#his hair is more curled up than usual too for the vibes

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

~

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

~

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

~

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

~

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

[offorestsongs]

[SR] Rosienne Minuit - The Hat Extravaganza

another Rosienne card, woo! this time for the fan event hosted by @zetsubobu <3 it's quite ironic that i choose to participate in a hat-based event considering the fact that i famously hate drawing hats but i still had a lot of fun with this!! i thought Rosienne would especially fit the aesthetic, so here he is!!

[voicelines under the cut]

Summon Line: “Oh, it’s just a silly competition, let’s not get heated and just have fun!” No, fuck that. If I’m here, I’m here to win. Groooovy!!: [locked] Home: Queendom of Roses, huh? Well, that sounds like the place for me. Home Idle 1: Of course I’m wearing a dress. All the men’s options were booo-ring. Where’s the fun in just wearing a suit? Home Idle 2: I was told that they have good sweets in the Queendom of Roses. If you’ll need me, I’ll be wherever they are. Home Idle 3: If you need to ask anyone for advice on how to decorate your hat, I’m the best one around. I don’t think anybody else here has any sense of style. Home Idle - Login: Hey, Prefect, take a picture of me, would you? I didn’t get all dolled up for nothing! Home Idle - Groovy: [locked] Home Tap 1: Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, the make up? Well, that was Vil’s idea, but I actually don’t hate it. This style’s kinda fun. Home Tap 2: It’s funny watching Rook trying to cozy up to Leona. What? I’m not here to babysit him. I’m allowed to just sit back and laugh. Home Tap 3: I thought I’d match my hair to the whole rose theme. What do you think? I don’t look like a clown, do I? Home Tap 4: Somehow I ended up bonding with the Heartslabyul housewarden. I just wanted to know more about the history of some places, and he happened to know, like, all of it. Huh, he really is nicer than I expected! Home Tap 5: It’s such a shame that spring and summer are such a busy place back at home. I’d love to go see all the gardens here with my dad. Home Tap - Groovy: [locked]

[fear-is-truth]

𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 – nicholas alexander chavez x fem!reader

summary — you’re a rising pop star and best friends with cooper koch. when you visit him on set of “monsters”, he introduces you to his co-star. / wc: 1.9k

tags — fluff. not proofread. english is not my first language

05/16/2024

The warm, late afternoon sun beat down on the set of Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, where the buzz of production crews filled the air. You stepped out of your car, smoothing down your blouse as you made your way through the maze of trailers. You were here to see your friend Cooper Koch, who was playing Erik Menendez in the docuseries. He had invited you to visit him on set, and you hadn’t seen him in months. As you approached the craft services table, a familiar voice called out to you.

“Yo, there she is!” Cooper exclaimed happily, rushing over to scoop you into a bear hug. You laughed, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Hey!” you pull back slightly to get a good look at him. Even in character, with his hair styled in a very 1980s fashion and wearing the sharp suit of Eric Menendez, he still had the lighthearted energy that you adored.

“How’s it going, ‘Erik Menendez’?” He shrugged, letting out a playful sigh. “You know, just emotionally preparing for a murder trial.” He looked around, then nodded his head toward a nearby tent. “Come meet Nicholas. He’s playing my brother.” Following him across the set, you spotted Nicholas sitting alone, flipping through his script. Even off-camera, he looked striking: sharp jawline, dark, neatly styled curls, and an air of seriousness. The fitted suit he wore only added to the whole intense vibe, his features tight with focus.

“Hey Nic,” Cooper called out, breaking the actor’s concentration. “This is y/n l/n, pop sensation and my dear friend. y/n, meet Nicholas—my on-screen brother.”Nicholas stood up, a little stiff, offering you a polite smile and extending his hand. “Hey there, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but quick, his expression serious and distant, almost cold. You let go, your own smile faltering slightly as you glanced at Cooper. Nicholas excused himself almost immediately, returning to his script as if he was still lost in Lyle’s world. You raised an eyebrow at your best friend.

“He always this… serious?” Cooper chuckled. “He’s in serious actor mode right now. Give it time, he’s actually an unbelievable goof once he’s done being all ‘Lyle Menendez on trial.’” You shot him a skeptical look.

.

You ended up visiting the set a few more times that week. Cooper always made you feel welcome, but Nicholas? He was always in the zone—focused, methodical, brooding. There was something almost intimidating about his presence, even though you knew it was probably just him getting into character. But still, it didn’t make for easy conversation.

.

One afternoon, you sat beside Cooper during a break, watching as Nicholas sat a few feet away, quietly reviewing his lines again. You nudged Cooper. “Does Nicholas ever… like, smile? Or even talk off set?” He snorted. “Told you, once he’s out of character, he’s cool. He’s just locked in right now.” You leaned back. “Sure, but it’s been days, and I feel like I’ve barely heard him say more than ten sentences to him. I’m starting to think either he hates me, or he’s got a permanent serious face.” Cooper just grinned. “Give it time. He’ll warm up. Trust me.”

It wasn’t until later in the week that you finally got to see what Cooper had been talking about. It was late, and most of the cast and crew had already cleared out for the day. You were waiting for Cooper to finish up with a quick scene when you noticed Nicholas walking toward you, hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. He plopped down on the bench next to you, and he looked worn out, his usually composed expression softening as he leaned back and let out a sigh.

“Long day?” You asked. He laughed dryly, a sound that was low and tired before replying. “You have no idea.” He looked over at you, and for the first time, his face softened. “I feel like I owe you an apology.” You blinked. “for what?”

“For being… distant. Weird. Cold, even,” he said, running a hand through his dark curls. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just… I needed to focus.” You frowned. “On the role?”

“Yeah, on the role… but also, I just went through a breakup,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to the ground as if saying it out loud made it harder to hold back. “I was kind of using that energy to dive into Lyle’s head. You know, put it all in the work. I didn’t want to get distracted. Especially not by… well, by a pretty girl on set.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange warmth creep into your chest. “A pretty girl?” Nicholas gave a small, sheepish smile, finally meeting your gaze. “Yeah. You.”

“Wow,” you said, pretending to be offended as you put on a mock-serious tone. “So what, you’re saying you don’t hate me? Or my music?”

His eyes widened, panic flashing in them. “No! God, no. I don’t hate you, and I definitely don’t hate your music.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not it at all. I just… didn’t want to get in my own way, you know? Especially after the breakup. I thought if I let myself get distracted, I’d fuck everything up. But it’s been eating at me. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pushing you away.”

The honesty in his voice surprised you.“I get it. I really do. I’m just glad it wasn’t personal. I was starting to think maybe you thought I was annoying. That you hate me or my music.” He grinned, visibly relaxing for the first time. “Trust me, neither. I’ve actually been dying to talk to you, but I’m terrible at switching gears. It’s hard for me to get out of character when we’re filming.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you teased lightly, nudging him with your shoulder. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Being a distraction doesn’t sound too bad.”

He laughed, the tension finally lifting between you both. “You’re more than a distraction. That’s why it’s been so hard to focus around you.”

Suddenly, the distance that had been between you two these past few days didn’t seem so far anymore.

“Friends?” you asked, extending your hand. He smiled, shaking your hand firmly but gently.

“Friends. For now.”

After that conversation, your dynamic with Nicholas shifted dramatically. What started as a tense, awkward distance between you two morphed into something much warmer. You found yourselves hanging out more, both on and off set. Cooper would tease the two of you endlessly, claiming he was the reason for your sudden ‘best friend’ status.

You quickly realized how sweet Nic was—thoughtful, always paying attention to the smallest details. Whenever you sat around with the cast, he’d ask if you wanted a snack or offer you his jacket when the set AC was too cold.

It became this easy, light friendship. But there was something else there. You knew it, and by the way his gaze would linger on you when you laughed or the casual touches that became more frequent, you had a feeling he knew it too.

Then one day, as you were scrolling mindlessly through social media, you saw your name trending—again. Your new album had just hit the charts a week ago, and it was all anyone could talk about. One song in particular, a love song that was a bit more sentimental than your usual style, had skyrocketed to number one on Billboard. Everyone was dissecting it, trying to figure out who it was about, but you’d stayed quiet. Part of you wasn’t even sure if you’d admit it, especially to the person it was written about.

That night, you were at Nicholas’s place at the hotel for a small get-together with some of the cast and crew. The two of you had slipped away to the balcony for some fresh air, away from the noise and chatter inside.

“So…” he started, leaning against the railing with a crooked smile. “I, uh, listened to your album. Pretty much the whole thing.” You looked up at him, grinning. “Oh? What’s the verdict?” “It’s incredible, honestly,” he said, sounding genuine. But then, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “But there’s this one song—uh, the last one? ‘Silver Linings?’” He raised an eyebrow, clearly fishing for something. You felt your heart skip a beat. Of course he’d pick that song. “Yeah?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your stomach was doing flips. You knew where this was going. “What about it?”

“Well… I might be totally off-base here, but… the lyrics…” He trailed off, his cheeks growing into five shades of pink. “I mean. Call me crazy but, was that song… about me?” Of course he would pick up on it. You hadn’t exactly been subtle in your songwriting, but you didn’t expect him to ask about it, especially like this. He had that hopeful, boyish grin on his face now, like he was waiting for you to admit it.

And honestly? You were tired of dancing around it.

Instead of answering, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his. Nicholas reacted instantly, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, grounding you in the moment as your body melted into his. There was something so gentle yet eager about the way he kissed you—like he’d been holding back for so long and finally allowed himself to let go. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, sending pleasant jolts of anticipation down your spine and warmth in your stomach. When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. You stared up at him, breathless, fingers still clutching his shirt. “Does that answer your question?”

present day

Nicholas was lying beside you, both of you in matching pink pyjamas, that he’d insisted on getting when you went shopping together. You were curled up in the crook of his arm, head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. His fingers absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm, the simple motion soothing.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft in the quiet, vast room, “I never thought I’d be the kind of guy to wear matching hello kitty pyjamas with my girlfriend.”

At this, you laughed, lifting your head to look at your boyfriend. “Don’t act like you didn’t pick these out.” “Fine,” he conceded, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “I did. But only because you look cute in them.”

“Right, because that’s why you’re wearing them too?”

“I wear them because I’m committed to the bit,” he joked, pulling you closer so he could press a kiss to the top of your head. Nestling back against his chest, you let out a soft sigh. “Do you ever think about when we can stop hiding this? Us?” his fingers stilled their movements and rested on your arm. “Yeah, I think about it a lot too,” he admitted. “But… we’ll get there. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know… It’s just so hard sometimes.” You whined. He must have sensed the frustration your tone because he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I know, baby.” His voice was soft, soothing. “But until then, I get to have you all to myself, like this.” Nicholas smirked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. “Not the worst deal.”

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[goldsbitch]

BEEP

First night in a shared apartment with Lando. All is idyllic - until there is an unidentifiable alarm sound, which brings out insecurities buried safely inside under normal circumstances.

fluff, anxiety vibes, one shot

Y/N was a baths type of person. In fact, Lando suspected her being a part-time mermaid. Always in a body of water, if possible. For hours and hours. Many times he had come to her home only to find her sitting in a bathtub of then already cold water on her "home office" hours, with a laptop on her precisely curated set up. He would come to her, chat a little and playfully splash some water into her face, before having her drain the tub and joining her after another set of hot water was in it. Even after that, he could only last about 20 minutes before getting uncomfortable.

He was glad water bills were not life or death for him when they moved together to their first official shared apartment in Monaco. Making it their own was her priority, so a bathtub was an absolute must. Pool nearby as well.

As far as moving houses goes, this was a hectic one. Lando's schedule making it hard for him to participate, so she had to organize it all with the help of movers. Cleaning out two apartments into one. She was few years younger than him and this was the first time she had actually moved on her own, making it a classic test of adulthood. There were few pseudo panic attacks involved during the process. However, the feeling of accomplishment? Being able to prove to herself that she can do it alone was something nobody could ever take from her. Another level of adulthood conquered. But she didn't want Lando to know about this little insecurity of hers - with him having to grow up faster than most of his peers, she sometimes felt like she was lacking behind. Though Lando never made any comment about that, in fact this did not cross his mind at all, until their first proper evening together in their new apartment.

Lando was excited for that evening, but he was proper tired. Physically and mentally drained. Few weeks of constant travel and racing drama had him totally off.

She managed to get most of things ready for his arrival. They hit the bubbly bathtub immediately upon him coming home. Lando was smitten. Coming home, it felt really refreshing after months of "your place or mine?".

It was raw, both of them naked facing each other in the tub, legs entangled, their bodies touching at multiple places. Hot steam coming out of the water filled the room, curling Lando's hair more that usually and the scent of her latest favorite vanilla bath salt gave into the relaxing atmosphere. They casually caressed each other, engaging in a light simple conversation, carefree and intimate.

All of that went out of the window when there was an excruciatingly loud and sharp beep alarm noise suddenly out nowhere.

BEEP

Y/N eyes went wide. Lando knew that look all too well by then. Pure panic. He knew there were few moments he had to stop her spiraling.

"What was that? Did you hear it?" she asked, boring her eyes in his for answers he did not have.

He smiled and tried to pass on some relaxing energy onto her. "Yes, I did...Calm down, it's probably nothing."

"Probably?! How can you be sure?"

Lando reached for her hand. "I'm sure. All is good and fine, let's not get bothered by anything. I missed you so much," he said truthfully. She was what he wanted to focus on. Not some nonsense sounds.

She eased a bit, her fingers still feeling tense in his hands. "I miss you everytime."

"Oh, so it's a competition now?" he smirked, happy he got her distracted.

BEEP

The two stared at each other in silence for few moments.

"Honey, ignore it," he said trying to sound more demanding than a plea.

Y/N took a deep breath in. "I am ignoring it."

"I can see that, clearly," he said sarcastically. "Tell me about your week instead. Were the movers ok? Did they do a good job?"

"Well, we're sitting here and we have a bed to sleep in, so I'd say it was a success," he replied dryly.

"You're my little nervous peach, aren't you?" he said, leaning closer to her so that he could caress her face. Oh boy, was he drowning in love with this strange human sitting across him.

She let go of her pout. "Yes...But, you're the one to talk! You always get nervous before a car upgrade."

He was truly fascinated how she was unapologetically able to compare new McLaren upgrades with a random beep sound. He'd already made a mental check of the things that could have been making that sound and figured all the important alarms made a completely different sound. For a moment, he imagined his girlfriend sitting in a formula 1 car going over 200 km/h, freaking out in the style only she knew how. He'd never admit this to her, but he found her "freaking out" face irresistible.

He calculated his response. "It's perfectly fine to get nervous. But trust me, this in nothing."

BEEP

Her question was almost immediate. "What if it's the gas. What if we have a gas leak. A guy came here to do an inspection yesterday, what if he didn't close the vent or whatever?"

"Honey, the gas is not even on now..." he looked at her perplexed.

She was unstoppable at this point. "I don't know that! I don't understand these things! It's all gas heater there, air conditioning here, water boiler this and insurance that. Did you know we need to have a property insurance for the lease?"

"Yes, I knew that." He was not sure how to keep responding at that point. The last thing he wanted was to make her spiral more.

"Well, I didn't! Felt like an absolute idiot talking to the guy, I thought these things were part of leases."

Lando squeezed her hand. "It's fine. Once we get out of the tub, we'll go and search for the sound. Hey, maybe it has already stopped."

She was staring at him, waiting for her cue, expecting a beep sound any moment now. He returned her look, challenging her, making a battle of who was right. And the sound? Suddenly, not even a little ding.

"See?" he said, really hoping it was not going to come as he finished.

Tension was high in the bathroom, making it the opposite of relaxing. Yet still, there was no place other than these two would rather be. Well, Y/N would rather be at the source of the forsaken beeping, but, that was not happening now.

"Ok. Maybe you're right," she said, visibly tired as well.

"We'll get out of this bath in few mins, have dinner in the bed, watch some nonsense and go to sleep, ok? I need your cuddles, desperately," he said softly and leaned to kiss her.

BEEP

"Oh my god, what is that???" she screamed in utmost annoyance.

"Honestly, it sounds like it's coming from outside the house," he observed - and she was not having it anymore.

She gave him a sassy smile. "So, what. Is it the apocalypse now?"

"It's not the apocalypse."

Flustered wave hit her face, having her melt down completely. "Why would someone install an alarm somewhere and have it beeping for no apparent reason? People don't do that."

"I don't know, my love..."

"That's ok, but I should know! I took over the apartment from the realtor - I should have asked!"

"And what would the question be? What are the things that could beep?"

She threw her arms out, splashing water everywhere and not even noticing it. "I don't know! That's the thing! I just don't know. And I don't have a single idea where people find these out. How come everyone around always seems to know and I'm here just sitting, vibing and hoping we're not going to burn the house down."

"Y/N? What's this about?" he asked, concerned. Was she ok? Was there something he'd missed?

She was on a roll, words just flowing out of her mouth, the way only speaking to Lando made her do. "I just feel so out of place some times. I'm doing all these adult things, far away from family and from you as well. And I want to be able to do it, I want to be a good adult. But I just don't know."

He tried to hold her hand once again, but she was busy having her arms crossed around her chest. "You're still young, this is growing up. I also don't know yet, many times..."

"I don't want to be your burden, I want to be your support."

"You are my support, what are you on about?"

"I was suppose to be in charge of the whole moving thing. And here we are and I can't even tell you what's beeping."

BEEP

"My god! Can it just stop! Please!"

Lando was still thinking about what she said previously. The familiar feeling she described.

"You did a great job with the move, by the way. Honestly. It would not happen without you. I wish I could be here more," he spoke slowly, hoping she would subconsciously join in his tune.

She sighed. Might as well get everything out now. "I love you, you know that. But it gets lonely sometimes. And there is no end of your nomadic lifestyle in sight. And what if you get bored of me once you stop traveling? We've never spent a month without a break together. What if when you're older, you decide I'm actually pretty boring and you leave me for someone younger. And I'll be old, pass my best years and alone once again."

She stopped, surprised a little bit by the words that came out of her. Now that it was out, it was impossible to ignore.

Lando was hyper focused now. Every word a calculated decision. This was no longer a chill chat.

BEEP

"Y/N. I love you too. And I love you the way you are and I can't imagine loving anyone else. I'm also excited for the older version of you to come one day, to accompany my older self that I have yet to meet. I want to be with you. My job is making this harder, but I hope this will not be an obstacle for you."

The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty. She got mad at herself for tangling things up together so much that it stopped making sense to her. "Of course not. I love your passion and the fact you dream big. Sorry, this got a little out of hand."

"No, I'm glad you're finally phrasing your worries. Is there anything more?" Lando was keen on continuing this impromptu chat.

"What if we grow apart? People change all the time. What if we stop wanting each other? How long can love last?"

He smiled. "For me it's impossible to imagine it now. I can only speak for my present self. But what you described it the last thing I'd ever want to happen."

Y/N took a deep breath once again. "Do you want children? Because I don't know yet. Yet, unlike you, I don't have the luxury of decades to decide. My time is slowly running up. And here I am, not even sure if want them?"

"Honey, plenty if time for that. I'm sure I do not want children in the next two years anyway. It must be real fun in your head sometimes - in one sentence you're too young to know adult stuff and in other you're too old for having children?"

She finally laughed. "Yeah. It is confusing sometimes."

"I hope you don't get offended, but you look absolutely gorgeous when you're flustered. Don't be too hard on yourself, please."

"I'll remind you of that when you're on your typical self-hate trip after a bad race."

"Touché." Got him there.

"Shall we get out of the bath? Would you mind searching with me for the alarm?"

"With you I'll be happy to do absolutely anything."

He got out and reached a hand for her when she was getting up, almost as a metaphor for her current state. They helped each other dry out, put on new matching bathrobes that Lando brought as a gift and searched the whole apartment for anything that could or would beep. There were few more beeps coming their way before they suddenly stopped. The two figured it really was coming somewhere from outside. Once Y/N was finally convinced they checked everything, she agreed on getting to bed and cuddle. Lando offered going out to get her ear buds for sleeping, but by that time it had already stopped.

They never found the source of the beeping. But, that's ok. Sometimes things just make unexpected noise and it's fine.

[contentloadinggg]

January Blues - Hozier

Author’s Note: Y’all I finally did it. We’re going to pretend it’s still January so this fits. But it’s finally here 🙏. Thanks to my bestie lunaritessane Who’s input made this fic a whole lot better. I love you💚. (Literally, like their beta reading was just delicious.)

Summary: Andrew is feeling down, you make him feel better. Gender neutral!reader. (3k words)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Smut! Smut turned weirdly poetic sometimes?. Kinda Switch!Andrew, sub vibes at the beginning, soft dom vibes later. Descriptive descriptions of Andrew’s long dick. (I have a problem)

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

“Well you cured my January Blues, yeah, you made it all alright.”

Fic under the cut💙, 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

The further Ireland dipped into the depths of winter, the more Andrew’s mood dropped. Reflecting the rainy, washed-out climate outside the frosty windows of his house. It hardly even snowed this winter, just a cold rain that somehow made his mood worse. Logically, he knew it was likely that the lack of sun on his already pale skin was what had him wallowing. But alas, no amount of tea and books seemed to make him feel any better. So that’s why he’d given up by this point. Gaze zoned out past the pages of his novel and tea now cold on the coffee table. His mind clouded like the gathering storm outside.

“Andy?”

A gentle call of his name had Andrew startled. Usually he would’ve noticed your presence by the sound of your footsteps, but he’d been too far into his head to notice.

“Yes, darling?”

He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting yours in its quiet manner.

“I’m just wondering if you’re alright? I’ve called your name a few times and you haven’t answered.”

You replied. Despite keeping your voice light, he can tell by the slight frown and the furrow of your eyebrows you’re more concerned than you're letting on. Sighing deeply with resignation, he closes the book with a soft snap and sets it aside. 

“I’m just feeling… I’m not sure. Down, I suppose.”

He answers, voice tainted with melancholy. You look even more concerned. A part of him wishes he didn’t worry you over trivial things. But how could he ever resist your questioning of his well-being?

You walk over to him and sit down on the arm of the chair. Running a hand into the long curls of his hair to scratch at his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into your soothing touch.

“Anything I can do to help?’

You ask and he breathes out through his nose with a shake of his head.

“Not sure there’s much you can do, but… stay?”

Andrew replies, aware his tone sounds dangerously close to needy. But you only smile and nod. Sating any insecurities he has as you continue to massage his scalp. 

He hums contently once more, letting his head rest against your hand. The warm light of the room throws shadows over his face and the pale lines of his neck. Shrouding the valleys in darkness and the highlights with warmth. Turning the sharpness of his cheekbones all the more prominent if that's possible. 

Leaning down, you leave a few kisses over his cheekbones. The feeling of warm breath against his face forces a smile to his lips. He turns his head, capturing your lips against his. Your kiss is like a balm on his apathy, replacing it with passion. Your free hand cups the side of his face. Feeling the gentle scratch of facial hair against your palm that’s also felt on your chin. The feeling lures you closer. Pressing into the space between his and your bodies until you’re straddling one of his legs. Lost in the velvety sensation of lips and tongues against each other. You break it off first. Ignited with one simple idea. 

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

You prompt, in a lowered, raspier voice. He looks up at you with blown pupils, green irises dark. Shining hot in the orange light from the lamp. He breathes out. Like he can’t believe you’re real. And nods eagerly.

“Please… do what you’d like.”

His breathless agreement makes you smile and melt a bit, moving his head to get access to his throat. A soft sound leaves his mouth as you kiss over the thin skin. Breath hitching when your tongue follows along the groves of his veins. He’s so goddamn sensitive. He has to hold back a few noises, the heat of your breathing brushing over his neck. Goosebumps appear over his arms. He’s becoming more and more aware of your every move.

Andrew lets out a loud groan that he quickly cuts off in embarrassment. A response to the dragging of your teeth over the base of his neck where it meets his shoulder. The skin beneath your lips flushes a pink color. You snicker in response to the noise, and he huffs in irritation.

“It’s okay, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoying it. You sound absolutely gorgeous, but that’s no surprise.”

You murmur to him, rubbing his side to subdue his unease. You know he’s listening because the muscles relax beneath your hand. He lets out another moan as you nibble, turning the skin a pale red.

It’s not long before you’ve scattered similar-looking bites over his neck. By the time you’re getting his sweater off Andrew is breathing a little heavier, sweat building on the back of his flushed neck. 

His chest stutters watching you sink to your knees in front of the armchair. Eyes hooded and darkened.

“Just lie back, baby, and I’ll cure all those blues.”

You direct, and he does as you say. His mouth is too dry to try and come up with a sassy reply to your somewhat cheesy line. Not like that would matter anyway. All thought disappears from his head when your mouth lands on his chest. Kissing, licking, sucking down his sternum. Your lips wrapping around one of his nipples has him debating whether or not to beg for mercy. Airless moans slip from his lips without time nor thought to stop them. 

“Fuckin’ Hell, darling. That’s so good.”

Andrew hisses, voice rough, Irish accent thickened, words a little slurred. His hands running into your hair. Using whatever is there to try and get a grip. Large palms grasping at the back of your skull. He can’t help but pull when you tug on his nipple, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Shit, sorry.”

He apologizes in a way that would sound regretful if it wasn’t husky with arousal. You laugh in response to him jerking under your mouth when you suck softly. Your way of telling him it’s okay. 

After giving Andrew’s nipple a bit more attention, just to hear him whine a few more times. And then start slowly kissing down his stomach. Feeling every little twitch and breath beneath your mouth. 

“Darling, please, please, stop teasing.”

There it is, the pleads for mercy. He’s practically whimpering. His voice becomes tight. A struggle for control. You grant his wish, hands moving to his belt. There’s a large bulge beneath his jeans, straining against the fabric. God, that must be uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from here. 

Eventually, with a bit of moving around, you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off. Freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. It arches up towards his stomach with a surprising stiffness, considering you haven’t even been touching him for that long. He’s decently above average in length. To the point it burns a little to take, but not ridiculously so. The tip is a deep red, swelled with a desperation to be touched. 

Andrew shoots a hand from your hair to the arm of the chair. Gripping it with a hiss when he feels the brush of your breath over the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, the two prominent veins along the bottom throbbing. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Wrapping a hand around the shaft. Andrew looks down at you with hungry eyes alight with reverence, studying your every move. 

“God- fucking, yes.”

Andrew gasps in pleasured relief, a moan quickly following when you start stroking the length of his shaft, giving every inch an equal amount of attention. Just barely touching the tip to tease him. To watch his cravings become unbearable. At first, he accepts the simple touch, relishing in finally having friction on his cock. However, it soon becomes too little and he starts rocking his hips into your hand, eager for more. Slender thighs flexing with the movement. Light shining over his jutting hip bones. He’s absolutely stunning from this angle, chest heaving as he squirms. A thin sheen of sweat glistening over the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the darkness of his neatly trimmed beard. 

“Babe-”

Andrew starts, his words sounding more like a gasp of breath. 

“Fine, I’ll be nice.” 

You relent, not wanting to torture him too much. Dragging your hand over the weeping head, Andrew moans and sinks his fingernails into the arm of the chair. His other hand cupping the back of your neck, trying his best not to grip or pull. You circle your thumb around the very tip of his cock, over the most sensitive glands. Andrew practically whimpers because of it. Legs jerking, he throws his head back. Eyes squeezed shut. Showing off all those pink love bites you left over his throat.

“Yes, just like that. Keep going.”

Andrew manages in that sweet, unsteady voice. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, caught between moaning and whining. He thrusts his hips into your hand which moves up and down the entire length of his dick. A focused attention with a twist of your wrist over the head. Andrew isn’t the only one getting impatient. You’re interested in doing much more than just a handjob. 

So, when your impatience gets to be too much, you duck your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Causing a high-pitched noise of surprise from the man above. There’s an even sharper noise as you press your tongue against the bottom and suck. Pulling precum from his eagerness. The tangy and sharp taste coating your tastebuds, sticking to your tongue. It fills your senses, nearly overwhelming the musky scent of Andrew’s arousal. 

“Let me see your eyes, please. Look at me.”

Andrew urges, his voice higher than normal. Looking up at him, his eyes meet yours. And he responds like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. His lips parted, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. His entire dick throbbing with your gaze on his. 

“God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He gasps out. His hand letting go of the armchair and brushing the hair away from your face. So he can see all of you properly. 

“So, so pretty down there.”

Andrew continues in a murmur, the pleasure of seeing you drives his ecstasy even higher. He gently moves slightly further into your mouth, hungry for more of the warm pleasure, more than what your hand is giving him. You welcome him, slowly working his cock deeper into your mouth. Jaw stretching to accommodate until it nearly aches. Your tongue cradles the underside. 

He moans lowly, running fingers over your scalp. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth wrapping around his cock causes his entire body to shiver. Pleasure bolting up his spine. He nearly becomes lightheaded with the rush of blood, cheeks flushing a bright red against the paleness of the rest of his skin. 

The more you take, the more difficult it is to breathe. Andrew stops you for a moment,  letting you take a breath. He caresses your jaw with the backs of his fingers, helping it relax out. 

“Just go slow, breathe through your nose.”

He speaks in a calmly commanding voice. Forcing you to stay in your moment of pause for a few seconds longer before letting you continue. You follow his introductions and breathe through your nose, taking measured breaths as you sink further. Until tears gather in your eyes when the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Pushing at your gag reflex. 

A pleasured rumble sounds in Andrew’s chest. Vibrating back through your bones. He continues stroking your jaw, making sure you can take every inch.  

“That’s good. You’re doing so well, baby. Start moving if you want.”

Andrew says, trying his best to keep his composure so his desire doesn’t get the better of him. It nearly does when you start moving achingly slow up and down the length of his dick. Your mouth is so consumingly tempting, hot and wet and just perfect. Both a gift and a curse. Luring Andrew to near madness with how good it feels. He’s speechless, wordless. Stuck in this version of heaven. You’ve got him absolutely hooked. Even more so when you start to move faster. Suck harder. Letting saliva drip down your chin and glisten on your skin the way it does on his cock.  

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this. Your so skilled, so absolutely, fucking wonderful.”

He groans behind his clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to bury himself even deeper into your mouth. You struggle to move faster. Gagging on his cock when it hits your reflex. Andrew looks down at you, noticing your struggle. He gently pulls on your hair. Guiding you off his cock.

“It’s alright, let me help you, okay?”

He asks, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command if you want to keep going. You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew takes a careful hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he brings his hips closer to your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, it’s so red it’s almost purple. Eager and more than ready to slip back into your mouth.

“Ready?”

He asks one more time and you answer affirmatively again. He accepts this and nudges his dick slowly past your parted lips. Guiding himself back into the heat of your mouth. It’s wet, soft and very, very hot. He waits a moment for you to get used to it once more. Before starting to move. Using your hair to move you up and down. His hips rocking forwards into your mouth. His breath hitching as he feels your teeth gaze him. His thighs clasp either side of your head, knees almost on top of your shoulders.

“That’s it, let me help you. Just like this.”

Andrew praises in a tone that does nothing to conceal how good it feels. Carefully thrusting his cock in and out of your already sore throat. You’re so sweet, letting him do this. Willing to take apart every piece of him and put it back together. It’s something only you can do for him. Yet he’s sure you could do it for anyone. 

“God, that’s just right. You’re doing such a good job. You’re an angel.”

He manages, voice trembling. He rocks his hips faster. Guiding you to suck harder. Feeling every ridge moving back and forth across your tongue. The head is just barely nudging the back of your throat. Andrew is gasping, moaning above you like he’s never experienced something quite so amazing in his life. Something beyond any man’s wildest dreams.

His cock twitches in your mouth. His ecstasy reaching higher and higher. To the point his thighs are trembling, skin highlighted pink with exertion (is that how you spell it? idk). You look up at him. Admiring the way his features are painted with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. His long hair is messy and falling into his flushed face. There’s strands sticking to the sides of his face and neck with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Droplets slide down his collarbones and disappear into his sweater. 

He jerks his cock a little deeper on accident. Coming closer and closer to his finish. Causing you to gag. He opens his eyes with an apology on his lip. But you grasp his hips, pulling him closer. You shove down your gag reflex so you can take him all the way. Tears gathering on your waterline. He takes the hint with widened eyes of surprise and adoration. Carefully thrusting his cock into the depths of your throat, he groans loudly with pleasure. Both hands sinking into and grabbing on your hair. 

Your nose brushes his pelvis. The smell of musk filling your nose. An almost sweet, earthy scent coming from him. You make eye contact through blurry eyes. Andrew’s breath stutters, his legs tensing by the sides of your head. 

“Fuck- darling, so good. I’m gonna- shit. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want that? Do you want me to cum into your mouth?”

He asks, his words broken and stuttering. Almost failing at forming a sentence entirely. You nod the best you can. Tears and spit running down your face. He moans at your agreement. Somehow feeling hotter and even more aroused by it. 

Andrew thrusts his hips into your mouth. Pushing how much you can take as he chases his high. It’s not more than a minute of nearly reckless movements before he’s cumming into your mouth just as he said he would. His back arching into it as his legs shudder. He moans loudly from the bottom of his chest. His mouth hanging open. Head thrown back with his eyes rolled back into his skull. Shooting warm, thick cum into your mouth. The salty and bitter taste overwhelming your senses, but one you could taste over and over again. You groan around his cock. Causing his legs to jump as he feels the vibrations. 

He pants, remaining motionless in his recovery. His brain needed a moment to recover before piecing itself back together and pulling out of your mouth. There’s a lopsided, still half-gone smile on his face as he looks down at you. Humming happily as you swallow his cum. 

“You’re so amazing, baby.”

Andrew compliments breathlessly. Moving his hands to cup your cheeks and brush the tears away.

“I’m so, so proud of you. Come on, get off your knees.”

The tenderness of his voice is so beautiful. His actions even more so, helping you up off the floor. And positioning you on one of his thighs. 

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?” 

He questions, his worries calming when you shake your head. Still recovering yourself.

“Good… can I return the favor?”

Thank you so much for reading my first fic 🫶, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I’m going to go do the school work I’ve been procrastinating over to do this instead now. Hopefully, the next fic won’t take over a month to write and I’ll be more active.

-Thad 💚

[becca-e-barnes]

"Here comes trouble."

Getting back to the 'Shit He Said' series because I've been missing it and you've said some truly wonderful shit recently.

This one is pure fantasy. I'm fully just indulging myself and I'm okay with that. I've thought about this way too much.

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Semi-public, vaginal fingering, dom Bucky, sub reader, power imbalance, degradation, choking, penetration, creampie, this is bound to be so unhygienic irl but I can enjoy the thought leave me alone 😩

Summary: You manage to find some time for a quickie with the CEO

For some extra vibes: “Out Of My Mind” by The Killers

Minors, do not interact

Heat meets you the second the door opens but you only feel the true intensity of it when you’ve stepped inside and closed the door behind you.

Everything is hot.  Stiflingly, oppressively hot.  Even the glass panel of the door is warm under your touch.  Between the humidity and the ambient lighting, your eyes struggle to focus.  Taking a seat inside seems like a good idea.  Sit down before you fall down.  

It’s impossible to get a deep, satisfying breath.  The air feels so heavy, water droplets forming on your bare skin, clinging to your eyelashes and dripping from the ceiling onto your hair.  As the seconds pass, you feel your body begin to adjust.  Your breathing starts to regulate, albeit faster than usual.  You succumb to the weight in the air, taking a seat on the wet bench to the left of the door.  You close your eyes for a few moments in an attempt to shield them from the heat, breathing in the fresh scent of eucalyptus essential oil.

“Here comes trouble.”  Fuck.  You hoped this might happen but you hadn’t fully let yourself believe it was actually a possibility.  Your eyelids flutter open again, looking in the direction of the voice but you don’t need to see the silhouette of the person sitting at the back of the room to know who had spoken.

“Hello, you.”  He speaks again, low and soft and this time you’re more focused on ensuring you’re alone.  A quick scan of the room and it’s empty, save the two of you.

“I didn’t think you’d be down here!”  You feign innocence.  It’s a lie.  You knew he would.

He’s always been wonderfully talented at seeing right through you.

“I mentioned earlier that I might go try out the steam room.”  He’s right; he did.  These work trips get awfully long sometimes and it’s hard to keep your head in it without giving yourself a break.  In fact, you’re surprised more of your colleagues aren’t down here taking some time to themselves.

“Might.  I had no way of knowing you actually would.”  You’re not wrong.  Nor is he.  It’s an elaborate dance around the fact that you’re both now exactly where you want to be.

God, he’s gorgeous.  His usually soft, fluffy hair has drooped under the weight of the steam, curling a little.  Droplets of water roll slowly down his bare chest, meeting at the waistband of his swimwear but the condensation gathering on his body makes his skin look slick and kissable.  Your thoughts wander, daydreaming about how you’d love nothing more than to trail your tongue down his chest in the wake of those droplets until you’re able to sink to your knees in front of him and find a better use for your mouth.

“Stop thinking.  Get over here.”  He perhaps doesn’t mean to sound as sharp as he does but with time being of the essence, he’s not wrong to be demanding.  Anyone could walk in any time now so you might as well use the time you have wisely.

You’re so eager it’s difficult to slow yourself down.  Within seconds, you’ve moved to the bench at the back, beside Bucky and his lips are on yours before you even realise it.  They’re soft and plump, his mouth tasting faintly of the coffee you saw him drinking earlier. His tongue rolls gently against your own and you feel yourself moan against his lips more than you hear it.

Your heart is speeding up, thumping in your chest and with your elevated body temperature, it feels like it’s pounding against your ribs.

Once you start touching him, it’s impossible to stop.  His chest is wet against yours, your bodies pressed together and your hands wandering with an urgency that would have you thinking you’ve never touched him before.  You’re desperate and the humidity does nothing to help you both think coherently.  You aren’t thinking about what might happen if someone walks in.  You aren’t thinking about the fact that if they did, they’d catch you and the CEO all over each other.  You certainly aren’t thinking of any of the consequences that would follow.

“Fuck, you’re desperate.”  He rumbles out a low groan against your lips, his fingers pulling the bottoms of your bikini to one side to let his fingertips graze your soft folds.  You’re soaking wet but it’s very distinctly nothing to do with the fact you’re currently in a steam room.  The slickness of your arousal is unmistakable, not to mention the all too evident desperation in the way you roll your hips into his touch, silently begging for more. “You could take me right now.”  His fingers tease your entrance, testing the resistance from your body and it’s delightful to feel him slipping into you so smoothly.

“You’re filthy, you know that?  Getting fucked in a steam room knowing anyone could walk in and see you.  Anyone could see what a slut you are for me.”  His ‘for me’ hits you hard because this is only for him.  You wouldn’t do this with anyone else.  You wouldn’t ask anyone else to do the depraved things you ask him to do.  All of the darkest, filthiest thoughts you have are about the man who’s now got you seated in his lap, your back to his chest with your swimwear tugged to the side so he can tease your cunt with his throbbing length, rather than his fingers.

“Beg me for it.”  Confidence drips from his tone and he’s got every right to be this confident.  You’ve never wanted sex as often as you have since you met him.  Your sex drive goes through the roof when he’s around, a testament to how comfortable and confident he makes you feel.  He makes you feel desired and God, you want to be desired.

The head of his dick strokes the softest part of your body, teasing from your entrance to your clit and back again.  You have no doubt he’s smearing his precum over your cunt, claiming you.  The thought alone makes your walls flutter.

“Please fuck me.  Hurry up, Bucky, please.”  You sound pathetic and it only makes you wetter.  Only he gets you like this.  There’s not a hope in hell you’d beg anyone else for anything at all.  Anything you need, you can do for yourself.  Except this.  He’s let you feel safe and able to live out your wildest fantasies and that’s not something you’d experience with just anyone.

You feel him hum, kissing your shoulders, lowering you down onto his tip and stopping after the head has just slipped inside you.

The first glide into your body always leaves you breathless but this isn’t it.  He isn’t fully inside you yet and he’s stopped already.  “Just the tip, sweetheart.  That’s all you’re getting.  Unless you act like the little slut I know you want to be.”  He kisses down your neck, as far down your spine as the angle allows him to reach before licking back up and the shiver it sends through your body feels like a cold electric current.

“You’re delicious.  Go on, be a good whore for me.  Take what you need.”  You don’t need to be told twice, lowering yourself to take the rest of his length.  He glides into you beautifully, sliding into the wet, inviting heat between your legs.

“Oh God, that’s it.  Stupid girl.  Acting like you’re just a hole for me to fuck.  Maybe you are?”  He knows that will get to you.  You’re more than that.

Your head shakes, your hips rolling mindlessly, your body enjoying his presence inside you of it’s own accord.  “I- I’m not just a hole.”  You argue, trying to stifle your own moan at the feeling of him rubbing against the soft little sweet spot inside you.

“You’re not.  I know you’re not.  But for now, sweetheart, that’s all I want you to be.  You’re just a pretty little hole and I’m going to make you cum like it’s all you’re good for.”  You didn’t expect the punch to your chest that his kindness delivers but it’s appreciated all the same.

His hand cradles your throat, applying just a nice amount of pleasure.  The humidity was already dizzying but Bucky’s grip on your neck adds another dimension.

“God, the way you gripped me when I put my hand on your neck.  Pretty little pussy just doesn’t want me to pull out.”  He’s rutting into you, groaning against your shoulder but he still can’t drown out the obscene sounds of wet skin on wet skin.

“Feels perfect.”  You feel your eyes rolling back in your head, barely able to string more words together than that.  

“No sweetheart, you feel perfect.  Fuckin’ made for me.  Pretty little stupid fuck toy.”  His free hand squeezes and massages your breasts in turn, giving each of them the attention they deserve while he fucks himself into you.  “You’re dripping.  Fuck, you were made for this.”

You grip the wrist of the hand that’s massaging your breasts, trailing it down your body to settle between your legs.  “Can’t even tell me what you want, can you?  Can’t manage the words anymore.  Did my cock make you that stupid already?”

You nod and it only makes him chuckle, rubbing your clit almost entirely out of sympathy.  

Deep breaths don’t help.  The steam feels like it’s catching in the back of your throat with every breath but it only heightens the pleasure.

“I want you to cum.  Now.  I want to fuck you full while your cunt is trying to milk every drop from me.  You got that?”  

“Faster.”  You plead, right on the edge of slipping into an unbearably intense orgasm.  Bucky obliges, rubbing your clit faster, tightening his grip on your neck just a little and it sends you spiralling, your walls clamping around him so tight, it coaxes him to spill his release into your body.

You hardly notice his climax until the crest of your own subsides.  “Such a perfect cunt.  Fuck, I can’t stop.”  His forehead rests on your damp shoulder, panting and groaning as he fills your body with ropes of cum.  It’s messy and rushed but it’s an overwhelming ecstasy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s entirely spent, he lets his hand fall from your throat but that does nothing to help you take a deep breath.  Water drips rhythmically from the ceiling onto the bench beside you both while your bodies separate and you allow yourselves a few seconds to enjoy being together.

[ichorai]

ties that bind ; nanami kento ; october 26th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; nanami shows up to work smelling like you, and gojo has quite a keen sense of smell.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; more domestic vibes, nanami's Tired guys someone give him a vacation

series masterlist.

26th october, 2016

Nanami was having a long morning. Granted, the clock hadn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but he was already feeling particularly exhausted. 

Possible reasons included, but were not limited to: the local bakery he usually went to for breakfast was out of his favorite kind of almond croissants, the vending machine that held his precious coffee outside of the school was out of order, forcing him to go forgo caffeine for the day, Principal Yaga informed him of an influx of village curses he needed to take care of since the school was currently short-handed on staff, and, finally, Gojo would just not stop pestering him. 

The lanky, white-haired colleague of Nanami’s started off by sending roughly a dozen memes about a trendy topic he really had no interest in whatsoever. Then, when Gojo realized that Nanami had muted his messages when he no longer kept responding with: “Stop sending me these during work hours”, he took it upon himself to barge into his office and languidly splay himself across the couch situated opposite his desk and chair. 

Perhaps the only saving grace of this morning, Nanami recalled, was waking up next to you—a sight he’d been blessed with for over a year now. You were still asleep when his alarm buzzed, though you mumbled something groggy and unintelligible under your breath. Knowing that you had a tiring day yesterday, your husband let you sleep for another five minutes while he slipped out from beneath the comforters to wash up. When he returned, you had curled up on his side of the bed, nose smothered into his pillow to inhale his scent. Nanami’s hand reached out to brush stray hairs away from your face, still slackened with sleepiness, but your eyes were cracked open into narrow slits.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, voice soft as ever. “We’ve got work soon. Do you want me to drop you off?”

You worked at a local university quite close to home. Though curses weren’t particularly attracted to you, what with your easy-going and admiringly-positive demeanor, where you worked was a breeding ground for negative emotions. Stressed students and impatient professors always had universities crawling with curses of all sorts. Nanami never liked the idea of you working in such an environment.

“I think I’ll call in sick today,” you mumbled back, pushing yourself to sit up against the headboard with a lethargic wince. “I have a terrible headache… I think I might be coming down with a cold. I’ve just got to reschedule today’s lecture with the students for another day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, brows kinking with worry as he moved to sit down next to you. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you from the pharmacy?”

“I’ll be okay,” you told him in a reassuring manner. A bright, but tired smile made its way onto your face when the back of his hand rested over your forehead to feel your temperature. He frowned in concern and pulled away—you were much warmer than usual. 

Then, he dipped forward to press a chaste, but loving kiss right over your temple. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”

“You should be getting to work, Kento—”

He made a dismissive noise, and got up to go fix you the warm drink, squeezing in some honey and lemon in case you had a sore throat, too. A few minutes later, he came back with the steaming mug, and a pack of unopened paracetamol he fetched from the kitchen drawers. 

“Take one now, and another by lunchtime if you’re still feeling unwell,” he told you, his sharp features displaying nothing but raw concern. 

“Yes, doc,” you said with a slight laugh and a salute. “I’ll be okay, honey, really. It’s just a little cold, but thank you for the tea. Now you go and get ready for work.”

Kento pursed his lips, kissed your head again, and rose from your side to go change into his professional attire. Even after all this time, he could feel a warm flush settling over his cheeks when you whistled in appreciation from the bed, clutching the mug of tea in between your palms with a grin. 

“You look so handsome, Kento.” 

“It’s the same thing I always wear.”

“My point stands,” you said, voice rife with mirth. He shot you a soft, appreciative smile.

In his haste to get ready and rush off to work, he accidentally spritzed himself with your perfume rather than his usual cologne. He didn’t mind all that much, anyway, because that meant he’d be able to smell you all day long, and hurried to gather the rest of his things. 

“I love you, please send me a message if you need anything,” he said just as he was about to leave, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. 

“I will,” you reassured, one hand lifting away from the mug to take hold of his palm and tug the appendage upwards so you could kiss the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. “Have a good day at work, hon.”

God, he loved you more than anything. 

Now, with Nanami’s mind both burdened with thoughts of you being sick, and stressed over the new wave of village curses Yaga asked him to take care of, he hadn’t even noticed Gojo suddenly right at his side rather than ridiculously spreading out over the office’s couch.

“Ooh, Nanamin,” he said the fond nickname in a crude, high-pitched tone, and over-exaggerated sniffing at Nanami’s suit, “Who is this I’m smelling on you? Are you seeing someone behind my back?”

Nanami’s left eye twitched behind his spectacles. It was a relatively easy choice he made not to tell anyone at work about you. He very much preferred to keep work and personal life separate. 

“It’s my new perfume,” Nanami bluntly said, expression remaining unamused. 

“I didn’t take you for a floral-note kind of man,” Gojo crooned in response with a roguish grin. If he thought that Nanami was lying at all, he betrayed no signs of such. “I love it! What brand is it? Where’d you get it?”

“Get out of my office, Gojo.”

The blind-folded man snickered and rubbed his hands together. Nanami’s evident irritation only seemed to egg him on. “Didn’t Yaga tell you? I’m coming with you today! Apparently there’s been reports of a special-grade curse there. You’re going to need my help, you know.” Gojo prodded at Nanami’s biceps.

Nanami’s lips pinched tightly. “Perfect,” he gritted out. 

It was only nine in the morning, but he already couldn’t wait to get back home to you.

[silaslich]

Smoked out, only seeing

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Wc - 3.2k

Summary - you take yourself to a local pub randomly one night and have a chance encounter with a stranger. You find yourself waiting for him.

Cw - 18+, smut, car sex

Solace isn’t something you usually seek to find at the bottom of a bottle.

Yet, you run your thumb over the glass where it’s held in your grasp, watching as the streak of condensation falls into droplets that cascade downward. Leaving a rim of water that sits beneath your drink and wobbles with each passing set of footsteps from patrons as they trudge past your booth.

It’s unclear how you’ve found yourself here, your routine is usually so set in stone; never differentiating from the daytime hours spent pouring over a laptop screen and the blurry nights spent nursing a spliff before inevitably falling asleep on the sofa. It’s a comfortable enough way to live, not many worries other then the typical spiral that comes around once in a while, usually brought on by hormones or a particularly lonely few days when you’re off work or too deep in your own head.

You’ve passed this particular pub so many times on the route home, never sparing it more than a passing glance, the sign that swings from the twisted metal bracket reads an un-unique name - The Red Lion.

It’s unassuming in it’s appearance and it’s aura; chunky white bricks and dark Tudor beams, nestled on the corner of a quiet street that sees little to no nightlife bar the odd retired miner that needs some quiet time out of the house or the rare university pub crawl that marks this place on the route only to discover how unwelcome they actually are. Not directly unwelcome, no, but the vibe is enough to have them swivelling on their heels to take their antics elsewhere, this place is definitely something more tame that’s suited better to the locals.

Suppose that included you. Bunched with the demographic, nursing a cider on an otherwise calm Thursday night, listening to the rugby that’s playing in the background-it’s a catch up from Sunday. Sat enjoying the odd sense of peace that sits in the air between the smell of stale salted crisps and tap beer.

You don’t particularly believe in fate or divine intervention, not the whole spiel of ‘everything happens for a reason’ either - you’d always been somewhat of a pessimist. A realistic expectation of life and it’s events, simply guided by your own actions and intentions; fully accepting of what might occur on the journey and the implications that might have on you.

It wasn’t fate that brought you here, no, something else entirely perhaps. A feeling - a magnetic pull in your chest that you could neither explain nor argue against.

That’s a realisation you come to when you meet eyes with him.

Even from across the shabby dimly-lit pub you can see the full depth in his eyes. The shape of him is a blur of dark tones and a large hulking frame, yet, his eyes almost glow in the tinted-yellow light. Hickory brown, illuminated amber when the light catches them briefly - almost matching the deep-rich colour of the whiskey that sloshes in his tumbler when he moves his hand.

The staring isn’t intentional. You might have felt embarrassed for being caught looking, a lingering glance that drags on into a stare - but he had been looking right at you first. The stranger doesn’t make any move to look away, nor is his gaze uneasy, you’ve felt it many times before - felt like someone is watching, only to turn your head and see a grubby middle aged man staring at you like you’re nothing more then a slab hanging from a butchers meat hook.

He’s different, in a way you’re not sure you’d be able to explain away if someone asked you.

From the distance between the two of you, it’s clear he’s a handsome man. Rough around the edges, from the rugged tufts of dirty blonde hair that curl across his forehead to the clear indent of a silvery-pink scar that cuts through his lips and curves up over his right cheek bone. His features are angular and sharp, a cut throat man if you’ve ever seen one. Still it’s his eyes; the way they look right at you, their path intentional when they roam to your chest and back up again, so dark and yet so inviting. Like a predator. Shark like.

It’s you who breaks the contact first. Not really willing to but doing it nonetheless, a heat sinking from your throat to your stomach; one that isn’t from the booze.

The ice in your drink has melted by the time you go to take a sip, rendering it a watery and lukewarm disappointment. It’s not as late as you hope it is, scanning your eyes over your phone screen to see it’s barely nine o’clock, it feels like you’ve been here so much longer. When you scan your eyes back across the pub, the man is gone, from your seat you can see that his glass is empty - a wrinkled ten pound note sitting under it.

You’d never admit it; would hate to have to admit it, but the slim chance that you might see the stranger again is what keeps bringing you back again. Eyes wandering, fingers tapping against your glass, neck craning in the direction of the door every time you hear it creak - it’s never him.

Perhaps he’s not local, just passing through the town, a pit stop for a thumb of shit whiskey before he’s on his way again. You’re not sure what’s so intriguing, maybe it’s his eyes, the fact his stare didn’t make you as uncomfortable as it should have done. Bizarre really; thinking about it, coming out of your way for the slight chance you might catch a glimpse of this rugged stranger.

The clock ticks. The speakers above the wood-framed head of the bar fizzle out into static background noise, the idle hum of locals chattering drifts and the evenings drones on and on until it’s just you and a few other stragglers. It’s another Thursday, still as quiet as usual, and even the street outside is as dead as dust.

Wet earth fogs the air. The cobbled streets reflect the light from the street lamps and the wind drifts with the smell of the freshly ploughed fields from over the hill. A small town in an even smaller county, a back burner place that’s not really somewhere - the space between leaving and arriving. Some come here to retire, others come here to hide, you’ll never know which. There’s a varied diversity of people here, families with small children and old biddies that have always lived in the same house since they were just a tot; others came here searching for peace but most come to simply get away.

Which one are you?

It’s always the stars that catch your eye. Sitting pretty up against the backdrop of the midnight sky, bleeding tones of navy blue and inky black- fading together. It’s a vast plain that stretches further than the eye can reach, yet you try, always - fascinated.

“Never understood the appeal”

The voice startles you, if only slightly, you thought you were the only one out here. Your neck cranes to the source of the voice, as you stand just past the doorway of the pub you can see the same hulking figure from before.

He seems even taller out here. No longer slumped into an old bar chair that’s probably as old as you are, out here he’s able to move freely. The stranger is partially hidden in the dim light, the street lamps are on the other side of the street - sparing the both of you from their balmy amber light.

“Maybe you need to look up once in a while” you raise a brow, unsure if he can even see it, you don’t move to step closer.

The stranger grumbles some form of amusement, lifting a cigarette to his mouth before lighting it, only when he takes a long-heavy drag are you able to see more of his face. It’s not as clear of view as it had been inside the pub, but it’s more than you’ve seen in weeks. Dangerous intrigue.

“Not much to look at most of the time” he exhales heavily, smoke carrying from his lips, it’s involuntary the way you watch the plush of his lips move. It’s involuntary the way your feet seem to carry you closer to him, just a step at a time, shuffling along like you’re afraid he’ll startle like a stray cat and scurry off.

“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough” his eyes drift to you, rake up your body as you near closer, they’re lazier then before - perhaps he’d had more to drink then the last time you’d seen him.

His lips tip up at one side. “Oh yeah? Might look old but my eyes aren’t shot just yet, sweetheart” his eyes never leave yours when he takes another heavy drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his nostrils and out of his mouth in your direction. You can’t seem to break away from his eyes, they’re even prettier up close, camouflaging the worn scars and the signs of age that eat their way at his features.

“Not as old as you look then? Pity, I like a man that knows his way around” he’d offered his cigarette to you, and you’d taken it gladly, heaving a lungful of bitter smoke from your chest as you watch his eyes narrow at your words. “Cheeky thing” his chest rumbles, smoke and gravel in his tone. You smile. “Think so?” Your tone carries the questions and you can read the way his mind must be weighing up his options, seems his mind is made up more then quickly.

He tastes of whiskey and nicotine; perhaps the nicotine is partly you too.

His palms are rough but his lips are anything but, it’s a marrying contrast that’s more than welcome, you’re probably just too desperate to care at this point. He’d tugged you to his car, perhaps with full intentions of driving to your place or his, yet your mind is mush - too needy. You’re not one to make a habit of this. Never out seeking an arrangement like this, but he’d fell into your lap, too intriguing to pass up. Dangerous intrigue.

It’s an uncomfortable fit, the backseat of his truck is only so big, still too desperate to care that your thighs are already aching and that he’s having to contort his spine to an awkward angle just for the both of you to fit. You’re straddling his lap, nails biting into the jacket covering his shoulders, grinding yourself down on anything - needy needy needy.

He smirks, let’s his hand trail up over your stomach and chest before he’s wrapping his fingers around your throat, a light grip that warns you to still - it makes you look him in the eye. A panting desperate mess already; for a man you don’t know in a town you’re yet to call home.

You swallow against his palm, jaw slack as you meet his eyes, watching the way his eyes map out your face. He leans in and uses his leverage on your throat to bring you the rest of the way towards him, rough hands and gentle kisses. A dream. His tongue isn’t shy. He delves into your mouth, a filthy kiss that makes your toes curl in your shoes, spine nothing but liquid at that point. When he breaks away, you’re a heaving mess, desperate unsteady breaths that dart from your chest.

He strokes this thumb over your neck. “D’you want me to fuck you?” His words are sharp, stabbing you right in the gut, feeding that heat that boils and swirls in your core. Your response is wordless. Your eyes lull in your head when your body shivers at his words, “fucking hell” you whisper- more to yourself. He squeezes your neck. “Need words, sweetheart” he’s serious. You crane you neck, meeting his eye again, “yes- please fuck me” your smile is drunker then he is, you’d been on the soft drinks tonight, not even an ounce of liquid courage is coursing through your veins to help you along here.

His grip on your neck tightens, just slightly, and you lean in to kiss him again - sucking his tongue into your mouth. You lean closer, closing your chest to his, hands gripping his shoulders, you bring your lips to his ear and whisper- “Maybe you can cum in me too, yeah? I’m on the pill” He grumbles in his chest again, like something carnal slips out of place within himself, finally letting go. His teeth bruise your lip, kissing with a fever that’s reached boiling point, tipping over the edges of the pot.

He fumbles at his zips and his belt, leading you to do the same. A rush of grabbing hands and harsh shoves, needing to strip away the layers, shoving everything out of the way. Any teasing or foreplay is thrown out; too wound up, needing this too much. Needy needy needy.

You spit in your palm, he groans at the visual, watching intently as you pull him free of his briefs, slicking his cock with your own spit as you take the length of him in your hand. He returns all favours, sucks two fingers into his mouth and presses them against your panties, pushing them aside with big deft fingers as he pushes them through your folds. So wet already, perverted maybe, had been wet for him since that first night you saw him.

Would have never admitted it, would hate to have to admit that just a passing look from this stranger had you crossing your legs under the table - trying to quell the ache between your thighs.

“Oh fuck” your teeth worry your bottom lip, digging in hard. He watches, takes note of the way your eyelids flutter when he plunges his fingers through your wetness, he takes note of it all. He raises his hand, loops it around the back of your neck and pulls you closer, kissing you again as you rile each other up, slick noises of each others spit against each others skin. Bliss. He chuckles against your mouth and you lean back to tilt your head at him, a bemused look etching your features. “Never even asked your name, sweetheart” Didn’t suppose it mattered? You smile to yourself. “Not sure you need to know” you run your thumb over his slit as you speak and he visibly shivers, his unoccupied hand leaving marks on your thigh from how tight he grips it. “I gotta work for it?” He asks, a flash of teeth when you meet his eyes again. “Always” you lean forward to kiss him again and he obliges.

He wraps his arm around your back and tugs you closer, chests flush and breaths twined. With one slight push of his hips upwards the head of his cock teases through your folds, the sensation makes you gasp. “Fuck” you pant.

You reach between the two of you, guiding his cock between your folds and pressing yourself down, feeling as he stretches you open impossibly wide. It’s a stinging sensation that borders the pain and the pleasure, it’s uncertain which one outweighs the other. He’s patient. Doesn’t move until you do, watches again as your face plays out the bliss zipping it’s way up your spine like electricity. You mould your mouth to his, pressing your palms against the headrest of the seat behind him, watching as the windows fog around you.

The visual is too much, but the feeling of the way his cock pistons in and out of you is worlds apart. He’s stretching you open, spearing you on his cock until tears prickle your eyes. It’s too much, yet you keep going, needing to feel this twang of pain as he fucks you.

“So pretty” he mumbles, pussy-drunk, words slurring out the side of his mouth as he watches where the two of you join. Watching the creamy white of your pussy oozing around him, so wet and sloppy and perfect. His praises punch out of him with almost every thrust, telling you how pretty and perfect and just how fucking good you feel.

You toss your head back, squealing when he fits his teeth against your jugular, grunting - he’s close. He chases it. Slips his arm away from where he’d held you close, now he fits his hand between the two of you, thumbing your clit until he can feel the way your thighs tremor around his. “Cum for me pretty thing, come on now” his voice softens, and it doesn’t sound at all like him, it’s as gentle as the way his tongue soothe the marks his teeth have left on you.

Sweat slicks your skin and you feel it bead at your forehead, messing your hair, you fit your fingers into the hair at the back of his head - the strands are barely long enough to tug.

You bite your tongue, you’re so close. “You wanna cum in me? Hmm?” Your tone drifts and you can barely look him in the face, too focused on the way he throbs inside of you and the way he thumbs at your clit like it’s his one and only purpose on this earth. “Fuck” he rasps, eyes screwing shut, “you want that?” His question seems genuine, despite the way it’s masked with the way he almost whines it. “Yes baby” you hum “need it” you don’t even sound like yourself. Not at this point. “Fuck” he fucks up into you, more grit to the way he moves and it’s all it takes before you’re both chasing one another.

It rocks through you first, a tight coil in your thighs that makes them burn like hot rubber, seizing through your core until you’re plucked from the edge and drowned in a wave of bliss that seems to go on and on and on. It’s the way your cunt squeezes around him that forces him to cum, he can’t hold it back, can’t deny himself of spilling inside of your pretty pussy. Much like you, it seems to go on and on and on.

He grunts heavy in his chest, you’re both a mess of pants and moans and whines as you cum. Drifting down slowly as the sweat drips and the mugginess inside of his truck grows heavy in the air.

You sag into him, chest to chest as you pant against his mouth, fingers gripping at his jacket like he’s a lifeline.

“Jesus Christ” is the first thing out of your mouth. He hums. “And all this time I thought it was the stars you were looking for back there” You smile and flick his cheek, settling when he shuffles himself lower in the seat, bringing you with him in a much more comfortable position. “Not funny” you mutter and he simply hums back.

It’s a brief silence that settles with the afterglow, the come down of a good fuck. You tell him your name. It’s a bluntly said piece of information that you watch him digest. He nods. “My name’s Simon”.

[intotheficsofit]

MDNI💀 +18 Only

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My Roommates Brother

Alright everyone be nice it’s my first fic.

We gotta classic trope today, the MC & Todo have an apartment together. Todo-Choso-Yuji all brothers vibe modern au style. Todo & MC were classmates/sparing buddies when they both ended up needing a place around the same time, they are platonic and goofy/very bro/sis vibe but the MC finally meets Choso and is smittttten.

Use of she/her pronouns as well as more feminine styled pet names, obvi this is a Reader X Choso smutty mess of a fic! Advanced apologies for any typos, I hope you find some enjoyment out of this piece💗

Oh and minors GTFO!! This ain’t for y’all 👏🏼

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The hot water soothed my aching muscles after an intense training sesh with Todo. I bopped around slightly to the beat of the ‘This is CORPSE’ spotify mix as I sudsed my sweat away. I thought I heard Todo’s voice from outside the door, I pulled back the shower curtain to pop my head out and keep my body shielded by the dark colored material.

“DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?”

More mumbles, the running shower and my loud music muffling whatever he was trying to tell me. I’m not particularly worried about Todo seeing me like this, he’s very open with his own body and we usually didn’t mind walking around in our undies around one another. It wasn’t a sexual thing, he’s not my type and I’m not his - to which looks suspicious to some people considering we live together but that’s not any of our concern.

“OPEN THE DOOR I CANT HEAR YOU DUMMY.”

A click and turn and Todo swung the door wide open, someone was behind him that I only recognized from photos.

“JESUS NOT ALL THE WAY?! WHAT DO YOU WANT??”

His eyes widened as he closed it only enough to have his head in the room. I saw his brother behind him hide his face before the door cut off his sight of me in the shower.

“My brother came to visit! We’re going to pick up dinner what would you like!”

I laughed and shook my head.

“That’s what you were trying to scream through the door about? God Todo, just get me whatever you get. Thanks bud.”

“OF COURSE! Enjoy your shower!”

He closed the door and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, he was a big sweet dummy. I did love him like family, even if he wasn’t the brightest at times. My mind wandered to the blushing and hidden face that stood behind him…Todo had shown me many photos of both his brothers and Choso was super cute…he told me about how he’s kinda kept to himself and that they really only see one another when Yuji insists on it. Both of them were wrapped around the sweet pink haired boys finger, and I can’t blame them. Yuji was a good boy and always smiling, if anyone disliked him I’d be surprised.

I might have searched up Choso’s socials a bit after Todo and I moved in together…he was hanging up photos in his room and needed my help…I made sure to ask all the important questions. Choso was a drummer who smoked a fuck ton of weed and liked to watch anime, so in other words my perfect match. He wore dark red or purple eyeshadow a lot and liked to paint his nails…the Gerard Way type as I like to call it. I wasn’t too embarrassed about him seeing me after taking note of his reaction…it’d be nice to finally get to know him over dinner…test the waters a bit.

———

After getting out of the shower I half blow dried my curls so they looked somewhat neater than usual. Donning a little bit of mascara and smudging out my leftover liner, I threw on a white cropped tank top (that slightly showed my nipples and their piercings) and a pair of black leggings. I made my way down the hall towards Todo’s booming voice and the shuffling of bags.

“So what’s for dinner boys?”

I said as I toked on a blunt and approached them, a trail of smoke lining my previous path. I smiled sweetly at the two, Choso’s eyes widened and he grinned slightly as his cheeks turned pink. Todo of course gave me an ear to ear grin before explaining what he had ordered for us. I hovered over the counter and inhaled the delicious smells, humming in satisfaction. I took another hit from the blunt then held it out to Choso.

“Appetizer?”

He chuckled and took it from my fingers, after inhaling sexily through his mouth then nose he passed it back to me.

“Thanks..{Y/N} right?”

“That’s me.”

I winked at him as I inhaled deeply then passed it to Todo.

“You’re Choso right? It’s about time I met your other brother Todo.”

I playfully slapped at Todo’s arm, that was easily bigger than my head. He chuckled and passed the blunt across the counter to Choso before shoving me jokingly and making me stumble.

“You already kicked my ass earlier was that not enough you big oaf?”

A roar of a laughter erupted from Todo’s chest, he hooked his massive arm around my neck and pulled me to him lovingly like he would’ve Yuji. I clawed at his forearm, he was slightly choking me out.

“You’ve come so far in our spares, but you’ll never beat me little sis!”

I gagged slightly as I laughed.

“Out of everyone here I don’t want you to be the one choking me, let go!”

I jabbed my elbow into his toned gut as I struggled for freedom, not noticing how Choso reacted to my comment. He continued to laugh heartily and tussle my hair roughly before releasing me from his grasp. It wasn’t til then that we realized Choso choking on the weed smoke and poorly attempting to hide it.

“Are you okay baby brother?”

“D-Don’t…*cough cough*…don’t call me..*cough*..that I’m older…*cough cough*”

I grabbed a bottle of water from our fridge and came to Choso’s side to swap it out with the blunt. As he raised his head to drink the water he glanced at my concerned expression, his face was bright red from coughing so hard and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“You gonna make it?”

I chuckled and rubbed his shoulder gently. He choked on the water…

“Goodness brother!”

Todo ran up behind him, I saw the fear ignite in Choso’s eyes as he knew what was coming next.

“Todo maybe don’t-“

My concerns were voiced too late, Todo smacked him on the back a couple times trying to help. Choso coughed a few more times but surprisingly, it did help him stop choking.

“God you brute..”

Choso mumbled as he regained his breath. I couldn’t help but giggle, covering my face in the process as he glared at Todo. The blunt was out and our food was getting cold at this point so we all convened in the living room to chow down. I snagged the remote before Todo could, we always argued on what to watch so the rule was whoever touched the remote first got dibs. Naturally, I turned on one of my comfort shows -One Punch Man- to which Todo groaned once I hit play on the first episode of season one.

“You told me you liked this one why are you moaning and groaning?”

“It’s always a different cartoon.”

“It’s anime.”

Choso and I barked at him in unison, to which we looked to one another and grinned as we found a common interest. (That I definitely didn’t already know about psssh)

“What’s this one about again?”

I proceeded to stuff my face and overdump the lore of the series, complaining about how more isn’t animated because the manga is so wonderfully complex. Todo then compared himself to that of Saitama with godlike strength, I didn’t deny him only to get him to continue to the next episode to see what would happen next. Choso ate quietly and watched us converse, I would glance to him now and then with a ‘you know what I’m trying to say’ or ‘you understand this more I’m sure’. He would smile and nod as he took careful bites, slowly clearing his plate. After a handful of episodes our bellies were full, Todo collected our trash and took it out, leaving Choso and I alone.

“Wanna smoke? I don’t know what he’s told you, but I smoke a lot so if it bothers you I can go to my room.”

“Oh no it’s fine, I do too..”

His voice was deep, slightly raspy. It made me feel the butterflies fighting in my stomach as he spoke. I smiled, standing from the couch I watched the way his eyes trailed down my body.

“Cool, I’ll go roll up real quick then. Obviously make yourself at home, you know where the bathroom is already.”

I giggled as I spoke to him, turning on my heels to head to my room and retrieve the smokeables. I heard Todo reenter our home and have a much more quiet conversation with his brother. I tried to peer down the hall to hear them but was unsuccessful. I threw on a cropped sweatshirt jacket and lit the blunt between my lips. As I tip toed down the hall, still trying to listen to their hushed conversation, the floorboards played against me as I neared the entrance of the room. The creaking made the two men dart their attention backwards towards me, I strolled in casually and tossed a blunt in front of Choso and a joint in front of Todo.

“Talking shit about me while I’m rolling up for you two?”

Choso nervously shook his head no while Todo laughed.

“Yes little sis, I was telling him how much you stink after training.”

“Oh I won’t deny that, but it’s still not as bad as when you get back from sparing with Yuji.”

I chuckled back at him as I tossed him a lighter. I nodded to the back door, that lead to our small balcony patio, while toking heavily. Todo nodded and rose from his seat, motioning his brother to follow us. The back door would stick shut now and then from one time when Todo ran into it and fucked up the frame, so I always had to have him open it, I was not strong enough.

Upon Todo yanking the door open, his arm swung backwards aggressively and caused me to stumble…directly into Choso. His arms wrapped around my waist and torso as I fell, his fingers accidentally brushing over my chest. For a split second I felt a tinge of fire inside me.

“Shit..are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry for almost taking you out with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, dumbass doesn’t know his own strength.”

We chuckled as I stumbled to my feet, Choso grabbed the dropped blunt and held it out to me with a smile. Todo hadn’t even realized what he’d done, proceeding to walk out onto our balcony and take a seat in his chair.

“You have got to be more aware of your surroundings dude.”

I spoke as I walked out and leaned against the railing to face him. He was puffing away on his tiny joint and already had some J-pop video pulled up on his phone. I scoffed and shook my head, turning to face the city and toke. Shit it went out. I went to turn around but Choso’s shoulder met mine as I spoke.

“Who has the-“

He was already holding the lighter out and wearing a beautiful smile.

“Oh, thanks ChoCho.”

“ChoCho?”

He giggled as he inhaled on his blunt, leaning over the railing beside me.

“I don’t know it just came out, that okay?”

“Yeah, thats fine. Sounds like something Yuji would say.”

He shook his head as his grin widened, I tried not to stare too long but he was very…pretty up close like this.

“He’s a sweetie, I love that kid.”

“You’ve met him?”

“He comes over a couple times a week, I school him in smash bros every time.”

He covered that gorgeous smile, laughing and turning over his shoulder to Todo before looking at me. His big brown eyes were shining with flecks of gold in the sunsets glow.

“Thanks for taking care of them..it’s not an easy task.”

“I think they’re good for me,”

I sighed, feeling the haziness settling in my eyes from the weed…maybe also from staring at the pretty emo boy.

“They remind me to not take shit so seriously all the time.”

We stared for a little too long in a sweet silence, I couldn’t help but take in all his features…I found my gaze darting to his lips and back to his eyes. He grinned, doing the same in response. Should I be doing this? That definitely ran through my head for a moment, but once he bit down on his bottom lip and looked out over the city again I felt myself pooling.

I reconnected my gaze to the horizon and puffed some more, my mind wandered to darker places..

“So what’s your favorite anime?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

I giggled, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve got time if you do.”

Spoken softly with a high smile, I peered to him from the corner of my eye. The blunt hung from his lips as he grinned, flashing me a similar look. We ended up getting into deep conversation about all our favorites and why they’re good in their own ways, all of which Todo was annoyed at. Mainly because he wanted us to play video games but we simply weren’t done discussing.

The sun had set, the chill of the night air began to nip at my skin sharply. I wasn’t sure when Todo had gone inside, but apparently we had been talking for a while. Thank god he left the door cracked at least, we trailed inside to escape the cold and to no surprise at all, Todo was passed out on the couch with some girly music mix playing semi-loudly on the tv. He could never hold his smoke, which is why I would usually give him a joint or a bowl instead of blunt or a dab. He must’ve been extra exhausted today.

We giggled at the sight, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture, motioning a finger to my lips and a ‘shhh’ to Choso. He covered his mouth to muffle his laughter, I nodded my head for him to follow me down the hall. I led him to my room and closed the door behind us, finally letting out an audible laugh as I tossed my jacket onto my desk chair.

“I didn’t think he even smoked, I was surprised to see him with his own.”

“That is why he doesn’t often, he always passes out. I give him small stuff or a hit or two now and then when he’s in the mood for it.”

“Funny, that’s the first time I’ve ever smoked with him.”

“Have you not smoked with Yuji?”

“Yuji smokes?!”

“Oops.”

I covered my mouth as I stood with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that I guess.”

“I don’t care that he smokes, but I thought he’d at least come to me for it.”

“He brings his own over here and asks me to roll for him.”

“That little shit is stealing my weed.”

I erupted in laughter upon his realization, he shook his head and chuckled. I plopped down on my bed, the plush purple comforter poofing up slightly around me. I pat the spot next to be before reaching for the rolling tray and mason jar of weed on my nightstand. He gently took the seat beside me, our thighs a few inches apart, I got a whiff of his cologne when the blanket poofed around him. He smelled so fucking good…

He watched me quickly roll four more blunts and pass him one, dusting off my hands and putting the supplies back in their spot. He looked to me with a shocked expression.

“What?”

“You’re really good at that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a man’s told me that.”

I chuckled as I lit my blunt and passed him the lighter, once the smoke cleared I noticed the pink staining his cheeks.

“Should I be worried about your boyfriend walking in or something?”

He held the flame up, the warm glow illuminating his chiseled features.

“If I had one maybe. Kinda impossible when they find out I live with that muscle head.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one believes we aren’t fucking. Been that way since school.”

“And…you two haven’t?..ever?”

“God no, did he say otherwise?”

He shook his head profusely, worried he’d made an accusation that could get Todo in trouble.

“No, no. He told me you were pretty kept to yourself aside from training with him.”

“He say anything else?”

I leaned closer, peering into his doe eyes to question him further. He sucked in the smoke sharply as his eyes bounced from my chest to my face.

“Um, not that comes to my head..nothing bad..”

He stuttered as I studied him, my lashes fluttering at him innocently.

“What did you ask him about me?”

I grinned, reading him like an open book. His face turned red as he inhaled, coughing slightly as he released the smoke cloud.

“Just, who you are..stuff you like..”

“But you did ask him about me?”

I giggled, he looked nervous.

“Yeah..that okay?”

“Only if it’s okay that I asked about you too, a long time ago though.”

His anxiety eased and expression softened back into a half smile. He nodded his yes as he toked.

“How long ago?”

“When we moved in, I saw a few pictures of the three of you and I don’t know…you piqued my interest.”

“Any reason why?”

Fuck, alright. If living with Todo has given me anything it was confidence so let’s see where this goes, be smooth. I inhaled slowly before putting out the blunt. Leaning back against my headboard, I stretched my legs over Choso’s lap. As I exhaled I grinned and tapped my chin in thought.

“Hmmmm….dark hair, bedroom eyes, nice chains..I’m a sucker for a musician. Really if you just looked in the mirror it explains my type pretty well.”

He was looking down as his hand on my knee and smiling, smoke trailing from his lips. I swayed my knee side to side to pull his attention to my gaze.

“What about you?…What’s your type?”

His eyes connected with mine, he smiled and leaned over my body to put his blunt in the ashtray on the nightstand. His body hovering over mine he brought his face an inch away from my lips.

“Seems like you already know..”

His voice was low and hushed, my heart was racing.

“Can I be honest?”

I barely spoke above a whisper, his eyes trailed slowly along my features as he nodded.

“I want you.”

“Good.”

He cut off his own hushed tone by pressing his lips to mine sensually. He bit at my bottom lip lightly as his tongue found its way to my own, the fire inside me building rapidly. I pulled at his shirt, trying to bring him closer. He took the hint and placed himself between my legs, pushing them to the side with his knee as he leaned into me. He was muscular, but not overdone like his brother. A strong arm hooked under my waist brought my hips to his, his other hand quickly latched onto my throat as we feverishly nipped and kissed at one another. As he squeezed his fingers around my throat and the cold metal of his rings stung my flesh, a small moan escaped my lips.

He released my lips and chuckled, the pieces of his hair not tied back framing his face seductively.

“So you weren’t kidding about that?”

He squeezed tighter and watched my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open, he hooked a finger in my mouth and pulled my gaze to his, still tightly gripping my jaw and chin; his hands were massive. I whimpered at his dominant motions, his eyes piercing into my darkest desires.

“You think we’ll get in trouble for this?”

His husky tone paced with heavy breaths make me desperate for everything he was willing to give me.

“S’worth it if we do.”

He smiled devilishly and plunged his finger further into my mouth, I obediently sucked and swirled my tongue around it as he pulled it out slowly. He groaned at my actions, I felt him begin to rut against me as he kissed and nipped along my neck and down my chest. He made heavenly sounds in between light licks that trailed to my breasts. He lightly tugged at the already low neckline of my shirt, he watched my plush chest spring from the tight top, admiring the jewelry that adorned pretty pink buds. His tongue teased at them as his fingers pinched lightly at my flesh, I tangled my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, attempting to hush my moans.

“..so pretty baby…”

His low and seductive voice hummed against my skin, sending cold chills through my body. His hands and lips continued to travel further down, he reached the waistband of my leggings and bit down on my hip, sucking and licking in a feverish attempt to leave a mark. He leaned back to review his work, satisfied and smirking at the purple mark he’d left behind. He chuckled and kissed it once more, mumbling under his breath.

“..mine now..”

He peered up to me as he hooked his fingers into my waistband, I lifted my hips for him to shimmy them down, leaving me in a pair of purple silk panties. I leaned up to grab at his shirt and yank it over his broad shoulders, feeling a little too exposed and alone. I took my top off the rest of the way after and pulled his face to mine once more, kissing him in a heated need. I pushed him backwards and fumbled with his belt, our hands both rushed to remove his pants as I realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His thick cock slapped up against his toned abdomen, the noise caught my attention as I pulled away from his lips. My eyes grew wide, I felt my face run hot and the pool between my legs increase. He chuckled and flipped his hair away from his face.

“Fuck…”

“You still want to?..I can eat you out if it’s too much…”

I connected my gaze with his, concern lacing his expression. I couldn’t help but smile bashfully and crawl into his lap, attacking his neck with sloppy kisses and bites.

“I need you Choso..”

I whispered as I nipped at his earlobe and rolled my hips against him. He groaned as his hands met my ass, squeezing and pushing me into him more, feeling the wetness that had already soaked my silk panties. His head rested in the crook of my neck as his voice vibrated against my skin.

“..fuck baby…mmm..need you so fucking bad…been teasing me since I got here..”

I giggled as his words, leaning back to peer down at him in all his glory.

“I knew you liked it..”

I rolled my hips against his pulsating member, precum soaking into the fabric of my panties. He groaned and bit his lip, eyeing me up and down as his hands roamed my body.

“Course I did..you’re fucking hot..can’t believe he gets to be the one to see you all the time…”

“Come visit more..”

Oh god, was I even sure what I meant by that? I definitely just confirmed that this wouldn’t be a one time thing..

“Yeah?..might have to..”

His lips attached to my chest again, fingers trailing down between us to my sopping core. I whimpered as he dipped below the thin fabric and plunged two fingers inside me, twirling them around my fluttering walls. I bit down on my lip and furrowed my brows, trying not to make much noise but he worked small moans and whines out of me rapidly.

“..so wet for me already…fuck…such a good girl f’me..”

“..Choso-O-o…ahh…please…”

“..please what baby?..”

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he fueled the fire in my core.

“..please fuck me..god I need you inside me…please…”

“..cum for me first pretty..wanna see you come undone…”

His thumb rubbed against my clit, shooting waves of pleasure through my veins. I rutted into his hand and whimpered as he bit down on my chest, his other hand attached to my throat and squeezed tightly. I clenched around his fingers as he pumped in and out of me, I couldn’t keep ahold of the knot inside me any longer. My eyes rolled back as my hips shook, I squirted into his lap and hand as his motions kept pace to ride me through my high.

“..god yes baby…that’s it keep going..fuck that’s hot..”

I began to whimper and whine at the overstimulation, he milked my juices from me aggressively causing another orgasm to take over my senses.

“..shit I need to be inside you..”

He tossed me backwards onto the mattress, propping one of my legs up on his shoulder and aligning himself at my entrance. He held my other thigh out, displaying my soaking cunt for his view. He licked his lips and rubbed his long, thick cock up and down my dripping folds collecting my wetness. He slapped my clit with the tip of his member, I squirmed and squeaked in pleasure to his delight.

“You ready pretty baby?”

God he sounded so fucking sexy, his voice raspy and lust drunk.

“Yes..please Choso..”

He smirked and began pushing himself into me, steadying himself with a hand gripping my thigh. I felt him stretching me, the pain mixing with pleasure made my eyes gloss over. I gasped and tried to grip at the sheets at the overwhelming sensation. He pressed a hand to my lower stomach, feeling himself bottom out inside of me as I panted and whimpered. He held himself there, throwing his head back and letting me engulf his throbbing member.

“..fuck you’re so tight…”

He slowly began moving, pushing in and out slowly as I clenched around him. Moans spilled from my mouth as his pace increased. He rhythmically thrusted into me, hair falling into his face as his mouth hung agape panting for air. Whimpers and low moans began to drip from his kiss swollen lips as he mumbled dirty praises.

“..oh my god baby…feels so fucking good..mmm…taking me so well..nnggh..”

“..cho-ooss-ssoo…mmmmm…”

I stuttered through his thrusts, his pace increasing rapidly as he chased his high.

“..you’re so fucking pretty…letting me stretch you out like this…mmmm…such a perfect little pussy..”

I have never been fucked like this..he was so vocal and showering me in filthy praise..all while pounding into my sweet spot so perfectly…everything about him was making me writhe in pleasure.

A hand attached to my throat while the other bruised perfect fingertips into my thigh, he was filling me up relentlessly. His grip was much rougher this time, the metal of his rings scraping against my skin as he choked me harder, I felt myself clenching around him tightly; my end nearing.

“..you love that don’t you baby?…I can feel how close you’re getting for me..”

“…s-so b-big..unngg…ch-chos…yes…yes…”

“..awe you’re taking me s’good pretty baby..c’mon you can handle a little more..we’re just getting started..”

He pumped into me furiously, my senses were fucked as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I screamed in pleasure. His large hand quickly covered my mouth, he leaned down, my thigh now squished against my chest giving him a deeper angle as his pace slowed.

“..shhh..don’t wanna get us caught do you baby?…want me to fill you up right?”

I nodded profusely, he removed his hand and gripped my jaw tightly, an evil smile plastered across his face. Holy fuck he’s so hot…

“..I’ll make you scream my name next time I promise…bite..”

He placed his thumb in my mouth as he spoke, I gazed at him with a fucked out expression and did as he said. He had me in the palm of his hand, melted and ready to bend to his will. His paced steadily increased at the new angle, I wasn’t able to form words as my body quaked beneath him, another orgasm gushing from me. His darkness took over as he relentlessly pounded into me, my legs shook as I bit down harshly on his thumb, we were being drenched and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. His own whimpers and moans became louder and strained as he spoke.

“…oh fuck…yeah baby just like that…ugnnh…fuck fuck…s’fucking wet…all f’me…hmmm…”

His arms wrapped around me, his chains dragging and bouncing across my chest as he rutted into me, face buried in my neck peppering sloppy kisses and rough bites.

“..pretty girl…mmm….gonna make you mine baby…”

I clenched around him, my legs going numb at the overstimulation.

“…fuck that feels so good…cum on my cock again baby girl…mmmm…make a mess for me…”

He pulled my hands up, pinning them to the pillows with one hand while the other trailed between us and rubbed skilled circles on my clit. I gasped and whimpered at his touch, my body shaking again. I could feel him throbbing inside of me as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, I clenched around his pulsating cock, cumming for the fourth time.

“..mmmmm that’s my girl…”

He moaned as his brows furrowed and his breaths became sharp, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“..Ch-chosoo…feels s’good..ah!..”

“..oh god baby I’m..fuck fuck….ohhhh!”

His steady pace became staggered as he pumped thick hot ropes along my walls, he whined and moaned as his hips twitched against me riding out his high. He slowed and collapsed on top of me, both of us sweaty and covered in cum. His strong arms wrapped around my petite form and held me tight as his placed gentle kisses along my chest trying to catch his breath.

“So…can I visit again soon..”

I giggled at his innocent mumblings, sounding much softer and bashful compared to a few moments ago. He peered up to meet my gaze questioningly.

“I wouldn’t mind, how long you give it before he finds out?”

“Surely a while, he’s not that smart. Long as you stay quiet.”

I pulled his grin to mine, tangling our lips together once more softly. He hummed into the kiss, his hand coming to cup my cheek and deepen the sensual moment.

“You make it hard to stay quiet.”

He chuckled and thrusted into me once more, causing me to moan, before pulling out of me completely. We both gasped and whined at the lack of sensation, taking careful breaths to regain our senses.

He rose to his knees, placing my thighs on either side of him as he began massaging my tender muscles and taking full view of the mess he’d made of me. He smirked and bit at his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful baby…”

I blushed at his sweet actions and gentle tone, he had flipped a switch quickly and the butterflies swarmed once more within me.

Once we were cleaned up, (as much as we could without a shower) we clothed ourselves and ripped the soaked comforter off my bed to toss in the wash later. He leaned back on the bed, I lit a blunt and crawled on top of him, placing it between his lips. He lifted the bottom of my baggy t shirt and toyed lazily with the waistband of my fresh panties as he inhaled and stared back at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

He slightly furrowed his brows at my love struck expression as he passed the blunt back to me.

“How pretty you are..how big your cock is…”

I giggled and toked away, thick clouds rising from my lips. He smiled and lightly smacked my ass.

“S’all yours babygirl, whenever you want me.”

“Whenever I want?”

“Anything for my pretty girl, whenever she wants.”

I put the blunt between his lips and peppered kisses down his neck, we both would have some marks to cover up this week..

“I like the way that sounds…”

“Good.”

———

We smoked the other two blunts and talked before realizing how late it had gotten…I offered for him to stay and sneak out to the couch, forgetting that Todo had fallen asleep there. Around 5am when our eyes got heavy, we exchanged a few last kisses and sweet words before tiptoeing out to the living room. As we came out the hallway entrance, the goddamned floorboards creaked again. A dim light was on in the kitchen, barely illuminating the towering form we both knew well. *flick* The overhead light came on, our heads snapped to the side in unison…caught. Todo was in his workout gear stirring a cup of tea and staring at us, an eyebrow raised and smirk growing. I sighed and dropped my shoulders, covering my face in embarrassment and bracing myself. Todo chuckled lightly before sipping his tea, letting us be tortured by this awkward silence for a few more moments..

“Go to bed. We have training in a few hours.”

I looked to Choso, sad I couldn’t kiss him one last time. He peered back to me with a similar expression, he lightly touched my hand as he turned towards the front door and took a step.

“Both of you.”

“What?”

Choso stopped and looked to me then his brother, confused.

“You should stay brother, it’s dangerous to drive after staying up so late.”

Todo sipped his tea casually, peering into us innocently. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep in, I extended my hand out to Choso. He looked a bit scared to take it, but did it anyways, cautiously eyeing down his brother.

“Thanks Todo..”

I mumbled as I began to pull Choso back down the hall.

“Keep it down…and use protection!”

Choso and I giggled and scoffed as Todo’s voice echoed down the hall.

-✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨-

Okie dokie, hope y’all enjoyed😉❤️‍🔥

[troublesomesnitch]

Uneasy Lies the Head

Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen (but subtle)

This is my contribution to @targaryen-dynasty's Sleepover Challenge! I was given the prompt only one bed/forced proximity and came up with this little drabble.

Contents: masturbation, lots of incestuous vibes, but no actual incest (sorry). Also minor 'historical' and HOTD inaccuracies.

Words: 1600

Military camps are a humble affair. Even for a king. 

They have been on the march for days, waiting for news of the enemy’s movements, and enduring the most discouraging conditions. Dust caking onto their skin, painful bug bites, and having to shit in a ditch in the woods, just to name a few.

Aegon’s tent is the nicest by far, but it is still a poor imitation of what he is used to. There are furs laid out on the ground, and an oil lamp hung from the rafters, but the banner on the wall is crooked, and the furnishings leave much to be desired. All they’ve arranged for him is a wobbly table, six uncomfortable chairs, and two cots on the ground. 

One for the king, and one for his brother. 

They have not shared a chamber since they were boys. Aegon doesn’t mind it so much, but Aemond’s mouth forms an even thinner line than usual, and he makes a terrible fuss when he undresses for bed. It will be scorching hot in the tent come the morning, but his shirt stays on, and he pulls at the edge until it reaches the middle of his thighs. Lest anything indecent be on show. 

“Seven hells, I’m your brother,” Aegon says, but it only earns him an irritated sound as Aemond settles on his cot. Flat on his back, hands folded over his chest, and not a single wrinkle in the sheets draped across his form. 

Aegon retires too, much earlier than he usually would. He is sore in his muscles, and fed up with bickering advisors and difficult decisions. With riding all day, with hurry up and wait. 

There are wineskins being passed around outside, and girls too, the usual camp followers. But none of them much appealed to him tonight. Nothing out here really does.

And yet. 

When Aegon wakes sometime in the small hours, it is with a terrible ache between his legs. His cock is hard, lying stiff and leaking against his stomach, and there is a tightness in his balls that demands attention. 

He has not had the chance to indulge in pleasures of the solitary kind, as the camp offers him no privacy - not when he is surrounded by lords at all times, and certainly not now, with Aemond sleeping just a few feet away. 

He is so close that Aegon can hear his slow breaths, and smell his scent of sweat and expensive oils. Somehow, it is strangely comforting. Nice to know that he perspires just the same as everyone else, even if there’s still a pleasant hint of sandalwood underneath.

In fact, Aegon does not believe he has ever seen his brother in such a candid state as just now. Aemond’s face is flushed with heat, and his lips are ever so slightly parted; dry and chapped from the harsh summer sun. The shirt is still on, but damp with sweat and loosened at the neck, baring his glistening collar bones; the golden hair that curls on his chest. 

Aegon still has that boyish quality about him, but Aemond looks like a fully grown man. Like someone who could and should lead an army to battle. He acts more like a grown man too, as Aegon will be the first to admit. Noble. Dignified. 

Aemond would never be caught drunkenly roaming the streets of King’s Landing. He does not share his brother's fondness for spirits and women. 

Once, when they were alone in the training yard, Aegon had dared to ask you do fuck, right?, and Aemond had rolled his eye and looked at him as though it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. 

Aegon took that as a yes. 

He would like for them to share a girl sometime, like royal princes should, like Father and Daemon undoubtedly did in their youth. He would even let Aemond choose the girl, picky as he is, and let him have first pick of her openings too. He’d choose her cunt of course, because that is the proper way, but he wouldn’t call it her cunt, he would call it something more poetic and ridiculous. Her womanhood. Her flower. 

Twat. 

But it is still a nice thing for Aegon to imagine when he starts quietly fisting his cock under the sheet. A whore kneeling on a bed, Aemond behind her and himself by her head. Cocks buried to the hilt, and wet, squelching noises coming from both ends. Aemond’s balls slapping against her arse, and his own hitting her chin. 

Or, if that is not to Aemond’s liking, then Aegon would be glad to switch places. The girl would be on her back, and he would fuck her the usual way, and they could make her squeeze her tits together and have Aemond fuck the valley in between. Because that is the one thing Aegon knows about his brother’s preferences - he does like a good pair of tits. And it’d be perfect for Aegon too, because while he would get to feel the girl’s insides, he would also be able to look at the action in front of him. See her fleshy, bouncing tits, and Aemond’s cock sliding in between. Hard, and glistening with oil, as obviously they would need some lubrication. Aegon could even help hold her tits in place, if need be. In such a position, his and Aemond’s bodies would be so close that they’d have no choice but to move together, keep the same rhythm, or else neither would be able to find his release. What a dirty thing that would be, to fuck like that. Together. 

But unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that Aemond would ever agree to something so exceedingly intimate.

So perhaps they would take turns instead, in which case Aegon would be charitable and volunteer to be second for once. He would not ask the girl to wash herself in between - he would fuck her right after, while her cunt was still full of his brother’s emission. 

And of course, the filthiest thing of all would be to make use of both of her holes at once. Aegon can think of only one position that would make it possible: the girl would have to be on all fours, and Aemond would lie underneath her and fuck up into her cunt. He would have her tits in his face, squeezing them tight and sucking on her nipples, and then Aegon would stand between his legs and slide his cock into the girl’s arse. 

The thought of it makes his balls feel tight, and he pumps his cock with one hand, and massages his sack with the other, spurred on by the filthy images in his head. 

A pretty girl bent over a table, or riding his brother, or taking them both in her mouth at the same time. His own cock pulsing in her arse. Aemond in his moment of ecstasy, spilling himself all over her tits. 

They would leave her covered and full of their royal seed. Dragon’s seed. Surely for a common whore there could be no higher honour. 

Aegon tries his best to keep silent when he comes, gritting his teeth and gripping onto the edge of his cot. His cock throbs, and he rubs the tip of it hard, each squirt of seed making his body tremble and his hips thrust up. Unwittingly, and over and over until he finally feels relieved and can wipe his fingers clean on the sheet. 

It is quiet in the tent, and unsettlingly quiet outside. The sounds of drunkenness have died down, and even the grasshoppers have stopped chirping, as if time itself stood still. 

With his urges now taken care of, it takes only moments for the knot in Aegon's stomach to tighten once more.

There will be a great battle, and then several more after that, and hundreds, thousands of men will die in his name. Their wives will mourn, and their children will starve when no one is left to farm the lands, and all of the grains they have saved will soon be requisitioned for the armies. Green and black alike. 

In the weeks that have passed since his coronation, Aegon has come to realise that his father’s crown was too light and too shiny, and that the blackened iron he now wears is a better adornment. It is heavy, and ugly, and a much truer reflection of what it means to be king; of the burden he must now carry on his woefully ill-prepared shoulders. 

There are two with whom he can share it, though. Two who would die for his cause, out of love as much as duty, and one of them is asleep in this very room. 

“Aemond,” he calls, quietly, like he would often do when they were very little and still slept in the nursery. As if to make sure he was still there. “Aemond. Aemond. Aemond?”

“What,” Aemond grumbles, hoarse with sleep, but as irritable as always. He stirs on his cot, wiping the sweat off his brow and shuffling around under the sheet. The soaked shirt is pulled over his head and tossed aside. Too hot.

“I told you,” Aegon says. 

“Are you quite finished,” is his brother’s sullen response. 

It must just be the talking he’s referring to, but. Aegon can’t be sure.

Proof read, but my brain is mush today, so sincere apologies for all the stuff I've missed.

[read-write-thrive]

part 1

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop”, while pessimistic, seemed to be a running theme in Charles Rowland’s life. It wasn’t really a phrase he heard when he was alive, to be fair, but at some point he’d come across it (probably hanging out with too many Americans, but can’t remember for sure) and it felt a little too much accurate. His dad’s come home angry again? Time to wait for the fallout. He’d gotten written up at school for not paying attention? Just a disaster waiting to happen. He goes against his best mate’s advice? There he goes, literally torn from Charles’s arms and back to hell, just as he’d said. Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but that’s the gist.

The looming anxiety of it all usually slid off of him for the minor stuff, and was otherwise bottled up and shoved far away for the heavier stuff, but regardless he didn’t let it show. Have to keep up appearances and all. He’d only had one real instance of all those emotions blowing up (and he still blames the Night Nurse for all that mess) so he thought he was doing a bang-up job keeping himself together.

That was until his dad died. Yeah, it was rough, and he ended up berating the old man on his death bed, which probably was a shitty thing to do. And yeah, he’d needed a bit of a cry afterwards. So what? Blokes cried sometimes, and he was man enough to admit to his emotions and all that. The girls had done a good job of emphasising that he (and, mostly, Edwin) needed to express their emotions more. That it was healthier to let it out than bottle it all up. Not sure if they still needed healthy habits as ghosts, but it wasn’t hurting anyone. Just a little uncomfortable.

All that to say, it felt like his friends had been treading on eggshells around him ever since his dad died. Which was infuriating, yeah, but also didn’t make sense to him. Especially after he’d already cried—did they expect him to get angry again? To blow up over a dead man? He thought he’d gotten it out of his system just fine, so getting these weird vibes was starting to stress him out more than anything. He’d resolved to bring it up on their next movie night and ask why they were acting funny—didn’t want to mess up a case, after all.

However, he didn’t get the chance before it all came crashing down on his head. Ultimately, Edwin was the messenger.

“Charles, I—“ he took an unnecessary breath, “Have you checked on your mother lately?”

His undead heart went cold, but his default smiley ways were still stuck on, “Not really, why?”

Edwin’s eyes were sad, which was never good. He didn’t emote unless it was serious, “I think you need to visit her. She’s not faring well.”

And so they went. Turns out everyone hadn’t been waiting for Charles to blow up, but rather for his mother to pass and then for him to break down all over again. Edwin had been checking on her daily since his father’s passing, deducing correctly that Charles would be too swept up in the emotions around his dad dying to remember that his mum wasn’t getting any younger.

The girls weren’t free until the evening, but they promised to stay in touch and maybe visit later if they could (particularly if they could figure out how to visit the Hospice without rousing suspicion). And so Edwin and Charles were on their own.

Charles had rushed into the room, as if running at the issue would evade the emotions of it, or as if getting there quickly would reveal it was all a lie—neither of which were true.

Instead, he was face to face with a dying woman with some resemblance to the photo on the mantle in the house he grew up in—his grandmother, or maybe his great grandmother, or some favourite aunt, he couldn’t remember anymore— hair gone fully white, pulled back into a tight bun so as to keep her curls controlled, keeping her gaunt, sleeping face exposed. Unlike that photo, this woman was in a hospital gown, tucked into sterile sheets, with a tube under her nose to help her breathe. Gone were her usually loud and ornate earrings, her bare fingernails stained from years of colour. There was a singular blanket laid across her lap, on top of the sheets, that almost looked more familiar than the woman it covered. It was her, but apparently he hadn’t stopped to just look at her any time recently, if ever. It felt too much like looking at a ghost, as ironic as that felt.

She was awake, but halfway to dozing. There was someone at her side, adjusting the blanket and murmuring reassurances in what was definitely Punjabi. It had been so long since he’d heard it, added to having never properly learned anything besides English under the threat of his father, that he couldn’t make out the words. That realisation left a stinging feeling in his chest.

“A relation of yours?” Edwin asked at a whisper, coming up to stand beside Charles, almost entirely copying his position from that fateful hospital room. It didn’t seem as if either of the room’s living occupants had noticed them.

Charles blindly reached for Edwin’s hand for comfort, not looking away from the scene in front of him and matching his partner’s volume, “No idea. Don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

Edwin hummed, “Perhaps a little too young to have met you. Or someone your mother reconnected with recently—“

“I’m not really in the mood for deductions, love.” Charles said, not unkindly. Everything felt too fragile to be picked apart like that.

“Right. Apologies.” Edwin squeezed his hand and went quiet.

Charles squeezed his hand back in forgiveness, joining in the silence. He kept going back to what the stranger was saying, familiar consonants both soothing and devastating. What kind of a son was he, failing to comfort his dying mother, unable to speak her mother tongue, a stranger to his relatives? His tears were thankfully silent.

It took much longer for his mother to see them than his father. Several days passed, with the mystery relative coming and going more days than not, and the usual nurses and caregivers administering various care. Over time, the boys (the girls couldn’t figure out how to enter the space, but were supportive from their distance) had learned that the stranger’s name was Sangeeta, and she was a niece of his mother’s who’d noticed her steady decline and was the one to take her to hospital and then to hospice care. Charles’s mother had apparently stopped taking care of herself after her husband’s death, and she had refused other care, so at this point all they could do was make her comfortable. Charles spent a whole morning ranting to Edwin about it, how unfair it was that her life was so tied up in his asshole father’s that she wasn’t even trying to live after he was gone. Edwin, the deeply kind person he was, had let Charles rant until he ran out of steam, then gently pointed out that she’d been under the thumb of his father for far longer than Charles was, and that she’d now had to mourn her husband and her only child, which presumably takes a toll. Charles had started crying before Edwin had even finished talking, and Edwin had held him close on the plush sofa for the rest of the day.

It was hard to tell if it was a comfort or not when she finally saw them, but Charles decided that wasn’t important to think about right now, if ever. Right now, his mother could see him for the first time in forty years, and they didn’t know for how much longer. And yet, with all this time to prepare, he still found himself speechless when the time finally came.

“Mere laal,” She beat him to the punch, eyes glazed over but clearly locked on Charles, “I am glad to see you again, beta. It’s been so long.”

Charles let out a shakey breath, “Hi, mum. It’s—well— it’s been longer for you. I’ve visited a few times, over the years.”

She reached out a sinewy hand on a bone-thin arm, and Charles flew to the seat by her side, keeping his focus to make sure his hand stayed solid in her grasp. He vaguely noticed Edwin taking the seat beside him.

“Such a handsome boy. You were so young.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Charles, all anxious energy and nerves, tears of his own threatening to spill, was quick to respond, “It’s alright, mum, I’m alright. No need to cry over me.”

She huffed, “Nonsense. You were the light of my life. Who else should I cry over?”

They were both crying at this point, tears streaming as they sniffled in turns. Edwin laid a careful hand on Charles’s back in a show of comfort.

However, that seemed to give Charles an idea, “No, really mum, it’s okay! See the bloke next to me? His name’s Edwin, and he’s been by my side all these years! He’s the one who first found me, and we’ve been helping people ever since. It’s been aces. Not sad one bit.”

Edwin stiffened at the mention, then all but froze when her eyes turned to him. He knew he looked night and day from Charles, and if he started talking she was bound to find him as abrasive as everyone always did, so why had Charles pointed him out!? If ghosts could sweat, Edwin would be drowning in his nerves.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long moment before she broke the silence, “He’s been good to you? Not like those other boys.”

Edwin wasn’t sure what to do with that, but thankfully Charles was quick on the uptake, “Not like them at all. He’s— he’s the best, mum. None of those tossers could even compare.”

“Because the boys— the ones who—“

Charles gripped her hand, “I know, I know. He’s a genuinely good person, Edwin. I was bad at picking friends in life, but thankfully I chose well with this one.”

His attempt at joking was overlooked completely by her, “Those boys, how could they do that? I knew their families, John Parish’s mother went to your funeral… Such cruel boys…”

“I’m alright, mum, I’m okay.” Charles kept going, smiling even as the tears continued, “It’s all in the past.”

“I should’ve fought harder for you… kept you close… mere laal, taken from me…” She was sobbing, her whole frame shaking with hiccoughs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles took a steadying breath, “You know I couldn’t have stayed in that house, mum. And no one could’ve known those lads would go that far…”

Her sobs were worse for a moment, then stilled suddenly as she fought for oxygen. She coughed weakly.

At that, Charles’s crying intensified, despite all he did to keep himself together. He could tell. He knew what was coming. It was still devastating to see. Edwin pulled him in for a proper side hug, taking care not to jostle his grip on his mum.

This did not go unnoticed, and the dying woman suddenly smiled, as if the devastation was forgotten with the oxygen. She looked back to her son, “I am glad you have been happy, beta. You deserved happiness.”

“I’m happy, I’ve been so happy mum, I promise,” Charles tried to calm himself down, stuck in his reassuring her.

“Mere laal, light of my life, darling boy,” She breathed with difficulty, smile dropping, “Can you forgive me? I failed you…”

Charles’s frame shook with his vigorous nodding, “I forgive you, mum, you did the best you could, I love you so much—“

Her weak smile returned, glinting in the lamplight of the evening room, “Thank you, beta. You were too good for me, for this world…”

“All because of you, I swear it, all thanks to you—“

“Charles.”

“I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son, I’m could’ve been better, gotten you out of that house—“

“Charles, darling.”

“You deserved better, I love you, I forgive you—“

“My love, the light—“

Edwin was right, a deep blue light had filled the space, illuminating the still body of his mother. Her face was pulled into a slight smile, eyes closed, as if she was having a pleasant dream, even as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

“No, no I’m not ready—“ Charles immediately started to protest, gripping onto her hand like a lifeline.

“Charles—“

“I only just got to see her! She only just got free of him! No, no, I won’t—“

Edwin gently but solidly grabbed under Charles’s arms, “I’m sorry my love but we should go—“

Charles was nothing but hysterics by this point, head thudding onto the sheets for a moment before Edwin fully pulled him away. He said more, but Charles was too overwhelmed to process it properly, buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes making him feel alive in all the worst ways. Maybe it was just the first time he had cried this hard in his afterlife, or maybe being this close to an active death did something to their physiology—

Everything was a blur as they returned to the flat, Edwin all but carrying him through the mirror so that he wouldn’t get lost on the way. They collapsed onto the sofa, extra large cushions taken up by their ghostly presences. The girls were already there, and joined into the cuddle pile without another word (or perhaps with a few, Charles still wasn’t all there yet). Edwin jostled them all slightly to better position everyone before settling in again, making sure Charles was properly surrounded.

Charles sobbed for a while longer. He wasn’t quite sure for how long, or what day it was, or if he was bothering his friends by taking up their time and space like this. His devastation had seemed to take over his entire being. But, when he did breathe a little easier, when he was finally able to sit up, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. His mom was dead, yes, but so was he, and dying had granted them both freedom from that man, from that house, from the cruelties of the world. And in his death he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were there for him when he needed them and would still be there for him tomorrow, and the next, and the next. The other shoe had dropped, and it certainly hurt, but thankfully he had people around him to help him through it. He was truly lucky to have them.

~

hope you enjoyed this impromptu series exploring Charles and his parents and grief and loss and all those lovely things. this was inspired by the complicated emotions I have / had after my grandparents passing, and I heavily encourage you to do something similar if you’re ever struggling with these big emotions—therapists and such will say that journaling is where it’s at, but sometimes it’s easier to project onto fictional characters and that’s ok !!! and, just to drive the point home, I want to reiterate that you are loved, and there are people around you who are there to support you, I promise ❤️

also, just to make it abundantly clear, I’m a v white midwestern american and as such have vvv limited knowledge of cultural aspects of Charles’s mom—I did research and tried my best, but if I screwed anything up PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!!! same goes for Britishisms ig but mostly looking for feedback on her Punjabi and her various cultural elements :)

[morning-star-joy]

DONIIIIII MY LOVE, congrats on the amazing follower milestone! I would die a happy death for a Drabble of “Desperate "I thought you died" sex” or the waking up to oral cuz you know those two are ferrrrallll for each other and I wanna live vicariously through their sexytimes 🫠

MY LOVE!!!! Thank you for your request!! I was vibing really hard with the waking up to oral and ended up writing more than 700 words hehe. Threw in some other kinks too, so I hope you still enjoy it!

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, established relationship, set in the ASHWAH universe but can be read standalone.

Warnings: Waking up with oral f receiving (discussed beforehand with given consent), multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, praise kink, possessiveness, creampie, cumplay/cumeating, overstimulation

Wordcount: 1k

Part of my 700 follower celebration. If you want to send in a request for a drabble, check out the prompt list here!

You didn’t know if you had ever been more glad of the new steps in your relationship with Joel than in the moments he woke you up with his head between your thighs.

It had taken some time to adjust to the new parameters of your relationship—hell, it still was taking time for you both to get used to these changes, even now.

But the intimacy, although a bit awkward and hesitant at times, was still earnest in its sincerity, stemming from a longing to finally be as close to each other as you could be.

One night, when your eyes were heavy, sleep nearly pulling you under after a string of orgasms Joel had coaxed from you that night, his lips had met your ear, mumbling a deep question of, “Can I wake you up in the morning?”

“Hm?” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and wake yourself up enough to process his question. “Joel Miller, if you wake me up from my sleep, you’re a dead man.”

He laughed then, a deep sound pressed against your ear that sent shivers down your spine. “I was thinking of making it pleasant for you, darlin’.”

Oh.

You were definitely a bit more awake now, turning your head to glance up at Joel from where he was spooning you from behind—a rare position for the two of you, as he usually liked your arms wrapped around him, but it was nice to be held like this by him every now and then.

“And how would you do that, exactly, cowboy?” you teased, lips tilting up into a smirk that he matched with his own before he pressed his lips to yours in a light kiss that became deeper, slower, longer.

“Mm,” he hummed, nibbling at your lower lip and licking along it, pulling a quiet moan from you that only made his smirk grow into a small, almost cheeky grin. “I was thinking an orgasm or two.”

You laughed, a sound he swallowed into his mouth with another kiss, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, marveling at how long the soft curls had gotten.

“I think I’d like that,” you whispered, sharing a few more kisses that became more chaste, softer and sweeter as sleep began to beckon towards you yet again, and you let it take you that time.

Joel did not take long to keep his word.

That next morning was the first one when you had woken up to a familiar pressure building in your lower stomach, pleasure coiling tightly as your back arched, hips lifting into the mouth that had sucked your clit into it, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were coming hard in a delicious orgasm before you could even remember your own name.

When enough realization of your surroundings came to you, it was his name that you remembered first, breathing out a moan of Joel that had him pressing his face further against your pussy, tongue delving inside your tight walls and making you cry out, thighs trembling where they hugged his face as he made you come a second time, just like he had promised.

Gasping and shaking, your eyes slowly blinked open, watching as his face appeared above yours, that same smirk playing on his lips that were coated with your release before he kissed you, sharing your taste with you and making you whimper, hands blindly reaching for his cock to have him inside of you first thing in the morning.

“Told you I’d make it pleasant for you,” Joel murmured against your lips as he sunk into you, grabbing your thigh to press your knee up against your chest so he could settle inside of you at a deeper angle, one that made you see stars each time he thrusted back into you.

“I—fuck,” you whispered, still hardly able to form a coherent thought, let alone a verbal sentence, pleasure from that sweet spot he kept hitting spreading throughout your body, the sound of his chuckle pressed against your skin as he bit your neck making you shiver.

“Made you come so hard you only knew my name, huh?” Joel whispered, dragging his nose up the curve of your neck until he was gently nipping at your jaw, fucking you faster now, pulling sharp gasps from your throat and grunts from his own. “Such a good girl, knowing who you belong to.”

“Joel,” you whined, and you could hear the smirk now without even looking at him just in the way he kept praising you while you were only able to moan his name over and over, eyes blind as he pulled another orgasm from you, one he gently coaxed you back down from with gentle kisses pressed over your face to soothe you.

That first morning, Joel had managed to pull out before he came, shooting ropes of hot cum over your thighs and lower stomach.

Other mornings, you had both fallen prey to the temptation of him pumping you full of his cum, moaning at the feeling of being completely joined in such a way before his face was moving back down your body to push his release back inside of you with his tongue, making you come again and again with his mouth until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re a dirty old bastard, Joel Miller,” you teased one morning when you both collapsed back onto the bed, playfully avoiding his kisses with giggles streaming from your mouth as he tried to slip your combined cum dripping from his lips onto your tongue.

“Yeah,” he assented, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you still, though giving you enough wiggle room to get away if you really wanted to, always giving you that choice and making you feel safe and secure by doing so.

You would never want to pull away from him now, though.

So you sunk into him, letting him kiss you as many times as he wanted, no matter how dirty and depraved it was, as he murmured against your lips, “But you like that.”

[strawberryya]

rainy nights

pairing: seungkwan x reader

synopsis: Is your fiancé ready to weather the storm if your worst nightmares were to be revealed? Maybe it's just the frigid weather seeping inside, unfurling all the anxieties you've locked away, or perhaps there's more to it.

word count: 4.6k

genre/cw: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, fighting, cheating allegations, mentions of food and alcohol, a lot of insecurities in relationship

rating: sfw

a/n: autumn angst coming your way!! This is for the svthub fall-ing collab which u should check out for all the cozy fall vibes that are needed during these cold and dark months 🫶

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

You came home to find a sleepy Seungkwan, nodding off in front of a movie he seemed to have barely begun watching. Your fiance has been working hard these past few weeks. With his newest show airing and promoting things left and right every day, you knew how exhausted he must feel. He answered your greeting with a drowsy hello as you stepped into your shared flat. The living room looked so warm even without any sun shining through the windows, the darkness outside seemingly unable to get inside through the glass panes. Quickly shaking off your outerwear you immediately ran over to Seungkwan, and the warmth he and the blankets offered you. 

“Long day?” 

Seungkwan nodded in response, smiling a little as you buried yourself on the other end of the couch. It was chilly outside, and you were cold to the bone after walking home. Seungkwan jumped at your cold feet snuggling against him in search of warmth, “My god, how are you so cold?!” 

“I didn’t realize it would be that cold outside today, so I wore my cute shoes…” you cried out, earning a sympathetic, but chastising look from Seungkwan.

Shaking his head, he told you what you already knew. “It’s fall, how could you not think it would be cold outside? What if you catch a cold?” 

“I know, I’m the one freezing because of it…” You frowned and cuddled into the blankets even more. 

Your fiance only hummed in response, having accepted your cold limbs resting against him and slowly but surely warming up. He looked very pretty tonight, his dark hair messily falling over his forehead. He had showered and changed into comfy clothes right away after coming home. You had meant to do the same, but the sting of getting into a hot shower right away after being in the freezing cold did not feel like a good idea once you had gotten inside. Cuddling was definitely the better option. And spending some time like this with Seungkwan was honestly exactly what you needed right now. It had been a while since you had been able to talk or spend time together since the both of you were working until late way too often. Resulting in the both of you being too tired to do much other than cuddle a bit or simply fall asleep. 

“Did you have dinner?” you asked, patting his leg to get his attention. He was close to falling asleep again, the movie apparently not interesting enough to keep him awake for the hour that was left. “Mm, we had a team dinner,” Seungkwan mumbled. 

“Ah, the entire crew? Where did you go? Did you eat something tasty?” you asked excitedly. Usually, Seungkwan would bring you take-away of whatever food he had eaten when going out, and you would of course do the same if you found it tasty. It was a little tradition you had created over the years. Since you both had a hard time going out to restaurants for actual dates during your busy weeks, it was easier to bring it home and share the experience once you were both home. With Seungkwan, even doggy bags had become something romantic to you. 

“It was okay, the autumn-style stew they had was pretty good though, there's some in the fridge for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” he said and let the corners of his lips curl when he heard you exited shout, he loved making you happy through small things like these. “It was me, Eunji, and a few crew people since we were the only ones left when we stopped filming today. It was pretty fun, but I think I should’ve drank a bit less since I’m supposed to film tomorrow too…” he added, making your excitement dissolve as quickly as it had appeared. 

You would’ve reassured him that it would be fine, he would do his best as usual even if he was slightly hughover. But all you could hear was her name. Eunji… Seungkwans university girlfriend. The model-looking actress who was working on the same show as Seungkwan this time. She was his first true love. She is gorgeous, kind, and worst of all: you even find her likable. 

You aren’t a jealous person, you never have been. But when it came to her… you couldn’t help but feel inferior. It was hard to speak about that with Seungkwan, he wouldn’t see it how you do. 

With a forced smile, in case his drowsy eyelids weren’t covering his sight as much as you thought, you pretended to be okay with what he had told you. 

“Eunji… It’s been a while since you worked together.” 

With a slow hum, Seungkwan agreed. It wasn’t often the two got to work together on shows nowadays. It had been more frequent right after university, their past relationship hidden from the public as a close friendship, and both of their careers within the acting industry taking off. This was also around the same time he had first met you…

“She says hi, by the way.” 

“Oh, well, tell her I said hi back next time then…” 

Seungkwan had stopped resting his head on his hand, instead letting his head fall back on the pillows leaned against the armrest. Warm light from the kitchen was lighting up his soft features, making your heart flutter when you thought about how someone like him had fallen for you. And then you felt that familiar, sinking feeling that bubbled up from within and whispered in your ear: maybe your love for him isn’t enough to keep him. 

He held your heart in his hands, and you stood powerless beside him. Still waiting to see what he would do with it in the end. If he decided to win back Eunji’s heart, what would he need yours for? 

You bit the nail of your thumb, shoulders tensing up as you watched your fiance nodding off yet again. Knowing would be better than not knowing, right? It would be less painful if you could see it coming. You were engaged, but if you didn’t get married before he broke your heart it would be easier for the both of you, wouldn’t it? 

His lips sat in a perfect pout, pretty cheekbones making him a vision to look at, and still, you felt like he wasn’t truly yours to look at like this. Did he still think about what could’ve been with Eunji? 

You couldn’t help but recall an autumn night much like this one at the beginning of your relationship. Back then you had stayed up talking late into the night. Both of you were tired, but not ready to put the threads of your conversation to rest just yet. You had told him about thoughts you had never shared with a partner before, things only your best friends knew about, things that were so deep-rooted within your thoughts that they affected your entire person. Insecurities, convictions, and the silly plans you saw in your future. He had understood you, at least you were convinced he had. You wanted to think that he still did. 

Back then, when the leaves were turning copper, and golden sunshine tainted your relationship he had told you about Eunji. The girl he wasn’t sure he would ever fully get over – his first true love. 

You had listened and felt like you understood what he had meant back then. You had your past relationships as well, with your fair share of guys you thought you would never get over until you had. She was just like that, time erases all, you were so convinced of that back then. 

Now, you felt differently. During the years since that first autumn, you had fallen deeper in love with him than you had ever been with anyone before. You had realized that he was your first true love. And you weren’t his. 

He was fast asleep on the couch next to you. You should let it all go, cuddle up next to him, and deal with your emotions after some sleep. But should do and do are very different things. Instead, you buffed Seungkwan’s leg yet again, his eyelids sliding open to look at you. “Mh?” 

“Am I your rebound?” you asked softly, tears stuck in your throat.

Your question seemed to catch him off guard. It took a while for the words to register in his tired brain. “What do you mean by that? I don’t even know what the fuck you want me to answer to that.” He barked out as he squinted at you. 

His tone was snappier than you had expected. All of your worst fears about your relationship swarmed your thoughts, and his tone made you feel like he had something to defend. Like your words had rung true, that you were just a rebound, even though he hadn’t said it straight up. 

“I mean what I said, am I your rebound? Do you still think about her?”

“Have you lost it? I can’t mention Eunji to you without you getting jealous about it?” Seungkwan had stopped trying to adjust his tired eyes to watch your expression, too tired and tipsy to take your questions seriously. It wasn’t the first time you had become overly worried about the smallest thing. He didn’t pay it too much mind and usually made sure you got some peace of mind. But tonight he didn’t want to be the one to calm your mind – he wanted to sleep. 

“Can’t we do this tomorrow instead? My head hurts.”

The tears your body was too tired to hold back came welling out, staining your cheeks. You knew it was stupid, but it wasn’t too far-fetched. People went back to their exes all the time! What made someone as amazing as Seungkwan want to stay with you instead of be with someone who was both a whole lot prettier than you and also famous in the same industry as him? She probably understood him better than you, maybe he was her true love as well. You kept making yourself more and more riled up, the longer Seungkwan kept his eyes closed, his arm now covering his tired eyes. 

“Why can’t you just tell me that you miss her? I know you do.”

Seungkwan sighed, he was getting annoyed with you now, you felt it. “You don’t know what I'm feeling. Why are you trying to start a fight?”

“I’m not trying to start a fight! I just want you to be honest with me! We don’t talk anymore and I just want to spend some time with you, and I know I can’t blame you for that, but I just… You don’t even seem to notice how much more time you spend with your ex compared to me, your freaking fiancee! So I just want to know now, before it’s too late if you even want to be with me.”

You were sobbing, desperation, anxiety, and weeks of exhaustion all washing over you at once. It was all too much, and you just wanted him to comfort you. 

“Please, just stop overthinking, I really don’t know where you got all that from… let’s just go to bed and we can try and fix all that tomorrow. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Deal?” You sobbed. “Am I something you have to deal with? Why are you being mean? I just want to know who you even love…” 

“My god, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m so tired, I really cannot do this right now.” Seungkwan groaned, throwing the blankets off his body and walking off towards the bedroom. You didn’t say anything when he slammed the bathroom door a bit too harshly, quiet rage simmering inside of you. He seemed like he would be okay even if you were to walk out right at that moment, he didn’t even seem to care about your tears or your feelings one bit. Would he have cared if you were Eunji? 

“Fine!” You yelled towards the closed doors separating you from your fiancé. “I won’t bother you then!” 

Quickly you shoved your feet back into your shoes, throwing your jacket on, and slamming the door behind you when you left. It was childish, you knew it was. You wiped at your tears, the wind helping you dry off a little, and the cold making you question if you shouldn’t go back instead. 

But going back wouldn’t solve anything. Staying away for now was best for everyone. You needed time to cool off, time to somehow talk yourself down, and reason with your anxieties enough to go back without crying and asking stupid questions again. 

You could call someone, sleep somewhere else, and try again tomorrow night after work. Before you could even finish making up a plan like that you realized that you had left your phone at home. You hadn’t brought anything but the few things already in your jacket pockets. Under a streetlamp you checked what you had: gum wrappers, a spare charger, and your wallet. At least that would be useful… 

You weren’t sure you wanted to talk about it yet anyhow, and it was too late to barge into someone’s place unannounced. Nevertheless, you would need to find someplace warm soon, the autumn wind blowing up golden leaves around you was already biting at your skin. You decided running to the bus stop and heading further into the city would be the best idea right now, hoping to find some restaurant that would stay open even this late on a weekday. The cold had almost made you forget about why you had even gone out, but the wound of his distant words was still fresh, and your heart ached even as you ran towards the bus. 

Seungkwan heard the door slamming shut behind you, it echoed through the house. 

“Where are they even going?” he grumbled to himself. 

He could’ve gone after you, but he wasn’t ready to face you yet, he couldn’t stop being mad about the whole conversation. He wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to forget that you had doubted him, that you had cried because of him. To Seungkwan it wasn’t even a possibility that he would ever get back together with Eunji, she was a part of his past, and now a colleague. Nothing more. He thought you knew that. 

It was impossible to stop thinking about the way you had sounded so hurt, so painfully weak while you asked who you were to him. The annoyance and anger over how you had started a fight over nothing was slowly but surely morphing into worry the longer he thought about it. 

His head throbbed as he tossed and turned in bed. He still hadn’t been able to fall asleep, his mind and body too busy trying to listen to the door opening, and the faint sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor. It was always easier to fall asleep when you were beside him. For hours he tried to get his mind to let go and give him some rest before you would come home and he would try and make things right. 

He wasn’t blameless, after all. If you thought he was able to do something like that he was partially responsible, he thought as he stared into the darkness surrounding him. Should he try calling you? If he knew where you were, even if you didn’t come back home tonight, maybe he could get some sleep and apologize for his response. He had been tired, but he knew he couldn’t blame that entirely. You were tired too. It had been a long week, and he didn’t even welcome you home like he wanted to. 

Picking up his phone he was started by the bright blue light that hit his sleepy eyes. He dialed your number, hoping that you would at least pick up. 

The beeps as he waited for you to pick up sounded throughout the empty bedroom, but a faint buzzing sound traveling from somewhere further away was distinguishable after a while. Were you still home? Had you never left? He ran up before he could think twice about what to say if you were sitting out there after all this time. 

You weren’t there though, your phone ringing alone on the counter where you had left it along with your house keys and bag. “Shit, she ran out without bringing anything?” 

Seungkwan’s hand brushed through his hair, head hurting as he felt the anxious thoughts about where you could have gone and if you were safe and warm arise in his mind. What if you were outside freezing in the cold, refusing to come home because of him and his mean response? He thought about running out to find you again. But it had been hours since you left. There was no way he would be able to find you wandering the streets at this hour. He pulled open the front door, the chilly autumn breeze giving him goosebumps. The leaves were wet and stuck to the shining asphalt outside. Rain drizzled and the wind forced the tiny drops inside. He quickly shut the door again, leaving it unlocked in case you came back without him noticing. You didn’t have your keys after all. 

Now he felt even worse. Had he done enough to reassure you that he was as madly in love with you as he felt he was? What had made you doubt him? When would you come back? It was overwhelming, his mind spun, and he had no control over himself anymore. 

Seungkwan decided that it was best to not spiral too far before he knew that you were safe. He called everyone he could think of. Your parents, your best friends, and even some acquaintances who lived close by. Only a few picked up, it was past midnight on a workweek after all. The few who did were more confused than anything. Nobody had seen or heard from you, and why was he calling this late at night looking for you? Had something happened? He didn’t know how to answer the questions they all asked. Once he knew that you weren’t there he simply hurried to apologize for disturbing you so late before hanging up and trying the next person. 

But you weren’t anywhere. Nobody had seen you. Nobody had heard from you. Which wasn’t strange, since you had left your phone behind. Seungkwan held his face in his palms, staring at his list of contacts, there was nowhere else you could’ve gone. He had called everyone he could think of. You might have been with one of the people who hadn’t picked up, of course. He tried to tell himself that you were safe and warm, asleep at a friend’s house. He imagined your tears dried, and your resting figure under a blanket. Safe from the storm that was continuing to pick up outside. 

“She’s ok, I know she is,” Seungkwan mumbled to himself, hands rubbing against his features, legs unable to stay still where he sat at the kitchen counter. Hoping that someone would call back and tell him that he could relax for even a couple of hours. 

He slanted over to the couch. Once again he tried sleeping but woke up every twenty minutes, the weakest sounds of wind outside waking him where he lay, your next to his on the coffee table. It had been left behind just like he had. You had just fucking left. And now you were somewhere out in the cold or at some friend’s house seething about what a dick he was. And he was. But couldn’t you have stayed at home and let him know how much of a dick he had been instead of leaving him all alone? 

As he dozed off he could hear your laughter, he remembered it so clearly he almost thought you had come home. It wasn’t real, he could recall the day when you had been laughing just like that. A couple of years ago, on an autumn day much like today, you had moved in together, into this house. You had been so excited, and he had never felt so fond of someone as he had that day. Seungkwan had always wondered what it would feel to fall in love with someone over and over again, but with you, he had found out. Every day he found a new thing about you that drove him mad. The way you pouted, when you sang in the shower, how you would kiss him goodbye even if he was sleepy and had morning breath. It all made his heart beat an extra beat, and always put a smile on his lips. You had rolled out the carpet beneath the couch he was on right now together. You had been adamant about making sure that he got two dozen kisses before you got up from the floor to continue unpacking, leaving him chuckling on the new carpet, looking up after you as you made the house into your home. 

He had been so happy back then, and you had a magic about you that could make him happy still. 

And somehow, he had made you doubt how much he loved you. He didn’t know how, but recalling your tears as he ignored your worries last night made his heartache. A silent tear fell from his eye, waking him from his sleepless dreams. 

That first night when you had begun living your lives together in this house you had baked an apple pie. You said that the house needed to be told that someone was being loved inside of it again. Apparently, a house found out that love was present through the scent of freshly baked pies. It had made him laugh back then, but he had loved that pie. The memory gave him an idea. 

Because, if he wasn’t going to get any sleep, he might as well do something other than sit around worrying all night. 

It took him a while to follow the recipe in your favorite cookbook, he wanted to get everything just right. Carefully peeled apples, sliced and covered in butter, sugar, some flour, and a lot of cinnamon were placed gently in a pan. He had some trouble getting teh dough perfect, but after a second try, he managed to cover the filling with a thin layer of what soon became a flaky crust, a heart visible from the tiny cuts on top decorating it. 

He stared at the pie from across the kitchen floor the entire time it baked. A hundred different ways to apologize, argue back, and confess his undying love swirling around in his mind until the buzzer went off. 

When the pie stood on the rack to cool off, and the oven was turned off, Seungkwan sank down on the floor yet again. His back was against the cupboards, and his eyelids were heavy with sleepiness. He let it wash over him this time, knocking him out swiftly, and leaving him sleeping sitting up where he was. 

The rain had soaked your hair on the short run from to and from the bus. The restaurant had closed, and one of the servers had gently woken you up from your agitated sleep. You had been a bit embarrassed about having fallen asleep and leaned against your table like that, apologizing for being a nuisance to the staff while quickly paying and running out into the rainy night. 

You wanted to go home and sleep in your bed, next to Seungkwan. There hadn’t been much of a choice at that point. It was in the early hours of the morning, and the last shop had closed for the night. Home was the only place for you right now. 

The door blew open faster than you had intended for it to, the wind grabbing ahold of it as you tried to escape the cold rain. Inside it was warm, and a sweet scent filled the space, confusing you more than anything had that night. You dropped your wet jacket on a chair, mind trying to tell you to go dry off your hair, but feet dragging you towards the kitchen, too curious about what could’ve created the delicious smell of apples, cinnamon, and buttery dough. 

In the dim light from the kitchen counter lights, you found Seungkwan. Asleep on the kitchen floor, with tear-stained cheeks, and flour on his clothes and in his hair. You didn’t know how he had been able to make such a mess. You had only been gone a couple of hours. 

He made you afraid of everything that could take him away from you, and yet you couldn’t help but love him. 

You looked at the picture-perfect pie on the counter and knew you would never be able to leave him. He was your person, he had been your person since the day you had first met during that rainy fall, and he would continue to be your person until the day you were no longer on this earth. 

You bent down to him, brushing away some flour from his soft cheek. Reddened eyes blinked back at you, seemingly not quite sure if they were awake or still off in dreamland. Seungkwan’s arms wrapped around you quickly once he knew with certainty that you had come back for real. You embraced him back, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You pulled back from him, whispering “I’m sorry,” and getting an equally apologetic look back from your fiancé. 

”I have been yours for years, please believe me when I tell you that I can’t imagine a future where you are not the only person I love.” He whispered, wiping away a water drop from the side of your face gently. You nodded, you did believe him, most days. But you felt like you needed to explain yourself, explain why you couldn’t escape your doubts about how long you would get to keep him to yourself. 

”I wouldn’t be able to do the same.”

”What?” Seungkwan’s thumb stopped moving on your cheek, confusion visible on his face. 

You took a deep breath. ”I wouldn’t be able to move on with someone else if we broke up, because you’re my first true love… and she’s yours. So how can I believe you?”

He fell silent. He remembered the words he had used that first autumn with you. ”My first true love.” Had you been hung up on Eunji all these years simply because of those words? He had thought you were only jealous of her or didn’t trust him enough. But it was his fault, to begin with- 

He hadn’t reassured you enough, he saw that now. 

”Eunji was my first love, that’s true.” He nodded slowly. When his warm hands slid up to hold your cold cheeks you could smell cinnamon on his skin. ”But I want you to be my last true love.” 

Tears fell from your eyes, ”Couldn’t you have said that earlier?” You sobbed out, ”I drank way too much for a work night…”

This made Seungkwan chuckle. His forehead pressed against yours as you both cried silent tears on the kitchen floor. ”I thought you knew.” 

You hugged him tighter, folding yourself into his warmth and his overwhelming love. ”I’ll make sure to tell you every single day from now on,” he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[callsign-rogueone]

Hi Liz!

It's me (again, yes, I know... )

I have yet another question.

How do you feel about our boys/girls and praise kink?

Who would be the most inclined/responsive towards it?

(You realize that since you said these asks are “appreciated" I don’t think I’m going to stop lol)

Lots of love,

❤️

(you know who I am now)

I honestly want to say all of them — who doesn’t like being told that they’re doing well? but let’s dig in to this a little, and once again, break it into categories. there’s a bit of overlap here but I’m gonna try to explain it the best I can.

category 1: a little shy / insecure and likes the praise as reassurance

Dain and Sawyer give me slightly shy vibes when it comes to rolling in the sheets. they’re maybe a little inexperienced, and feel like they don’t know what they’re doing, but hearing you tell them how good it feels and how well they’re doing really boosts their confidence. they’re also both perhaps secretly a little subby deep down, and they’ll do all the work as long as you’re praising them for it. call that positive reinforcement 😌

category 2: lives to please, and likes it as affirmation that they’re doing well:

Bodhi is the reason I made this category. he just wants to make you feel good, and verbal feedback in the moment is a definite indicator that he’s doing it right. and please, keep praising him even after you’re done, too — let him curl up with you and play with his hair and tell him how much you enjoyed it.

and of course Liam, our sweet puppy boy. he gives me a similar vibe to Bodhi. and both of them are such sweethearts that the first time (or first few times, really) you do anything intimate, they’re asking for consent at every step and are really making sure you’re enjoying it and are comfortable. so the praise is validating in that way, too. I think it would also be super cute to call him pretty and see him blush about it a little. because he’s absolutely gorgeous. we know this.

category 3: is usually the one praising you:

Brennan, Garrick, and Mira are in charge more often than not. they’re the ones who use “good girl” the most, who are a little rough with you but are simultaneously telling you how good you’re being, how pretty you look underneath them or on your knees, etc. and lots of words of affirmation afterward, especially if they were rough or slightly demeaning.

category 4: pretends not to be affected by it, but is secretly living for it because they need validation like they need air:

overlaps with category 3, but I’m specifically calling out Xaden, Aaric, and Imogen here. they’re outwardly super tough and serious, but call them a good boy/girl and they’ll fold immediately. the praise might even make them a little uncomfortable at first, because there’s some deep emotional wounds lurking under that “too cool” persona. give them a safe space to be vulnerable with you, repeatedly, and they’ll slowly melt into a category 2 — they’d do absolutely anything for you, and do it with a look of pure adoration in their eyes.

I’m not sure where to put Ridoc. he gets his own category because I feel like with him, anything goes. you could literally flip a coin to decide who’s in charge each time, and he’d be totally okay with either option.

[fangirltothefullest]

just curious: have you ever made a tutorial on how you draw hair? it always looks so flowy and delicate and I'm immensely jealous

I just kind of go for it and if it doesn't look right it usually needs more volume lol. XD It would take too long to like... go step by step but here's the general shapes of each side. The secret: There's a lot of S shapes going on to give volume.

We'll start with the shortest to the longest:

Short and pushed up in the front because he's trying to keep it neat. Spikier looking strands. Less flowey and with less S shapes means less volume. Many much triangle for maximum pointy.

Shorter but his bangs are down like Virgil. Covers human side of his face more because that's fun. He and Virgil have the same hair but Virgil tends to have more volume covering his face and sometimes I shorten Janus's bangs even more than what I actually did here to make him look more put together. It's either that or make the top part flatter like Logan's to be more clipped.

Completely covering the side of his face of course- I usually hide his eye a lot. Much spook, very emo. As you can tell, volume usually goes off to one side as opposed to both for the way I do hair. Something something balance in the unbalanced or whatever.

Fluffier! Lots of S shapes this time! But it doesn't carry around the whole face like Roman's does. It's a higher kind of floof making him look more bouncy and approachable.

THERE HE IS THE FLOOF PRINCE HIMSELF! So many swoopy S shapes everywhere and they carry down past his chin giving him so many curls to work with. Still the floof is catered to one side over the other (I default to the side with the bangs), but Roman's is as swopy as I can make it. Usually I have to go back and adjust the volume because it goes out to the side AND up higher because it's meant to make him look flouncy and flamboyant. A kind of "I woke up looking this good" vibe.

Aaand Remus! Opposite bangs of all the sides, I did this on purpose because the consistency in his being off-kilter compared to the others shows up immediately with the visual switch. But it means the opposite side gets the heavier floof so his ponytail (when I draw it, I don't always) gets to show up on the opposite side to balance him out. He has such long bangs in my style that it feels necessary lol.

I don't know if this helps but maybe it does? XD

Here's some like.... general bangs variations??

If I'm doing long hair I just lengthen the S shapes and usually I curl them at the bottom because I hair does that.

[cuubism]

Intemperate

alternatively titled, "consumed with lust for some fucking guy"

4300 words following the thought, "what would it be like to experience sexual attraction again after 100 years in a jar?"

Dreamling, E rated, post-2022 reunion, dom/sub vibes & daydreaming about bondage

--

Dream had never been a creature of the senses, but he did have senses. In the Dreaming, anything that smelled or tasted or sounded was merely part of his power, and therefore not really a subject of the senses as usually conceived. The Waking was a different matter, a cacophony of things outside of himself to experience.

But Dream never thought himself as driven by senses the way actual beings of the Waking were. His senses were an illusion, abstracted from physical reality, a way of bringing him closer to the living things his function was to serve but not really a part of him. So many senses were vague in dreams, after all, for they were products of the conscious mind and its understanding of the world. Not of the realm of dreams.

Dream was not driven by his senses. He was struggling to remember that at this moment.

“So I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion,” Hob was saying, as he poured from a bottle of syrah into two glasses, “and I know we’ve met a few times already, recently that is, but—” he finished off his pour, leaving the bottle to the side and slanting a bashful smile in Dream’s direction— “every time I see you still feels like a special occasion, to be honest. Anyway, you’ll have to let me know how it is.”

Dream took his glass in the hopes that the scent and taste of the wine might distract him from all the other senses currently bombarding him.

He had thought, for a time after his imprisonment, that he might have lost his senses entirely, become inured to the feelings of the Waking world. For one hundred and five years he had felt almost nothing in his cage: there had been no smell, no taste; all sounds were muffled other than the ones he made himself; he saw nothing but the inside of that basement, and the reflections of the glass. Even touch had atrophied when the only thing his skin felt for so, so long was cool, even glass.

He had nearly forgotten what it was like to be otherwise. But he was certain it had never been like this.

It was their first time meeting alone, upstairs in Hob’s kitchen rather than downstairs in the inn. And Dream was sitting altogether too close to him. They had taken seats at right angles to each other at the table, rather than across, and he was perpetually aware of Hob in his peripheral vision, of how their knees almost bumped under the table, of Hob’s forearm resting on the tabletop near his own. He was so close, had he ever felt so close?

The simple curve of Hob’s shoulder was catching like a knife under Dream’s ribcage. The angle of his jaw making a home in his throat, and the smile lines at the corners of his eyes landing somewhere in his vocal cords. The deft movement of his hands curling at the base of his skull, the scent of his cologne when he leaned close simmering low in his belly, the hum of his voice tickling up every inch of Dream’s skin. Grabbing hold of his breath.

“You’re quiet today,” observed Hob, sipping his wine. “More than usual, I mean. Everything alright in the Dreaming?”

Was it like this for humans all the time? Dream wondered. This heavy anticipation in his chest, the bodily attention verging on pain? He hadn’t known it was possible to be so intently aware of another person, but there it was, Hob Hob Hob in the pounding heart he didn’t need, a compulsion that wasn’t intellectual or even particularly romantic, but rather a strained desperation that could only be soothed by touch.

He had hardly touched anyone since his escape, and he had only touched Hob once, at their second meeting when he had told Hob where he’d been, and Hob had hugged him. Strong arms, solid chest, the tickle of hair against his ear, the resonance of life that hummed in Hob’s body. Dream had returned to the Dreaming afterwards and sat on the steps of his throne room for a very long time, palm pressed to his chest where their bodies had connected.

“I am fine,” he said now, and, because he was trying to be a better friend, added, “thank you.”

Not, he thought, with a tangle of chaos inside him, that it was really friendship that he was feeling now.

“Okay,” Hob said, with little conviction. “If you say so.”

Dream wanted to know what Hob would say about it. What he would say about it using his hands and his body and his skin. It was difficult to keep up any sort of conversation thinking like so. Hob was making him feel incredibly loud inside, and not the loudness of the Dreaming, of the dreamers, but a noise of his own making. A noise of his own longing.

He took another sip of his wine to steady himself, and found his hand was trembling.

“Whoa.” Hob grabbed hold of his wrist to steady him before he could drop the glass. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Dream fixated on where their hands were connected, struck by the insane impulse to shake more so Hob would keep holding onto him. Dream had fallen headfirst many times—it was the only way he knew how to do it, in fact—but he could not now recall if it had ever been quite like this. Had he ever been so flung askew by someone’s mere proximity, made so insensate just by the desire to touch? He did not recall, but he did not think so, and he wondered again about his imprisonment, and how sunlight that one might normally turn one’s face towards with ease could be blinding when coming out of the darkness.

Hob realized belatedly what he had done, and let go of him with a guilty startle, and then Dream did drop his glass, ignoring how it cracked and spilled on the table as he lunged for Hob’s hand, catching it before he could pull away fully.

Hob stared at where they touched, utterly still. “I’ve never known you to get drunk,” he said. An out, perhaps, for Dream, if not a graceful one.

Dream gave in to impulse and brought Hob’s hand to his mouth, kissing his palm. The touch of skin was so bright, bright as the rush of power when the Dreaming was returned to him, loud as a billion dreamers’ minds filling him again where before there was silence. And Dream’s nonexistent blood was singing, or perhaps screaming.

“I am not,” he said, and looked up in time to see Hob’s eyes darken. Once such attention from Hob might have triggered the part of Dream that was prone to offense; now he wanted to do such unbecoming things as falling to his knees between Hob’s legs and biting the inside of his thigh through his jeans. Press his face between Hob’s legs and see if that alone would be enough to get him hard, if Hob would put his hands in his hair. To want such things was hardly new in Dream’s long existence but to feel it so strongly, like he was starving, like touching Hob might fix what felt perpetually broken inside of him, that was.

Intemperate. Out of control. Such feelings had never brought Dream anywhere good. But he was made of feelings.

“Dream…” murmured Hob, turning his hand to caress his cheek. Hob held Dream’s face in his palm, and he might as well have been touching every inch of his skin for how Dream felt it. Easy. Takeable. Had. Dream had always prided himself on being above it all, untouchable, but really he was weak for a kind touch and for wanting and for the burn of skin on skin, and he felt especially weak, right now, for Hob.

Hob might not mind such weakness, he thought. Unlike most, might not hold it like a blade above his neck.

Again, Dream let his compulsions pull him, trusted Hob, trusted his friend, to keep him bounded as he slid off his chair and onto his knees, Hob’s thighs bracketing his shoulders. Hob’s breath hitched, and Dream looked up, meeting his stunned gaze, dark in the low light of the kitchen.

Hob swallowed, the bob of his throat visible, and laid his hand on Dream’s cheek again.

Dream did not kneel. Dream had been forcibly put on his knees for one hundred years. Dream was on his knees now at Hob Gadling’s feet, and he wanted to be there, he wanted to trust Hob to touch him and let him touch, to hold carefully the rope he had furtively woven around Dream’s throat when he wasn’t paying attention. To hold him there, so he couldn’t get up until he was satisfied.

“What—” Dream started, and had to swallow, mouth dry, the acidity of the wine clinging to his throat. “What would you have done to me, if you had me the way you daydreamed, the day we first met?”

Dream had caught the scent of those daydreams, of course, and merely pushed them aside. He wondered, now, if Hob could have always affected him so, had he merely looked properly in that direction.

“What’s more important is what I want to do with you now,” Hob murmured, thumb ghosting across Dream’s lower lip. “Of course I wanted to have you when I first saw you. Of course I did. You were like nothing I’d ever seen. But that feeling is— it’s practically nothing compared to how I feel about you now, when I lo—” he swallowed, cutting himself off. Dream kept looking up at him, and Hob kept holding his face. “When I love you.”

Love. Dream did not know quite in what respect Hob meant it, but perhaps it was all, or perhaps it didn’t matter. Dream had never had a love where it didn’t matter.

Dream leaned his cheek against Hob’s inner thigh, as he had so wanted to, and Hob ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly. Even through his jeans, Hob’s body was warm, his hand gentle, and Dream sighed, put at ease by the proximity. It should be alarming, to be so easily soothed. Threatening, to be touched. But it wasn’t. Dream only wanted to be closer, no matter what direction it careened their relationship in. Hob would not let it end badly, he thought. What a strange thing to feel sure of.

“I have not been with someone in a very long time,” he admitted. He was sure Hob could surmise this of the past century, but it had been much longer than that. “Locked away, I became so divorced from sensation that… I no longer know quite what it is I am feeling, I’m afraid.”

Hob scratched at his scalp, and Dream shivered. “All you have to know is how to tell me off if I do something you don’t like.” He huffed. “Not that you’ve ever been particularly shy about that.”

Dream smiled, a small thing, but it came easier than it had in a long time. “Perhaps I should have been.”

“Much as I do wish you hadn’t run out on me, I kind of like you as the stormy thing that you are,” Hob said. “I like my Stranger. Tell me off all you want, only stick around. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t leave,” Dream said. “I swear it.” He had no desire to, either. Not for quite a while.

“I get the sense that a swear from you means a lot.” Hob’s hand was still in his hair. It was bliss.

“Yes.”

Hob’s smile was warm and the tiniest bit possessive, and something in Dream that had been holding him up for a long time, that should have been proud and indignant and resisted being bound, thrilled at it instead, and wanted to bare its soft throat. Part of him wanted to punish Hob for his audacity in going along with this, wanted to punish himself for this most unbecoming behavior, but the part that had felt Hob’s daydreams and his forgiveness and now the touch of his hands had seized control and thrust him forward into the river of his own arousal. And Dream found himself enjoying the current so much that he no longer cared onto what rocks it might dash him.

Again, he thought: Hob would not let that happen.

“I’ll have to be careful not to abuse it then,” said Hob. And he let go of Dream’s hair, and Dream, unaware of how much that touch had been holding him up, swayed forward until his face was pressed to the juncture of Hob’s thigh, where he was growing hard under his jeans.

“I know that you would not,” he said. Hob had always let him go. Even when he didn’t want to.

“Up you get, then,” said Hob, and hauled him to his feet. Dream went easily, surprised into movement. “We’re not doing this here. You’ll kill your knees.”

“My body is not human,” Dream said.

“Still.”

They were face to face, now, and Hob’s expression was so soft for him, even with the heat building in his eyes. “You would take care of me?”

Hob rubbed up and down Dream’s arms. “I would. I would take care of you.”

Dream leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips, and then, caught by the hunger that latched under his ribcage, captured the rest of his mouth as well in a growling, starving kiss. All that heat and hunger filled him up and he followed it in a way he had not let himself for an eternity. He chased the lingering taste of wine from Hob’s mouth. Curled himself into the warmth there.

Hob kissed him back, tongue and teeth and the wanting of a hundred-plus years. His hands slid up over Dream’s shoulders to his neck, held lightly there, and with that hold he pulled Dream backwards through the kitchen, their lips connecting with less and less grace as they went.

“Better get somewhere more comfortable before I lose my wits entirely,” Hob said, between breaths. “I’m feeling less compassionate towards your knees by the second.”

Dream cared not where they were; he followed Hob blindly. Overcome by touch and taste and the sound of Hob’s breath and all things that were so so so loud after a century of silence. And it was perhaps because he was not aiding at all in their trajectory that they crashed into the wall by Hob’s bedroom door instead of making it over the threshold. Hob’s back hit the wall, and Dream hit his chest, catching himself just quickly enough that he only came nose-to-nose with Hob instead of smacking their foreheads together. Which would have been terribly undignified, not that Dream was feeling particularly inspired by dignity at the moment.

“Look at you,” Hob breathed, running his thumb under Dream’s eye. Then added, eloquently, “Fuck.”

Dream nipped at his throat, then sank again to his knees in one smooth motion, dragging his hands down Hob’s body as he went before letting them land in his own lap. He looked up at Hob, feeling spectacularly unclothed for all he was still wearing his jeans, shirt, socks even, but without his coat or his cloak or his shoes. Rare, for him to be so bare, since. Hob, too, was dressed casually, barefoot in his jeans and long sleeve Henley, and it made Dream feel on more equal footing. No attempt at pretenses.

Kneeling there felt like the right place to be, at that moment. Dream left that feeling to interrogate for later.

“This is really not a good look for me,” Hob said, breathing unevenly as he took Dream’s face in his hands again. “Get my oldest friend back and not only am I getting into your pants, but I’m not even doing it in a bed. It’s a bloody good look for you, though, fuck.”

“You like seeing me thus?” said Dream, as Hob nudged at his lips with his thumb. Dream opened his mouth, let Hob press his finger to his tongue.

“Yeah, of-bloody-course I do, Dream, you’re gorgeous like that. I only—” he bit the thought off halfway through, biting his lip so hard it turned white.

“Trust that I would not be here if I did not wish it so.”

Hob softened. “I know. I’m just reeling a bit. Fuck.”

“Your mouth gets filthier as you get emotional,” Dream observed, gratified that he was able to make Hob so.

“Yup, ‘fraid it’s my first—” he jumped as Dream pressed him to the wall by his hips, took the button on his jeans in his teeth and pulled it open— “first— fuck— language. Anything respectable’s from later, if it was ever there at all. Sorry for the filth, Your Majesty.”

Everything in Dream jumped to hear Hob call him thus even as he was on his knees. “I don’t mind.” He pulled Hob’s zipper down, too, salivating as it revealed the heaviness of Hob’s arousal, still cradled in his briefs. “I know by now what kind of man I am taking as my lover.”

He meant this in many ways at once and he hoped Hob understood.

Hob cupped himself through his underwear. “Can I…?”

Dream nodded. In fact, he wished very much that Hob would. Whatever he was thinking. Anything.

Hob pulled himself out, and then Dream was faced with his cock and— he had never actually been in this position before. He could summon the experience, of course—Dream contained all memories of intimacy, all wet dreams, all fantasies—but that was not the same as feeling the rush of pained arousal happening to him, the need to open his mouth consuming his body. The newness made it all the more startling and intense, but for the first time since regaining his freedom Dream leaned into newness, into intensity—and pressed his lips to Hob’s cock.

Instantly, another kaleidoscope of sensation: heat and sweat and pressure as Hob gasped and jerked forward involuntarily, nudging the head of his cock properly into Dream’s mouth— and then there was the heaviness of him on Dream’s tongue and Hob’s hand going to his hair, and Dream wrapped his hands around the strong muscles of Hob’s thighs to balance and it was all very, very much. A noise loud enough to banish the quiet of the basement that he still sometimes heard, echoing within him.

“Alright, love?” Hob asked, petting his face, and Dream hummed an assent, and took him deeper. Straining in his own pants, enjoying the play between his own arousal and Hob’s. Enjoying hanging there with no relief because it made everything prickle louder on his skin. He took Hob deep, then pulled off again, taking a breath that was more for Hob’s benefit than his own.

“I am,” he said, voice already with a rough edge to it, “I think, very well indeed.”

Hob laughed. “God, you. You have no idea what I want to do to you. Or, maybe you do, what with your—”

“I can sense dreams, not all thoughts, as such,” Dream said. He imagined the noise if he heard every passing thought of every being around him. “That would be maddening.”

“Dreams already sounds maddening, you mad thing.”

“It is true that I have rarely been accused of sanity or reason,” Dream admitted, and Hob laughed, head tipping back against the wall.

“Nor I, apparently. I cannot believe I interrupted you sucking my dick to have this discussion. Curiosity really does kill.”

“Curiosity has kept you alive, Hob Gadling,” said Dream, pressing his lips again to Hob’s cock. “And I am grateful for it.”

He took Hob in his mouth again, humming at the taste and weight of him, and Hob swore above him. What would you do to me? Dream wondered. Given the liberty?

As if he had heard the question, Hob started rambling, eyes falling shut. “You have no idea how pretty you look like that, on your knees. I don’t take it lightly. I don’t. I know you’re a king, I know you’re— and you make me mad, you make me want more, how could I possibly be given more than this? But you know me. One day, if you’ll have it, I’ll tie you up properly. And I know, okay? I know, you’ll have to trust me. If you really want to be on your knees. You make me want awful things. Beautiful things. Fuck—”

This last bit came as Dream took him deep enough to bump against the back of his throat, possessed by the image Hob had spun, and Hob let out a strangled gasp as Dream swallowed convulsively around him, nearly choking on it.

“Dream, I—”

Dream knew he would come, and leaned into the sensation. Bitter spend flooded his mouth, spilled down his throat and over his lips, and as he rode through Hob’s orgasm with him he let Hob’s daydreams bump up against him. Images of Dream on his knees again, naked this time, rope wound around him in intricate patterns, holding him there. Hob’s hands on the knots. Bound by kind hands rather than those that meant him harm, held in place to rend nothing from him but pleasure. And steadiness. Captured from the rough currents of himself.

He moaned as he let Hob’s spent cock slip from his mouth, shivered once and then again, out of control as Hob’s imaginings and his physical sensations and Dream’s own arousal battered at him. Hob fell to his knees before him, said “Dream,” with so much broken longing in it—haven’t you had me already? Dream thought, aren’t you having me?—and kissed him, hands cradling his face. Dream felt he must be vibrating at the pitch of the universe itself, so elemental was his wanting, and Hob gave him what he wanted. Of course he did.

He lowered Dream to the floor, cradling the back of his head, braced himself over Dream with their chests pressed together. His weight should have been oppressive, but wasn’t. It merely held him in place, easy and steady.

Their gazes met. “You would—” Dream’s voice was rough— “bind me? Gently? Hob Gadling?”

“Only so,” said Hob, eyes dark, cheeks still flushed, and Dream shivered again. “But right now, I just want to make you feel good. Okay?”

“Yes,” Dream breathed.

Hob braced himself on one arm and reached between them, undoing the button on Dream’s jeans with some difficulty. Dream should have made his clothing vanish to make it easier for him, but found that he wanted Hob to do it for him, to work for it, and to take care of him.

Hob’s hand wrapped around his prick, and Dream startled. Hob’s grip was warm and deft and Dream was very close to the edge already, and then Hob kissed him. Tender and hot, like he had been waiting to do this for a very long time. Waiting, always waiting for Dream.

He bit down on Hob’s lip as he came, clutching at his shoulders for steadiness, feeling rushing through him to the point of pain, to the point of whiteout. Far too much released all at once. All the sensation he had craved, blinding as the noontime sun.

Hob worked him through it as he shook, and gradually came back to himself. Everything was pleasantly staticky then, and Hob's weight was grounding as he let himself sink fully onto Dream, blanketing his body on the floor. And then Hob kissed him again, gentle and sweet. This was a lot of kisses for a being who had not been kissed in a millennium, and Dream whined, overwhelmed, winding a hand in Hob’s hair like he could perhaps manage to keep him there.

“There's a good love," Hob was murmuring into his cheek. "You’re so needy, aren’t you? I love it.”

Dream of a century ago had bristled at the mere implication that he needed anything, but Dream of today, pinned under Hob’s weight, was forced to concede that he did. Was forced to admit that he liked when Hob called him such, because Hob always qualified it with and I want to give it to you. And he realized that Hob had done so then, too, only Dream had been too blind to see it.

Still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, he curled a leg around Hob’s hip, drawing him closer, and Hob chuckled as he complied. “I’m regretting the floor,” he admitted. “Your poor knees.”

“I reiterate that I am not human,” said Dream, “and am not bound by human bodily limitations.”

“Oh, but you could be,” Hob crooned, stroking a hand up and down Dream’s side under his shirt, “couldn’t you?”

A smile tugged at Dream’s lips. “Hob Gadling, do you wish to see me colored by your lovemaking?”

Hob sucked a mark on his neck. “Maybe.”

Dream shifted his form just slightly to let the skin there bruise.

Hob sighed. “God, you’re a marvel.”

“Careful,” Dream cautioned, as the words caught somewhere within him that he hadn't known was lacking. “A man might feast on such compliments.”

“Feast, then. You’re too skinny by far.”

“I thought I was pleasing to you.”

“Oh, you are.” Hob gathered him up in his arms, rolled them so that Dream was on top and no longer pressed into the hard floor. “You are, darling.”

Darling.

The mania that had possessed Dream had subsided, but he found himself still hyper-focused on Hob’s arms around him, the smell of his sweat when Dream pressed his face into his throat, the warm rumble of his voice. So much missing sensation. He did not know how to reel all of the parts of himself that had spilled out back in, but perhaps if it was only here, that was okay. He could stay unspooled across the floor, unwound and directionless, wrapped around Hob's hands, until he was forced again by his responsibilities to go.

He wormed his way further into Hob's arms and said, “I think I would like to stay for a while, if that is alright.”

Hob pressed a smile into his hair. “Love, I would be terribly sad if you didn’t.”