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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Who’s A Pretty Boy?

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I wanna make him cry

You sit on your knees, body hovering above his stomach, hand laid flat as they hold you up, your mouth covers a soft colored nipple, pulling the soft bud into your mouth, having your tongue loll around it, quick, kitten-like flicks given to him as he ruts underneath you, his erection rubbing against your slit, enough to feel the warmth from the friction, to let sharp gasps escape past his scarred lips. He digs his heels into the mattress, stilling his hips above as he gives gentle, hesitant jerks above your core, and you can feel something warm slick by and coat your vulva in slippery strands.

“Tomura?” You call out to him, lips mumbled against his neck, feeling his pulse quicken. He whimpers in response and continues the motions, huffing and quickening his pace. “As much as I love how needy and cute you get under me, you know you aren’t allowed to jerk off to your heart’s content.”

“But I’m close,” he rasps out, his cock slipping past your lips, teasing at your entrance, before he pulls away and continues to rub at your outer area, staining it with thin, clear pre-ejaculate, sighing in relief when you run your tongue over an old scar, pressing a soft kiss on it, leaving it wet and soft. “I swear, I’ll get you off, just let me-”

“This isn’t about getting me off,” you remind him, raising him and moving away, letting his hips fall onto the bed with a soft thud. You sit on him, leaking onto his stomach, hands splayed across his chest, covering both breasts as the nipples peek through the gaps in your fingertips. “This is about you. You said such awful things about yourself.” You voice dips and he rolls his ankles, trying to look you in the eye but failing. “I need to make you feel pretty again.” You dip your head and kiss his temple. “My pretty,” you peck the space between his brows, “handsome,” your lips brush against his cheek, “strong,” his breath hitches as you kiss his nose, “wonderful,” your breath is warm on his lips and he parts them, his tongue peeking out and pressing against your lips for a quick second, “partner.” You kiss his lips- it’s soft and romantic, your tongue licking his bottom lip and once granted entrance, you push your tongue inside, curving around his and pulling away with a gasp and a soft blush tinting your face. “This is about making you feel good, love.”

He breathes heavily under you, chest rising and slowly, love bites bloom against his chest, circling around his nipples, darkening them in color and they pebble under your touch. Your palms slide and press down, rolling the buds under you, feeling the firmness poke at you. He whimpers under you, with a face a dark shade of red, eyelashes that cling together with dewdrops of tears. Your fingers replace your palms, pulling the hard buds, rolling and pinching them between your forefinger and thumb, a soft mewl escaping past his throat, his back arching and lifting you with him.

You slide past him, your slick shining on his stomach and he can feel the curve of your rear touch and graze at his erection, drips of warmth sliding past your lower back and slipping down. He keens underneath you, sharp sighs and hands curling around the bedsheet when you roll your tongue over a bud, the tip of your muscle teasing and prodding at the peach colored nipple. His hips buck, a hiss passes through his teeth as the friction sends ripples of pleasure down his cock. You nurse on his chest, pulling the bud in your mouth, cheeks hollowing as your tongue flickers around the shy, pink teat. He bucks and whines, soft mewls sounding the room, hands curling and fisting the blanket, fingers going rigid and nails turning to claws.

You pull away with a click, his teat shines in spittle, leaning down, you blow cool air onto him, peppering kisses over his areola, chuckling as he calls your name in a hoarse whisper. You give him a final kiss, pulling away with a soft smack and nursing on the neglected bud that beams with red from the treatment of your fingers. Underneath you, he lets pitiful sounds tremble past his lips as his hips stutter and rise with each breath, his cock twitching and he can only manage the word “close” in a rushed prayer, twisting the thin fabric of the bedsheet in his hands, cock burning with heat as he lets out a strangled cry. His hips stutter, and you’re a saving grace, moving yourself along him, edging his orgasm further, watching his face scrunch, eyes closed tight as you pepper yourself over his chest, past his collarbones and onto his neck, your nose brushing against new and faded scars. Your name comes in broken syllables, broken in between and high pitched, warmth flooding and sliding down your bum, and he drips and twitches onto his thighs, thick discharge staining his thighs in white cream that trails down his shaft.

He winces and grits his teeth as you move away from him, his still tender cock sparking with aftershocks when your hand wraps around him, your palm soft and warm as it envelops his cockhead and begins to jerk him. His eyes remain close, lips parted and moving with soundless words, words of praise that translates into soft pleads, mercy for a minute of rest, mercy for the pleasure to never stop, to let your hand roll over him and to milk him dry, to feel weightless as the second orgasm shoots past him, spurts of cream dribbling out. He calls your name, his fists loosening and the bedsheet under him is wrinkled and twisted into a swirl.

Tears stain his red eyes, spilling over with a mouth parted and face tinted red. He shakes underneath you, muscles tensing and hips rising in an attempt to jerk himself off in your hand, sighing and cooing as you tighten your grip. His arousal clicks in the room and spills over, coating him in warmth, legs twisting and he calls your name, hoarse and cracked, and when he collapses onto the bed, his thickness softening and the red tipped head that bloomed with life lessens into a delicate pink covered in white. Slender fingers raise and grasp your wrist in weak hands and yet with the mess of a man underneath you, you continue to take care of him, needing down to kiss at his chest, where he flutters and shivers in reaction.

Tears shine and flood over, tracing his cheeks in rapture and overstimulation, his face growing red and he whines under you, slapping a hand over his mouth, scrunching his face together as you hand swirls around him. It’s slow and tantalizing, a loose grip on his hardening member, feeling it swell as you glide up and down his cock in steady motions. He breathes harshly through his nose, nostrils flaring and chest blooming with red that creeps towards his face. You sit beside him, legs neatly folded underneath you and when you lower your head, he twitches, thinking you’re going to place his cock in your mouth, to finally feel a tighter grip that doesn’t make his legs kick out in frustration but he only whines more when you kiss at his collarbone, lips softly brushing against a scar.

“Stop,” he whines, voice high and needy, muffled and in pain. “This isn’t fair,” he croaks, feeling the familiar tightening of his belly. His hand falls from his face and rests above his chest, cupping at a breast.

“I think it is.” Your words are soft, nothing higher than a whisper, a hand rubbing his sides, a feather like touch that bumps his skin and leaves him squirming underneath you. “You said such bad things about yourself, Tomura.” Your lips drag along his body, resting upon another scar that extends three inches. “I don’t think you should get to call the shots after such negativity, dear.”

You tighten your grip at the base and give him a strong jerk making him gasp, beads of pearl peeking from his slit and shining under the light. And with the quick introduction of pleasure, it’s ripped away from him, your fingers fluttering away, nails grazing at a vein and he groans, throwing his head back, the building ecstasy flutters away, literally between fingertips. His heels press into the mattress, breaths deep and ragged, with a painful look on his face, he flutters his eyes open and looks at you through unshed tears.

“No,” he croaks, “what did I do?” His chest rises, and even to his own ears, he sounds so pitiful, so broken with the false promise of relief. “Please,” he begs and all at once, the image of Shigaraki is gone and is now replaced with Tomura who lays on his back, with a red tinted face, eyes pricking with tears and a voice broken with whispers and moans. “I promise to be good.”

Your hand cusps his face, thumb brushing a cheek, catching a tear that managed to slip and it glistens for a second before spilling down your palm. “You were so mean to yourself, Tomura. You know that right?” In your grasp, he nods his head shaikly. “I hate hearing you say such negative things about yourself.” You press a kiss on his nose, and his hand claws over his chest, red lines blooming in the next moment.

“I won’t say it again-” a groan fills the room when your hand returns to his shaft, fisted tightly over his base- “I- I promise.” He bucks his hips, trembling as you place a hand down on his navel, a silent warning to keep him still to which he follows with a shiver coursing down his spine. “Just please- please, take care of me.”

You inch forward, you hand gliding up and encasing his cockhead in your grasp. The hand on his face slides and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, pushing at the strands that stick to his forehead with sweat. “Do you know how much I love you?” Your lips meet his in sweet kiss, quick and with a quick swipe of your tongue across his scar. “I love you so much and to hear you call yourself such ugly names- something so vile and obvious lies,” your voice tightens and the space between his brows furrow, “it’s not nice Tomura.” You kiss at the corner of his lips, leaving a trail of kisses as you come to his ear, sucking softly on the lobe and releasing it with a nudge of your tongue. “You're so pretty Tomura. I don’t want you saying such awful lies about yourself, okay?”

He nods, unable to give a verbal confirmation. Chest stuttering and slowly your hand begins to move, stroking him and wiping your thumb above his slit, swirling the pre-ejaculate around his cockhead that has bloomed a deep shade of red, swelling and aching with the tease that has been enacted upon him. He sighs, eyes fluttering close, his pink muscle, swiping above where yours was placed. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to keep his breathing under control. “Am- Am I allowed to touch you?”

“Not yet dear.” Your breath fans across his neck and when he reopens his eyes you’re positioned in front of his cock, lips hovering above, blowing cool air and watching him with careful eyes to gauge his reaction. He twists and lets out a hiss, nodding his head in rapid movements. “Sweetheart?” He hums in response, a soft moan in the back of his throat as your hand slides and flutters to massage his testicles, rubbing them in your palm, fingers moving expertly around him. “Does this feel good?”

“So good,” he mumbles, cock bobbing in excitement. “Can- Can you touch my cock, please?” He asks in a breathless tone, already close to his release with the little touch that he’s been given. “I- Please?”

“Whatever the prettiest boy wants,” you coo, and he can feel his face turn warm, eyes wide and once again, he’s unable to trust his voice, and nods to your praise, mouthing a thank you, keening as your other hand grabs his cock, fisting over it with a tight grip, soft clicking filling the room as his hands dig into the soft skin at your thighs.

The pleasure is so close for him, already at the doorstep with just a simple touch. He drags his nails across your skin, watching as you fondle him, rolling and massaging, tugging lightly and cooing over how handsome he looks- so needy and breathtaking and the words only bring tears to his eyes. He lets his hand slide and shakily, his palms cover his eyes. His breaths deepen, they lose the ragged, pleasure-tinted gasps and it’s replaced with a harsh, croak-like breathing, and he calls your name in a pained cry, shaking his head and it’s only intensified when your mouth replaces your hand.

Your mouth is warm, tongue lapping and swirlin above him and the hand moves away from his testicles and onto his thigh, rubbing a palm over him as you swallow. His tip hits the back of your throat, a bitter taste running down your throat and causing your eyes to water. He sobs as you take him, flinches at the wet smacking sounds that protrude from you and him, shivers and moans when your teeth graze against a vein. His eyes dart and your hand has disappeared between your core, fingers disappearing into you. Your cheeks hollow and he can only lament your name, something cracked and layered with pleasure and he cries as he shoots down your throat, filling your belly with warmth.

Even as he shivers and shakes, muscles tensing, you continue to bob your head in a quick rhythm, pressing down until your nose touches the base and you’re choking against him, eyes watering and releasing with a gag, your chin coated in a light layer of drool while his cock glistens with your spittle.

“What a pretty boy,” you call out to him, pressing your lips against his in a sensual kiss. “You look so cute. So strong and handsome.” Your words brand against his skin, flinching as he tries to calm himself through the aftershocks, lightly grabbing your hand and breathing hard with tears still in his eyes and mind growing foggy. “Tomura, you’re amazing.” You press your lips against a new scar, one that is still tender and stings when just the right amount of pleasure is pressed onto it. A scar that can be easily opened and make him cry in agony.

“No,” he breathes, shaking his head, repeating the word over and over until he is simply mouthing the words. “No, I’m not,” he whines, chest stuttering with cries. “I’m awful. Fuck!” He curses, spitting the word out and his fingers bend and twist and hepeirces his skin, marking it in red as he drags his hands down, teeth bared as hot tears burn his skin.

You call his name quick and pull his hands away from him, your face knitted in worry and continues to cry, stuttering and repeating his previous words, until they are muffled against your shoulder, his hands clawing at your back, and he’s exposed. He’s more exposed than he will ever be. He cries into your shoulder and tells you that he is not beautiful, he sobs and shakes his head. You run your hands through his hair, pet at his back and trail up and down his spine. You call to him, quiet and still, you pull his head off of your shoulder and his nose is tipped red and eyes that glimmer.

“Tomura, my love,” he flinches at the name and you pepper a kiss against his cheek, catching a bitter tear, “you are not awful. You are not horrible to look at.” You hold his face in your hands and kiss at his tears, mindful of the soft whimpers and the tightening of his hands against your back. “Tomura, I love you so much. You’re so handsome.” You kiss at his nose and swipe a tear away. You sniffle light and press your lips against him, dragging them across until they pepper and cover his face in love. “You are my everything Tomura. You will always be the more beautiful person to walk this earth.”

He whines at your tough and puts his lips on yours, pulling you above him as he whines and tries to nuzzle his cock against your core, desperate for a second of relief. You understand his message, settling above him, hissing and resting your forehead against his as you lower and rise above him.

The soft light catches and forms a halo around you, body glowing and shining with sweat. You are above him, glowing and ethereal, and he lays below you, covered in tears and scars, hands too afraid to touch you when you shuffle, moving your hips bending over to capture him in one last kiss, he lets his eyes half close as you start to swirl your hips. Your eyes clench close as you move around him, feeling as he fills your walls your own walls wrap and mold to his shape, squishing and trembling around him.

You’re soft; so deliciously soft, as he stays inside of you, cock twitching to life, already feeling the burning sensation of another orgasm about to come, teetering around the edges, the wisps of it’s burning flame dancing and teasing as you move above him, palms laid flat against his stomach, touching at his abdomen, smoothing upwards until they cup his chest, your own back arching and you clench at he hits at a spot. Your walls are like velvet, soft and welcoming, and he welcomes the pleasure, sighing and throwing his head back, letting your cunt wrap around him with a tight grip.

You’re above him- one hand holding you up as the other cusps his face and his eyes open in a daze, a soft smile tracing his lips and you two share another intimate kiss, tongues swirling around each others, pulling away with gasp and he looks at you with stars in his eyes, head tilting and positively in love.

“You’re so handsome,” you coo and when he starts to shake his head, his bottom lip trembling, you quiet him with another kiss, pulling at his cock and pressing yourself close to him once again. “So handsome, I swear.” He whines under you, bucking his hips in an attempt to get you to just focus on the pleasure. Your hands glide down his chest and you pinch at his abused teats that bloom in a red compared to the delicate peach color that they held. “I wish you could see how I saw you, so cute and strong.” You dip down and kiss and nip at a collarbone. “So strong and amazing.” You shake your head against him, tongue spilling out to trace the bone. “Handsome and wonderful-” you brush your nose against the base of his neck- “oh yes you are.” Your hand slides and traces against a scar the curves under his breast and pulls taut against his body. “So precious.”

His hands shake, latching onto your hips, nails that press and leave crescent marks tattooed onto your skin. “I’m go- fuck-” he curses, jerking his hips, pushing cock to the hilt inside of you when you spin your hips on him- “too sensitive,” he mumbles, cock pulsing inside of you. His hand leaves you, ring finger touching where your clit throbs with excitement, eyes fluttering open to look at you. You move above him, bottom lip tucked between teeth only to let go to moan out his name. He can feel your walls clench around him, squishing and fitting around his length as he moves in a rapid motion. He circles your pearl, watching as your breasts bounce, gleaning with sweat, eyes clouded with lust and drool pooling his mouth as he can feel his high approach. “Not going-”

You quiet him with a kiss, tender and fleeting on his lips. He mewls as your cunt slides off, his head inside as it grows hot, groaning and trying to reach for your lips again as you pull away from the kiss. “You’re allowed to, you know?” He narrows his eyes, confusion written over his face. “You’re allowed to love yourself,” you breathe out, stilling above him and playing your hands on his chest, slowly rising and falling on him. “You’re so pretty. So good,” you whine above him, brows furrowing as you sigh, slick slipping past and clicking in the room. “Handsome and lovely- everything about you is perfect- ah!” Your nails scratch against his chest, chest rising and falling as your orgasm edges closer. “I love you Tomura,” you moan, lowering yourself closer to him, your own eyes shining with tears, a twitchy smile gracing your lips as you try to steady yourself on him. “If- if I could- fuck- I’d,” you suck in a harsh breath and lower your head- “kiss your scars, every- every last one of them until you felt better.” A desperate whine trembles past your lips and he can already tell you’re reaching your end, your clit pulses underneath his fingertip, your breathing becoming more ragged and words broken by curses as you rise above him, whimpering with a lovesick look in your eyes. “I love you, Tomura.” Your head tilts and you grab at the hand on your hip and let it drag over the soft pouch of your stomach, grazing past a bouncing breast and letting it rest over your heart. “You’re so handsome. My- My handsome love.”

He sucks in a harsh breath, letting his hand press above your beating heart, sighing and arching his back as the limp in his throat tightens, spriing tears into his already puffy eyes. “I-” he bites his tongue and shakes his head- “I’d let you. I let you do whatever you wanted,” he croaks. His hand stays put at your heart while the other continues to rub at your heat. “You’re amazing.” Words die at his tongue, his hands fading from your body and he steadies himself with a sharp grip at your side, clicking his tongue at how you twist and laugh breathlessly, your hands covering his. Tears flow down his face in gentle rivers, calming and in relief as he can feel you twitch, still and moan his name, muffling it with your palm.

Words of affirmation, words that would repeat your own, die and choke him, wrapping and filling his throat with an indescribable heaviness. Your words continue to spill from your lips, full of grace and adorned with love, stuttering and repeating phrases as the words slowly slur together, his name said in a breathless chant, one that fills the room and drones out all other noise, gasping and whimpering. He cries under you, sniffling and chanting your name while his hands soften and rest on your hips and slide down your thighs and onto the bed, cock spilling his seed deep inside of you, painting you in a warmth that fills your body.

Tomura’s vision goes into a bright, white light- shining and blinding and there’s a hot flame that consumes his body, licks at his limbs and scars, consumes him and leaves him weightless for a second that lasts for eternity. He moans your name, crying and hands that dig into your hips, spilling his seed inside of you, as tears trace down the curve of his face. Eyes roll over, shutting shut, a heavy blush dusting at his cheeks as a loose smile breaks across his face. He twitches and whines, hisses between closed teeth as you move off of him, feeling ejaculate that had dripped from your cunt and coated him, moving down with syrup consistency. He shakes, his skin bumping and on high sensitivity, jaw slack as you kiss his chest, kiss the curve of his neck and finally his lips. He mewls under you, a shameful sound that makes your heart skip and his own jump at the sound.

He lays still, heaving and aching, with heavy knees while you flutter across the room. His eyes flutter close and he calls out to you, a soft whisper of your name that turns louder, growing hoarse with the abuse from his voice. His body is worn, completely spent and every so often, he gives a quick jerk, his body covered in shivers. His hands paw at the bedsheet in gentle scratches, whimpering your name until you come into the room, a towel that drips on the floor held in one hand, while the other hand holds a dry towel.

The bed creaks under your weight, drops of warm water slide down his thigh and wet the bed in small pools. He makes a noise of confusion, leg jerking as the towel is wrapped around his shaft. He sucks in harsh breath, swallowing nervously and shaking his head.

“‘M too sore,” he whimpers, shaking his head. “Not now.” He gives a small wave of his hand, trying to flutter around the towel that sticks pleasantly to his skin.

“I’m just cleaning you,” you say sweetly, drying at the fluids that coat his thighs and slide to the base of his cock. “You’re not in the mod for a shower, right?” He shakes his head no, mumbling out a soft word of exhaustion, a yawn reinforcing his words. “Then let clean you, okay?”

“Can you hold me?” He asks, raising himself on his elbows with a wince. “I’m cold,” he whines.

“Of course.” Your reply is quickly. He lays in silence, his breathing slow and steady, already drifting to sleep as something soft cups at his soft member, fondling it gently and it rests against him, soft and dry. He’s given a pat on his pubic bone, and he smiles softly. “All done,” you mumble.

Once more the bed creaks as you move to place the towels on the sink. You return to him, on his side, an arm extended on your side of the bed. You lay next to him, his face immediately burying onto your chest, lips ghost above your breasts and he sighs, moving his legs so that they rest under yours. Your hands come to thread through his hair, fingers parting and tugging on knots, freeing his hair.

“Feels good,” he mutters, immediately followed by a yawn.

“The petting?” You ask, and he nods in response, letting out a yawn that you mimic moments after. Your hands move to curve on the top of his head, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. He hums into your chest, arms snaking around and pulling you close. He mumbles words, too soft and muted to be understood, his hands trying to mimic your movements but only ending up as a soft dragging of his nails down your skin. You chuckle softly, pressing your nose against the top of his head, lips light on him. You hum and tap against him. “Who’s a pretty boy? Hm?”

He groans and his legs wrap around yours, chest heaving and heart beating against him. “I am,” he mumbles, lips pulling into a thin line that soon stretches against his face in a nervous smile.

“You’re so cute,” you croon, kissing him once more. His face burns against your skin. “Yes, you are,” you coo, voice raising an octave, lips in a soft pout. “You’re the cutest. Cutest villain, cutest boy- the absolute cutest,” you say with a honey sweet tone, pressing kisses against the top of his head, half kisses against his temple keeping him close to you.

“You’re cute,” he mumbles sleepily, eyes close and hands going to a soft limp. “Best thing-” he yawns and shifts on the bed- “to happen to me,” he trails, lips coming together in a pout to softly kiss at your chest. He means every word he says, wants to repeat them until they no longer feel like words- he wants to give you the praise that you just gave to him; will gladly pull himself apart if it meant he could show you how much he loves you. Your touch is safe, makes him feel like nothing could truly harm him. He stays curled next to you, wants to mouth and speak endlessly to you, to praise and love you, to have you cry with tears of joy as you both rest in the same bed. His body is decorated in scars, each with a story, all of them kissed and soothed by your lips and touch. It’s something deeper than love, he figures. He’s only ever felt devotion to someone, but it’s more than that with you. He can never explain it, words could and would never be enough, he wants to show and tell you. He will love you to the point of recreation, will shape the world however you want it to be, as long as you’d smile and kiss him- he’d do so much for only a smile.

Your eyes water and there’s a smile that stretches against your lips, curves and tugs painfully on your cheeks and your throat is tight. Even in sleep, he’s still so cute. Holding himself against you and telling you something so sweet, that you know will only be repeated when he’s particularly vulnerable. You smile and nod to yourself, hands returning to scratch at him. “I love you, Tomura,” you say in a tender voice, quiet and gentle against him. “I love you so much.” Your love registers in his sleeping mind, something soft and warm, three simple words that finally make him feel protected and loved. Your hand pets the top of his head, slowly and in a delicate motion, letting the ends flutter and cascade down his back, watching as the red in face, turns into a lovely shade of pink. You brush your fingertip against his face, swiping at the drying tear stains that shine on his skin, shuffling and pressing your lips against the scars that adorn his face in soft and jagged curves.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura imagine #bnha imagines #i hope you like it!!

214 notes · View notes

lustbile-archive · 4 years ago

Text

ReaderxVernon

Word Count: 2.6k

Request: heyyyyyy so that picture that vernon posted in jihoons studio room, I’ve been thinking about like what if jihoon just left the studio to vernon for the night and youre in there with him??? Like the lighting and everything is perfect the mood is sexy just ugh. Idk what you wanna do with this, you could do a drabble or full smut writing idc i just needed to get this thought out

“You should come over,” you would never admit to his face the way his voice rumbles through your phone makes a shiver run up your spine, but the involuntary sigh you let out in response is the only evidence he needs.

“Where are you?” your voice is softer than you intended when you respond, the late hour of the night making you a lot more dreamy for the boy on the other end of the line than usual, and coating your voice with a sleepy timber.

“Jihoon’s studio,” there’s a shuffling after he speaks, telling you he’s messing with things that he probably shouldn’t be touching at all.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood to hang out with the guys,” you contradict your words as you stand to start collecting your things and slipping on your shoes, you lip tucking between your teeth to chew on the dry skin as you move around your room, “I kinda just wanna see you Vern.”

“It is just me,” the way he rushes to reassure flips your stomach, “no one else is here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” you stop momentarily in one spot in your surprise, before you’re moving again to grab your car keys, “Jihoon left you by yourself in his studio? What made him do that?”

“A serious lapse in judgment,” he answers honestly, his self awareness making you laugh as you step out of your front door, and lock up your now empty apartment.

“I’ll be there in like twenty minutes,” the sound of your car unlocking loud enough for him to hear and letting him know you’re telling the truth.

“Can’t wait.”

———

“Vern,” you whisper harshly through the crack you’ve created with the door. The late hour of the night makes you too paranoid to raise your voice, and regardless of his promise that he was alone, you can’t help but worry that one of the boys could have showed up as you made your way over.

“Hm?” you hear him grunt in curiosity before you see him. His dark clothes outline his form as he sits in the dim room, the only source of lighting being the blue leds. He’s slouched in an uncomfortable looking position in Jihoon’s chair, his legs stuck out straight in front of him and the light from his phone illuminates his face. You can't help the endeared puff of air you let from your lips when you see the slight pout that he wears on his face.

“Hello,” you greet, finally moving into the room and closing the door behind you with a click. The sound of you moving through the room makes him place his phone down on the desk and look up at your moving form, a tired smile pulling onto his face as you step over the small pieces of clutter on the floor.

“Hi,” he responds once you’re finally standing in front of him, the tiredness that fills him makes his voice more gruff than usual, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t warm your chest. You stand between his open legs as he moves his hands to grip onto your loose shirt at your sides, your own hands moving to run up and down his forearms as you smile down at him.

“So tell me again why Jihoon left you here by yourself in the middle of the night,” your eyebrow lifts toward your hairline in curiosity and disbelief of the situation. An involuntary grin finds its way onto your face as well, when your fingers pet at the sensitive skin at the bend of his elbow, a shiver wracks his body.

“Told him I’d clean up if he gave it to me for the night.”

You turn back momentarily to glance at the things cluttering the floor that you had to step over, turning back to him with your eyes squinting in suspicion, “doesn’t seem you’ve gotten a lot of cleaning done.”

“You’re so pretty,” he deters away from the conversation, making you laugh, his hand slipping back to pet at your spine, “I missed you so much.”

You choke slightly on air at his confession, the sudden softness in his voice making your chest tighten, as you move on of your own hands to knock the hat he was wearing off and onto the floor, allowing you to run your fingers through his messy hair.

“I missed you too Vern,” you whisper, suddenly feeling very loud in alone in the room, before leaning down to press your mouth against his. His lips are rough and chapped as you kiss him and his hands tighten around the fabric of your shirt as he pulls you closer. Your breathing labors as he starts softly sucking on your bottom lip, but you break the kiss when you feel the tip of his tongue brush against the skin, “Hmm, don’t start something you can’t finish now.”

“Who said it's something we can't finish?” he asks, his voice dipped in mischief regardless of his tiredness. He pulls you back into another deep kiss, before you’re pulling back again to scold him.

“We can’t mess around in Jihoon’s studio Vernon.”

“Hmm, c’mon why not?” he kisses at your chin and moves his lips down your neck after his whining question, the feeling of his lips making you shiver and crumble far more than you’d be willing to admit.

“‘Cause Jihoon would kill you and be very disappointed in me if we did.”

“Hey,” he pulls away from your skin, feigning offense, “why is he killing me, but just being disappointed in you?”

“Because,” you start, lightly flicking his forehead, “Jihoon loves me, and honestly i’d argue that him being disappointed in you is worse than him killing you.”

“Well, I love you too,” he starts, a playful grumble to his voice, ignoring the other half of your sentence, “and I haven’t had alone time with you in so long i’m getting sick of it.”

“I'm sick of it too, but what are you gonna do about it,” you say without thinking that he may take it as a challenge.

“Anything as long as you don’t stop me,” his slightly confusing wording is the only warning you get before his hands are falling to slip down the back of your shorts and dip into your underwear to grab your ass. His rough hands make you gasp and jolt forward before he's shoving the fabric down your legs.

“Hey!” you yelp with little to no conviction in your tone. Your pitched tone makes him laugh in amusement.

“Hey yourself baby,” he starts, lifting one of your legs to make you step out of the fabric that’s pooled around your ankles and pulling until you're straddling his lap, “you know what to say if you’re not down for this.”

To that, you stay silent. No matter how bad of an idea messing around in the studio is, you can’t lie to yourself that you don’t miss him and his touch enough to tell him to stop. Instead you sit down with a huff, letting yourself press against the fabric that’s pulled over the crotch of his sweatpants with a quiet sigh slipping past your lips.

You feel your muscles relax as he runs his hands up your sides, a pleased purr rolling through your chest as you lean into him and start to gently rock against his lap. At the movement of your hips, his arms wrap fully around you, pulling you into a hug, as he offers a similar sound of his own and presses his face against your neck.

You’re unaware of how long you’ve sat there, just gently rocking against him, enjoying the solidness of his body and the way his lips and breath tickles the side of your neck. The late hour and the cool blue that fills the room combines with the roughness of his finger tips, and you can feel yourself melting into him as your eyelids begin to droop slightly. You’re losing yourself in your drowsiness and the sparks of pleasure you get from the fabric of his sweatpants when he finally detaches from the skin of your jaw that he had been working between his lips to break through the deep bass of the music he had playing so quietly it was almost inaudible.

“Pull me out sweetheart,” his voice is strained more than the last time he had spoken, a slight desperation tinting his tone making you shiver in anticipation. You tense your thighs against him, lifting your body slightly, allowing your shaking hand to run down his body to reach where he presses against the thin fabric of his pants. The way he squirms in response to your fingers teasing down his chest and stomach knocks a shiver through his form and makes a soft smile tug at your lips. He lets out a puff of breath, when you push your fingers past the waistband of his pants and find that he hadn’t bothered to wear underwear this morning, your hand immediately wrapping around his length and moving softly against him when you feel this.

Your eyes are still shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as your eyes roll behind the lids to keep yourself awake and aware, when you pull him out and begin to shift your hips closer. The warm air hits the dampening skin of his tip, making him quietly hiss, before you’re curling around him and guiding him to start to press into you.

You let go of him once he’s deep enough that he won’t slip out, curling your arms back around him and sitting down until he’s fitted completely in you. The feeling of him stretching you makes you whimper and shiver until you relax against him, completely content in the idea of staying right where you are, warm and cuddled and full to the brim in his lap.

He must not agree with the comfort you feel from being simply connected to each other, as after letting you sit there and adjust to the feeling of him for a moment, his hands fall to wrap around the underneath of your thighs and starts to move you gently on top of him, his own hips thrusting lazily up to meet you.

“Vernon,” your voice is more gravely when you speak, the gentle pull of him against the nerves inside you and the lulling atmosphere of the room makes you feel dizzy and you can feel yourself drip more and more around him as you move. You don’t dare open your eyes, but the blue lights bleeding through the thin skin of your eyelids is enough to make you feel like you're floating.

“Feel so fucking good baby,” he groans into your skin, his tired state making his hips stutter with uneven thrusts, and his blunt nails dig into the skin of your thighs, making you clench softly around him, “always so nice and wet for me hm?”

You only grumble in response, you hand falling between your bodies to let your fingers start to roll sloppily against your clit. Your brain fogged by the room, your sleepiness, and the way he fucks up into you makes you whiny and desperate in his hold. Your muscles begin to tense against him, and your delirious mind begins to yell at you that if you don’t come soon, you will lose your mind.

“Please Vern,” you plead, regardless of how good he’s already making you feel, and against your tired form’s protest, you begin to bounce slightly in his lap in desperation, “wanna come so bad.”

He doesn’t respond to your words, thrusting a few more times before he winds his arms tightly around your torso and begins to stand from the chair. You let out an angry whine when as he stands you’re forced to lock your ankles behind his back, and your arm is trapped between you, stopping you from getting any stimulation. You let out a petulant huff when, as he begins to walk, he slips from you, leaving you feel empty.

There’s only seconds before your back meets the cushions of the couch, the wind being slightly knocked from your chest as he unceremoniously drops you. There’s a lazy and teasing grin on his face as he looks down at you in amusement, his fist now wrapped around himself as he lazily jacks himself off to the sight of your legs falling open and the deep pout you wear on your face.

The cushions bend as he kneels between your legs, and you feel yourself shuffling down slightly to get closer to him, “please Vernon I need you,” you beg quietly, the heels of your feet moving to press into the back of his thighs in an attempt to pull him closer.

“So needy hm?” he taunts as he leans over you, his free hand pressing into the couch beside your head to hold himself up as he guides himself back into you, much slower than your pleading body wants, “and you said we shouldn’t even be doing this is in the studio.”

“God please shut up and fuck me,” you say in a meaner tone than you intended, but he only laughs as he presses fully into you again while your back arches off the couch, your chest pressing into his.

“Touch yourself again,” he demands, his tone leaving you no room to argue. And when your fingers move again to rub tight circles into the sensitive skin, his now free hand wraps gently around your throat, and he begins to thrust faster than you thought he’d be able to in this state.

Your eyes roll back, painfully straining their muscles, as his quick pace and your equally as fast fingers begin to pull you back to the edge you were teetering on in the chair.

You feel your toes curl, the arches of your feet cramping almost painfully in response, this and the way his fingers begin to flex around your neck telling you that you’re both so close.

You’re only able to slip out a few incoherent mumbling so in warning, before you start to come around him, how tightly you clench around him slowing his thrusts slightly. You start to twist manically as you come, your torso trying to curl towards the back of the couch, but his unwavering fist around your neck keeps you in place as he continues to piston in you.

His chest presses closer to yours and his sloppy mouth presses against yours as he starts to come himself. The warmth of him filling you makes you shake even more, and distracts you from the way your own fingers overstimulate your nerves.

The quiet music is completely devoured by the desperate and uncontrollable noises that fly from your chests and slip from the little space your mouths allow.

You finally let up on your clit to wrap your arms around him and pull him flush against you while you rock against him and his thrusts become uneven and sloppy.

He lets go of your neck and lets his arm lose its support as he collapses against you. Your legs return to their place with your ankles locked behind his back, and he presses you tightly against the couch with his nose digging into your jugular.

Your fingers return subconsciously to his hair, your nails raking through the strands in an attempt to calm both him and yourself.

You stay there, letting your breaths even out as you take turns gently twitching against one another every few seconds. The ambient silence has returned to the room, and you can feel your eyes returning to their drooping state.

“Fuck,” he swears in your skin, before he cuddles closer to your neck with a huff.

“Hm?” you let out the questioning sound in curiosity, still unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Now I have to clean up the chair and couch too.”

#seventeen smut #vernon smut #seventeen imagine

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

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Harry Wells x Witch Reader - (Flash): Chapter 4

Walking into the cortex that afternoon, you were a bit surprised no one was around. “Hello? Anybody home.” Harry lifted his head from behind the table, and a grin immediately spread on your lips.

“How do you manage to keep such a grumpy look all the time.”

“This is my neutral expression.”

“Right...so where’s everyone else grumpy wells?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Grumpy wells.”

Harry glared, you really enjoyed agitating him, almost as much as Cisco did.

“There haven't been any recent attacks, so they're enjoying some R&R.” his eyes moved back to whatever project he’d been working on before you came in. The metal gadget on the desk looks foreign to you, but he obviously knew what he was building.

“So why are you still working?”

He didn’t answer.

“Grumpy wells, grumpy wells, grumpy wells!” he dropped the screwdriver in irritation.

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy, I’m busy.”

“I vote that we both go out. “ He just stared at you for a few moments.

“No thank you. I’m working. “ That and he really didn’t think it was a good idea for him to be alone with you. Harry realized a few weeks in that your need to be around him was unnerving. He didn’t like the sparks that rose whenever you cracked a joke or sent him those glistening smiles. Not to mention the age gap. His eyes lowered. He was at least twenty-five years older than you, to make matters worse you barely acknowledge the interactions. He was pining after you one sidedly, what was more pathetic than that.

“I can always zap you with a spell you know.”

“Didn’t you say witches aren’t supposed to harm regular people, I think that falls under harm.” you smile, cheeks tinting red. So he didn’t completely brush off information when you spoke, that was nice to know. He never looked like he ever paid much attention when you were talking, and you were positive you’d never said that to him directly, that must have meant that he was listening whenever Cisco made small inquiries about magic and witches. Still didn’t mean he liked you, but it was start.

“Come on Harrison, I know you can’t be happy cooped up in here all the time. Let’s go out, on me. Please, it’s boring if I’m alone. “

Couldn’t you ask Cisco to hang out with you?

“She’s always around him anyway.” Not that he cared. He wasn’t jealous, nope. Not one bit.

“Ask someone else, I’m busy.”

“I don’t want to ask someone else, I want you.”

You’d never say that to his face.

“Obstructionum.”

He reached out for the device on the desk, but a barrier blocked his hand, he paused, fixing his stare on you.

“I remove the block after you come with me.”

“This is blackmail.”

“Really, I’d like to think of it as insistent persuasion Grumpy wells, now let's go!”

He didn’t have much of a choice. With a grumble, he grabbed his jacket following you out.

~Two Hours Later~

“Chug Chug Chug!!!” you gulped the drink hurriedly and Harry sat at the side, wondering why he’d let you talk him into this. When the bottle was empty you slammed it on the counter, raising your hands as the people around cheered. The guy you were competing against fell off the chair, unto the ground, probably passed out.

“YEAH!!!” you cheered, still smiling at Harry.

He knew for a fact that he’d never go out with you again, that was for sure.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, you started to navigate towards the stage. Harry ran hand over his face, watching as you instructed the DJ to play you a song. The music filled the club, and apparently it was one most of the audience knew, or at least the women. He figured this is why he avoided clubs.

Queen B, want no smoke with me (okay)

Then turn this motherf---er up eight hundred degree (yeah)

My whole team eat, chef's kiss, she's a treat (mwah)

Ooh, she so bougie, bougie, bon appetit

I'm a savage, attitude nasty (yeah, yeah)

Talk big sh-- but my bank account matchin'

Hood, but I'm classy, rich but I'm ratchet

Haters kept my name in they mouth, now they gaggin', ah, ah

Bougie, he say they way that thang move it's a movie

I told lil' bro we gotta keep it low, leave me the room key

I done bled the block and now it's hot bi---, I'm Tunechi

A mood and I'm moody (ah)

I'm a savage (okay)

Classy, bougie, ratchet (okay)

Sassy, moody, nasty (hey, hey, yeah, nasty)

Acting stupid, what's happening? (Woah, woah)

Bi---, what's happening? (Woah, woah)

Acting stupid, what's happening? (Woah, woah)

Bi---, what's happening? (Woah, woah)

Bi---, I'm a savage, yeah (okay)

The entire crowd was singing with you. At this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad.

“She looks like she’s having fun.”

The headache you would wake up with tomorrow would be anything but fun, but he didn’t mind, as long as you were smiling.

The music started to die down, and you stumbled off the stage as another clearly intoxicated person took the mic from your hands. A few people gave you high fives as you passed, making your way back to Harry. Your face got even brighter and you jumped right into his arms. He staggered back, not ready for the action or contact. You were hugging him as you rambled on.

“Did you see me grumpy! I was *hic* a-awesome!!” He sighed, you were obviously past your limit.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough, let’s get going.” you whined, shaking your head. “I’m tired, carry me~” you wore a pout, and he would have denied, but the look you sent him made it hard not to say yes to whatever crazy request you made. Leaning down, he scooped you up easily. You giggled, and he looked over to see what you found so amusing.

“I wasn’t r-really shhh! I just wanted grumpy to pick me up.” Your index finger was pressed to your lip in a shushing motion, and he wondered if you fully realized that you were talking to grumpy.

“You owe me.” he mumbled out. You just nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll do anything you want Harrison.”

Your soft breath blowing on his neck wasn’t really helping matters. Nor was the seductive way in which you whispered that statement. The one good thing about this night was the fact that the club was fairly close to your apartment.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get a car with you in his arms. He’d only ever been to your apartment once before, and that was with the team when you first moved in. Walking through the door and into the elevator, he tried to focus on anything but you. On the walk over he was hoping you would pass out, maybe to help deter the racing of his heart. Your scent was everywhere, he couldn’t escape it. Or the feel of how warm and soft your skin felt. The elevator dinged, and he stepped out, searching for your room number. He stopped when he got to the desired door.

“Key..”

He needed your keys.

He lowered his arms, placing you unto your feet, in which you reluctantly followed. Harry held out his hand.

“I need your keys.”

“They're in my pocket.” The cheshire smile you wore made him squint. You took a step forward.

“My back pocket.”

Ah, so you were not only a happy drunk, but also a flirty one.

“Please give me the keys (Y/N).” You bit your lip at the soft way he asked. It was so unlike him. Intoxicated or not, that was pretty hot.

You took one last step forward, and Harry willed himself to be strong. Your eyes marked him.

“Say my name again..please..” He rarely ever said your name, somehow hearing it from his lips was far different.

“She’s drunk.” He kept reminding himself that. If you were sober you’d never act like this, or request something so silly.

"(Y/N)...”

Your eyelashes fluttered, and your gaze shifted to his lips. Harry swallowed. This was moving into the danger zone. He held his breath when he saw a yellow glow overtake your orbs. Behind your back he could hear the jiggling of your keys as they rose from your pocket. It went all the way around, landing right into his open palm.

“Thank you.” He muttered.

You were still looking at him with a compelling stare, and even though the light had faded, he still felt drawn in. You smiled, closing your eyes as you collapsed on him. Harry supported your weight, looking down at you longingly.

Why was the universe being so cruel to him?

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falling-pages · 4 years ago

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The New Barista: Moriharu

Not the best, but I am in love with shy Takashi so here we are. And who doesn’t love a good coffee shop AU?

Takashi noticed the new barista.

Most people didn’t. She was very plain-looking, and the coffee shop’s brown-and-white uniform didn’t help her stick out. She looked a lot like every other girl passing through the street.

But Takashi noticed. Of course he did. It was his job to notice everything out of the norm--quite literally, considering he was almost through his criminal justice degree. But he noticed how her big brown eyes seemed to reflect in the silver of the espresso machine. He saw how nice the yellow clips holding her bangs looked against her short, choppy haircut. He saw her stick-straight posture, how quickly and lightly her hands would move flipping levers and pouring cream.

She was a remarkably fast learner.

And one day, she caught him staring.

He didn’t mean to, but it was a rainy day and he just needed some peace and a hot cup of coffee to keep him sane during midterms. The pretty barista wasn’t in yet, so he got his fix and sat down at his favorite booth and cracked open his textbook, eyes scanning over the lines and diagrams. He didn’t know how long he stared at that single page, but when a clatter behind the counter pulled his attention away from his studies, he noticed a whole new staff was serving up drinks. It must have been some time.

Enough time for her to clock in.

Takashi looked up and saw her polish a couple of spoons, a red blush tinting her cheeks. She set the spoon aside and bent to the floor to retrieve another--so she must have caused the commotion.

All was silent for a few minutes except the rain lightly tapping against the window. That was fine by him; he needed the mental break, anyways. His eyes roamed over the counter, stopping over each pastry and menu item, until they rested on the barista. She was taking an order this time, lightly bouncing her hip as she explained sizes to the customer.

The customer finally ordered, and Takashi watched as she extended a small hand to accept the crinkled bills. She counted them and put them away, taking out the change in coins, which the customer waved off. She bent her slender wrist and dropped the cents in the tip bucket and then scurried off to make the drink.

Takashi caught his breath, anchoring himself back to reality. He couldn’t be a creep--this was his favorite coffee shop, and if he were banned he wouldn’t know what to do or where to go for some real peace and quiet.

He stared back down at his textbook, but jumped in his seat when he heard his regular order called out.

The previous customer was long gone, and the only other people in the shop were a few teenagers giggling over their phones. Takashi waited for a few moments to see if anyone else claimed it, but when he looked at the drink, the new barista was staring at him straight in the eyes.

He hesitantly rose from his seat, reluctant to leave his books behind. He approached the counter, still questioning how and why, but the barista seemed to know what he was thinking.

“That’s for you,” she quipped.

Takashi narrowed his eyes. Not defensively, but not too trusting, either. “I’m confused, I didn’t order--”

“I know,” she added, “you looked kind of...dead inside...while you were reading. I thought a new drink might spark some life back into you.” She lifted the cup and pushed a cozie around it to protect his hands from the heat. “Midterms, am I right?”

Takashi mildly grunted, fishing out his wallet.

“Oh, no,” the barista said, waving her hand in front of him. “I see you here all the time. We like to reward our regulars. It’s on the house.”

She noticed him all the time?

He put away his wallet, getting his first real look at her up close. She was much shorter than he realized, barely clearing the high counter reserved for fresh drinks. He knew he was tall and his perspective could be skewed, but...wow. She really was short. And so much prettier than he thought.

She blinked, and he realized he was staring again. “Thank you,” he muttered, grabbing the drink and taking a sip. He didn’t know what he was expecting, considering she had never taken his order before, but to his surprise it was exactly what he was needing.

He arched his eyebrows, giving her a look of “how did you know?”

The barista smiled. “You just look like a black coffee kind of guy,” she shrugged. “You just look so serious sitting there all the time.” She leaned forward and extended her hand to him. “I’m Haruhi.”

“Takashi.”

Saying his given name to a total stranger felt foreign on his tongue, but for some reason, the little butterflies in his stomach made it feel alright.

“You should really watch your posture, though,” Haruhi continued, scooping up some cinnamon and mixing it into another cup. “If you’re always bent over like that, you won’t grow any taller.”

“I think I’m tall enough,” Takashi chuckled.

Haruhi blushed in embarrassment, but he thought her pertinence was rather cute. He hated when people walked on eggshells around him. For once, he just wanted a normal conversation. And if it had to be with a pretty barista, he wouldn’t mind.

“Yeah, you’re much taller than I thought,” she said, tightening the lid on the cup. Or, attempting, rather.

“Need help?”

Haruhi looked up at him through her eyelashes, and Takashi’s heart seemed to buzz when her eyes met his. “Yeah, thanks.”

She lifted up the cup, and her fragile, thin hand brushed his at just the right angle to send chills down his spine. He took the drink and fastened the lid, finally grateful for his big hands. When he gave it back to her, she didn’t really look at him, only buried her hands in her apron pockets.

He took another sip of his coffee, still amazed at how easily she was able to guess his order. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, no,” he said, offering her a smile. “I just haven’t seen you here before a couple of weeks ago. You’re a very fast learner.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she said, looking at him. “I’m rather clumsy, but at least it’s just paper cups of coffee and not million-yen vases.”

Takashi laughed, and Haruhi looked up at him with some look mixed between awe and pride. He didn’t quite know what he was feeling, but it was nice. Whatever emotion she evoked from him was nice.

The bell at the shop door rang, and Haruhi’s eyes dashed to the customer entering. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Takashi said. “I’ll see you again?”

Haruhi slowly blinked, but added on a smile at the end. “Of course.”

He waved to her as he walked back to his booth and packed his bag. He was going to be late for class if he didn’t hurry--but as he took another sip and looked at the barista, he thought it just might be worth it.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one doing some noticing after all.

#ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #takashi x haruhi #mori x haruhi #moriharu #takaharu #coffee shop au #moriharu imagine #takaharu imagine #haruhi imagine #takashi imagine #mori imagine

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btswishes · 4 years ago

Text

Mistakes made

BTS Au (Medieval x Fantasy)

Chapter 1 “Welcome to the rest of your life” / Part2

A/N: This is a trial run of an idea I have with Taehyung. I would really appreciate some feed back on it. This chapter is not much since it is just an introduction so far. Sorry for any mistakes made.

Word count: 2,115

Warmings: Blood, killing, torture and murder, graphic content

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

Candle flames dancing under the command of the wind. A candied tango in pair with the ringing laughter and fulfillment, radiating from the near by village. What a sweet place it looked like, carefree. The music was loud and so were their voices, your eyes but a mere mirror reflecting the light.

In front of you there was the pureness of life, behind you the end. Agonizing screams ran through the hallways, reaching even the deepest of crevasses in the walls. The voices soon came to a blood curdling stop, letting a veil of silence fall over the building. The moon kept illuminating the titan like façade of the castle, buried deep between the forest trees.

Eerie sounds acquainted themselves with your home. Soft, tinted in the colors of nightmares, were your clothes. The bone chilling cold could not reach your as the garments shielded your elbow from the stone sill of the window, gently flowing away from your skin further up they went. Refreshing coolness lingered onto your arm, opposite of the elegant and gentle palm on which you were resting your chin, as you marveled at the distant festival.

“You are looking at them again.” the deep voice behind you did not come as a surprise “ Wasting time away with meaningless celebrations.”

“You speak like we ourselves do not celebrate.” your lips parted gently- chin pressing into your skin

“Do not lump us together with the likes of them!” a mild sound echoed in the room, as a towel hit the wall aggressively “We celebrate success! Achievements! Not...living another year. ”

Your eyes moved to their corners, focusing onto the discarded piece of cloth laying on your floor “Brother, as much of a vulgar man as you may be, I would wish for you to refrain from such manners.” his head crooked to the side “ Next time do not tarnish my room with your blood soaked towels. I do quite fancy for that carpet to stay snow white, than be tainted with the crimson color of some unknown corps.” you hissed at him, coaxing a loud laugh.

He took a few steps and picked his belongings up from the ground. “ Would it have satisfied you if it belonged to an innocent noble, or is red not your cup of tea sister?” he spoke calmly

“No soul that enters these walls has even the tiniest drop of innocence in their blood. Filthy bugs thinking they can overthrow father and receive titles from some unknow king, disgusting. So please refrain from bring such filth in my room. I can smell how rotten this man was from just that cloth.” leaning back, you stretch gently. Your words hopefully reached your brother, leaving a permanent mark on his mind. The carpet though was already filthy.

“I shall try my best dear sister, with the next batch of bumbling idiots arriving tonight.” your heels clicked and clanked under the flooring. Candle flames took over your eyes, as your hand lifted the white wax cylinder out of its holder, dropping it onto the soft hairs of the carpet. The small spark soon engulfed the fur rug into a violent flame. “A shame. It was so pure once.”

“Y/N, now why would you do that my darling.” a tall dark eerie figure stood by your door, towering over your brother with ease. His steps were heavy, loud and unbelievably fast. He walked past the small fire like it was nothing and laid his big hand onto your cheek, encouraging you to lean into it. “ Wasn’t this your favorite carpet in the whole house. Your eyes used to light up the moment you saw it.”

“It was tainted father but dirty blood.” you spoke, emphasizing on the stain

“We could have washed it like the dungeons. No one would have known what was on the hairs.” his voice reassuring you

“If Yunan was a bit more considered and not a vulgar beast, this wouldn’t have happened.” your eyes glistened as the flames under you sored in the air with your anger

“Now now. I said I was sorry. I tend to forget how fragile and elegant my little sister is. Mostly during hunting season.” your brother sighed, rubbing the back of his neck “How about I compensate you?” your ears perked up.

“How so?”

“Ramel and I will take you hunting again so you can slay another snow tiger.” your eyes widened at the offer

“I will skin it for you again my princess.”your father ran his hand through your hair when the flame extinguished under you, leaving no trace of a carpet ever being there. The sound of horses pulled your attention towards the window with a glance of your eye “ Seeing as you both settled that, let us join your brother in welcoming our new guests. Yunan?” your brother smirked, his arms rising to his sides

“Their new homes have been emptied out, we just want our sweet Y/N to come and finish the disposal, as per usual.” with a nod of approval your father walked over and placed his big hand onto Yunan’s shoulder.

“I expect you to behave next time in your sister’s room.” from such height, his eyes glowed in anger.

“Yes father.”

With the head of the family walking out first, the newcomers saw fear on two legs. His vest was black, tiny compared to his massive frame, contrasting the white fox tail resting upon his left shoulder. His eyes were just as the animal upon his body, lines bend upwards into a creepy smile.

“Welcome to my lovely home. My name is Wiraem and I shall be your host on this beautiful full moon.” his arms rose in acceptance “I hope you like it here, since...” his eyes opened up still keeping the half moon shape, as a smile exposed his teeth “You won’t be leaving here again.”

“How many is it this time around?” Yunan fixed his suit, speaking out towards a tall figure. He was almost the height of your father. His hair was dark and slicked back, face stoic and cold. This was Ramel, a handsome man with a body giving the illusion it was made from the strongest matter on earth.

“About 10.” he threw a man in front of your younger brother’s feet “I caught them doing the usual snopping, trap laying and all that comes with trying to assassinate us.” your hand rubbed over your arms as the night winds cooled off your body more than desired. The men under your feet couldn’t speak, they were trembling in what one could call fear, not even noticing you. Your father’s expression changed, softened as he heard you next to him.

“Yunan, Ramel get them all in. Let’s introduce our new housemates to their rooms.” With a swift motion of his huge arm, he picked you up. The warmth from your father’s body was pleasant, letting yourself indulge in it as you grabbed onto him. The walk to the dungeons was long and slow, your family did not enjoy rushing things. The night was not young anymore leading you to be swept away by the lullaby of silence. Fatherly and gentle, his movements did not even let your body twitch with his step. Skilled he was after all. No one dared to make even the smallest peep, it became an unwritten rule.

Your father looked upon you with warmth. Yunan would crack an occasional smirk looking at your peaceful sleep, resting so calmly with the lingering smell of blood not even alarming you. Ramel was one to show his emotions through actions more than face, which he did removing a strand of hair from yours.

*Clank*

Someone’s chains sung out, before being picked up in panic. As rudely as the song hand been silenced, it was not fast enough - noticed by the family, stopping their steps. The man froze, no breath, no sound, not even a faint heartbeat. The three men turned to face him in unison flashing him disgust, a smile filled with murder and a stone face that could do anything.

“Mmm.” you mumbled under your nose, nuzzling yourself into your father’s chest. The sign of you potentially waking up contorted their faces. The smile was accompanied with blood shot eyes, Ramel’s head crooked up half covered by a shade casted upon his face and Yunan expressing even more anger.

“Would you look at that.” you father whispered sending chills over the already sweating humans “ It seems as though one of our lovely visitors just disappeared. I wonder where he went?”

Wind blew the curtain in the hallway ,as a howl joined inside. As the fabric calmed down the rest of the new arrivals noticed that their number had gone down by one - 9. The man that dared to make a sound was gone without one. No one noticed, no one saw, he just vanished. Magic was common in these times, yet this was far beyond what any wizard kin could explain.

“Hmmm silence.” Yunan smiled “Keep it that way.” he pulled on the shirt of a man with dark long locks of hair and thick eyelashes, the aura of a bear cub. His heart was calm, focused on you with bubbling interest and sane.

The men kept looking around the dungeons. They looked clean, they looked like no one used or had used them, but there was a residual stench that one would notice immediately. A mix of old and fresh warm blood, maybe a few hours old and a few minutes new. The prisoners stopped in their tracks, falling back as silently as they could, as they laid eyes upon the scene in front of them.

A pile of human remains if you could even call them that at this point. Bodies, parts of them all randomly throw upon one another and the star on top of the tree, our lovely missing tenant number 10.

“Oh my.”your father gasped “I am sorry to have shown you this. How unconsidered of me.” His head shifted towards the men “ I forgot to make sure your old roommates left for good. Seems as though they couldn’t...”

Their voices were stuck in their throats, stomachs convulsing trying to keep whatever food they had down. The floor wasn’t chilling no more, you could say the fear conjured such drop of their temperature, that they were making the room colder. Heart beats were faintly heard as all of these men, these soldiers, assassins and who knows what ,were ready to piss themselves at such sight. How useless. Coming here and thinking war could have prepared them for this land. One of them, one of them was still trying to stay calm. Young and so mentally strong.

“Princess?” the gentle warmth ran over your cheek “My little flower petal.” you frowned and tried to roll up in a smaller ball “It pains me to wake up so rudely my angel, but daddy needs your help.” the men watched as your half asleep self rose gently, leaning onto your father’s shoulders for support. Eyes still heavy, you peeked gently. The rocks beneath everyone illuminated in a faint golden color of fire.

“ Evanescet...” but a faint whisper sneaking out from in between your tinted lips. Blazing fires enveloped the bodies, the flames sounding like the agonizing screams of their souls, as they vanished into thin air. Never to be seen again.

The flames spread around, igniting all organic lifeless matter. Blood stains burned with passion, leaving only the stone cold walls and floors spotless clean. The smell was gone and the room filled with the crisp night breeze. For a moment it felt like no one had ever stepped foot inside these rooms.

“Thank you my little rose.”

Ramel stepped closer, placing his hand over your eyes, closing them. His gentle side put you back to sleep almost immediately, picking you up in his own embrace. Your father removed the fox fur off his shoulder and made sure to tuck you in well in your brother’s arms. With a swift motion, Yunan removed your shoes and hooked their ankle straps onto his slender fingers.

“I never understood why she chose such uncomfortable garments.” sighing, his hands ran over the small red patch of skin, heeling it. ”I have gotten her so many boots, yet here we are.” The prisoners were astonished at the warmth these men had for you and only you.

“We are not meant to understand ladies, but marvel them and protect.” Ramel tore the silence with his deep, sharp voice filled with righteousness. You drifting off slowly but surely, eyes turned in the direction of one boy. His front chunky eyelashes battered at you ,as his lightly tinted skin glowed in the moonlight . His face was too serious and focused on you, yet sleep took over and you drifted off again.

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hoodoo12 · 3 years ago

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Festival (27/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @go-commander-kim @saucymangos @beetlebitchywitch

Magenta eyes watched the dislodging of the young witch curiously, though Pink didn't brag or boast. She didn't feel as though she'd won a prize or proved anything much about herself, beyond the fact that yes, ghosts can be good in the sack, too. It flattered her that he came along with her, even with his hard cock bobbing beneath him.

The heat of his skin against her back sent tingles up her spine, and his touch at her breast was addictive almost as much as his wandering touch. Her nipple hardened between his fingers and she gasped, pressing back against him with a little hum of pleasure at the pressure.

She swallowed hard, and sucked at her lower lip as she continued to lead him slowly toward Beej and Carmen. It looked like they were still doing something, she could see her original with tendrils of some sort, and Carmen seemed to be in his arms. Torn between being unendingly curious about what they were up to, and enjoying being touched so attentively. Her hands covered and stroked the backs of his as she halted for a moment.

Her body lengthened, extending beneath his chest. Her upper back and torso stayed where they were without much change, and she held herself at the proper height to be held and groped as her hips nudged along his belly, two arms directing his cock to her pussy as she continued to lengthen, pressing herself against his tip til it pressed past the initial resistance of her entrance. She moaned low in her throat and pushed herself until her thighs touched his balls, and the arms she'd grown wrapped around his rear, holding her tight on his cock.

Turning her upper half until she was face to face with him, she kissed him and tightened herself around his cock.

"This alright with you, honey?" she asked softly, lips ghosting against his. "Even if you don't fill me again, I'm willing to be your cocksleeve for a little bit . . . seemed a shame to leave all that cock out in the open."

He knew the old stories and warnings about his kind: that centaurs had a propensity for drinking and kidnapping women for their own pleasure. Kadus wasn’t drunk, he hadn’t even eaten any of the offered treats, but he would have gladly entertained stealing away this amazing specter back to his home if he had the ability to do so. He was partially sure she would go with him willingly, if she was not bound by her own restrictions.

The chill of her soft hands around his cock sent a shiver through him. Her pussy was still slick with her own arousal and the seed he’d filled her with. The slight resistance of her opening up for the head of his cock created delicious friction against his shaft, and he couldn’t help but groan in a long outward breath as she moved against him this time, once again taking him fully into her. He no longer worried about hurting her, even though she was still full of his come from the first time.

As she stayed against his human half, he held her tightly, pressing his face into her vine and flower choked hair. “You’re too good to me. You’re my goddess,” he murmured against the side of her neck, although he was a poor worshipper, letting her do so much work.

A cocksleeve, she’d said. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but could guess, and it wouldn’t be right to claim more pleasure at her expense. He regretted not being able to touch her clit to add to her pleasure, but Pink’s nipples were hard peaks against him, and he dipped his head again to capture one, holding it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue even as his hips began thrusting into her cunt by instinct.

⁂

Beej glanced toward BJ again with more intent, listening curiously to his suggestion. He had to admit, it sounded like fun, though the way he worded it, it sounded like there was more to it than just a little friction and some excited grinding. With a grin and a wink, he gave a subtle nod, then returned his attention to Carmen and Jessie.

His thin, grey tendrils wound around her waist and legs, supporting her as she awaited Carmen's response. At her nod, Jessie was placed on Beej's thick cock, straddling it and holding on surprisingly tightly with her legs. He hadn't expected such vigor from such a small body, but was pleased as Carmen's head dropped back against him and the sweet sound of her moaning filled his ears. He spread her open, exposing her clit to the smaller woman and observing her curiously.

Jessie leaned forward as Beej tilted them back slightly, giving her a more level seat and supporting Carmen as she leaned. She stroked the slick skin around Carmen's clit, gasping at how warm and puffy her cunt had become over the course of the night. She kissed the tip of the clit before her, finding the girth of it to be nicely similar to a cock.

Holding in her own excitement at first, Jessie stroked along the short length of clit that lay swollen beneath her hood, stroking her she way she would have rubbed herself if both hands weren't needed to keep herself supported with Beej's cock throbbing weakly beneath her.

Magenta eyes met brown ones as he sized Jessie up, enthralled with how immediately and completely she focused on her task. He'd caught her attention by staring, and she perked a brow and glanced at his tentacles. When her gaze returned to Carmen's clit and she licked her lips, he felt the heat of her cunt against his cock.

With one small tendril, he cupped the back of Jessie's head and guided her to take the tip into her mouth. When she'd accepted it eagerly, he pressed her head against his lover, holding Jessie's mouth tight to Carmen's pubic bone as the girl sucked and swallowed around throbbing flesh that filled her mouth. Her arousal at being used like a toy on his lover sent an intense rush of pleasure through her tiny body, and Jessie unleashed it on them both, pulling a startled, loud moan from Beej as his cock stiffened, still held only shallowly inside Carmen. As Jessie rocked her hips, the sparks of pleasure that sparked into her belly were shot through them as well, making Beej twitch slightly, though he held tight to Carmen, and kept Jessie's mouth on his lover's clit.

The size of the mouth on her pussy wasn’t what caught most of her attention; the heat of Jessie’s mouth made her cry out more sharply. She was so used to her lover’s tepid body that even the slightest warmth felt searing against her swollen clit. As a matter of fact, the chill of Beej’s cock and his fingers spreading her open for the other woman contrasted pleasantly with Jessie’s touch, and Carmen gave an uncontrolled, full body shudder.

She could tell the thin tendrils were moving between her legs but didn’t know exactly what they were doing; everything that transpired since she agreed to this made pleasure build again and she was losing the ability to think, driving by chasing that high again. Carmen didn’t know what to do with her hands. The suction from Jessie’s mouth made her want to grab and hold her in place as if it was Beej going down on her, but Jessie’s stature made her not give into that urge. Instead she lifted her arms to make it even less likely she’d put her hands between her legs, reaching back to hold onto Beej’s shoulders and head. It arched her back, which pressed her pelvis downward, into the pleasure.

A new burst of bliss, like nothing she’d felt before, radiated through her and she cried out again, tears collecting under her eyelashes. Her lover gave a startled moan as well--had he felt it too? A second, deeper noise chased the first as his cock hardened again. With her bearing down on him, it had nowhere to go but into her well-used pussy, which ached as it stretched her open again.

With the come he’d filled her with still plugged deep in her cunt, Carmen gave a sob of pained pleasure. She rocked as best she could, fueled by the sensations threatening to overwhelm her. Even through her tears she opened her eyes and stared into the infinity of the sky above. A dusting of the most brilliant stars were still there, even as the color of the sky lightened with the approaching dawn.

⁂

As Kadus captured one peaked nipple between his lips and thrust his cock within her, Pink clenched around him and arched her back to push the soft flesh of her tit tighter to his mouth. Again he'd praised her, called her his goddess . . . the pink blossoms in her hair grew, the vines lengthened and embraced him with their leaves and curls.

"Oh, Kadus you feel so wonderful inside me . . . I love being stretched around you, you're so warm and thick. Fuck . . ."

Her breath hitched in her throat and she shivered, writhing to grind herself around his cock as she shortened and lengthened her body to fuck herself on him. The arms at his hind quarters gripped him desperately, tugging her back toward him. Her fingers threaded into his hair as she tipped her head back and whined softly, cheeks brightening in their magenta tint as she tried to muster the words to ask him for what she craved.

When she did finally manage to speak, her voice was mostly breath. "Just one more, please? Can you come for me again sweetheart? Kiss me and fill me up, empty those heavy balls and feed me your moans?"

She was greedy, his goddess, and he could do nothing but obey her whim and desires. Although he’d not taken many lovers, he would have worried about filling her--not only the first time, but again!--with his load; he knew most couldn’t take the sheer amount of come a centaur produced. He’d heard from the elders in his herd, who had taken mortal partner capable of being fucked, that typically they had to pull out because the pressure of both the size of their cocks and their release was too much. Apparently watching a flood of come from a well used pussy or ass was arousing, knowing they’d overfilled them.

But even though her belly was stretched tight as a drum from still holding in his previous release, Kadus knew she’d be able to handle a second filling. The squeeze of her cunt, her fevered words, her complete offering to him--he relished each second. He was pleased he gave her pleasure and humbled she wanted more. Reluctantly he had to release her pebbled nipple from his mouth to breathe and answer her. He lifted his head and kept his face near hers, their lips brushing as he replied,

“Yes yes yes my όμορφη ροζ φοράδα, my ανθισμένη θεά--oh--I will, will you come for me?” He wished he could have held out until he knew she would come again, but everything was too much and he thrust against her hard, filling her again with heavy, powerful spurts that left his cock throbbing deep in her cunt.

⁂

The responsiveness of the two as Jessie unleashed her biofeedback on them gave her a little euphoric boost of confident pleasure. She would have grinned, had her mouth not been so wonderfully occupied by Carmen's throbbing clit, tasting distinctly of warm flesh, come and wet.

The pressure of the little grey tendril that held her continued to feed her that feeling of being used in just the right way- nothing too harsh or demanding, just gentle insistence. She rocked her hips again, grinding herself on the swollen shaft of Beej's cock as she bobbed her head slightly, suckling and bucking her tongue against her mouthful of flesh.

She placed her hands at the joining of the two, massaging the stretched rim of Carmen's pussy around Beej's cock as she fed her excitement and the sparks of pleasure from the friction of the ghost's cock against her own swollen clit.

Feeling just how tightly filled Carmen was with her lover, Jessie imagined what it'd feel like when she was her own size again. The fantasy took many different paths, from slow and sweet rocking against BJ to him pinning her down wherever they happened to be when her size returned and rearranging her guts with his cock in a feverish, needy rut.

Her little mouth sucked more feverishly as these thoughts filled her mind, rocking her hips more roughly and quickly against Beej's shaft and driving herself hard toward the edge, craving more of their pleasure.

Beej held himself as still as he could, trying not to press his cock any further into Carmen for fear of hurting her. One of his grey tendrils slipped up to her hands at his shoulders and head, winding around her wrists and holding her, attempting to make her feel more secure in her positioning.

That molten bliss that shot through him from the tiny body straddling his cock hadn't subsided, and he shook as he tried desperately to hold still. Moans and whimpers streamed from his lips until he latched his mouth onto her neck, sucking to muffle himself.

She was lost. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her, each larger than the last; Carmen had no idea that it could build on itself so much. She writhed and sobbed openly. She was held not only the cradle of Beej’s pelvis and against his chest, but now by her arms as if full body restraint was to secure her on this plane before she dissolved into a pool of euphoria. Stretched in so many different ways, from pussy to torso to arms and wrists, nerve-endings were simply becoming numb from overstimulation. Beej’s thick cock and the come he’d plugged inside her became nothing but pressure. Jessie’s sinful mouth on her aching clit--and whatever else the other woman was doing, there was no logical reason that everything should be so deliciously warm or that bliss continued to increase--pushed her over the edge and Carmen wailed. Her body shook uncontrollably. She gasped for breath. Every muscle tightened and she arched, which impaled her aching pussy further onto her lover’s cock. There may have been a burst of wet from her pussy but she couldn’t tell; she only knew that tears soaked her face as she babbled a litany of,

*“--fuck oh fuck oh god oh fuck--”* against the side of Beej’s neck. It was good he held her so tightly, because she’d have shoved her hands between her legs and slammed her thighs shut, and she didn’t want to hurt the woman who’d undone her.

As the scene before him unfolded, BJ dropped the hose to the hookah and moved to have a better view. The other ghost floating, holding his lover tight against him with her legs open widely in a position vaguely reminiscent of her about to give birth, Jessie so intent on her task of sucking that clit and rutting so strongly against the cock that spread her own legs--BJ could practically *feel* the euphoria rolling off the trio. His lover knew how to escalate things, even in the midst of a fertility celebration attended by fey!

His hand moved faster at his groin. Watching them, he ached. Taking a second to spit into his hand, he grasped his cock again and the addition of the wet made him moan. That was a mistake; he’d given his word to Jessie he wouldn’t come again tonight, he’d wait until he could push his cock into her tight little pussy and dump his load deep into her cunt--

With a strangled groan he yanked his hand away from himself.

On his shoulder, Ollie twittered, but before he could take offense to that the leprechaun gasped and came into his own hand, which was something to take *more*offense too. Jessie’s little pet got to get off sitting front row to this sex show, and he didn’t?! Huffing, BJ gave himself a shake that dislodged the freeloader. Because he knew Jessie would be upset if he wasn’t careful, he made sure Ollie was back on solid ground before moving closer to the other three. His cock throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to give into baser instincts, but besides a quick, twisting pull to the head of his cock, he kept his hands off himself. That didn’t mean they couldn’t touch anyone else, though. He hadn’t been invited, but everything in front of him spurred him on. Jessie’s focus but obvious mounting pleasure was a beacon to him. Carmen was too far gone to notice him, and he didn’t believe from his interactions with Beej he was going to be denied. With a hand on the other ghost’s knees, he spread his legs enough to step between them.

Leaning down, he whispered, “You’re so fucking hot, sucking that clit,” directly to Jessie.

Then he opened his mouth and let his tongue slide against Beej’s tightened ball sack, his saliva wetting the sparse pink hair that covered them. He dragged his tongue up the underside of the thick cock Jessie straddled until he got to her. She’d positioned herself so she could grind her clit directly on the cock below her, but that left her cunt and asshole free and exposed. Without warning he lapped at her.

Heat and pleasure rocked him from just the minor touch he’d applied. With a deep moan, he licked her again, from the cock between her legs to her ass, over and over, siphoning her pleasure. His hand went back to his cock but he only squeezed the tip harshly, working hard not to come.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Movie Beetlejuice #Musical Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #festival #rp #long fic #OC x OC

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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You Know How They Say I Only Have Eyes for You? (Taywhora) - Spiritualcramp33

summary: WOOOO!! this is my first time uploading a fic here, so i hope you like it! I've been super obsessed with Taywhora recently and i have so many ideas, so hopefully you'll hear from me again soon^^

A'whora didn't know what the fuck was going on, and she couldn't find it in herself to care, either.

They'd been on a night out, but most of their friends had called cabs and left, leaving her and Tayce alone. They seemed to do that a lot, and perhaps it was intentional - it seemed as much, if Bimini's knowing smirk and snarky comments as they said their goodbyes were anything to go off of.

They'd ended up outside, A'whora being sat on the old, slightly deteriorated wooden bench just next to the pub's door, and her flatmate stood nearby having a smoke. She'd offered A'whora one, too, but she was sure that a combination of nicotine and alcohol would prove unhelpful to the hangover she was going to feel tomorrow morning.

A sound akin to tv static rung in her ears, and she watched as Tayce took a drag from her cigarette, and found herself a little too enticed by the way the smoke dissolved into the cold night as it seeped from her lips. They were slightly parted, and A'whora felt a pang of shame course through her veins at how kissable they looked.

As the smoke curled into the air, she could feel it fogging her brain - crawling into every crevice of her mind, embedding itself in her memory though A'whora tried so hard not to let it phase her. There was something about her friend that just felt so different, so unfamiliar yet so safe.

The sky was painted a deep and lifeless blue with no sign of even a single star, but A'whora took one dive into Tayce's eyes and figured that maybe she'd stolen them. They were glacial galaxies, clouds of emotion swirling around in a way that made it all too easy to read her thoughts, and there was a certain twinkle scattered throughout that looked like accidental flicks of white paint.

She thought, though, that nothing about the way the darker woman was made was accidental - she was absolutely ethereal in a way that made A'whora believe that she'd been hand crafted by the finest, a simple heaven consisting of a faint vanilla scent and strawberry chapstick and everything good in the world.

She knew her adoration was smothered all over her face - in her eyes, her smile, the crimson tint dusted across her usually pale cheeks - but she was tipsy on rum and coke and giddy on dumb romance, and with the way her thumped in her chest, she didn't think she could hide it if she tried.

She had to admit it stung, though - the affection seemed painfully unrequited. Sure, Tayce would laugh at A'whora's jokes, and sometimes on nights out they'd share a kiss or two, and sometimes she'd get all touchy in a way that she didn't with anyone else. But she reckoned those were just platonic, friendly things.

right?

"what're you thinking about, boo?"

Tayce's voice shattered the fragile fantasy she'd (once again) found herself indulging in, and the cold air of reality hit for the first time in forever, though it'd probably been around 7 minutes. She blinked away the remaining fragments of the thoughts that plagued her mind and thought of an appropriate reply that wouldn't be a blatant confession of her feelings.

"it's not like it matters"

Well. If A'whora planned on keeping it cool then she'd just fucked it right up, hadn't she? Smashed a bloody gaping hole into her stoic armour, her own voice so rich in vulnerability that it caused her to repress a shiver.

"'course it matters, rory. what's up?"

She let out a jagged breath at the pure concern in the other girl's voice - the words sounded as if they were coated in golden honey, pronounced in a way that could have her a puddle on the floor within minutes, but they were laced with such unwavering affection that A'whora was sure her blush was visible from a mile away.

If Tayce noticed, though, she didn't say anything. She simply watched, her gentle gaze analysing the blonde infront of her in a way that made A'whora sink back into her coat with insecurity.

"i don't know...I'm just-" her breath hitched. There were thousands of words to choose from, and she wanted to say all of them, yet every one she tried to say seemed to die in her throat. It felt as if her blood had turned to stone.

Her mind trailed as she entertained the notion, and she wondered what it'd look like. An ants nest of veins, perhaps, grey and dull but in an almost poetic way - she thought that it would be the rawest form of vulnerability possible, and she thought that maybe her love for the brunette ran so deep that even just the way the veins connected and branched out like spiderwebs was telling enough.

"you're just..?"

"I'm just tired" the words escaped without a second thought, mingling with the air. She studied the other girl's expression with reluctant curiosity, anticipation dancing in her own eyes as she waited for her friend's response.

"of what?"

Sobriety hit like a brick to a glass house when Tayce's jaw tightened. A malicious dread pricked at her heart and she was rendered silent for a while, her eyelashes fluttering as she opted to look at the cold, wet ground instead.

Neither spoke, yet there seemed to be a mutual understanding that some things were better left unsaid.

"we should go home. will you book a cab?"

A'whora's head felt fuzzy as she stepped through the door into her apartment, tayce following suit shortly after. She tossed her bag to the side nonchalantly, the contents rattling as they hit the floor in a way that caused the blonde to flinch.

She had rushed upstairs before Tayce could even comprehend what was happening, quickly removing her makeup and falling onto her bed with a defeated sigh. She felt like shit - it was as if ants were crawling around beneath her skin.

Her brain was putty, no, liquid thoughts, and they swirled around in her head in a way that was deafening but also so, so inexplicably quiet - so much so that they began to lose their sense, an amalgamation of incoherent thoughts that screamed only one thing - Tayce.

It was then that she heard a faint knock at the door. Speak of the devil.

"come in"

The door creaked open gradually, a slither of light from the landing slicing into the dimly lit room, proving to be a stark contrast that A'whora had never really seemed to notice before.

Tayce looked vulnerable, worn down - she had removed her makeup and thrown on an oversized hoodie and some shorts, and the image was so innocuous that the pale girl could feel her heart jump.

she tiptoed towards the bed, her movements so gentle and delicate that they made A'whora feel (and probably look) like a bull in a china shop. She took a seat next to the blonde, their arms brushing against eachother gently, and A'whora's brain short-circuited, shooting sparks throughout her body that made her feel electric.

"what's wrong, babe? you're being all weird on me. i can't have that"

The paler girl's eyes flickered shut as she words left Tayce's lips, lingering the air and clinging to A'whora's lungs as she breathed it in slowly. She shuffled on the bed so that she was facing her friend now and, despite her sobriety (or maybe because of it, she didn't really know), she found herself willing to confess the one thing that'd been eating at her for months, festering under her skin and wearing down her bones until they felt like they were made of glass.

"Tayce" the word came out almost inaudible, barely above a whisper if at all, and Tayce's hands soon found themselves clung to A'whora's, sending a small shiver down her spine at how cold they were.

"rory, you can tell me anything" the words were laced with sincerity - strung together with golden threats of intimacy, one that they shared often but didn't dare to vocalize until now.

It'd always loitered in the atmosphere, sometimes making itself known in form of a needy hug or peck on the cheek or maybe even a drunken kiss, but it never seemed to come up in conversation - well, Lawrence had pointed their - as she'd say - 'seckshul tenshun' out a fistful of times, but it'd always been brushed off as playful.

well, it was now or never. A'whora's breaths were ragged and her brows furrowed together as her mind scrambled frantically to get her words together until-

"Tayce, i think I'm in love with you"

fuck.

Hot tears pricked at her eyes the second it'd been said - it felt like a weight had been lifted, a secret that'd been pushing against her chest for months, slowly but surely asphyxiating her until, on some days, she found it hard to breathe when Tayce was on her mind.

When the brunette didn't reply, A'whora's conscience was immediately obscured by paranoia, completely deactivating her ability to think clearly for just a split second, until she felt a warm hand rest on her jaw, and she slowly blinked away the blurry tears to see Tayce leaning in ever so slowly, lips parted in a way that A'whora couldn't refuse (it's not like she ever would, anyway).

She wasted no time in closing the gap between them, and it was like the world around her had went up in flames. Her head was getting swimmy as she melted into the kiss which, in turn, deepened it.

Tayce tilted her head to the side slightly, opening her lips in a silent plead and A'whora obliged, their tongues finally meeting, dancing to a silent melody only they could hear, and the blonde thought she didn't want to taste anything else for the rest of her life. She tasted like sugar and caramel and all of A'whora's favourite things, excluding the faint traces of alcohol on their breaths.

When they finally broke apart, a dumb smile was plastered on Tayce's face as she pressed her forehead against her housemate's. A'whora couldn't help but return the smile - she'd yearned for so long, wanted and wanted until she finally felt it. Warmth engulfed her body, and her housemate's touch felt like fire as the brunette's fingers held a firm grip on her arm.

A'whora thought she might've burned her, but she wouldnt have minded - the feeling lingered seconds after Tayce's fingers had departed, but when the blonde looked down, she saw no trace of the contact on her arm, and a content sigh escaped her kiss-swollen lips.

Tayce thought it was obvious, that vocalizing such a thing was painfully unnecessary, but she couldn't stop herself when she spoke, the words breathy and quiet and brimming with affection;

"i think I'm in love with you, too"

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #fluff #angst #(if you squint)#friends to lovers #roommate au #lesbian au #spiritualcramp33

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bloommedspa · 1 month ago

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#Chemical Peel in Sparks #PCDC Mesotherepy in Sparks #Body Contouring in Sparks #CO2 Vaginal Rejuvenation in Sparks #Skin Tightening in Sparks #Radio Frequency microneedling Treatment in Sparks #Eyelash tint and lift in Sparks

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mattness · 3 years ago

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rock it till waterfalls

Genres: PWP, Songfic, Romantic Inspired by Beyonce's song "Rocket"

Jacob sends to her so many messages, until his black Aston Martin business class with tinted windows was parked in the parking near the office center where Gwen worked. He purposely took off from work for two hours so that they could spend this time together. That's why he was so insistent on texting after texting, begging her to leave the office for lunch.

Gwen: "Five minutes, Jacob. I can't give up everything for you, no matter how much I really want to."

The man snorted, then smiled.

"Okay. I'm waiting patiently for you in the parking lot".

The salon was filled with music from the Depeche Mode song, "Strange Love", and Jacob tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the rhythm, while he carefully looked towards the building, from which Gwendoline came out exactly to the chorus, pulling a leather jacket over a red t-shirt. Black tight pants perfectly emphasized her legs. Frye's gaze lingered on her hips, which caused the most indecent thoughts to creep into his head. While he was thinking about his own, Gwen, noticing a familiar black car in a half-empty parking lot, walked briskly towards it.

"Hi, Gwenny", Jacob greeted her as she climbed into the salon and kissed him on lips as a greeting.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"My job", assassin chuckled and loosened the knot of black tie around his neck a little with fingers. Mortimer followed this action closely. "I'm going to Wales today for a couple of days, that's why I insisted on meeting."

"Oh", was all Gwendolyn breathed, who knew perfectly well that Jacob quite often had trips and even flights outside London for work, so she was no stranger to it. "Do you want to have a lunch together?"

Jacob nodded, then smiled slyly. Gwendolyn also knew this smile perfectly well, but now it seemed completely inappropriate. The man even raised his eyebrows, which made Mortimer roll her eyes irritably.

"What?" she feigned incomprehension.

"Gwenny, you know perfectly well what."

"Then let's go home—" she shrugged, but man didn't agree, explaining that they would waste time in vain. "Are you want it here?.."

"Why not? We wanted to start trying different places. Experiment—" Jacob reminded in the most innocent voice, biting his lips.

"But not in broad daylight!"

"The car has tinted windows."

"Everybody will hear us."

"I'll turn up the music louder."

Gwendolyn batted her long eyelashes in confusion, because all arguments against sex in the car were over. Or rather, she tried to come up with some other excuse, but the fantasy exhausted all its resources. Assassin's smile widened, and sparks of desire danced in his green eyes. As a final argument in favor, Frye added in a hoarse baritone:

"We won't see each other for few days, Gwenny."

She finally gave up. Sighing heavily, Gwen pulled her jacket off her shoulders, then bent down to her boots, took them off and began to unbutton her pants without any unnecessary words, while a cheerful Jacob turned up the volume of the music, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top couple of buttons on his shirt. As soon as Mortimer straightened pants off herself, she glanced at Jacob, who, clicking one button near the steering wheel, locked the car doors.

"How much time do we have?"

"I have two hours", assassin whispered, and girl moved to his lap. His hands began to stroke her thighs possessively, rising higher and higher. Gwen took a deep breath, bent down to Jacob's face, pushing the interfering strands of her hair behind her ear, and kissed him. At first gently, as if trying on, and then sensually and passionately, as he loved. The kiss provoked both of them. Their breathing quickly lost its rhythm. Jacob lovingly explored Gwen's native body with his hands, getting his palms under the fabric of t-shirt and wanting to remove the interfering thing. Her fingers carefully straightened the buttons on his shirt, then slid over his skin. A languid moan escaped Gwen's lips through another kiss, and Jacob smiled, knowing very well, how much she liked his body, especially touching him. Gwendolyn broke away from the assassin's lips and began to kiss his neck.

You rock hard, I rock steady

"I'm leaving for just a couple of days, but how will I miss this", Frye breathed, with his eyes closed, enjoying the confident actions of his beloved. Her hands slid down his torso to the belt buckle on trousers. Jacob caught on the elastic band of her black lace panties, trying to pull it off. They both had to distract themselves from the caresses and tinker with her undressing.

Under the intoxicated excitement of Jacob's gaze, Gwendolyn couldn't resist and still took off her t-shirt. Assassin groaned, his fingers caught on the straps of her bra and, gently touching her delicate skin, pulled them off her fragile shoulders, pressing hot kisses to Gwen's chest, who couldn't restrain a new moan, lost in the sounds of some slow song. At this second, they didn't want to hurry anywhere to allow the sweet languor to fill not only every cell of the body, but also the entire space around. Jacob Frye knew how to make the whole world lose its meaning in the moments of their closeness, and they drowned together in the ocean of the highest bliss. His love was truly maddening.

Life has a reason, swimmin' in my love, your love liftin' Higher, harder, Got me screamin' to the Lord, boy!

She could already feel with her skin, how quickly Jacob was aroused, and a shiver of anticipation passed through her body from next actions, that would finally turn their heads. Assassin reluctantly pulled away from her chest, looked with darkened eyes at Gwen, who smiled seductively. Her hands confidently slid again to the belt buckle on Jacob's trousers, carefully unbuttoning, creating a moment of languor mixed with hot impatience.

"Come here. Closer to me, Gwenny—" Jacob whispered passionately, and Gwen didn't hesitate a second longer, directing him into herself with a kiss. So excited and hot. At the same time, a moan of pleasure escaped from their lips. "Damn, baby—" assassin exhaled, squeezing his hands tighter on her buttocks, forcing her to go lower so that he could penetrate deeper. Gwendolyn smiled languidly and didn't immediately begin to move, allowing them to fully enjoy this moment of unity. Goosebumps ran up her spine. The head swam sweetly, and their whole world was reduced to the two of them.

Kiss me, pray we don't overflow, Baby, I know you can feel it pulse, Keepin' the peak of my waterfall, Rock it, baby, rock it, baby, rock it till the water falls

She began to move slowly, and Jacob, without ceasing to shower her with kisses, whispered how much he loved her and was ready to put the whole world at her feet, if only she was just in his arms, always there.

"You're such a romantic", Gwen breathed between kisses, and Frye smiled lazily.

The bodies were gradually covered with perspiration. It was getting hot and stuffy in the car. The windows began to fog up. His breathing quickened. Heart was beating louder in chest, echoing in ears, throbbing in temples. The movements gradually became more intense, rhythmic.

"Lord, Jay... yes, that's it..." Mortimer whispered like a mantra, and Jacob smiled again. How nice it was for him to watch, when she was so good with him, when she was drowning in the deep abyss of pleasure with him. And Frye was ready to do it again and again until she'll started screaming with pleasure.

Soon her body was seized by a sweet convulsion, bringing the long-awaited discharge closer, lifting her with a groan of bliss straight to heaven. Gwen trembled in his arms, shouted his name in languor, froze for several long seconds, then tiredly nuzzling his neck, breathing heavily.

Damn!

It was the best sight Jacob had ever seen in his life. He loved it so much, when Gwendolyn finished, drowning in the abyss with head, sometimes without waiting for him at all, like today. But this didn't outrage him at all, on the contrary, it flattered his ego. He needed a couple more deep thrusts to cum. At the last moment, he slipped out of her, soiling her thighs, but as soon as her breathing came more or less back to normal, Jacob had the strength for the simplest movements, he carefully wiped her skin with a wet napkin, while Gwen was still burning her hot, heavy breath on his neck, trying to recover.

We're so much more than pointless fixtures

"Was it good, honey?" Frye asked in a hoarse whisper, gently stroking her back and tracing uncomplicated patterns with his fingers.

"Very good", Gwen admitted, finally straightening up and looking into his eyes. "And, you know, it's not so bad in your car. Maybe when you come back, we'll repeat it?"

"With pleasure, Gwenny", assassin laughed softly, receiving a gentle kiss on the lips. "Someone resisted at first."

Gwen smiled guiltily.

"You're just driving me crazy, and I quickly forget about everything, about all the rules of decency, Jay", she whispered, hugging Jacob tightly. "I'm going to miss you, baby."

"Time will pass quickly, you'll see", he breathed, stroking her slightly sweaty hair. "Well, if I'm a little late, we can do the same thing over the phone."

Gwendolyn laughed softly, feeling her cheeks flush. Well, no, it was somehow completely... indecent to do this on the phone. However, she thought the same about cars. Until today.

You look so comfortable in my skin. Rockets and waterfalls.

#assassin's creed syndicate #assassin's creed #jacob fyre #jacob x gwen #romantic #love #fanfiction #fanfics #my fanfic #rock it till waterfalls #gwendolyn mortimer #my art #photoshop

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clownsgobeepbeep · 4 years ago

Note

Phantom

*sings* Boy you got me fucked up-

Warnings for stalking and pretty disturbing content imo. I tried to water this down but...my god...

Friday afternoon.

Always the same place. Always the same time. Always the same booth. Always the same order.

Have a nice day, her lips read. Cherry-red lips shaped like a cupid’s finely crafted bow, curled up into a polite smile directed towards the waitress that had just left her booth. At this point,reading her lips was like reading a book, just following whatever word came next.

Through the glass pane that divided her from the outside world he watched, watched as her thin fingers dug into the coin purse shaped like a pink axolotl, soon pulling out a few dollar bills that were placed on the table for the tip.

She stood up, wiping herself with her napkin one last time. Finally, she made her way from the booth and through the diner, waving her hand goodbye to the old man that wiped the main counter. There was no need to hear her for the lip-reading alone was more than enough, but he every now and then chose to allow her voice into his ears.

At this point, hearing her every move was built into his system, every vibration beating in his chest like the drumming of his heart.

Her heeled shoes clicked and clacked with every dainty step, causing the ends of her golden bob to bounce in an almost elegant manner. He heard the clicking cease before a key was inserted into the keyhole of her teal car, its driver door soon opening before she hopped into the driver’s seat.

There was a slight squeak when she reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror, cherry lips having curled down slightly as she realized this was not the way she had left it. There was no way somebody could have touched her mirror without anyone realizing some stranger reached inside her convertible vehicle.

Shrugging it off, she reached down to the cup holders to grab her lipstick to redo the one on her lips. That was when her eyes were drawn down to an emptiness, no lipstick in sight. She now furrowed her eyebrows, desperately looking around the car to find the missing lipstick.

From a distance he watched her slight fit of panic, his lips curling up with a snicker as he fiddled with the heart-shaped item. His own hazel eyes trailed down to look at it.

“Take Me.” he read in a whisper, a shaky breath escaping his lips before his eyes went back up to her, seeing that she had given up and instead retorted to grabbing the lipstick she kept in her purse as a backup.

She removed the lid before the stick was placed on her lips, hazel eyes looking through the mirror to apply the faded color. It wasn’t until she saw another pair of hazel eyes in the mirror that made her turn around in a panic, heart having stopped in that instant as she saw nobody behind her car.

Perhaps she was tired and was now seeing things in her mirror. It wouldn’t be the first time and she was mostly certain that all forces against her had given up.

She decided to reapply her lipstick at home, tucking the tube back inside her purse before starting up the engine. She began to reverse her car, realizing that something was off with the movement.

Perhaps something was behind one of her wheels.

So she got down from the car, circling around it once before finding the problem she faced. The back wheel on the right side was popped, something small and round lodged into it. Once realizing this, she reached down to grab what was most likely a nail, ripping it out and discarding it to the side.

Without her knowledge, the item’s tiny legs extended out, helping it crawl away and towards the shadows where it knew it was meant to be. In the shadows was he who had purposely sent it out, chuckling to himself at the prideful work done by his parasitic minion.

“Dammit.” he heard, looking back up at her. Her petite form made its way back into the diner, sighing as she began talking to the old man from before.

He gave her a comforting smile, telling her that he would do as she requested.

She had asked to leave the car there until the morning, or just until one of her beaus came to fix it. The older man asked what she would do in the meantime. She would walk.

From the shadows she was watched, the observer almost cackled in glee. Her latest form of transportation proved to be a nuisance when it came to spectating her, always making her trips far too short for his taste.

From where he stood he could tell that she was told to wait just a minute, that walking alone wasn’t her best option no matter the time of day.

She insisted it was alright.

He couldn’t help but let out a smirk, tilting his head in satisfaction as he waited for her to walk out of the diner again. This could have been the time to finally reintroduce himself to her. But perhaps, he could wait a little longer. The anticipation only made things more thrilling, watching her from afar for this long without her knowing.

His eyes landed on her facial features once again, skin colored like a fuzzy peach that had two rosy cheeks. Perky little nose that still had the slightest tint of pink left from her childhood, something that always embarrassed her but he always adored, especially with his inheritance of it.

The blonde bob always framed her heart-shaped face so perfectly. Long eyelashes popping from behind her fringe to flutter like a butterfly’s wings, almost teasing anyone that saw such a simple but coy action.

He clutched his coat in a tight grip with both of his hands, almost clawing into them with the sharp tips of his fingers as his eyes followed every curve of her body. Her white sweater was neatly tucked into the denim skirt that hugged her bottom half ever so perfectly, revealing her thin legs that were finished off with little red boots.

Her left hand clutched her purse that was too in the sphere of a red heart, just like the tiny red hearts that adorned her long nails. These gently tapped themselves on the new leather material while the ones on the other hand dug into her hair, practically combing it before a stray strand was tucked behind her ear. Even on here she wore hearts, her earrings that dangled and skipped beats like the heart that pounded even harder in the chest of her observer. It was all very appropriate for a Queen of Hearts.

Said observer had been far too focused on taking in as many details as possible that he had lost track of time, a minute of doting over every single thing had actually been a few minutes, long enough to cancel the girl’s solitary walk home.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

He blinked a few times before actually paying attention to the situation, eyes furrowing deeply as he realized that there was a newcomer in the diner. There was no need to hear a name or see a face to this person, it was the mere tone in which ‘you’ was spoken as well as the setting itself.

A male with raven hair had entered the building, his arms already wrapped around the object of interest’s much smaller form.

She spun around after a moment of surprise, hazel eyes becoming half lidded as her hands carefully planted themselves on the male’s chest. Fingers made slight, tantalizing motions before her hands slid high up with her digits now entangled in the dark hair. One hand had actually remained lower, placed on the male’s cheek to gently caress it, the former’s face turning to kiss the palm that faced him.

“Sonny called me, Atlas nor I were going to let you walk home alone.”

“I told Sonny-” the girl eyed the older man with false anger. “-that I could go on my own. I can take care of myself.”

“We know you can,” the male leaned down to plant his cracked lips on the girl’s soft hair, sparking a boiling rage in the one that could only stare from afar. “But we love protecting you so much.”

“Whatever.” she replied, soon enough parting from his embrace. It wasn’t long until she was outside once again, this time with the adversary that continuously told nothing but ridiculous comments, flashing crooked grins and off-beat winks every now and then.

The pair was watched as the scene unfolded, the male kneeling down after picking up a spare wheel from the vehicle’s trunk. He looked up at the girl, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he practically ogled her form like an infatuated fool.

It was maddening how the girl returned a similar look, but not as fatuous as the male that even had to be reminded to turn his attention to the wheel that required changing. But once he had finished with the task, his eyes were again glued onto the girl’s legs, the left being lifted off the ground in an almost enticing manner so that he could place a soft kiss.

“You have anywhere to be right now?” she spoke above a whisper so that only he could hear her suggestive tone.

“If I did, I would have told Atlas to be here.” the male kissed her bare shin again, receiving a ‘stop’ in the form of a giggle that resulted in him standing up before caging his partner between his body and her car.

Disgusting.

If looks could kill, the male’s life could have been terminated in an instant with how he was stalked. The attention was no longer on the girl but on him instead, poisonous thoughts directed his way as he placed his hands on the girl’s hips. His fingers could have bruised her skin with how he was digging his fingers into her, tainting her with his brute force.

There was no hypothetical possibility here of all the things he could do with so much anger kept in the stalker’s form, he could have killed the other male without a second thought. He could have gotten rid of his problems right there and then, all of them.

But no.

He was smarter than that.

He was clever.

He was patient.

There was no need for elimination, only waiting.

Waiting with an open embrace for those cherry-red lips to genuinely smile at him and only him.

Waiting with an open embrace for those hazel eyes to be half-lidded and fixated on only him.

Waiting with an open embrace for those hands to hold and caress him and him alone.

Snapping out of these thoughts filled with hope, he turned away from the repulsive scene before standing erect and turning on his heel. There was no point in staying at this point in time, he already knew what would be going on once the flirtations supposedly ceased.

Reaching into his pocket, the watcher tugged on a golden chain that was connected to an elegant pocket watch, one in the shape of a heart. On it was a single hand that he moved with his thumb, making a half-moon shape until stopping. As this happened, time and space moved just for him as he found himself hours later in a new location.

Darkness had now fallen the town as well a silence, not a creature stirring at this time of the night he found himself in.

There were not many sources of light to illuminate his way, but there was no need for it.

Night vision was good enough, but muscle memory was much better.

He followed a trail he could almost see after having walked through it several times, eyes glued onto the building he approached.

Through a glass pane he could see a source of illumination, many tiny ones in fact. Tiny stars that would glow in the darkness when the right time came. He had grown accustomed to seeing them often despite the pink-colored curtains that concealed his view from what was on the opposite side of the glass.

With nothing but thoughts alone, the curtains parted open to reveal a bed situated almost in the center of the bedroom the stalker leered into.

There was a glisten in his eyes as a smirk tugged at the left corner of his lips, heart palpitating with thrill as his sights landed on the girl from before.

A complete jewel. The jewel of the sea. His jewel.

Her heavenly features so calm, so oblivious to it all.

Painted eyelids carefully shut as her lips twitched every now and then. Her features were no longer peach but a color that resembled the petals of a young daisy, still so soft and pure.

She faced the window after experiences of having to watch her back, the scar being closest to her family that slumbered in the other rooms of the house.

This was one of those nights in which she slept alone, the only source of comfort being the plush toys she kept all around her bed. Her usual blue companion nowhere to be found, instead staying the night with the pups he fathered.

Without a second thought, behind the girl was her watcher, almost cooing at how innocent she looked all cuddled up in bed. There was no way oh her knowing he was there unless he desired it.

It was almost as if he didn’t exist. It was almost as if he was a phantom.

Ever so cautiously, he seated himself right behind her. He brought a finger up to the small of her back, feeling the silky nightwear covering only half of her back.

His finger was then on the exposed portion of it, trailing up the line of stitches she received years ago.

She was so fragile. So small. So...perfect.

And with a phantom touch he moved onto her face. As cliche as it sounded, the beauty in her only soared the closer he got to her.

His digits caressed the smooth texture of her cheeks, moving in circular motions to follow the rosy swirls. With his other hand, he touched his own cheek to move his fingers in the same motion as he imagined the same symbols on his own features. How lovely it would have been to match with her.

Putting aside these thoughts, he followed through with her cherry-red lips now in the form of a heart while the rest of her lips matched her skin.

The tip of his index finger traced the heart as he almost giggled to himself, especially at the thought of the other lips that clashed with hers. Some day, it would all cease, he just knew it.

But thinking of this left him with a familiar rage, one that had him clutching onto the sheets that covered the girl. It was infuriating that every but he could hold her, that everybody could treat her as they pleased.

So it was in moments like these that he took what was rightfully his.

Thinking back to the male from before, with his arms wrapped around the girl, he mimicked his actions.

Arms snaked around her thin waist as he brought the rest of his body onto her bed, snuggling his face into the exposed part of her back. He took in the sweet scent of flowers and nature that radiated off her, every now and then finding tones that repulsed him; only for her would he stand them.

This was all he wanted.

For her to be here.

For her to hold him.

For her to tell him it was all okay.

Why did she have to leave him? Was he not everything she had always wanted?

Clearly this was the case, and for this he strived to be all that she ever wanted.

With these thoughts he unconsciously squeezed her waist, suffocating for a split second before she jolted awake.

She whipped her head around in every direction possible, even turning down to look at her waist that had nothing but the wrinkled material of her blouse.

She brought her hands down to her abdomen, soothing the area before she brought her head back onto her pillow.

There was no doubt she was imagining things, perhaps dreaming of them after so many close encounters with disturbed minds and deaths.

She could only close her eyes once again as she comforted herself, tightly hugging a stuffed toy before bringing herself to sleep once again.

Never realizing that phantom that remained. Just for a little longer.

For tonight, she belonged to him.

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Somebody To You: 2

A/N: Another long one!!

Warning: tiny itty bit of smut (mostly implied)

Word Count: 6,051

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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

CHAPTER TWO

The first week in LA was a weird adjustment for Zoey. She wasn’t expecting to be missing home so quickly and she often found herself feeling guilty for being here without her best friend - not that she didn’t want to be with Nancy and Aurora. Honestly, she hit the jackpot when it came to her roommates. Nancy was the funniest person she had ever met which came in handy whenever Zoey found herself feeling down. All she had to do was be in the presence of Nancy and a weight was lifted by the distraction Nancy gave.

Aurora, on the other hand, was the yin to Nancy’s yang. She was the calm to the chaos. Still, Aurora found herself fairly busy with photoshoots and meetings. But she’d always make time at the end of the day to have a little girl’s chat before Zoey left for work.

Zoey found she didn’t really have many conversations with her roommates about her home life. It just never came up. And it never felt like the right time to bring up Jess. She didn’t want to scare them away by crying or unloading all this burden on them. Their friendship was still so new. However, she did find out the situation between Harry and Aurora after some prying.

“It’s just flirting,” Rory blushed.

To which Nancy scoffed, “You text practically every day and eye fuck each other whenever you’re in the same room.”

The girls laughed and Aurora shifted in her seat, eyes sparkling, “He’s so hot.”

“Why aren’t you dating, then?” Zoey asked.

Aurora took a sip from her wine glass, “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. I don’t know if he even wants it, and to be honest, I don’t know when we’d even find the time. I mean it’s Harry Styles. He’s gorgeous. You’d be stupid not to want to date him. But...we’ve been talking for weeks and I feel like there hasn’t been any progress.”

“So just tell him you want to fuck and get it over with,” Nancy shrugged, mouth full of mac and cheese, causing Aurora to throw a pillow at her.

Zoey’s new job at the bar has been going really well. She had been training with a guy named Andy. Andy was Zoey’s saving grace. He had a beautiful espresso complexion, short dark hair, and stood a lean six feet tall. You couldn’t deny his attractiveness or his likeability. And he was so easy to open up to. Andy was the one thing she needed to help her come out of her shell. And he wasn’t afraid to call her on it, either. He is the only person in LA, so far, that knows about Jess and the only person to see her get emotional. Zoey had confided in him one night on break about how the two had gotten into an accident in which her best friend had died and how she was trying to use this fresh start to try adapting Jess’ positive outlook and adventure in her life. Thankfully Andy didn’t make her feel uncomfortable by bringing Jess up again. Instead, as a gentle reminder, whenever he noticed Zoey starting to shy away from something, he’d always shout over at her ‘Girl, you better give me that J-energy!’, which instantly put her back in the zone.

She had also met Brett at work, a tanned and muscular Australian man who wore baseball caps over his short, tweed brown hair. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Brett was definitely a flirt, but respectful of individual boundaries and was overall a pretty nice guy who took a liking to Zoey.

“Girl, we both know he’s hot,” Andy whispered to her one night, eyeing Brett at the other end of the bar who was helping out a couple of attractive girls with their drink orders. They batted their eyelashes at him as he laid on the charm, “If he was gay I’d snatch him right up. You should see what he has to offer. We’re going to your little welcoming party tonight. Invite him to come after his shift….and then invite him to cum,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Zoey gasped, smacking him with a towel before helping the two guys who just sat down at the bar. She poured their beers and placed it on napkins while having a bit of small talk before looking back and forth between Andy and Brett.

Andy grinned, crossing his arms, “I see that J-energy sparking in your eyes. Go on, girl.”

He was right. Zoey hasn’t been with anyone since Michael. She came out here to live and let go. That’s what Jess would want for her: to have fun. Zoey tightened her ponytail and headed over towards Brett who had just finished wiping down a section. He smirked when he saw Zoey.

“I was wondering when you were going to give me the time of day today,” he joked in his thick Australian accent. That accent alone was the reason women gave him such big tips.

Zoey wrinkled her nose, forcing herself not to back down, “When does your shift end tonight?”

“Midnight,” his eyebrows furrowed in amusement, a tilted grin forming on his perfectly tanned face, “Why?”

We should still be going strong by then, she thought, and said, “Some friends are throwing me a welcoming party at Secrets tonight if you wanted to stop by. They rented out a private room for karaoke. Andy will be there.” The two looked over at Andy who wiggled his fingers in a wave and blew them a kiss.

Andy chuckled and nodded, “Well, if Andy will be there, so will I,” he joked, turning back to face Zoey with a smirk, “Are you going to save me a dance?”

“Buy me a drink and we’ll see,” she winked, walking back over to Andy who’s jaw dropped, impressed.

“Fuck it up, sis,” he snapped, giving her a proud hug.

Normally Andy and Zoey would work late shifts, overlapping with the second half of Brett’s shift, but because it was her first week there, they wanted her training from noon to 9 PM. When their shift ended, Zoey drove Andy to his house for a quick change of clothes before heading to her place to get ready. Nancy and Aurora were still there, waiting for her. They were introduced to Andy and pretty quickly got along with him as Andy took charge helping them figure out what to wear.

Aurora needed the least amount of help -go figure- wearing a black corset-like lacy bodysuit with flared black ankle length pants and black strappy heels, her brown hair pin straight. Nancy dressed in an oversized fashion nova ‘tired of the bullshit’ t-shirt and thigh-high black heels. Andy advised her to pair it with a leather jacket and to keep her tight curls down. As for Zoey, she got rid of most of her clothes before she moved, not wanting to pack too much clothes in her car and take up room. And she didn’t have time to go shopping yet.

“Girl, what the hell do you expect me to do with this?” Andy scoffed, dangling an old ratty t-shirt he found hanging in her closet. It used to be her ex-boyfriend’s until she took it over because it was comfortable to sleep in. He tossed it to the side and disappeared back into the closet.

“Oh, okay. Okay. I can work with this,” she heard him mumbling to himself before reappearing in front of her, laying articles of clothing on her bed. “There. Get dressed,” he urged, leaving the room.

Zoey slipped into the clothes Andy had picked out for her and stared at herself in the mirror. Although she had never put these particular items together, it reminded her of something she would have worn on nights out with Jess. A white, drawstring ruched crop top with a pair of black elastic waist and ankle cargo pants that had a silver zipper on the thigh paired with black strappy heels. She had been so busy over the past year from shutting people out and working three jobs. The last time she went to a bar for fun and not work was the night of the accident. It felt unnatural to be doing this again.

“Hurry up, Zoey! We’re gonna pre-game!” Nancy called.

Zoey quickly powdered her face to get the shine away and re-slicked back her ponytail before joining the girls and Andy in the kitchen, earning whistles from the three. Aurora slid her a shot glass and a chaser and they all clinked their glasses together, cheering and downing them. The alcohol burned, running down her throat and the bitter taste brought her back to the night of the accident.

“Brett is gonna drool when he sees you,” Andy smirked, eyeing Zoey up and down, earning inquisitive looks from the girls.

“Brett?” Nancy’s eyebrow raised, “Who’s Brett?”

Zoey bit her lip, slightly embarrassed, “A guy we work with. He’s coming tonight.”

The four of them carried on the conversation in the uber on the way to Secrets. There was a line out front, but after a word with the doorman, they were let through and made their way to the back towards the private room that was separated by walls of thick darkly tinted windows, the outline of at least a dozen people already there, including Harry who immediately made his way over, greeting everyone while a few people sang karaoke loudly.

“Thanks so much for doing this!” Zoey said, shyly, after introducing him to Andy.

“No problem,” Harry grinned, “Hope you have fun tonight.”

“Oh, she will,” Andy smirked, pulling Zoey into a side squeeze.

Harry watched as Nancy whisked Zoey and Andy away to introduce them to everyone, leaving him with Aurora.

“Drink?” he offered, still slightly nervous around her.

“Yes, I’d love one,” Aurora replied sweetly in French making Harry’s chest flutter.

More people showed up as the night continued on and with each passing drink became increasingly sloppy. Harry had gotten used to people-watching over the years and quite liked to imagine what was going on in other’s lives. He noticed a few things as he sang along to the couple singing karaoke while he was also in a conversation with a friend. Most people were dancing along with the music. Nancy seemed to be flirting with Cade, a guy covered in tattoos that she had some kind of ‘friends with benefits’ thing with. Aurora had finished a drink and excused herself from a group of girls before slipping out of the room, most likely to wait in line for the bathroom. He turned his attention to Zoey and Andy who now had the mics for karaoke and were singing ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts.

He grinned in amusement as the two of them sang with drunk passion, dancing and grinding with each other. It was nice to see the difference in Zoey in the matter of two hours. She seemed to have loosened up and he assumed Andy was the reasoning for it. They seemed like great friends.

People drunkenly sang along with them and he even noticed a group of three guys staring at Zoey and Andy, smiling, clearly amused by them. Harry would bet money that at least one of them would try and talk to her when the song was over. But to Harry’s surprise, they weren’t even given the chance. He saw her facial expression change to something more serious as she handed the microphone to the person next up and whispered in Andy’s ear before walking out of the private room. At first he thought she’d probably be joining Aurora in the long line to the bathroom, but as he looked through the wall of windows he noticed her veer right at the alley way exit and disappear through the doors. Harry hesitated, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed her leave. He turned to Andy to see if his body language would give a clue as to what that was about, but Andy was now in a conversation with another guy, smiling and seemingly flirting.

At first he decided to let it go. Maybe she smokes, though she doesn’t seem the type. Maybe she just needed to get some air. But after fifteen minutes passed and Aurora returned before her, he started to worry.

“Hey. I saw Zoey step outside a while ago and she’s not back yet, so I just wanted to check on her real quick, okay?” he said in Rory’s ear while Nancy loudly sang ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ with a group of friends.

Aurora’s eyebrows crinkled in concern over the news of her roommate, nodding understandingly, “Let me know if you need me.”

Harry agreed and stood up, heading out of the private room and deciding at the last minute to grab a couple of waters just in case before slipping through the crowd and out of the alley door,

It was significantly darker in the alleyway as opposed to out front. And at first the only people Harry saw were a couple making out by the dumpster and a few guys smoking by the door. His heart raced, starting to feel worried when he finally noticed the back of Zoey’s ponytail as she leaned up against the brick wall, a bit past the guys smoking.

“Zoey?” he quietly spoke as he neared her, causing her to jump.

When she turned to face him Harry noticed a fresh tear trail down her cheek that she quickly wiped away, her eyes glassy and bloodshot, and the tip of her nose red, “Jesus! You scared me!” she breathed, clutching onto her chest.

“Sorry,” he sputtered, “Are you okay?”

Zoey sniffled, taking a deep breath to compose herself, “Yeah, I’m fine,” she shoved her phone in her pocket.

“I brought you some water,” he held up one of the glasses for her, looking at her suspiciously.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, surprised, taking the glass and having two big gups.

Harry watched her, contemplating his next words. Her demeanor was so clearly forced and he didn’t feel right just leaving it be and ignoring his intuition that something was wrong. He bit his lip before cautiously speaking, “I don’t mean to be forward or intrusive, but are you sure everything is okay? Because I noticed last week you seemed a bit upset. And then here…” he trailed off before saying, “You can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

Her bloodshot eyes searched his face making his expression soften even more. She took a deep breath, feeling caught and embarrassed, “I’m sorry. I’m not normally an emotional person. It’s just been a really hard year,” she admitted, taking another sip of water.

“How so?” he inquired, relaxing into the brick wall beside her.

Zoey paused for a moment before speaking, “Last June my best friend and I went to celebrate on her birthday,” she took another breath and continued, “And on the way home a drunk driver hit us. She didn’t make it.” Her gaze stayed down, afraid to look at him, and Harry felt a pang in her chest as she continued, “Moving to LA was always a dream of ours. Her moreso. She wanted to be an actress. And she could have made it, too. She was beautiful and so talented.”

Harry could hear the sincerity in her voice, and although his heart broke for her, he admired the way she spoke of her friend. “I’m so sorry, Zoey. What was her name?”

“Jess,” she looked up at him, feeling a sense of comfort in Harry’s eyes.

“Jess,” Harry repeated, “Well I’m sure you were lucky to have each other. I can understand how you must be feeling right now. When my stepdad died we were a wreck. Emotions circled through angry to sad to okay and back to angry again.”

Zoey nodded, relating to his words, “She should have been here doing karaoke with me. ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ was our go-to,” Zoey let out an upset laugh in remembrance, “We always took karaoke too far. She was the fun one between us.”

Her giggle made Harry soften a bit more and he said, “I’m sure she’d be proud of all that you’ve done. You seem like you’ve really got it together. And I don’t know, you seem pretty fun to me. I saw you in there. You were having a blast.”

Zoey smiled, “Yeah, I was.”

Her smile was infectious and he stood up straight, nudging her a little, “Well, if you’re up to it, maybe we can sing that song together. I can’t promise I’ll sing as well as Jess, but…”

She laughed, “It’s alright. I’ll try not to outshine you,” she joked, “Thanks for the talk.”

“Of course,” he nodded, feeling a sense of protectiveness building up in him. “I feel like I should hug you. Can I?”

She laughed, straightening up and holding out her arms to which he scooped her into a warm, friendly hug, rubbing her back. He felt her ease into the hug and knew in that moment that he had helped her and his chest felt warm, proud.

They pulled apart and began making their way back towards the door when she stopped in her tracks, turning to face him, “One more thing,” she said, seeming concerned, “Do you mind not mentioning this to anyone? I haven’t told Nancy or Rory about Jess yet and I don’t really want to start this conversation over again. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m just struggling internally about having girl friends again because I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to replace Jess.”

Harry agreed, “Of course. Promise. I understand. Take your time opening up. I don’t know who you have in your life that you talk to about it, but maybe we can exchange numbers in case you want to talk about her again? Or need some reassurance from someone who’s been there?”

“I don’t really have anyone I talk to about it. That’d be nice.”

They exchanged phone numbers and chugged the rest of their waters before making their way back inside, Zoey following him. He didn’t know what to expect from their conversation, but it wasn’t that. He thought back to all of the people he lost over the years, realizing that he always had a support system that he could turn to that was within driving distance if he needed. Zoey doesn’t have that. She moved across the country by herself and for whatever reason doesn’t feel comfortable talking to Nancy or Aurora about it. He understood. They lived together in a confined space and they were comfortable. She just didn’t want to disturb that discomfort. And as crazy and hectic as his life was with his tour at the moment, he didn’t mind sparing some time to lend an ear if and when she needed it.

He caught eyes with Aurora, who was in the middle of a conversation with Nancy and a few friends, and nodded, trying to subliminally tell her everything was fine. He reached the karaoke machine and politely asked the people who were next in line if they wouldn’t mind if he and Zoey went next, which they allowed.

After choosing their song, Harry jumped up on the small platform and offered Zoey a hand, pulling her up with him and handing her a mic. She grinned at him causing him to smile back. Lucky for her, she didn’t wear too much makeup to cause mascara streaks down her cheek. You could hardly tell she cried if it weren’t for the slightly red eyes. But that could easily be chalked up to tiredness.

The music to ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ started up and the two started bobbing to the beat, Zoey not looking away from him. He didn’t break eye contact, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. But with each lyric they sang he noticed her relax and let loose even more. By the middle of the first chorus she seemed totally in her own world, spinning and jumping to the song as everyone in the room sang and danced along. Harry mirrored her, smiling widely as they got more into it, singing the lyrics to each other dramatically. He spun her around and he laughed as she did the same to him. Seeing her excitement radiate throughout the room made him feel even more comfortable. He was having a blast. This party was an excellent idea on his part. She clearly needed it, and so did he. He could tell that Zoey and him would get along quite well.

Just as they began approaching the last chorus, Zoey’s attention seemed to divert past him and she smiled, recognition stretching across her face. She let go of his hand and waved someone over. Harry turned to see a toned, tan man wearing a fitted plain white tee with the sleeved cuffed, blue jeans, and a black baseball cap hop up onto the platform. Zoey reached her hand out to the man and he took hold as she smiled even wider, still singing along to the song as the man sang and danced with her.

The way they danced and interacted made it obvious that they knew each other and that there might be something going on between the two. Luckily, before Harry felt like a third wheel, Aurora jumped up on the platform with them, a bit tipsy still, but laughing along to the lyrics as Harry danced with her, Aurora’s long brown hair swaying behind her. The girls went between dancing with the boys to dancing with each other until the song ended.

Before he even noticed, Zoey had set the mic down and was whisked away by the Theo James look alike . Aurora tugged at his arm, snapping his attention back to her, and he smiled, setting the mic down and following her off to the side while the next couple began singing ‘Sweet Caroline’. The room went crazy singing along, but Harry got distracted stealing glances at the mystery guy with Zoey. His protectiveness grew. It was odd because they still barely knew each other. It’s not like he had feelings for her in the same way that he liked Aurora. She wasn’t exactly his type. Not that he gathered, anyway. Still, he felt the need to keep an occasional eye on her and make sure she was okay while simultaneously giving his attention to Aurora. They hadn’t spent too much time together tonight which was the whole point of him wanting to throw the party to begin with.

A few more rinks in him and he was feeling the buzz, singing along to whatever was playing and dancing with Rory who seemed to be sobering up. The two of them were more touchy feely this evening than they had ever been and he had a sneaking suspicion of where the night was headed as his drunken thoughts fantasized about what she looked like under those clothes.

By this point, the room had thinned out by almost half. Andy had left with a guy he met earlier, Zoey was still dancing, or borderline grinding, with the mystery guy, and Nancy was making out with Cade, who seemed to be more interested in her than she was of him. Poor guy. A half dozen others gathered around the karaoke machine.

Nancy would occasionally come up for air and take glances towards Zoey and the guy, commenting to Harry and Rory on his attractiveness and wanting to meet him. Nancy wondered aloud if he was the “coworker Andy and Zoey mentioned to them earlier”, though they couldn’t remember his name. They even began to inquire amongst each other if they were flirting or if their body language read ‘just friends’, which was quickly shot down when they shared a kiss. Harry had to admit, the man was annoyingly attractive-almost to the point of intimidation.

It’s almost like she knew they were talking about them, because an instant later Zoey turned her head and caught eyes with Harry. Quickly, he forced his gaze towards Aurora, but she had already caught him staring and the humility set in.

“Hey guys!” He heard Zoey’s soft voice sounded behind him.

Nancy managed to pry herself from Cade and they all turned to see Zoey standing awkwardly beside the guy. Harry didn’t have to look to know that Nancy was smirking at them through her eyelashes.

“Oh, hello,” Nancy sang, eyeing the guy, “Who do we have here?”

Zoey let out an amused laugh and introduced, “This is Brett. We work together at the bar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brett’s deep voice rang, thick with an Australian accent that Harry had not expected and he saw both Aurora fight and fail to avoid swooning.

“I’m Nancy,” she stood to shake his outstretched hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Rory,” Aurora smiled when he turned to face her and shook his hand as he smiled politely at her, his perfect teeth shining before he turned to Harry.

“Hey, mate. I’m Harry. Nice to meet you,” he grabbed Brett’s hand firmly, but was met with a tighter grip from Brett, the tips of Harry’s fingers going white before he broke free. Harry tensed his face, trying not to roll his eyes. Why did men always find the need to assert their dominance by giving hulk-strength handshakes? What did it really accomplish?

Nancy rounded on him with a million questions like ‘Where exactly are you from?’ and ‘What made you move here?’ You’d think he was in an interrogation or on a job interview if it weren’t for all of the giggles from Nancy and Aurora. Zoey must have been used to his charm by now as she just watched the interaction in amusement. They were really laying it on thick and Brett was eating it up. It’s like they completely forgot they were standing right next to a celebrity. Of course that wasn’t true, it was just the alcohol talking, and Harry felt guilty for even feeling an ounce of jealousy about the attention Brett got. He’s just fresh meat; a new face.

Zoey shuffled where she stood and looked like she was having an internal argument when she finally spoke up, looking at both Nancy and Aurora, “Hey, uhm, Brett and I were thinking about heading...back to our place...if that’s alright?”

The girls stared at her, processing the words before their mouths formed an ‘o’. Harry’s eyes widened, unsure if he should have been listening to this conversation. The spark of protectiveness he felt earlier began to crackle up his spine again and he found himself staring intently at Zoey’s face to make sure there wasn’t any hint of intoxication that would put her in a position to be taken advantage of. He must not have hid his expression well because Zoey noticed his glare and she blushed, avoiding his eyes. Understandably, too, because she seemed entirely sober.

“Girl, please. You don’t need our permission to get laid,” Nancy joked, making Zoey and Brett laugh.

“Were you coming back, too?” Zoey asked the group.

“Was that...an invite?” Nancy coughed.

“It could be,” Brett winked.

He was joking, but it also sounded like he could have been serious. Zoey slapped his chest with a little chuckle and said, “No, just wondering if we should all uber back together.”

“Yeah, I could go,” Nancy said, before turning back to Cade who had been silently waiting for her to make out with him again, “You coming over, too?”

His eyes lit up and he shook his head yes. They all began walking towards the front. He felt Aurora’s expectant eyes on him, waiting for him to say something. Her buzz had worn off by now, but unfortunately his was still lingering, causing delayed reaction time. The thought of going to her place, knowing there were two other couples having sex only feet away, wasn’t the kind of situation he wanted to be in the first time he potentially got intimate with Aurora. Thank god he had his own place in LA.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” he whispered in her ear as they stepped outside, the warm summer night air hitting their faces.

She smiled, almost relieved, “Yeah.”

The group chatted on the sidewalk while they waited for their ubers. Nancy had a way of making banter seem normal and comfortable, even if she had just met you. And that’s exactly what was happening between her and Brett. They took friendly shots at each other like they had been friends forever, while Brett had an arm slung over Zoey’s shoulders, holding her tightly into his side, along with Cade who had an arm around Nancy’s waist. Harry glanced down at Aurora who held onto her purse strap tightly, feeling bad that he couldn’t embrace her like their friends were. He just couldn’t risk being photographed like that. Not this early into their ‘relationship’, at least. I mean, he didn’t even entirely know where they were headed yet.

Funnily enough, both ubers arrived at the same time. Nancy, Cade, Brett, and Zoey began climbing into their iber and Harry had opened the door to his for Aurora. He was rounding to the other side when he heard heels clicking rapidly on the pavement behind him.

“Harry!”

He turned to see Zoey jogging up to him, a calm urgency in her eyes. He stared at her, unsure of what to say and she hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment flashed across her face before she shook her head and stood up taller, “Thank you. For tonight.” She bit her bottom lip in uncertainty, waiting for some kind of response and he couldn’t help but smile. That was all the response she needed for her to give him a quick, tight squeeze, her ponytail swaying as she ran back to her uber before he could say anything. He watched as the door closed behind her and the car drove off before he finally got in beside Aurora.

“What was that about?” she asked.

If there was any jealousy or suspicion on her part, she hid it quite well. Though he was pretty sure she didn’t have those kinds of thoughts, especially about him and Zoey. And rightfully so. “Nothing. She was just thanking me for singing with her earlier because she was afraid to do it alone,” he lied, remembering the promise he made Zoey not to speak to anyone about their conversation.

Aurora nodded and nuzzled a little closer to him, causing his heart to flutter nervously. This was the first time they’d been alone together, in person, since meeting. Initial intimacy never got any easier for him, no matter who it was with or what situation he was in. He always got nervous and jittery.

Nancy and Cade decided to go on a late night stroll around their block instead of heading right upstairs with Zoey and Brett. She made it seem casual, but Zoey knew that it was her way of giving them space to avoid any awkwardness when they split ways to go have sex. And Zoey had to admit, she appreciated the gesture.

The elevator ride hummed in an uncomfortable silence as Zoey wrestled with her thoughts, though Brett didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy watching the floor levels light up during their ascent and mindlessly played with Zoey’s fingertips. She could feel her nerves physically weighing her feet down and was sure that if she attempted to move she would topple over. This would be the first time she will have sex since her and Michael broke up nearly four months ago. And she didn’t exactly have a long list of sexual partners. There was nothing wrong with that, but Zoey had secretly always wished that she could have had more experience like Jess had. ‘It’s fun not having strings attached. If the sex isn’t good, you don’t have to see them again’ her best friend always said. But the problem here is that Zoey does have to see Brett again. They work together.

She wasn’t trying to make excuses. It’s not like she didn’t want to have sex with Brett. Who wouldn’t? He’s by far the hottest guy that’s shown any kind of interest in her..and that accent?! She just worried that she would be a little rusty.

Brett must have noticed her hestiance, because as Zoey punched in the code to unlock their condo door and slowly pushed it open, Brett lightly grabbed her forearm, causing her to spin and face him.

“Zoey, we don’t have to do this, you know,” he accent made Zoey’s heart race and his sincerity even more, “I can head out if you’d like.”

She stared into his face, darting from one eye to the other in brief contemplation. She could hear Jess now. ‘Have fun, but be safe’. She made up her mind and grabbed Jake’s shirt, pulling him inside and allowing the darkness of their condo to swallow them as the door closed behind them. The city lights through the wall of windows barely illuminated their figures from where they stood at the entrance.

This move excited Brett and he backed her up against the hallway wall, smashing his lips onto hers. It was forceful and messy as they struggled to find each other’s rhythm, but exciting nonetheless. She felt Brett’s hands wander from her sides and down to her hips before he bent down and picked her up effortlessly so that her legs were on either of his heps, pressing her back up against the wall for a little more support. Zoey let out a gasp of surprise and squeezed onto his rock hard biceps. No one had ever done that to her before. And she had never been more aroused.

“Bedroom?” His voice was deep and full of hunger as he attacked her neck.

“Last door on the left through the living room,” she managed before he continued on through the apartment, carrying her.

Everything about what he was doing excited her more and she could feel herself pulsating, eager for more. She nibbled on his ear and suckled the base of his jaw as he carried her through the doors of her bedroom. Thank god she had tidied up a bit before leaving because as soon as he reached the end of her bed, he tossed her onto it like a ragdoll and swiftly pulled his shirt up and over his head to reveal every acth and bend of his tanned abs before climbing in and hovering over her smashing his lips onto hers again.

Their tongues danced and they wrestled with each other as they continued trying to find their movement, hands roaming all over each other. Brett pulled Zoey into an upright position, only breaking their terribly chaotic kiss to slip her shirt off, exposing her bare chest before she fell back down, her breasts bouncing from the force as he roughly yanked at her pants, struggling to pull them off to reveal her cheeky baby blue underwear.

“Condom?” she panted before he could reach for them next. “Do you have a condom?”

Brett froze before frantically searching his jean pockets. Relief washed over his face as he pulled out a square metallic pouch and shook it in the air for her to see. She nodded and while he struggled to pull his own jeans off and slip the condom on, Zoey’s mind wandered, wondering how her other friend’s nights were going. Would the guy Andy met be a new fling or just a one night stand? Had Nancy gotten back with Cade yet? Was Aurora finally having her first time with Harry? Surely they were, why else would he invite her over this late? Was it just as awkward for them as it was for Zoey? Were they enjoying it? Did it come naturally to them? Or were they still getting in the swing of things like her and Brett? She’ll have to talk to the girls about it tomorrow.

Zoey grinned, grateful to have friends again.

KEEP READING

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minah-delacroix · 4 years ago

Text

Complicated

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah x Sungjae, Tyler

Word count: 2,7k

Like it or not we live in an age of dynasties. Who else can you trust around the family business, except family?

I am a Delacroix and our business is fashion. For generations, this has been our dynasty and today my grandparents give it to me.

Finally.

I know what you’re thinking… I’m young, I haven’t earned words like “finally”, but don’t underestimate me. Every day I take one man’s dirt and turn it into diamonds.

I know a lot about being overlooked. My grandparents wanted my brother Suho to follow in their footsteps and I wasn’t the most obvious candidate at first. But as it turned out, Suho had his own path to take, as far as possible from our grandparents…

“Suho, please, I’m asking you” the young woman pouted, eyes wide open and eyelashes fluttering.

“Oh, no. They started it” Male Sports Star of the Year and UEFA Champions League Best Midfielder, Suho Kwon, said tiredly as his face filled the screen of his younger sister‘s phone. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while taking a deep breath.

“I am pretty sure our aunts would like to differ” Minah Delacroix, heiress apparent to the Delacroix fortune, said back. Her eyes rolled almost imperceptibly as she brought a flute of Armand de Brignac champagne to her red-tinted lips.

“Minah they literally said I am a disgrace to the family and forced me to pick between my career and the family” Suho huffed as a vast green field materialized behind him. Minah thought she could recognize Suho’s friend, Minho, running up and down the field kicking a ball. She sighed thinking about the time she was first introduced to him.

“And you packed your bags and left thirty minutes later. It literally broke granddaddy’s heart” Minah laughed softly, still thinking about her brother’s friend, although there was nothing funny about her grandfather suffering a heart attack after finding out his beloved grandchild had chosen to play football over his family. “Face it you’ll never see eye to eye, but there’s something you will always be able to agree on and that’s your love for me” Minah made a pause on which her lower lip jolted the slightest bit “Come home”

The sound of a jet roared overhead, descending and angling for the runway. Inside the plane, Minah Delacroix looked out the rounded window, her mind occupied with a variety of thoughts ranging from the upcoming merger of one of her family’s minor companies with Durand & Drummond to the dress she’d be wearing to the party where her hard work would finally be recognized. Thinking about it, Minah’s chest inflated almost automatically, the idea of finally taking an active role in her family’s company almost seemed surreal.

Her appointment as the COO of Delacroix Fashion House had been a dream of hers since her memory allowed her to remember.

Now, she was finally getting it.

The landing was smooth although London was typically rainy. As soon as Minah stepped from the aircraft, water glittered like jewels in front of her. She thought of it as a good sign; rain was revitalizing.

Causing her to come out of her thoughts and back to reality, a man’s voice called her name. She slightly smirked upon recognizing who the voice belonged to. “Welcome home.” Sungjae Lee said, suddenly appearing a few stairs down, holding an umbrella over her head. There was a clear contrast between his expressionless, almost unemotional face and the gentle way he offered his hand to help her descend the stairs. The young woman tried to ignore how her heart skipped a beat, but Sungjae was already grabbing her hand and probably noticed her pulse accelerating.

With considerable giddiness, Minah managed to make it down the stairs, feeling like a stupid and immature version of herself back when she had a teen crush on Julien Toubeau.

“How was Cannes?” Sungjae asked once they stood facing each other, Minah handing him her Dior hand luggage.

“I miss the heat already” She shrugged and started to walk through the private airport gate, passing by other million-dollar jets parked on both sides.

“I’m glad you had fun” Sungjae replied, but he looked anything but glad, which made Minah chuckle a bit as she slid a hand through his arm. “But I am pretty sure it has nothing on London now that the winter is coming” He added naturally, guiding the heiress toward a black limousine parked a few meters away.

“Probably” Minah conceded.

None of them added a word until they reached the car and Sungjae opened its backdoor for her to climb in.

“Straight to the manor?” He asked.

“Unless you’re open to a detour,” Minah replied putting on an innocent face as she slowly moved to the other side, inviting Sungjae to sit next to her.

Minah and Sungjae are a strange pairing. They have one hell of a complicated relationship that started the day Minah landed her eyes on the young barista that served her coffee across the street from her uncle Jerome’s office. He carried the same expressionless face he carried when he picked her at the airport that morning and a tough-guy image that managed to spark her curiosity. Minah Delacroix had never been intrigued by men, let alone one of his type, but Sungjae Lee was a clever, mysterious, one of a kind guy. And he proved his worth —and hidden tech genius— on a cold winter day when he helped Minah retrieve a deleted file from her phone and saved a business she had been working hard for months.

Fast forward to the present day, Sungjae has become her Aunt Aurelie’s right-hand man, but he’s also managed to gain the trust and appreciation of the Delacroix, going as far as to move into the pretty rustic home across their manor, a house that once upon a time belonged to Minah’s grandfather’s first butler, but that Sungjae received as a “reward” for his loyalty toward the family.

Sungjae is a stable presence in Minah’s life. Something akin to a friend and an ally. From the business meetings to the high society parties her family hosts every other week, Sungjae is always right there making sure nothing ever goes wrong and fixing every little problem on behalf of Aurelie. That means that the two of them have seen each other at their worst —well, mostly Sungjae has seen the worst of Minah—, know embarrassing stories about each other —better said Sungjae knows embarrassing stories about Minah— and probably have enough blackmail material on the other—well, this one is pretty even considering any of Minah’s family members wouldn’t hesitate a second before destroying Sungjae’s life if they happened to find out he has been fucking her for years, on a near daily basis.

It all started a summer night when Minah was feeling particularly adventurous and asked for Sungjae’s help to get privileged info from Olivier Corp —the Delacroix’s self-proclaimed business rivals, though Minah and her family regarded them as a nuisance if anything—. They had sneaked into Maude Olivier’s office, copied all the information on her computer, and fucked on the ugly mahogany desk that apparently was a family antiquity.

It was initially meant to be a one-time thing, but a few weeks later Minah found herself sneaking with Sungjae for a quick “staff meeting” in her office. It eventually turned into a short-term deal —after all, Minah was a Delacroix and she made everything about business— but unknowingly —or not— it stretched for the years to follow.

“Do you think my aunts know I’m closing the Durand & Drummond deal tomorrow?” Minah asks Sungjae whose head is buried between her legs.

She’s currently sitting perched on the edge of her desk, barely able to hold herself from letting out loud moans, but she still has the nerve to bring up the business that's been occupying her mind lately. “I snatched that deal from the Olivier’s, they must know I am valuable,” She says, fingers sliding into Sungjae's hair to hold him closer.

“Minah, can we stop talking about your aunts for a minute?” Sungjae says lifting his head and looking at her with a quirked eyebrow “It kinda makes it hard to concentrate” he says, eyes rolling a bit when Minah jumps from the desk laughing. She moves to sit on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him lazily

“I’m sorry,” she says, breaking their kiss “It’s just that I’ve spent 5 years preparing for this, Sungjae, you know how much I want this,” she says, innuendo present as she unbuttons his shirt. However, Sungjae is still looking at her seriously.

“What if they don’t give you this job, Minah?” He asks reluctantly “They always disappoint you, what if they called for something entirely different?

“You know what’s disappointing, Sungjae?” The woman asks in his ear. Sungjae shakes head as a reply “All this talking”

Minah’s limousine parks in front of the castle-like construction the Delacroix manor is and the French chauffeur is quick to open the doors for her and Sungjae, who immediately moves to pick her hand luggage and ignores the way Minah throws herself into her brother’s arms a soon as Suho gets out of his car.   “I can’t believe your old car actually made it from Manchester” Minah is genuinely smiling when she separates from her brother, softly punching his arm.

“And I can’t believe you just spent my weekly income on jet fuel” Suho retorted, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulders and dragging her in the direction of the family’s residence. “You know that if a Revolution happens it’ll be your head people come for first, right?”

“I’ll make sure to get my hair done, then” Minah shrugs nonchalantly and chuckles at her brother’s silliness —or cruelty, she doesn’t know which one it is—.

“The sooner the better, you’re clearly disheveled. What were you doing?” Suho asks “And how come I beat you getting here, though?” He adds, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he stops his sister from walking through the door of the manor.

“I took the scenic route?”

Suho looks at Minah in disbelief but there’s no time for him to point out the flaws in her excuse because she goes on

“Thank you for coming home for me”

“Actually, grandad called me after you did”

Minah can’t even pretend she’s not surprised her granddad had invited Suho over to announce she was given the position of COO, but it doesn’t matter because as soon as the door opens, the astonished voices of their aunts Valerie and Caroline can be heard resounding through the exorbitant hall of the manor.

“Minah?”

“Suho?”

The women speak in unison, looking from their niece to their nephew as though they can’t quite believe they’re real.

“What are you two doing here?” Valerie inquires, rushing to the door “I didn’t know mommy and daddy were expecting you two”

“Especially you” Caroline adds, walking behind her younger sister and looking at Suho with a wrinkled brow.

“I came for the hospitality”

“No, sweetie, don’t get me wrong, but-“ Caroline trails off

“But dad said you never responded” Valerie shrugs before sipping from the Martini glass she’s holding and Minah is surprised she hasn’t spilled in her quick little jog for the door.

Turns out the promotion and the apology Minah and Suho are respectively expecting never arrives. In its place, the Delacroix patriarch has gathered all his family to deliver the news about his sister’s grandson, Gabriel, being appointed the COO of Delacroix Group.

Although MInah likes Gabriel —everybody likes Gabriel—, she can’t help but feel wronged by this decision. Being looked down on by her grandparents is nothing new, but Minah had genuinely hoped she was finally getting the recognition she deserved for her hard work and loyalty to the family business. Minah could’ve quit years ago, after all, her paternal grandparents had bequeathed a large trust fund to her. She doesn’t need the Delacroix money; she is an independent woman and she’s also built her own reputation. Unfortunately, Minah is also stubborn and holds on to the belief that the legacy of her family has to be passed down to her and not someone like Gabriel, who doesn’t even carry the Delacroix name.

Minah deserves it, she has managed to close deals that tripled the profits of the corporation the last year and she has campaigned for the good nameof the Delacroix ever since the press became fixated on her and her personal life. Minah is the face of the Delacroix Group, she is far more business savvy and intuitive than her cousin.

She deserves it more…

Shaking the thoughts off Gabriel and her grandparents Minah rolls onto her side to face Sungjae.

She knows her family must be wondering about her whereabouts, but she’s found refuge in Sungjae’s arms and his bed all afternoon. The thing about Sungjae is that she could always trust him to be smart enough not to ask any questions. Not to mention he lets her release her anger in ways that not even her current favorite sport —boxing— allows her to.

“I can’t believe they’re picking Gabriel over me, I am their own blood” Minah finally says after a second round that seems to have somewhat encouraged her to speak. “They didn’t even react to the Durand & Drummond merger.”

“That’s because…” Sungjae’s hands move to grip Minah’s hips, pulling her closer “that was your idea and not theirs”.

Minah huffs in disbelief.

“I am serious, Minah” Sungjae’s voice turns solemn “You’re intelligent and you have a natural talent for business. They know it, but pretend they don’t”

Minah reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair “What do you know, Sungjae?” She teases him, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him briefly, her lips barely touching his.

“I’ll need more encouragement if you want me to talk” Sungjae presses Minah harshly against him, making her instantly aware of what he wants.

Minah doesn’t waste time and before Sungjae notices she’s straddling him, her eyes darkening. “Tell me what is it”

“You’re not supposed to know this, but they just entered a bid for The Magpies” Sungjae reveals before rolling Minah to her back and moving on top of her.

“They hate football,” Minah says completely caught off guard by both the news and Sungjae’s boldness.

“Well, not nearly as much as they hate Tyler Lee” Sungjae explains, but Minah still looks confused so he adds “Who they’re biding against”

“You have to be kidding me, you knew this all along and didn’t bother telling me” Minah tries to buck her hips up, but Sungjae is keeping her in place, enjoying the needy look on her face. “What do you want for the tip?”

“Nothing”

“You’re gonna help me this much and not ask for anything in return?” Minah asks suspiciously.

“I don’t need anything” Sungjae laughs, briefly pressing a kiss on her neck.

“You’re living in a barn,” Minah says rolling eyes.

“It’s a rustic house” Sungjae corrects, pressing another kiss this time on Minah’s jaw.

“You work for a woman that bosses you around all day” she replies almost squirming against him.

“She pays me a 200k a year and I get to fuck her niece” Sungjae chuckles

“Sounds fair” Minah smirks before pulling him down for a kiss.

Twenty-four hours later Minah and Sungjae stand by the bar at the party the Delacroix’s are throwing in honor of Gabriel. Minah sports a beautiful couture dress —that overshadows Gabriel’s Louis Vuitton custom-made suit— and a kilowatt smile that hasn’t faded from her face despite the grand toast and endless compliments her grandfather offered for her cousin.

“I didn’t expect you to look this happy” Sungjae points out, handing her a flute of champagne. “Did you make up with your grandparents?”

“Something like that�� Minah shrugs enigmatically, winking an eye and smiling fondly at him “I’ll tell you everything about it later”

“Minah Delacroix” A manly voice coming from behind the couple seemingly catches Minah off guard, but she still turns around and smiles at the Gucci clad figure —that Sugjae immediately recognizes as Tyler Lee— as though she had been expecting him “I have to say, I was surprised you called. I always assumed you were friends with my sister because hanging out with the enemy made you seem edgy”

Minah briefly looks at Sungjae, as if trying to study his reaction before greeting Tyler with a kiss on the cheek. “Tyler, it’s been a while-”

“Hey, can I get a glass of champagne?” Tyler slides a hand around Minah’s waist and asks Sungjae.

“He is not a waiter” Minah replies almost offended. She throws a nasty glare at the man and shifts, uncomfortable at the way he talks to Sungjae.

“I’m sorry, man. I-“ Tyler notices Minah’s reaction and offers a hand for Sungjae to shake “I’m Tyler Lee”

Sungjae doesn’t respond, he just looks at the man with that signature expressionless face that Minah has known for so many years.

“And he’s Sungjae, my-“ Minah starts but is quickly interrupted.

“Assistant,” He says, shaking Tyler’s hand fleetingly.

“Ok, cool, now can we get out of here? I can’t wait to hear your proposal” Tyler is back to ignoring Sungjae’s presence, pulling Minah by the hand and dragging her outside.

Minah and Sungjae are a strange pair. They have one hell of a complicated relationship, and none of them is ready or in a position to acknowledge that they’ve been harboring feelings for each other from the day they first met.

That’s exactly why Sungjae just watches Minah walk away with the man that can give her the power she’s always fantasized about, although he knows this is about to get even more complicated.

***

#story #oc #minah #sungjae #tyler #delacroix family #suho #minjae month 2020 #dynasty au

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orthogonals · 5 years ago

Text

how bittersweet this would taste

Rating: T Fandom: Merlin (TV) Word Count: 1536 Summary: “No…” Arthur fumbled, the words falling heavy from his lips. “Not sleepy. Stay?” He peers at Merlin with wide blue eyes, his face open and hopeful, and damn— as if Merlin could ever resist Arthur like this, with walls down and posture loose and pretense dropped. As if he’d want to.

- OR: It's the night before Gwen and Arthur's marriage, and Arthur has a bit too much to drink. As always, Merlin's there for him.

[read on ao3]

“Jusff—” Arthur pauses to let out a belch, sagging bodily onto Merlin’s thin frame. Raising up a limp arm in a half-hearted gesture, he swings it around jerkily and nearly clocks Merlin’s head in the process.

“Justtt that way Merlin.” Satisfied that he had managed the words, Arthur abruptly lets his arm drop, leaning against Merlin’s shoulder with a dopey grin. Merlin only sighs, readjusting his grip around Arthur’s waist and shifting his dead weight into a more comfortable position.

“I know where your chambers are, Arthur.” Merlin allows himself a brief eye roll, secure in the knowledge that Arthur was too far gone to notice. “But I can’t carry you up the stairs. You’ve got to help me out, okay?” Arthur gave no indication that he had heard Merlin, instead lolling his head around to wave sloppily at a guard who had just walked past.

“Hey!” Merlin tugs sharply at the arm Arthur has slung around his shoulders. “Prat. Are you listening?”

“Yes. Climb stairs. Got it.” Arthur grins, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re so…tense. Cheer up!” He pats Merlin’s cheek, eliciting a grunt of frustration and resignation. “Tomorrow, Camelot will finally have a Queen.” Arthur pronounces the words with rounded lips, his features settling into a blissed-out expression.

“Gods, I really am going to have to haul you up the stairs.” Merlin pokes Arthur’s stomach. “You’re not light, you know.” At that, Arthur looks at Merlin, his face twisted in confusion.

“Are you calling me fat?”

And Merlin surmises that if Arthur could still recognize an insult to his royal person, then he was damn well enough to get up the stairs.

Arthur clutches at the back of his chair for support as Merlin pushes him out of his grip.

Merlin didn’t know Arthur as the type to overindulge, especially at court feasts, but he supposes that the current circumstances justified any excessive celebration well enough. Morgana hadn’t been seen for months, not after she’d fled from the castle in defeat. And in peace, Camelot had flourished and flowered. Day by day, Merlin had watched as the poor and powerful alike turned towards Arthur with bright smiles and eyes full of stars, and he thinks there’s something seriously wrong in how swollen his heart grows with pride.

And tomorrow, a wedding revived, a coronation far too long delayed. He grows soft at the thought of Gwen, all dark eyes and full curls and patience and kindness, taking her destined place next to Arthur on the throne. Gwen, the stammering, shy girl Merlin had flirted with on the stocks and sent to the cells and saved from the stake. No one could hope to make a better queen, and if a tiny bit of him aches—the part that knows a piece of Arthur would belong only to Gwen and never to Merlin—well, he steadfastly ignores it.

Arthur stumbles again, sending papers flying to the floor as he sweeps clumsy hands across his desk in search of purchase. Finally grabbing onto a corner and steadying himself, he looks to Merlin with a happy smile, as if expecting a compliment. Merlin snorts.

“I’d normally draw a bath for you, but with the state you’re in, I don’t trust you not to drown.” Merlin pauses, assessing the situation. “Shall I help you into your bedclothes? Sire?” Standing with one hip cocked and arms crossed, Merlin glares down at Arthur, looking the picture of an annoyed nanny.

“No…” Arthur fumbled, the words falling heavy from his lips. “Not sleepy. Stay?” He peers at Merlin with wide blue eyes, his face open and hopeful, and damn— as if Merlin could ever resist Arthur like this, with walls down and posture loose and pretense dropped. As if he’d want to.

“Alright,” Merlin concedes, placing a steadying hand on Arthur’s shoulder and lowering him down on his chair. “Have any chores for me? The sword? The floors? The hearth?”

“Juuust. Sit.” Arthur commands, putting on a face of fond exasperation that may have been a tad adorable. Holding back another eye roll, Merlin obediently perches down on the floor and waits, wondering what an inebriated Arthur could want with Merlin.

Seeing that Merlin had followed his direction, Arthur quiets, settling into a hazy silence as his eyes turn glassy, lips curling into a soft smile. Merlin taps his fingers against his knee, waiting for Arthur to address him, but Arthur just relaxes into his daze, resting his chin on his palm. Seconds blend into minutes, the two men sitting across one another, only the occasional croak and chirp of wildlife sounding out as background.

With Arthur lost in his head, Merlin takes the rare opportunity to observe. He covers Arthur with his gaze, tracing the golden fringes of his hair, the regal bridge of his nose, the slight pout of his lips. And with every sweep of his eyes, he sends Arthur, husband-to-be, bittersweet well wishes.

You’d better live long and travel far with Gwen, Arthur. Tomorrow, you’ll be hers. And after that, I promise, I swear, that I’ll never again look at you and think thoughts only Gwen should. You have my word.

And Merlin’s quite adamant, even if he’s not sure who he’s swearing to— Arthur or himself.

The moments stretch like molasses, Arthur off in his own world, Merlin letting himself, for one last time, look at Arthur as a lover would.

Arthur’s voice breaks the silence, and Merlin snaps back into focus.

“Gwen’s so beautiful, don’t you think, Merlin?” Arthur’s face looks cracked open with joy, happiness sparking out in rays, and Merlin’s heart lurches in acceptance. No doubt what Arthur had reminisced about in his earlier stupor.

“Yes. She is a remarkable woman, and you are a lucky man,” Merlin allows, careful to agree without offending.

“She’s pretty, she’s strong, she’s… perfect.” Arthur continues, his brightness suddenly subdued as he looks at Merlin. “But why- ?” Abruptly, he cuts off, squinting at Merlin like a particularly hard to solve problem.

“Yes, sire?”

“It’s nothing,” Arthur snaps, but his words lacked bite. “You can prepare me for bed.” He sounded suddenly a bit more sober.

“Raise your hands a bit higher— there we go.” Merlin expertly pulls the tunic atop Arthur’s frame, tugging at the bottom to smooth out wrinkles. He secretly thinks that Arthur makes Merlin help dress him just so he can laugh when Merlin struggles, but Merlin likes this sometimes, likes preening Arthur like a proud mother hen.

When he looks down, Arthur’s already staring at him from where he sits on the edge of his mattress, an odd expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.” The words seem to slip out without Arthur’s notice, and he immediately reels back, sputtering. “I meant— I—”

Merlin’s heart, gone still at the sudden admission, picks up double speed. What if— maybe— was it possible? That maybe sometimes, Arthur too saw Merlin with eyes tinted gold? But— and Merlin steels himself— what good were useless words from an intoxicated king?

“Arthur,” Merlin says slowly. “It’s okay. You’re drunk. You didn’t mean it.” Arthur’s face looked pinched, but he nods mutely.

“Just go to sleep, okay? Big day tomorrow.” He stoops down, lays his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, meaning to help ease him into bed.

And suddenly, they’re face to face, nose to nose, blue clashing on blue. If he wanted to, Merlin could count the freckles on Arthur’s nose, name each individual eyelash from where they fan out against his skin. Arthur’s breath eddies out in a wisp, and Merlin’s tongue unconsciously darts across his bottom lip, wetting a trail across the pink flesh. Arthur’s gaze drops, and he leans in, almost spellbound.

Merlin knows that he could. They’re close enough that their breath mingles in the space between them, rising in warmth and heating their faces. Arthur and Merlin. Merlin and Arthur. Even the air seems to announce it, trumpeting the words and flowing out to leave only vacuum separating their lips. He could let Arthur chase away the last bit of distance with his mouth, could bring his hands up to clutch at Arthur’s stupid blonde hair when they kissed.

Arthur brings himself in further, pupils blown wide and heartbeat heavy in anticipation.

And his lips make contact with Merlin’s cheek.

The unexpected feel of skin seems to jolt Arthur back to reality, and he wrenches himself backward, flushed red and panting.

“Merlin! I’m sorry—” Arthur gasps out, eyes widening in panic.

Spots of pink decorate Merlin’s cheekbones and the tips of his ears. He places a hand back on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Remember what I said? You’re drunk. You need sleep.” Nodding firmly, Merlin guides a still mortified Arthur back down onto the bed. Sighing, he lifts the edge of the sheets, gently placing them over Arthur's body, vulnerable in the moonlight.

Arthur watches Merlin, brows crinkled and face still tinted with color.

Knowing he would regret it come morning, Merlin runs a hand softly through Arthur’s hair, giving him a small smile that seemed far too sad.

“Goodnight, Arthur. Sleep well.” He brings his hand down, fingertips lingering for a moment on Arthur’s cheek, then stands.

Arthur’s eyes are still on him when he leaves.

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