too unpleasant.

You weren't left to wait long. A cock slipped through the slot in the wall, half hard and waiting for you, inches away from your face.

You sat, staring at it. Even after having squirted all over a confessional booth you weren't entirely sure what you were looking at. You took it in one shaking hand, pulling back his foreskin and inspecting it.

The portal in your pants didn't lie idle. A cock slid into you. The flared tip pushing in deep before another joined it. The pair of them buried themselves in you. They stayed a moment, as if waiting for you to decide on what to do with the cock in front of your face.

Maybe a little less impressive than the two equine members sharing your tight hole, but no less important. You kissed the tip of his cock, tasting the slightly sour skin as you allowed it to grow against your lips, gently pushing them apart as it eased into your mouth.

The equines rubbed against each other. As one pushed into you, the other pulled out a little, preparing for its next thrust. They were using you to frot against each other, taking advantage of your hot, wet hole to get one another off.

You moaned Into the cock in your mouth at your realisation. You hadn't even dare hope for this. Two virile equines using you like a glorified sextoy, not caring at all of you got off on it. That thought was almost enough to make you cum again.

Instead, you focused your attention on your mouth. Suckling and licking the tip of the cleric's cock until he was rock-hard, throbbing and leaking onto your tongue.

"Drink of my seed, and be cleansed"

You were getting some doubts about this man. But you didn't care. He had a cock, it was big, and it was promising you a load of hot, tasty cum if you played your cards right. Habit clasped your hands together behind your back. Instinct drove you forwards on you allowed it deeper access to your mouth. You swallowed a gag as it brush your tonsils, accepting it into your well-trained throat.

The cocks twisted in you, rotating as they fucked out of sequence, rubbing their flared lengths against each other. You could feel them leaking pre into you. The vacuum effect of one tightly-sealed cockhead pulling out as another rammed in milking them both for all they were worth.

Your head bobbed on the preist's cock, tasting as the thin precum got thicker. You could hear him groaning and swearing under his breath as you swallowed over and over, your throat milking him as you enjoyed filling your face with him.

You groaned as you reached another peak. The rolling thunder of your orgasm caused you to tear up a little. Your belly tensed, muscles squirming as you clenched on the cocks filling you. You could feel your ass lifting off the booth chair, presenting it to nobody, a biological inperitive to beg for the cocks abusing your tight hole to knock you up

The first horsecock spasmed. Twitching and bucking, you felt cum flow into you before the other did the same. Twin jets of semen flowed into you, stoppered by the two flares sealing your cunt up tight. Your hips rocked, gyrating to try and milk the two who had connected to you. You weren't sure if it was making a difference but the two kept going, kept sending pulses of cum into your bloated womb. You could feel your dress getting imperceptibly tighter as an inch added itself to your waistline.

The priest wasn't far behind. He wasn't just crying in English. Latin and Greek had entered his speech as he called you a puta, a malaka, a filthy whore in the eyes of his God.

A drawn-out groan came from him as his cock emptied into you. You could tell he didn't do this often. His cum was thick, creamy and heavy. It slid down your throat with just a hint of a bitter aftertaste, the consistency of honey

You kept his cock in your mouth. Even after the horses had left you alone, leaking a stream of cum from one end, you let him keep his cock in your mouth.

At last he pulled it out. You spoke first

"I feel like you shouldn't have done that, huh?"

"No. No I shouldn't. I beg of you, don't tell anyone what happened here today"

You pulled out the stroker that came with your panties. Already keyed for priority access to your panties. The smooth metal tube felt warm in your hand "I have an idea how you can blow off some steam without anyone having to know"

It's strange, blackmailing someone into them having you as a fucktoy. But if anyone can make it work, it's you

#####################################

Yeah, I was gonna revisit this at some point or other, bit this went better than I hoped.

As usual, if you wanna see something, say something! Send an ask to have your request join the queue!

[shunsuiken]

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).

pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x fem!reader

genre. fluff

wc. 200-400 for each character

an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33

kaeya alberich

you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.

“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”

“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”

oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.

he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.

“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”

kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”

“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.

klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.

you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”

“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.

you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.

“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”

“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.

“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.

childe

you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.

his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.

the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.

ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”

you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”

he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.

“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”

“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”

“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.

if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-

when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”

kamisato ayato

these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!

thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?

“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”

the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.

“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.

he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.

“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.

ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”

your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”

you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!

“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.

“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.

“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”

kaveh

three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?

“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”

the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.

kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.

“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?

his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”

kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.

your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.

“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”

neuvillette

“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.

but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.

“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.

when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.

“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”

the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!

but why can’t he bring himself to say no?

the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.

when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.

it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.

“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.

neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.

“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”

neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Beach vacation? More like I stole your bitch vacation- Dieter Bravo x reader × Joel Miller

cw: mmf threesome, double penetration, anal fingering, anal sex, mention of sex toys, fingering, piv, safe sex that later becomes unsafe sex, creampie, jealous! dieter, crying during sex, overstimulation, not full on cum eating but at least a little cum tasting, 1 ppcu guy + 1 gratis

Written for the #MagicNumberChallenge by @mothandpidgeon , @schnarfer, and @whocaresstillthelouvre

Dieter Bravo hated Christmas. It wasn't like a Grinch thing, nor did he think it was pretentious. Yes, long queues in stores weren't his thing (call him old fashioned for not buying his gifts online, and he's going back to get a refund). He also wasn't a fan of Christmas movies (why would they just leave the kid home alone, truly there was no distant relative with a car or a neighbor that could get him for a few days?). Truth was, he was just cold. He'd spend so many Christmases in California. Los Angeles lacked snow, so usually his posh film friends went to the Alps. So, more free time for him. Dieter could go to his favorite restaurants without a reservation. He could just do lines on his balcony while scrolling Raya. There was that one incident with the escort in the Santa outfit, though his pr team did a great spin. Dieter got them a raise on new years. But after that cursed movie, he had packed and left the city of angels.

His first New York winter almost did him in. But of course, faith brought him you. A pretty roommate. A nice, respectful girl that kept to herself. Occasionally had a friend over, but never had a guy sleep over. Dieter would've guessed you were gay or ace, but he didn't miss how you ogled him sometimes. Especially when he would parade around in the apartment in just his bathrobe, which was more often than not. You guessed he was just one of those people who didn't get cold. Until you got your October electricity bill. He had ranked up an insane amount of money. And you had to confront him because the landlord confronted you. That's how you found yourself yelling at Dieter, finger jabbed at his chest. His room was a sauna, and he had the audacity to leave the window open. "It keeps the place from smelling like pot," he whispers, letting you on his big secret. Unfortunately, you don't care. Even when he shows you his bank account, with so many zeros, he could afford to heat up the entire floor. It was a matter of principle. You dragged him to your room and showed him the zeros on the meter. Your screaming match was over when you tucked him in bed, under your heavy, warm comforter. He pulled you close to him, claiming that he read about this hugging the tension away method for a role. Somehow, you manage to end up naked with him, sweaty and panting under the covers. Dieter basically made camp in your bed for the winter. Sucking his dick daily wasn't on your bingo card, but it sure was a nice distraction from the bleak weather outside. He actually took you out on a date in March, and the rest was history.

Dieter did not particularly want to spend this Christmas with your parents. I mean, he was probably closer in age to them than to you (math wasn't his strong suit). So, months in advance, he buys tickets to a tropical paradise, opting for you two to spend a very sunny Christmas. He presents them to you in October, a year on the day when you first kissed. You tease him relentlessly for keeping track, still half-convinced that Dieter was with you for the sex. He could bring out something needy and almost pathetic in you. He loved Friday nights, because he'd spend hours between your legs, making you cum over and over again. Sometimes he'd get high or only get you high and just slowly hump you for hours, both of you so relaxed and at peace. You'd come so hard against him then, he swears you were made in a lab, especially tailored to his tastes. Hell, he even called you his soulmate the first time he finished inside of you. Watching you fuck his cum in deeper made him want to put a ring on your finger. You two were casual, yet serious, friends with benefits but also a secret third thing. So that's why Dieter thought you loved surprises.

You did, you really did. But you were terrified of flying. The whole process. Going to the airport. All the people, the long lines at TSA. Being somewhere, then in a few hours, landing somewhere else. And no matter how many times you flew, it was the same. You, like the mature well-adjusted adult you are, ignore this. Maybe this time it would be different. Maybe your boyfriend's dickmatization included anxiety. But as soon as you wake up in the morning of the flight, it's all going tits up. When you tell Dieter everything, in between the gagging on nothing on the toilet, he brings you a pack of edibles. He shakes it, the gummies hitting the plastic like they're dog treats. You have to remind him that you don't have his celebrity status and you'd definitely get in trouble. He rummages through his bathroom drawers and comes out with a thing that's just 3 natural herbs with a calming effect. Totally over the counter and definitely not his style.

"After everything that happened on set for Cliff Beasts 6, they thought I had lost it. Put me in rehab and all. I was getting drug tested at every audition. These kept me afloat. Take 2 for serious cases and 3 for emergencies." He says in response to your unasked questions.

You take 2 immediately, chasing them down with water. The whole journey there, you're stuck to Dieter's side like a koala. He's taking care of you, and it's almost okay. You're still anxious, and it doesn't let up until you're in the air. Then you're both taking advantage of the complimentary wine on the plane. You're grabbing a second one, and it dawns on you that you forgot to ask Dieter if the meds were okay to be mixed with alcohol. But he's fast asleep next to you, the script for his next project strewn on his lap. You stuff the confidential words in your in-flight magazines and lay your head on his shoulder. You're out like a light, sleeping like never before. You're a groggy zombie through passport control and already napping again in the taxi to the hotel. There you're more rested and start unpacking as Dieter already heads to the pool, towels in hand. You plant a big kiss on his lips and let him enjoy himself.

He's better at intimidating people, at remembering to put on sunscreen, at picking out the perfect chaiselounge. Dieter Bravo was made for relaxation. You can bet he's already drinking out of a coconut at a pool bar by the time you're down. Folding his speedos and hanging your clothes wasn't that time-consuming. It was your swimsuit that was the problem. You hadn't bothered to own a cute one before, and that meant that you had been on the hunt for two pieces in the middle of winter. With holiday shipping delays, and all you had to just go to a cheap, trusty store and pick a suspiciously cheap set. The white pieces with an overall cherry print looked great on you, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't soon become see-through.

So you spent a good 10 minutes looking at yourself in the mirror, poking and proding at the fabric, stretching it, anything. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do, you guessed. Finally, you decided to fuck it. You'd tell Dieter about your woes and he'd wait for you to exit the pool with a towel. You had no qualms about being wrapped in the huge Star Wars one someone gave him at a meet and greet. You swore your boyfriend had a doppelganger out there somewhere. You begged him to contact the guy playing Din Djarin for a remake of Parent Trap. D even had his ears pierced, it was perfect. To his effort, he called his agent and tried, but to no avail. Turns out that actor was a former stunt double of his and absolutely refused to work in the same vicinity. Your boyfriend took that in stride. Not before teasing the shit out of you, though.

"Oh, I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you, sweetheart? Visiting me on set, seeing two of me. You'd try to make a pass at him too, get him to join us, I know. Be a sly little minx, get a menagé with me and him. Wouldn't that be a brainfuck, huh?"

Dieter is a sweet talker but a persistent yapper nonetheless. That's why he knew just how far he could go with the threesome talk. How to coax you to ask for what you need.

"Come on, say it. What do you think about my idea? Cat got your tongue? I hope not, because I quite like it when you use it to do that thing with the." You cut him off with a

"It's hot, okay. My holes being filled by you, well two of you, it's a dream. To have you like that. Need you now, though. Please, enough of daydreaming."

You didn't need more freaky tales about how he'd fuck his clone. You needed him. Of course, Dieter wasn't gonna keep you waiting.

He trails two fingers towards the fabric of your underwear, pulling the panties to the side. You can hear him mumbling about how "you're soaked enough just from his words" as he curls the pointer and middle finger inside of you. The familiar, yet ghastly sounding squelch sound was a testament to this, you guessed. Luckily, you could get your way with him too, using a couple of simple words.

"Please, give me your dick, please, I wanna come on it," is all it takes. Simple, easy. Has him reaching for sweatpants strings and pulling them down, along with his boxer shorts. He slides his member between your thighs as he rummages through the bedside drawer, looking for condoms. Time stills as you watch him tear open the package frantically and put it on with precision, still giving you a show. How he fucks you in missionary, pillow under your hips. How he spits into his palm, uses the slick that's down your thighs to coat his finger. How he keeps apologizing that you don't have lube and reassuring you he will stop if you tell him. How your lips form a perfect O when his finger moves past your cheeks, and inside of your ass. How he tells you that sharing you would probably be like this and you squeeze against him twice. How you both cum embarrassingly fast, all of it a little too much for you.

You remember this little anecdote and pull on the bikini that's already wedged itself in your ass. Sunscreen in one hand and big emperor sunglasses perched on top of your head, you scan the perimeter for Dieter. You spot him, but something looks a bit wrong. You're not sure what it is, a Mandela effect of some sort.

Maybe it's his hair, looking a bit more salt and peppery? You trail through his body, but you spot the long red beach shorts he's wearing. When did Dieter pack that? You wondered why, too, because you already shoved 3 different colored speedos in the hotel wardrobe. When in Rome, he seemed to say with those, even though you were pretty far from Rome. You're staring at his crotch for a good minute until you snap out. The lack of tattoos is a dead giveaway. The thick book that says something about plowing and bones is what cements it. D's very smart, he's got an Oscar for God's sake. But he simply doesn't have the attention span for a slow paced read like this . That was not your boyfriend. But they looked identical. They could be twins. You knew it wasn't a "parent trap" situation because Dieter's parents were married. But this was getting very "three identical strangers" for you.

You were busy gawking at the stranger to notice Dieter sliding himself next to you.

"What's caught your attention? Wait, what the fuck is that. Is that a mirror or something. Jesus, it moved. Oh my God, that's a man. How many fucking doppelgangers do I have?" He says.

"Should we talk to him? I mean, he's obviously staying in the same hotel. Stars aligning and all that."

Dieter raises a brow. He had plans for this vacation. They included you, him, lounging by the pool, maybe a couple of museum and insane amounts of sex. After all, somebody else was changing the sheets. A buddy would be a bit awkward. D planned to ravish you at dinner and not fork asparagus as he makes small talk. Or God forbid, make conversation with a crazed fan. But on the other hand, he was also curious like you. So he decided to bite the bullet. He intertwined his fingers with yours and took the short walk to the pool chair. Chest glistening with water, a strip of sunscreen on his Aqualine nose, almost like he came from the set of Gladiator 2.

Joel Miller lived under a rock. So he had never seen a Dieter Bravo thing. Maybe that one episode of Buffy that aired eons ago. But he had a daughter to raise, not much time to be a cinephile. Especially boring, uppity stuff like the plays or historical epics D was involved in. Ironically, Joel had seen Cliff Beasts 1-5 and was still waiting for 6, which they were "in post production limbo" for years, according to the fan forums. So he didn't recognize the celebrity. He was nonetheless intrigued because the man towards him looked more alike than even Tommy. And not to mention the breathtaking woman next to him.

Joel practically jumped when Dieter faced him. They were a spitting image of eachother, bar a few of the tattoos. The other man also looked leaner, while Joel had a more defined physique. Perks of the job, he thought. The job that was currently probably falling apart without him. But sue him for getting a holiday for once in his life. Sarah was too old (her words, not his) to spend Christmas with her dad. Rather do that with some friends from college. And he managed to charm the lady at the tourist agency to give him a discount, last minute trip and all. Now Mr. Miller was grateful to be alone. Because there was nothing that he wanted more than to sink his cock inside of you as Dieter watched from the cuck chair. And almost like an angel, the man says to him "Would you like to have sex with us? For science.". Joel snickers at you lightly smacking your boyfriend's arm and apologizing. Then come introductions. The three of you take to eachother. Of course, him and Dieter compare lives, fully invested in this Sliding Doors scenario. You rub sunscreen on both of them as they talk, only humming or asking additional questions. It's like you're supervising 2 bulls and you're a matador. Dieter reads out recent news in increasingly weirder voices he learned at school. Joel gives you crossword clues, correcting your spelling of cordyceps. The three of you pass around a ball in the pool, much to the chagrin of other guests. Joel Miller has never been wined and dined. But he comes pretty close to it when you're buying him mocktail after mocktail and charging them to the room. All he has to do for a beer is ask nicely. You're grabbing the bottle too fast and pressing your lips to the foam, slurping obscenely. Then you twist like a vine, between the two men. The bar chairs are uncomfortable, so you have to sit in their lap? Sure. Joel notices how Dieter subtly gropes you, grabbing handfuls of your ass and tits. Not to be undone, he makes sure to press you down against himself. It's a cat and mouse game now, and D intends to start it off properly. By asking you to go upstairs and get ready for a shower as he tags along behind you with Mr. Miller.

You've barely swiped your key card when they catch up to you. Dieter pins you to the door,lips on yours, while Joel clumsily tries to kiss your neck.

"How do you want it, pretty face? Wanna take it in your mouth, show us that you suck cock like a pro?" Dieter asks as you're already moaning for more. You shake your head no, envisioning something a little different.

"Greedy. Then what? Tell Joel first, tell him what you want from him." Your boyfriend prompts you.

"Fuck my ass, Joel. As D's inside of my pussy. I wanna feel you both. At the same time. I've never done that, always wanted to."

He basically reboots for a second and then goes for your bikini bottoms. He looks at Dieter for confirmation, who just nods and tosses a bottle of lube in his direction. Joel would stop and think if this is a good idea if his cock hadn't been painfully hard in his swimming trunks for some time now. So, instead of ruminating, he uncapped the lube and spreads it on his fingers. You're surprisingly still, like a doe in headlights. He can hear you breathe in and out as he teases your hole. Better get on with it if you wanted to take him, he reasons. So he slides a finger past your ass cheeks. He asks Dieter to palm your tits, rub your clit, anything to get you more loosened up. It works. Bucking your hips against your boyfriend distracts you. You're still shaking a bit, so he asks

"You two have never, I mean, she's never?" Taken it up the ass remains silent, as if it's too vulgar. As if Joel wasn't two knuckles deep inside of that hole as he questioned you.

"Not totally. I've taken fingers, plugs. Dieter likes to keep me on edge, that fucker. But never a cock." You say nonchalantly, as if you're asking him what he's doing tomorrow.

"It's just so impersonal. Yeah, I'm an ass man, but it's not the same. Especially with this one soaking me like a broken sprinkler. No lube can come close to this." Dieter cuts in as he curls his fingers just right and slides them inside of you.

You whine for more, but Dieter doesn't rellent. No, he's played this song and dance before. The orgy scenes from game of thrones? Those weren't scripted. So he knows exactly how to make two people tick at the same time. He thrusts his fingers, once, twice and pulls them out. Shushes your disappointment with a kiss. Slides his digits past Joel's lips. Loves how his doppelganger socks hungrily, acting like your pussy juice is ambrosia. Dieter counts to 5 and pulls them away, almost chipping Mr. Miller's tooth. It's a game, all of it. And he intends to win.

You sense the dick measuring contest from a mile away. But you're prepared. Dieter is thicker, but shorter. You blab on how full he makes you, how he stretches you out, how you're not sure if it will fit. Joel, longer, but not as thick. You try for the old "he's so pretty", oh it'll ruin me, I have never had it so deep in me before. Of course, your boyfriend does the honours. They both move against you, heads ready and throbbing. Dieter grumbles about picking up the wrong condoms, forgetting about his latex allergy. Thankfully Joel somehow gets one out of the pages of his book. As soon as you tease his about his choice, he smacks your ass.

"I could walk away right now, fuck my fist in the shower tonight and then tease you and your little boyfriend for the reminder of your stay. Or you could be a good little doll and respect your elders. Still wanna make fun of me?" He asks, rubbing his cock against your ass, against the spot where his fingers are still stretching you open.

"No, sir." You say. Dieter watches it all, and the tension is too much for him. He thrust his all too big for you cock into your pussy in one motion. Little tears form at the corners of your eyes. His movement pushes you into the mattress, into Joel. Who grips your hips and moves forward, as D moves back. You're sandwiched between them, and it almost is too much.

It certainly isn't the most comfortable. Then Dieter says it, that while it feels fucking amazing, he knows a better way. He slides off you and lays back, cock pointed straight in the air like a flag in a golf hole.

"Giddy up, cowgirl." He says in that voice, the one he's gonna be using for agent Whiskey in Kingsmen. The one that drives you wild. You crawl over to him with Joel still inside of you. It's almost funny, you're like two animals rutting desperately together. Dieter spreads his legs a little, watches you struggle to straddle him.

"Fucking horndog, you better behave if you want me to make you cum. I know you're a sensitive little bitch that loves every touch, but I doubt you'll finish just from anal. Show old Dieter a good time." He says as you take your time. Joel pauses, letting you sink on your boyfriend's cock. He knows that if you cum, your whole body will be reacting, including the sweet ass he was currently fucking. You reach out to help Dieter put it in, and apologize as your sharp hotel bracelet almost scratches him. The blonde receptionist with the thick Slavic accent had something against you, you could swear it. It's all forgotten as Dieter lifts his hips slowly and lets gravity do its job. You sink on his cock and all three of you try to move. It's a sweaty, wet mess. You're not sure who you're begging for more, who's praising you, who's telling you you're a filthy slut. The tears come naturally, and you don't even feel them fall. Until Joel reaches out to dry them, pad of thumb rough and calloused against your face.

"Look at her, crying already. We've barely started, doll." He says. Of course, the universe disagrees. And by the universe, of course here we mean Dieter Bravo's insufferable jealousy. Maybe it's the speed with which he fucks into you. Maybe it's the fact that he still has his rings on the hand he uses to rub brutal circles on your clit. But you can hear the elastic of the condom shift. You lift and low and behold, it's split, a slit right against it.

"We don't need it, do we pretty thing? I'm your boyfriend after all. I'm the one you come home to, I'm the one you fuck every night. I need you to say it, though. Tell me you want me to fill you up with my cum. Go on." He begs, as you rub against his tip. You reply with a "Need you, need to soak your cock." and as soon as you feel all of him, you do.

Coming on Dieter's cock as he starts to build a rhythm and Joel is about to finish too is a religious experience. The stranger chokes out a "You did good, doll" and two pumps later he's done. But of course, like a true southern gentleman, he goes on. He tosses the used condom in the trash can (with surprising accuracy) and he's back on the bed. His fingers are on your clit, despite you saying it's too much.

"She can take it." Dieter parrots, and you echo the same, even though it's half- moaned and fully a lie. Joel matches his rhythm to D's instructions, and low and behold, you're coming. Dieter is right there with you, but what pushes him over is the other man's hand slowly moving to your cunt. Joel fucks the cum inside of you, pushing it back in. Once he's satisfied, he lets you lick one finger and offers the other to Dieter. The actor begrudgingly agrees, ready for the "Tom from Succession" special. After all, what's a good beach vacation without a sweet treat?

[immoral-stranger]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 // 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑. 💋 “I can get a little drunk, I get into all the don’ts but on good days I am charming as fuck.” – Tove Lo, Moments.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None except alcohol and drunkenness.

A/N: Sike, you're getting the first letter tonight. It's cute as fuck. Dedicated to all my girlies (gn) who get Tove Lo drunk when aiming for Pitbull drunk.

Charles wasn’t sure why he had agreed to go out tonight. Monaco’s nightlife, as dazzling as it was, had become an overplayed record to him. Especially during the summer with all the tourists. He remembered being freshly turned 18 and discovering it (legally) for the first time. It had been magical. Now it was a done deal, a well-rehearsed story, knowing how it would go from beginning to end. Maybe that was why he actually preferred spending time on his yachts or on some small remote resort on some small remote island during his summer break from the racing calendar. 

Alas, here he was, tipsy from an overly sweet cocktail in a VIP booth at Jimmy’z. His friends were having fun, as were his friends’ friends and whoever else could get close enough to leech on, knowing that Charles was definitely the one paying the tab. It seemed to be the primary talent of those people, sticking close enough to the rich and the famous to get something for free out of it. 

Charles found it braindead. 

He sighed, swaying half-heartedly to the DJ’s relentless house music. Was he even a fan of house music? He didn’t think so. Between the thumping bass, the flashing strobe lights, and the endless game of shouting over the noise just to make small talk, Charles felt tired.

Maybe he was getting old. But he hadn’t even hit thirty yet. Could you have a quarter-life crisis at 27?

It got to the point where he started counting down the minutes until it would be socially acceptable to excuse himself for a “bathroom break.” The moment came, and Charles seized it, weaving his way through the dance floor. He lingered in the queue for the toilets longer than necessary, opting for a stall over a urinal so he could sit in peace. He didn’t even need to pee. He just wanted to be alone. His head was spinning slightly from the alcohol. Not drunk, not even close, but his famously rigorous fitness regimen had turned him into something of a lightweight. Not that he’d admit it.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he navigated the narrow corridor leading back to the main area of the club. That was when he felt it—a tug on his arm, insistent and clumsy. Before he could fully process what was happening, he was yanked backward and down onto a bench. Or a sofa. One of those little black pleather-clad, trashy club furnishings. 

For a fleeting moment, he considered all the reasons he hated being famous. Whatever was about to happen—selfies, autograph requests, or an inebriated declaration of undying love for Ferrari—he was sure it would test the limits of his patience.

“Hi!” a voice chirped. “Are you busy? No?”

He blinked. Sitting beside him was a girl—young and lively, a light shining in your eyes as you spoke excitedly. Or maybe just drunkenly. You had that half-glazed look of someone balancing precariously between charming and completely hammered. You spoke English. A tourist most likely. Dressed up nicely. Not like you had another choice. It was Monaco. 

As Charles was too shocked to answer, you continued talking in a heartbeat. 

“Great! Not busy.” You clasped your hands together as though you’d just agreed to the most wonderful thing in the world. “You…” you announced grandly, pointing at him, “are going to help… me.”

“I am?” Charles asked, caught between amusement and disbelief.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, as though this were obvious. You leaned heavily on Charles’ shoulder for support, your words tumbling out in a rush. “Okay, so. Here’s the situation: I lost my bag. Then I lost Emma while looking for my bag. And now—” you gestured dramatically, nearly toppling over even when sitting up—“I am stuck here. No bag, no Emma, and way, waaay too much tequila in my system.”

Charles stifled a laugh. “And you think I can help?”

“Of course!” You nodded vigorously. “If you find my bag and Emma, then this—” you gestured vaguely at yourself,—“this will no longer be a problem.”

“If I find your bag?” he found himself repeating. 

“Mhm, then you can come here to me again,” you slurred your speech a little, nodding again like your head was constantly stuck doing it. “With Emma and the bag and no problems.” 

“You can’t do it yourself?” 

“Exactly!” You pointed at him, impressed, narrowly avoiding touching his dimpled cheek with your long nail. “See, you get it. You’re a lifesaver.”

You seemed to have no idea who he was, and you were definitely drunker than you had first led on. He saw it in the way your body slumped and in your bloodshot eyes. Your hair was messy, your makeup smudged, and your dress a little wrinkled. And you were undeniably funny, totally capturing and taking over the conversation without letting Charles speak. 

He helped you to lean against the sofa, getting himself out from being your human crutch. Still, he couldn’t find a way out of being your lifesaver. 

“All right,” Charles sighed. “What does your bag look like?”

“It’s black, sparkly, and small. Like… impossibly small. A wallet with delusions. But I bought it in Paris—”

“Okay, I got it.” Charles suppressed a smile. “And Emma?”

“Tall. Blonde. Looks like she’s judging everyone but will absolutely cry over a military homecoming.”

“Right. Tall, blonde, and emotionally complex. Got it,” he repeated. “Are you sure I can leave you on your own?” 

Charles stood from the sofa, glancing at you as you leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m fiiiiine. I just need the room to stop spinning.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Enthralled by your giggle and the way you looked sort of fairy-esque with glittery eyeshadow in patches around your eyes. There was something magnetic about you, even in your dishevelled state. He couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t also slightly concerning—a young woman alone in a drunken state. You were a happy kind of drunk right now, but he had a feeling that might change quickly. 

With a final look at you, he set off into the chaos of the club. Back underneath the strobe lights and the pulsating music. Back between the warm and drunk bodies of others. Somewhere, a girl in a sparkly dress was yelling about her ex to anyone who’d listen, and he thought for a fleeting moment how easily you might have been her—except you weren’t yelling. You’d asked for his help.

He heard his friends yell after him from their place in the VIP area, probably wondering why he’d been gone for so long. But Charles was on a mission—to find a minuscule bag and a blonde woman in a crowd of not that many bags and way too many blonde women. 

The bag was easier to spot than he expected. Its sparkles caught the light as it lay abandoned, right by his feet on the dance floor. That seemed too good to be true. He picked it up, the thing so small it felt absurd in his hands. What could you even fit in here? A debit card? A single lipstick?

Charles didn’t mean to pry, but he opened it to make sure it actually was yours, and much to his surprise, he found a debit card, some spare euros, some sort of makeup product, a tampon, and a driver’s license. Fuck, you were the kind of person who looked gorgeous in official portraits. And he knew your name now. Maybe he should’ve asked for that before he decided to agree on being your knight in shining armour. 

Emma, however, was more elusive. Verging on needle in a haystack territory. He scanned the floor and the booths, getting nowhere. Looking for a girl as equally lost as you were turned out to be harder than he thought. Everyone fit so well into the orchestrated act of nightclub hierarchy that no one looked out of place. 

Admitting defeat, Charles turned to walk back to the corridor outside the toilets, hoping to find you exactly where he left you. Before he could even round the corner, he heard your voice cut through the noise. 

“I know, Emma. I know that I do this all the time and that it scares you to death.” 

Your tone was half-pleading, half-explanatory, like you were trying to win a debate and console her at the same time. The sound of it made him stop in his tracks, curiosity anchoring him to the spot.

As he edged closer, you came into view, seated exactly where he’d left you. Beside you stood Emma, arms folded tightly across her chest in a way that broadcast equal parts frustration and affection. She was, as Charles had guessed, tall, blonde, and distinctly more polished than you at the moment. Similarly dressed but with an air of sharp control. 

Emma was the kind of person you’d send in to fix a mess—not become part of one. Clearly switched into full mom mode, she had already given you a glass of what Charles prayed was water and had tied your hair into a haphazard ponytail, probably anticipating the worst-case scenario of tequila-induced disaster.

Charles lingered just out of sight, gripping your little sparkly bag as if it were a trophy. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your voice was unmistakable and loud enough to rival the DJ. 

“I get a little drunk and I get into all the don’ts, but on good days? I am charming as fuck, and you love me for it.” 

Your voice, slurred but insistent, filled the hallway. You reached out toward her, your hands wobbling in the air until she sighed and took them. Her annoyance cracked just enough for Charles to catch the tired laugh she let slip. It was the kind of laugh that said, Yes, I love you, but you’re impossible, and I have considered leaving you in a bush once or twice.

Charles smiled to himself, your declaration replaying in his mind. Charming as fuck, indeed. He wasn’t sure if the grin tugging at his lips was due to the absurdity of the situation or the undeniable truth of your words.

He wasn’t invisible, after all, so when you were done with your exclamation to Emma, your gaze easily landed on Charles, standing somewhat pathetically, waiting just a few metres away. The moment your eyes met his, you lit up like you’d just remembered something incredibly important.

“And look!” you exclaimed, pointing toward him. Drunk you had a thing for pointing. “I had this… hot guy here to help me. He’s found my bag! You, sir, are a lifesaver.”

You’d just managed to call him both “hot” and “sir” in the same breath, and Charles wasn’t sure if it was because you didn’t know his name or if you were trying to drive him completely insane.

Emma’s head whipped toward Charles, her face shifting from surprise to a kind of restrained horror as recognition dawned. Her posture stiffened again, her folded arms tightening. While you hadn’t known who Charles was, Emma definitely did. 

“Y-you roped Charles fucking Leclerc into looking for your bag?!” 

“A what now?” you mumbled, looking between the two of them with confusion written across your face.

Charles stepped closer, handing you the bag like a peace offering. “I am… a Charles Leclerc.” 

“It’s a thing?”

“No, it’s my name.” 

You squinted at him, as though trying to decide if this explanation satisfied you. Then, with a dramatic sigh, you let your head fall back against the wall. “You should have led with that,” you pointed out. “I need to sit down. Oh wait—” You gestured weakly at your own position. “Already doing that.”

“Charles Leclerc,” Emma said, gesturing toward him with an incredulous sweep of her hand. “Formula 1 driver? Like… literally one of the best in the world?”

“Ohhh, right. We’re in Monaco,” you mumbled to yourself. 

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something about you being impossible. Then she straightened, looking at Charles briefly before her gaze shifted to the dance floor. “I’m going to find the others and tell them it’s time to go. Don’t let her wander off again, please.”

Before Charles could respond, she disappeared into the crowd, her blonde head bobbing toward the pulsating lights. He watched her go, unsure if he’d just been handed a babysitting gig or a challenge. When he turned back, you were studying him, your head tilted slightly.

Charles hesitated, then he sat down beside you again, leaning back against the worn pleather as he looked right back at you. Up close, the club lights caught in your hair, making it shimmer like an accidental halo. He wondered if it was the alcohol in his veins or just the moment, but you looked… luminous.

“So, what now? Bag found, friend located. Mission accomplished,” he asked, almost proudly, as he relaxed further into his seat. 

You drunkenly fumbled through the belongings inside your bag, in disbelief over everything being there. “You really did solve all of my problems… Thank you,” you said softly, a hint of genuine gratitude creeping into your voice.

He smiled, his amusement softening into something warmer. “You’re welcome.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze slower now, more deliberate. “It makes sense that you’re famous,” you said finally, as if you’d unravelled some profound mystery. “You’ve got a really pretty face.”

Charles chuckled completely unguarded. “I think that’s the tequila talking.”

“Nope,” you said, grinning with certainty. “That’s all me.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn in by your confidence, your complete lack of pretense. On top of the almost sticky pleather sofa, he could see your hand move tentatively, dancing over the fabric, aimless yet perfectly intentional. He wasn’t thinking when he grabbed it, intertwining his fingers with your own, but it felt right—and something innocent that felt this right couldn’t be wrong. 

“I think you were right,” he said, not scared to look you in the eye. “About you being charming as fuck.”

“Good,” you replied, raising your glass of water in a mock toast. “Because I think I’m keeping you here for a while.”

“Still too drunk to walk?” he teased. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” you declared, each syllable landing like a punchline. 

He laughed loudly, letting the chaos fade into the background, his hand grounded in yours, feeling more intimate than any drunken kiss had ever done.

Charles wasn’t dreading being in the club on a Saturday night for once, not counting the minutes until he could leave without being called boring. Instead, he found himself thinking about where you might go next—and wondering if he could come along. Even if that was a hotel room after-party or a rented apartment in Nice. You were more interesting than anything else Monaco could offer right now, and filer à l’anglaise would leave the leeches to pay for their own enjoyment. 

Thank you for reading, hope this is a good introduction to what the rest of the love letters will be like! Please comment, like, reblog, bombard me with messages, I feed off that stuff 💌

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send

(if i haven't tagged you it's because your age wasn't visible for me to verify on your blog, i keep that as a precaution even if i'm not always posting smut)

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Standing a step behind you, watching you from afar, is already my biggest happiness.

Sorry for spamming I accidentally put the post in queue two times, this is the proofread and correct one the previous one is not :']

Price + Ghost*Reader

Price

Price doesn’t want to bind you to him. He’s nearly 40, plus the rank difference between you two, he’s a mature superior, no personal feelings should be involved in the workplace.

Not to say, he doesn’t sense even a tiny bit of romantic love from you, every time he tries to hide his affection towards you, he only sees respect for comrades in your eyes.

Even till the day you jump out and take a bullet for him as he gets knocked down accidentally, which ends up with the enemy dying, but you become lifeless in his arms, blood painting his palms and gear, he still believes you just view him as a teammate.

As he steps into your silent quarter and reads the words written in the journal, he slumps onto the bed, speechless as sorrow swallowing him that he needs to bite his lips until he tastes the bitter to stop him from crying.

“Personal feelings won’t be allowed, I can see Captain comply with this rule without exceptions.” “but it’s okay if it means I can stay beside him.” “It’s already a bliss that I can watch him from afar.”

He’s seasoned with gravel and pain, which ends up making a choice to free you from caging with him and hide his love, but unknown to him, you’re better at secreting yourself.

Ghost

He’s an expert at hiding and perceiving other’s feelings, not a single human —even his captain— is able to conceal the true thoughts running in their mind from him.

He knows he views you differently , not the family love like he owns for other 141 members, but the need to stay beside you forever, become old together if you both are pardoned from dying on the field at a young age.

The emotion plants a seed in his heart, sprouting as time flows, and when he realizes, the branches are already entangled with his heart.

Yet he chooses to lock those feelings inside the deepest part of him, he stares at you secretly with an amount of distance, always got your six and protects you, but never closer.

He’s afraid if standing too close to you, the sentiment will break through his mask and reveal it to you.

No one left behind, that’s his motto, yet he derogates it the moment he watches you shove the enemy badgering him off his body and over the railing, but he can’t catch your hands as he helplessly witnesses you tumble over inevitably.

You leave nothing, not even your body has been found, since the bomb exploded and perish you and the enemy together.

But when he flips through your journal in your room, he takes off his balaclava, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, as he discovers it does nothing to hide the truth from you.

“Something’s holding Ghost back, but I can wait, until he’s comfortable enough to take a step, even if it means years.” “I imagine we getting old together, but am I provided with such privilege?” “Maybe not, hence I’m already extremely satisfied to have a chance to watch him from afar.”

He assumes he’s excels at observing people, but what he’s unaware of is after he stares at you across the room and turns away eventually, your eyes land on him and never dart either.

a/n: thx for reading, have a nice day/night! :D

[baksuz-art]

please read the warning, in case you might be sensitive to any of the following: mentions of poverty, non-graphic mentions of health issues, non-graphic mention of a dead animal, people being asses to others in general. sorry, this isn't very live laugh love of me, but it's important. i will keep it short and simple, and i'll try to keep it gentle too. no people, places, sites, etc will be named. lately, i'm not very happy with how some people are treating me. the asks you see on my blog are filtered, of course - you only see me answer to people who are at least able to say please and thank you, aka: decent people. i never have and never will expect anyone to kiss the ground over which i walk, but i don't think it's too much to expect basic manners. what you don't see are tons, and i mean it when i say tons of people who barely treat me like i'm a human. they demand i create for them as if it's my duty to do so. they are very rude in their messages, often requesting things i don't even do. they try to hurry me up, as if i don't have my own life or if i can't be doing something else. they demand i push them forward in the queue. they rudely ask 'where the hell is it already'. some were quite insensitive in their messages when they request i draw their cats - telling me how they don't love their cats, or were thinking of getting rid of them, or prefer some other pet over their cat, etc, which was all enough to pretty much ruin my day. one motherfucker sent me a photo of their (?) dead cat... as if that's not enough, even though i am a small creator, i have seen people reposting my art without credit, and i have seen one (at least?) person redistributing my colouring pages of all things, which i was sharing for fucking free+. i wanted to be kind and to make people smile. but it seems that some people confuse that for me being an art dispenser. i hate to say it, but i won't be able to keep doing art for free. it's not financially sustainable - it's not just art that i won't be able to do if i keep skipping meals or if i keep missing doctor appointments because i can't afford them, or if i end up unable to buy next T dose. it's also not sustainable for my mental health. imagine how shit it felt to sit with 5$ on my card while people treated me like i'm a machine and sold stuff that i was sharing for free+. imagine someone walking up to you, telling you that your work is worthless, and then taking it anyway. sure, this may change nothing in the end; but even if i never get a single commission again or a single tip, at least i'll be poor while doing whatever i want and without listening to people treat me like dirt. to those who haven't received their askbox drawing - sorry; i don't even know how many of you there are exactly or who everyone is, because there's just... so many of them, man. this isn't easy for me to say, but i will have to be more careful with how i share my art, and i have to value my time and effort the same i value everyone else's. to those who have supported me, even in small ways - thank you, you have no idea how much it means to me.